We wake early and have to put on some heating as it’s only 9C.
Opening the curtains we are greeted with a surreal scene. The lake is blanketed in a layer of wispy mist steaming and rising in small columns. Moorhens and ducks paddle about in small groups amongst one another leaving v-shaped wakes. Taken in miniature, it looks like little sea-battles raging with flotillas and smoke. The toll-lady arrives and we pay the €7.50 for our stop. When Ali dumps some rubbish there is a queue of campers outside the WC each with their own roll. It reminds us of the corruption of the French anthem, to the tune of the Marsellaise chorus, the words; Ou est le papier?
We leave at 10:00 and straight away we are climbing out of Nantua on mountain roads, although they are wide with immaculate tarmac. We take the opportunity in Ballegarde sur Valserine to top up with fuel, we’re not desperate but mountain roads use it more than normal, better safe than sorry.
We run for a good few miles near the railway, rising above, falling below and crossing over it many times. After 90 minutes of hills we join a gently undulating motorway through low alpine scenery with glimpses of high jagged peaks looming hazily in the far distance.
Soon we are approaching the Swiss border which, we are surprised to find, is un-manned. We pass through and see signs for CERN, where from memory, the famous Large Hadron Collider squirts its neutrons or whatever around a 17 mile tunnel in the quest to create matter. We pass a huge steel sculpture probably relating to nuclear physics [where is Brian Cox when you need him?] and then find ourselves entering the capital of shady fortunes and assisted suicide, Geneva.
The road through the city is easy to follow, but two and three lanes with frequent traffic lights, intersections and tram routes keep Nick occupied while Ali enjoys the streetscapes. In truth it’s not difficult driving except the speed limit is 60kph or 40mph so it’s a lot quicker than we’re used to.
Anyway, we successfully navigate through the centre without knocking over a single banker and find ourselves alongside the lake, often called Lake Geneva but actually Lake Leman. There are numerous parking places so we pull in and enjoy the view over the choppy green waters.
A few miles on, the road leaves the lakeside and heads through farmland and another unmanned checkpoint back into France. A mix of farmland and hills brings us to Thonnon les Bains, near to the world famous Evian, and we drive down to the lakeside again for lunch.
Our final leg takes us south on the D902 and D1205 which, on the map, looks like the strand of spaghetti that fell off your fork. In reality it is a spectacular ride twisting and turning through jagged peaks and gorges with fast flowing rivers, tumbling pale blue and white over the rapids. There are tunnels and sheer rock faces, woodlands and wide views.
We drop into small alpine villages with wooden chalet houses and bright geranium displays. In St Jean des Aulps we see a compound full of cable car pods waiting to be strung up again in winter. In the distance the towering peaks we saw earlier now have detail, including clearings through the trees which are impossibly steep ski-runs, easy to imagine in snow.
Then to top the day, as we leave Les Gets we see, towering over everything around, the brilliant white snow covering the top of Mont Blanc itself. There are no superlatives we could use to describe it so Ali burst into tears instead.
We are minutes from our intended site and visions of supper in sight of the mountain are coming thick and fast, but when we reach the site at Mont Blanc Plage it is deserted save for one van and two tents. There is no sign of a reception or any services being open and it is 50m from the noisy autoroute. Time to go. We ask Snoopy to find an alternative and 20 minutes later we check in at a much better facility, at Camping les Iles, unfortunately without the mountain.