From Paris I made my way south east to the Alps. This had not originally been part of the plan, but having been invited by a friend currently working there as a rafting guide, I jumped at the chance.
So instead of the plane to Toulouse I was taking a bus, a ride-share and a train to get me all the way to Embrun. The full day of travel involving a drug and immigration check as police stopped the bus halfway to Lyon, a struggle to find my ride-share with my limited French and finally, a train ride gliding past mountains and blue lakes.
I was met in Embrun town by my friend, Esteve, and from here he drove us up a mountain road to his accommodation. I felt nostalgia for my mountain home in New Zealand as we wound up and along the dark road, the journey similar to the trip I used to take to and from work.
I awoke to greenery, bird singing and very little other noise. The view from the bedroom windows was of tall pine trees and, if I turned my head to the left or right, of green mounds of surrounding mountains. In contrast to the mountain in New Zealand, this place was covered with an abundance of brightly coloured flora.
The week that passed felt peaceful and serene. I spent my days either exploring the mountain we were staying on, or wandering around the town below. I was given the impression that in winter this place was a hive of activity, the landscape littered with chalet and hotel accommodation for the snow loving guests.
In summer however, there were few people to be seen, a handful of tourists exploring and a small crew who looked to be maintaining the holiday towns during the down season.
I was lucky enough to be able to go rafting during my stay. Esteve took me out with a school trip one afternoon, one teacher having been kind enough to give up her place so I could join his boat. A beautiful and unique experience, I enjoyed a relatively peaceful rafting ride (the river having only gentle rapids) as we glided through the valley, and at the same time, I also worked on my language skills as all rafting instructions were given in French!
My final night in this blissful place was spent by the edge of a lake with a small group of the guides. Evening turned to night as we enjoyed some drinks, a lakeside barbeque and the sound of Esteve’s guitar drifting through the valley. The distant landscape turning orange as the sun drifted below mountains across the water.
I left feeling exceptionally grateful that I was able to see the Alps in this way, not just as a tourist, but as part of a group that appreciated their life and surroundings on a daily basis.
