Winter Family Road Trip to Ski in the French Alps

Driving down to the Alps from the UK is always an effort, but in the spirit of adventure it's exciting to 'discover' them. From the flat Northern Pas de Calais, to the soaring snowy peaks of Haute Savoie, we made our way South, passing through varied pretty towns along the way.

It is reassuring that our three-year-old monster/angel had no need or want of technology during the entire trip (despite this, I do appreciate the temptation of others to use it!) We packed her 'busy pack' full of varied toys and books. A French skiing sticker book helped get her in the mood for the days to follow when she would have her first ski lessons!

Laon

North-Eastern France is so very familiar to us, but for some reason, tiny walled city Laon was new to us, and a pleasant surprise. The cathedral was lit up blue from inside and we enjoyed the evening hilltop views over the surrounding countryside before having dinner at a traditional brasserie.

Dijon

Our next stop was pretty little Dijon. The Christmas market was still on with a jolly atmosphere despite the cloudy evening gloom.

We took the little one on the ferris wheel, peered into some shops (including my favourite French high-street jewellery shop 'Six') and ate another yummy meal.

Journey to the Alps

With little intention of lingering in high profile places due to France's current uprisings, we passed Lyon. Slowly the hills appeared and quite suddenly around a bend, appeared a snowy alpine range in the distance; we were almost at Chambéry. "Snow!" I pointed out to Klowski and she quickly looked up, interested to see, but unable to make out what I was pointing at. She woke up half an hour later in a dark tunnel and on the other side we were in the mountains. Klowski shouted happily about the view.

Chambéry and Oulx

Chambéry was as beautiful as ever, with its Gothic 15th century castle and winding narrow streets of artisan shops and cafes. We stopped for a Savoyard salad with charcuterie meats, pickles and mountain cheeses. 

After some walking around, we continued to our next stopover in Oulx, just over the border in Italy. Up in the mountains and away from the main motorways, we used booking.com to find some one-off rooms and B&Bs rather than the standard Ibis. It's during these stays that my French really gets its road-test, especially here as the Italian owner had good French (and my Italian gets me about as far as ordering an ice cream - on a good day).

For dinner in Oulx we came across the most authentic non-touristy little apres-ski bar (Bonneville Cafe). It was bustling with locals and funky ski and mountain-related murals all over the walls. We enjoyed simple 'pronto' Italian food and red wine, before heading off for a good snooze ready for some skiing the next day.

Ski Lessons for a Little Person

On our journey to skiing destination Risoul, we enjoyed a stop in Briancon nestled in the snowy mountains. I hunted local trinkets in the wonderful array of artisan shops, and we moved on to fit in some afternoon skiing at Risoul. 

Once on the snow, I felt the anticipation I had built up over the past year. My precious little girl was finally getting those skis on and sliding about for the first time. I had been dreading this going horribly wrong with significant whingeing, slipping, sweating and freezing under layers of cumbersome clothes and clobber. 

I kept my approach buoyant and playful, and miraculously she let the experience wash over her and just dived right in. 

In between bouts of energy and determination, little Klowski muttered small protests whilst we shuffled towards the ski lift for the free beginners' area. Once we were were up, she stood on her skis and stayed still whilst I held her in between mine, and we skied gently down. 

Later on she also did really well sliding alongside me holding the ski pole that I held out for her horizontally. 

This success was to be a gentle introduction to her little 'under 5s' ski lessons which Richard and I had prepared her for, in the weeks leading up to the holiday. She was excited and happy knowing that we would be nearby and able to see her. Thank goodness also for the yellow chick mascot 'piou piou' up at the beginner's area - one big motivator for her to accept being swaddled up in layers again the next day. 

Watching that little girl successfully experience such newness - new sport new children, and a foreign language and country, made me swell with pride. I knew she understood enough French, and the instructors spoke English, adding to my comfort. I found myself even more grateful than usual for the warm French attitude towards children. 

Ice and Adrenaline 

During the lessons, Richard and I were able to get in some of our own skiing nearby, and come back to check on little Klowski. 

Up high, away from civilisation, the vast, steep and icy piste feels worlds apart from the apres-ski cafes in the snow below; a contrast I find thrilling, but slightly overwhelming with my little cub all the way down there. After the silent, icy cold of the summits it was comforting to hear the beats of the music from the base as we made our way down. 

The icy conditions certainly helped us pick up new skills, after which we rewarded ourselves with the slap-up traditional Raclette for two (and a little girl with a delicious fluffy omelette). 

New Year

For New Year, we are accustomed to Savoy and France - enough not to expect Edinburgh-style Hogmanay celebrations. However we were hoping to eat an immense multiple-course meal, and make it to Risoul ski resort for midnight to join in the music and festivities. 

The restaurant I thought I had booked actually was full and it turned out they had said 'call us to confirm it' - not 'call us if you need to change it.' Oooops. We found a similar restaurant but with a far less appetising menu (at least for Richard; he is not a fish fan, and raw fish was the first thing on our plates). 

After a meal that at least I enjoyed, we headed back to the chalet and Little Klowski was exhausted from all her skiing. Not staying up was a small price to pay for such great successes skiing.

To make up for not getting the 'apres ski' New Year we wanted, we headed up to Risoul the following evening and found the most idyllic buzzing chalet restaurant, aptly named 'Le Chalet', and of course, I had Tartiflette (insert lip-smacking emoji). 

Heading North, Reluctant to Leave the Alps...

Saying goodbye to Risoul and heading back up North, we stopped in gritty Grenoble, put a tiny little girl (and mummy) on a carousel, and enjoyed the mountain views. 

On the way to Les Arcs, we stopped for lunch up high in the mountain pass at Col de Laurant. We shared a great Bolognese and omelette with the snowiest views (and ignored some low-level whinging and vegetable-refusing from a little person nearby who shan't be named).

That night we stayed at a 15th century B&B 'A La Bouges Hotes' just down from Les Arcs. It was beautiful, with stunning panoramic views to match. The owner Cristal was so friendly and we felt very at home chatting to her at breakfast. Homemade brioche, a new cuddly toy, and lots of French practice later, we headed off to Arc 1850 for the spa at 'deep nature.'  

This spa is one of the only ones I could find that accepts children (mornings) and we are glad we paid for the privilege. The spa had nice moderate temperatures, was pristinely clean, and had very friendly staff. Klowski loved the jacuzzi and the lazy river, and I loved the cave-like interior with mountain views outside the large windows. 

After the spa we popped into Bourg St Maurice for some lunch, and to hunt down some locally written and illustrated traditional Savoyard children's books that Cristal had recommended, in a really specific little shop (which I actually found!) 

Mont Blanc

Our next stop was another most beautiful B&B at Passy. The sun was setting for the last few minutes of the journey and the closer we got, the pinker the snow on the mountains became. 
I was desperate to arrive before this disappeared and was greeted with uninterrupted pink Mont Blanc views just as we parked up. 

The lovely friendly hosts greeted us and helped us in with our bags. My attention wavered precariously between the unbelievable views, the extremely stylish decor of our room, and the plentiful opportunities for conversing in French. I am pleased to say I took advantage of each of these, starting with capturing a pink mountain sunset photo (I could hardly ask it to wait could I?)