Every summer, there comes a time when you must pack the car, ignore the nagging feeling that you’ve forgotten something crucial (spoiler: we most certainly did, but I like the blissful feeling that if I would remember what, then I wouldn’t have forgotten it in the first place, or would I? ;-)), and head south toward cheese, baguettes, family, and hopefully a bit of rest. This year, our plan was simple: visit family in France, give the kids a change of scenery, and perhaps steal a few moments of peace in between. What else?
Week One – Family Affairs and Slightly Grumpy Hikes
We left on a Sunday – early for us – miraculously organised the day before (wrote this one down in the family history book). Vera heroically took the wheel for most of the 10-hour drive, while JC, having tossed and turned like a seal after a meal all night, could barely manage 1-hour drives. Still, we arrived in one piece. Bravo, Vera!
Monday greeted us with classic French summer weather: greyish skies, a stubborn 22°C, and the kind of light and sporadic drizzle that makes you unsure whether to wear a raincoat or not. We opted for a walk, the adults at least. The kids were less enthused, already dreaming of lakes and ice cream.
On Tuesday, JC was gently reminded that holidays warp your sense of time. He was quite surprised to see his uncle at the door, having firmly believed it was still Monday. Plans were reshuffled. Vera took the kids for a nearby via ferrata before heading to the lake, while JC enjoyed a long walk and chat with his uncle. We all reunited at the beach for drinks under the trees – a nice family moment.
Wednesday’s plan was a “small trek” – 5-6 km with a gentle 150 m elevation. We’ve done it before with the kids as toddlers. This time? After 500 m, complaints began. The kids executed a perfect moaning relay, each handing off the baton of grumbling as we marched on. Very French of them.
Speaking of experiencing the French, later that week, JC cycled to the bakery and encountered the true spirit of French driving – a local buzzed past him so closely JC could’ve check his look in their side mirror. Naturally, JC expressed himself in an eloquent blend of French swearing and Italian hand gestures. The driver gestured toward a barely visible shared path (which, legally, he didn’t have to use). All part of the authentic French cycling on the road experience. Beautiful country, baffling cycling signage and morons behind the steering wheel.
Friday brought a family reunion with JC’s cousin. We explored a cave (12-14°C inside – bliss for JC in shorts and sandals), visited a waterfall, and had a picnic with 11 people, which required the kind of table you’d usually find at a wedding. The cave wasn’t long or large, but you could stand in it (except for my cousin and his 1m90 or so) and it had plants, green plants in it (mostly ferns), JC was surprised by that and asked the guide why, she replied that the lighting system installed for the visitor is emitting also in UV lights while bats and tourists bring the seeds which find clay and water to grow. Amazing! After that refreshing experience, the kids ran wild around a nearby pond while the adults caught up in the shade. Simple joys.
On Saturday, we attempted a hike to a via ferrata overlooking Lac du Bourget. Flynn and Vera were the brave ones who clipped in and started climbing. JC and the rest opted for games in the shade – we all have our strengths. Flynn gave it a shot but turned back (understandably, it’s 800m above the lake!). Vera finished the route with ease and then casually added a second, more challenging one for dessert. Show-off.
Sunday brought the village festival and a visit from JC’s parents. Music, games, laughter, and even dancing — JC shared a lovely moment with Runa dancing together. We stayed up late. It was, in a word, festive.
Week Two – Lakes, Ropes, and 36 Degrees of Realisation
Monday and Tuesday were about beach life and Stand-Up Paddleboarding. JC found time to sketch a mountain landscape from Austria (yes, he brought his pencils, he’s that kind of holidaymaker … and he forgot his reading book at home – now I remember what I had forgotten, no more blissful feelings). The temperature was climbing, but still kind, especially in the shade.
Wednesday was the treetop adventure morning. We lied. Just a little. Told the staff all our kids were over 10 so they could try every routes – including the red and black ones. They all did brilliantly, especially Flynn who tackled the black like a pro. Afterwards, we – guess what – went to the lake. But it was chilly and windy (20°C), and the enthusiasm quickly gave way to shivers. All ask to leave early, except one stubborn soul. (We’re not saying who but he quickly surrendered.)
And then came the heatwave.
With 36°C forecast, JC finally understood why Vera and the kids complain above 24°C. His Mediterranean blood has apparently expired this year. On Friday, he entered full Italian mode: siesta between 12 and 16h, shade, cold drinks, and zero movement. While the rest stayed active. What he didn’t realise was that the next day would be payback time: packing the car in 36°C, without a single patch of shade. He’d parked by an empty bicycle rack, which he promptly used as a climbing frame to reach the roof box. Then came the “holiday luggage Tetris” championship. By the end, his t-shirt and shorts were completely soaked — the kind of wet you normally associate with jumping into the lake, not loading a car. This year, he really can’t stand the heat… and at last, he truly understands the rest of the family when their summer moaning begins.
Next we will visit my parents the next two days and go home. We all miss our cat.
