Hiking in the French Alps on a hot July saturday...

When the weather forecasters say that for Sunday, bad storms are coming in from the south west and the result will be high winds and thunderstorms, yet that Saturday will be hot, and sunny and dry, the only thing to do is to fling the day's chores out the window, pack a picnic and grab plenty to drink, sunscreen, a hat and insect repellent and hike off for a few hours...

To perhaps, my favourite pond in the Alps. Well, nearest favourite to here....

Lac de la Case. Between the Dent d'Oche and the Portes d'Oche on the GR5... somewhere between Amsterdam and Nice...


The views are wonderful, and the peace and quiet is only disturbed by the buzzing of the insects, the cry of buzzards, and the incessant ringing of the bells hanging from the necks of the presumably deaf, Abondance cows... apart that is, from the shouts and cries of the hundreds of (mostly) ill-equipped holidaymakers who have decided that a climb of the nearby 2222 metre high mountain complete with omelette serving refuge, is the order of the day.

The local PGHM, who fly the helicopters that rescue the ill-advised, the ill-shod or the just plain ill, made three sorties in the space of as many hours, rescuing people off nearby peaks and cliffs.

They risk their lives to save us, the ordinary man or woman on the Clapham omnibus, or Paris metro, and rescue us they do, in our hundreds each year. They accept that as ordinary free men and free women we can risk our lives for fun and accept responsibility for our own choices...

Long may that continue.

In some cases they have rescued people whose only misdemeanor was to go off hiking and to search for beautiful mountain flowers... and while away the weather changed... as it is oft to do...

For when there are specimens like this to be found, who can blame them.

Fabulous country in which to live.

But to the people who staff the PGHM...

Merci Merci Merci...