Day 5: Ye Olde Alpine Stuff 12th

It was unfortunately an earlier start to the day than we had hoped with young William from next door not the best sleeper (and that’s putting it mildly).  Whilst Nathan and I were disturbed just after 6am, thankfully the kids were able to sleep through most of the racket and we all were up and about by 0800.  I guess that’s the joys of communal camping. 

We spent a relaxing few hours at the camp.  Abbey disappeared with the girls next door and their older friends (9 and 11 year old girls) to have a make over whilst the boys had their own badminton tournament.  Whilst stopping off at the camp store we noticed an advertisement for some sort of festival, ‘Fete du Reblochon’, at a nearby ski resort village, La Clusaz so we decided to take a drive and check it out.  We set off around 1000 driving past the southern tip of the lake; with the village aptly named ‘Bout du lac’ then began winding our way up the D12.  I think winding is an understatement, as is up!  The road had switch back after switch back and continued to climb steeply the entire way.  This did not prevent us passing countless cyclists also making their way up hill!!

We turned off towards Manigod and continued to wind and climb all the way to La Clusaz.  Thank god I had thought to take an avomine last night!  (The kids have both taken to wearing sea sick bracelets which seem to do the trick for them.)

Here are just a couple of photos taken hanging out the window (like a little dog!) on our journey.

 We were not really sure exactly where the festival was taking place so we found, quite fortuitously, a park in the centre of town and simply followed the crowds.  I have since found a translation for the afternoon’s festivities, which are named in honour of the local alpine cheese, the Reblochon.

“Parade, tableaux vivants, bread making, folk dances: artisans and farmers are in the spotlight. Just like the famous Reblochon, made in the late afternoon in a huge copper cauldron you enjoy freshly molded.  More than 6000 spectators come each year to recapture the spirit of yesteryear!”

We preferred to call it the festival of Ye Olde Alpine Stuff and, whilst we didn’t see the enormous cheese we did have a few laughs taking in the rest of the sights.  Perhaps the most eye catching was the ‘ski slope’ constructed of white plastic sheets. The ye olde skiers were pulled to the summit by a draught horse powered ski lift and then they turned around and careened back down into the waiting crowds.  The OH&S on this one was somewhat questionable particularly for the young man on the toboggan who really picked up some speed!

We listened to the ‘oompapa’ band, watched the men making shingles by hand out of wood, listened to the not so gentle clanging sounds of the ‘cow bell’ band (sound much better on the cows themselves!) and amused ourselves watching the fair game ‘hit the target and make the young boy fall off the plank’ which was a real crowd puller!

 Heading up the slopes (horse out of sight)

 The oompapa band in action

 Next to one of the enormous vats of Tartiflette.  It is made with potatoes, reblochon cheese, lardons and onions.

This modern recipe for the tartiflette was inspired by a truly traditional dish called "péla": a gratin of potatoes, onions and cheese made in a long-handled pan called pelagic (shovel) in Francoprovençal parts of France.  The Savoyards first heard of the tartiflette when it arrived on the menus of restaurants in the ski stations, conveying an image of friendliness, authenticity, and soil of the mountain.

 They look better than they sound!

 Watching the dare devil action on the ski slopes

 With only a rope separating them from the crowd!

 Watching the woodcutters in action

 Zac was not too sure about the donkeys!

 Unfortunately we didn’t get to see him fall!

 Making a god awful noise for our entertainment

 The woodcutters still busy at work whilst the women were in the ye olde kitchen

 The day had warmed up considerably since our arrival so we decided to grab some lunch before heading back to the pools at the Les Fontaines.  The natural choice for the day was the tartiflette, which, if you ignore the calories, was delicious.

 After a quick look in town (with most of the shops closed despite the tourist crowd, this being a Sunday afternoon- though I did still manage to pick up two lovely tops on sale!) we began the downhill drive back towards Annecy.  This time we took the less winding option of the D909 making it a little easier for Nathan then turned off towards Menthon St-Bernard located on the eastern side of the lake (Lathuile was on the west bank).  We followed the lakeside road, highly amused by the people crowded on the thin strips of land separating road from water and cooking themselves in the sun.

 By 1500 we were hitting the slide pool.  Nathan and Zac raced each other down the straight slide whilst Abbey and I teamed up on the bending one and a good time was had by all.

 The rest of the afternoon was filled with the pool, the park, badminton and some down time for Nathan and I.

We had a very European timed dinner not eating until well after 1900, took a stroll along the fields adjoining the park then the kids disappeared to the playground until what was to become our regular 2200 bed time.