Wednesday, 3 June 2026

St Gervais Les Bains 2026

PXL_20260525_074255786 Being an accout of my trip down to the Chamonix valley, what I did there with E, and my getting back.

This text is directly cut from my diary, with light edits, and so includes tedia you care nothing for, like my dahlias. But I care. It is currently incomplete, I need to finish formatting, GPS traces, inserting pictures and so on. One day there will be, at the end, a section on practical information, lessons learned, and so on.

Structure: I drove down, starting on Wednesday the 13th of May, arriving on Sunday the 17th; we had an appartment until Saturday the 30th; E flew back, I drove back, returning late on Tuesday the 2nd of June. There are 855 pix of this glorious event, many of them of various cathedrals along the way. Or sub-select: outward, there, return.

You may think that the last two weeks of May are an odd time to go to Chamonix; but it was "carefully" planned so that we could use the hut winter rooms.

Now read on...

Monday 11th May: E off early to London; I am awake, and hear her go off, but decide to lounge in bed. Eve: outing with the men at 5, coxing the ladies at 6:30; I remain dissatisfied with their catches but today that wasn’t their focus. By a spare Petzl from Outside; E can’t find hers, though we’ll probably also borrow D’s. Finally book channel crossing: via tunnel, because more frequent as well as faster. They are every half hour, rather than 1.5+ hours for ferries. Find OAV cards. Plant out some dahlias at the back, having heavily manured the bed.

Tuesday 12th: the eve of departure. I have done “most” of my packing, just that awkward last 10% to go, how hard can that be? The train is 10:46, so to Folkestone 9:46, so leave 7:30 so get up 6:30 I suppose, that should be doable, I was awake before 7 today, since I’m sleeping with the curtains open. The garden is in order, I watered it, it has rained a little, I shall leave a note for M.

Weds 13th: up 6:20 last fiddles (I remembered to put my wedding ring on now I'm not bouldering) b’fast, heating off, off 7:15. 10:15: on Shuttle, whew. Departure is 10:46 (oh, except it isn't we’re off at 10:21) check-in nominally closed 9:46 I was 10 mins late due to traffic around Dartford but no problem. The delay stressed me a bit even though I know I could get the next or one after, since even a cheapo ticket allows +1 hour. All pretty quiet at this season.

Managed to get onto coast road. Stop at Cap Blanc Nez [GPS], preceded by memorial to Hubert Latham, pioneering aviator. Also touching memorial to Kevin the biker. It is very windy. The countryside is lovely: rolling hills, little villages, fields of grain rippling in the wind. The coastal walk is appealing, though the family of four biking was struggling up the hill.

1:30: at Wissant [GPS], sitting in the sun outside a cafe (terrasse des filles) sheltered from the wind with an alongé. Lovely. In the distance giant cargo ships; beyond, the White cliffs. Peace. Inshore, wind surfers and kiters are just visible over the seawall; the sea roars.

I then stay on the coast road for a while before finally admitting it is too slow and accept Gmaps toll alternative. Which is a lot less effort. And so, Rouen. I haven't thought through exactly how to get to my room, or even quite where it is. Park in uground Palais de Justice, will discover cost tomorrow. Walk 5 mins to room, no-one there, contact via Booking, and a somewhat shambling guy turns up, but speaking good Eng, and lets me in (the room was E31, which must represent about the lowest cut-to-the-bone price possible with clean appt and clean sheets). And then a surreal wander through Rouen. Charming place, full of interest, from old stone to ruelles to half timbered houses; all quite alive. Fantastic cathedral frontage (but the beauty is the detail that Monet lost). But it took me ages to find and navigate ped access to parking. Now, cafe, in l’Espiguette. Either the concept of alongé hasn't reached Rouen yet or my pronunciation is worse than I feared.

Thurs 14th: alarm 7:30 (really 6:30…) up just before 8, out :15, to Cath want cafe but; go in, service, listen 20 mins, sitting far back and enjoying the view with hymns. Cafe nearby, then back to room, clear and leave. To Abbatial: front has been scrubbed but rear is lovely esp on a now sunny green morning. Then to cat cafe! Well time for a cafe anyway and cats a bonus. Mlle is so suited as proprietor of same: cute girl in tune with her cats. Good. Then to Cath and admire again. The front is spectacular; multi layered; you have to move to appreciate it a picture doesn't do it. But I take one anyway. Then hailstorm and back to car. Route: follow bends of Seine for a bit for fun, past chalky cliffs.

6 pm: cafe in Chartres [GPS] watching the rain on the porch, and trying not to beat myself up too much about damaging the car. For stupid reasons (Gmaps and my hotel disagreeing about route, the GPS losing lock or me being confused) I failed to think and attempted to drive down a narrow road partly blocked by scaffolding; this did not end well. Circle round again and this time go the right way unconfused; checkin. Room is good as is Hostellerie. But farewell to a quiet afternoon peacefully soaking in the glories of Chartres. I do visit but don't find peace. Instead, a green walk along the river a few kms (that I wanted to do anyway) to Supermarche to try to buy gaffer tape but… it is Ascension Day and the Fr take that seriously. So walk back. A local has juice and cheese so likely that will be supper.

I’ve felt like this when I have done stupid things before. I think realising that helps. I know I will keep going over “but I should have thought; if only I had…” in the night. Ah well. I have tried to sublime it into a sensible resolution: be more cautious: and will try to apply that to this holiday as penance.

Anyway: look round the Cathedral again; the choir screen stonework is its interior glory though some of the glass is decent too. Realise I’m poor at following the life of Christ scenes.

And so back. Shower. Lie on bed and read (Lewis) / phone, and have some bread-n-cheese. This room is functionally no better than last night but much nicer. Party because of the unseen at the moment but present in my mind surroundings.

Friday 15th: up 7 b’fast in sunny room. I actually slept pretty well, just a bit of 5:30 angst. Then discover little terrace overlooking the town. This is a good place to stay.

Go up and look around some more, walk all the way round, admire glass, take more pix even though I did last time… then back to Hostellerie, and drive off to that Supermarche now open and get tape and repair - or rather patch - car. Feel better. Later get reply from CRG recommending body shop, so perhaps there is hope. Feel better. Sit by l’Eure a bit then off to Orleans.

Route is up then flat, wide fields, fairly dull, saved by nice avenues of shade trees.

Orleans: park by river visit Cath [GPS] admire it as esp towers and inside the somewhat weird modern glass. Sit outside cafe and gaze, finally realising time is flowing.

But meh: go to Meung anyway, have a cafe near church and chateau, then walk to river [GPS] and find statue to Jehan.

Finally to Blois [GPS], the remembered old bridge over the wide river. To Best Western Chateau, decent, nice room in the eves. Catch up phone and shower while it rains then walk around to river and back, I am jealous of their orange iris in formal garden. Buy more goat’s cheese and that with y’days bread is supper. Fuel: half tank and 450 miles.

Sat 16th: I am realising that my lack of driving may catch up on me. So alarm 6:45 allowing one snooze then b’fast 7 and after 3x coffee off 8. Early mist gone farewell nice Blois. Along Loire lovely (see a pine marten cross road I’m pretty sure) only regret is no time to keep stopping; come back on bike sometime? Saumur 10:30 thriving huge “castley” chateau; Blindés is not as I thought chief attraction. Spend about 2:30 there, not rushed, pic of most of the early stuff. Glad I went shame it is so far “over” it is 5h to Autun.

2:50: break in Loché-s-Indrois by little weir. Finish cheese bread still going.

3:30: passing through Levroux and my eye is caught; there's a cute maison du Bois; and a sturdy respectable church.

4:40: Chateauneuf-s-Cher. Pretty little rivers, tiny little cafe that looks shut but isn't; follow two locals in. Cafe avec biscuit €1.30: is this a charity? Book hotel (appt) Autun, exchange messages E.

7:30: Autun [GPS]. More narrow streets! But no scaffolding. My appt is indeed what it says: a full appt, including sitting room and kitchen and study, all scrupulously clean with high ceilings. This is an old place, built as cloister, currently mostly assisted living but presumably renting out a few spare rooms. Walk up to Cath which says it opens late Sunday I hope not. Walk around town and look over countryside slowly.

Sunday 17th: up 7. The day is grey the birds sing. B’fast: quite small but what I want. So far I am alone. Slowly sun emerges. There is a lovely winding multi-level garden off the terrace that I explore. Quiet, beautiful. The appt and the whole building is uplifting. And to think, I almost wimped out and booked an Ibis, a reminder to me that risk does have rewards, too. This could be a Romance garden. Visit Cath (sign says no visit Sunday morning but Frog slips in so I do), quietly, though Mme and her infant aren't. But capital is… in the treasury? Have fun looking. Off. Refill by lac: was 3/16 left, 775 miles. +56L.

1:20: Bourg [GPS]. Disappointing I say; perhaps Sunday is not it's busiest. But children from Cath in finest Sunday suit is good to see. The cafe I have found is heavily immigrant, by which I suppose I mean darkish skin and heavy beards. But all happy. Cath unexciting but get p’card for Ma. Gmaps is offering me 1:30 off for tolls so I think I will take it. Just when I write a place off: gorgeous tiny courtyard with tree in sun.

4: StG. Pickup keys. 970 miles. Cafe. M video calls, she's back home. To appt via Supermarket, some confusion but make it, work barrier, find right building and floor… and I’m in. Hurrah. Not large but fine and two bedrooms and balcony with lovely mountain views, currently snowy. We are, I realise, in St G not le Fayet St G. I wonder which I prefer? Pick up E from Sallanches 20 mins away. Sit, make coffee, then walk 5 mins to town and eat at the second place we find, Lulu’s. Classy food, E has risotto I have buratta. And so home, more balcony and bed.

Monday 18th: a fairly quiet day. Up 7 b’fast coffee E up 8. 9 ish to Chamonix - about 25 mins - park underground and walk into town. We don't have much to do: look around shops; cafe at the elegant Josephine; inquire of the Maison du Montage. They aren't encouraging… new snow, perhaps we should take snowshoes? Hmm I think not. Well we we shall see. Up to le Tour to recce [GPS]: there is a large empty car park and a faint track up and as expected a closed cable car. Drive home, on and off rain continues. To supermarket for… porridge, cereal bars and stuff, after E carefully makes a list [GPS]. Pack, slowly, I winnow gear down. E cooks the fresh pasta and some white asparagus which needs peeling.

Tuesday 19th: 8:50 at le Tour carpark; we are the only car (for 2019, see France 2019: Albert Premier (Aiguille du Tour; Tete Blanche, Petite Fourche)). Bright sunny day, time to trog up for four hours or so [GPS]. And off we go. We feel slow but actually managed 300m/h until the snow at 2100m then slow down; 5h to the hut, stepping up through deep snow is hard work; we alternate trail breaking. As we arrive the cloud comes in somewhat and it snows. The winter hut is a salle downstairs, and dortoirs upstairs. Cold, so we get the wood fire going and melt water. Slowly, we can no longer see our breath. Late lunch: E cooks up some pasta that has been left using gas someone left. 4:30: E off for a nap while I manage the fire and water. Afternoon: read, look out. Dinner: E suggests bread and cheese, which sort-of should have been lunch but we wanted something warm then. And saussison. I go to bed just before 8, E later. It is colder upstairs but we have s’bags (because woman in Maison du Montage thought wrongly there might not be blankets; my new s2s, and E has my Purple rab) and blankets. Sleep well.

Wednesday 20th: up 6 start fire make porridge and tea. Outside it is snowing, which then stops, but we're in cloud. Hmm. We talk: maybe we'll make a tentative, and see how it goes, but we're expecting failure. 8: still cloudy. I am reading A Passage To India; E, Lolly Willows. 9: somewhat better, head off [GPS]. It is hard going in soft snow but at least we get the initial path from the hut right, aided by a few cairns. Wx gradually clears to sun, as it is supposed to. Snow going remains difficult and we are slow. Get to top of Signal Reilly and decide on the Col Pissoir branch, I have failed to read the other Rock fax routes properly. We continue to 50m of the col but progress becomes harder and we're 5h in. Ah well: retreat by mutual agreement. Wx is closing in a bit too. Down, strangely enough, is much easier and we do several hours ascent in 20 mins. And so back, around 2. To our astonishment the winter hut is full! Well, no free tables. There are some army folk; and some others with raquettes or skis. We weren't sure about staying the night or descending but now our private paradise is invaded, we’ll descend. Start down 3 [GPS], fighting snow even on desc, and get down in just over 2h, navigating the somewhat icky scrambling sections. Car, and head off home for welcome yoghurt and shower. Sun pours in. Soir: to town for crepes but it is shut today, so pizza. Which is too big but otherwise good.

Thursday 21st: up 8; E soon after. Realise my skylight makes the day look grey from my bed: actually it's bright sun and blue skies. And in a fit of conversation, say that to E instead of just thinking it. Perhaps I should do that more. Sadly balcony doesn't get sun in the morning; E bravely sits out anyway. After, stroll to town. The fancy cafe doesn't have outside tables so pick the one opposite, by the church. Realise StG is rather lovely to just be in. Two coffees a juice and we alternate looking around the church (typical Romanesque onion dome; i.e. not ornamented except the altar) then it is getting on for noon and Mme has set all the tables for lunch and starts clearing our empties; we can take a hint and pay. Get bread and then nice cheese from cheese man in marché and back for lunch. Pm: 2: off to Les Galliands for sport and have a nice time doing 3 easy pieces [GPS]. Back. E goes to shop, I shower. E gets some biere (rouge) on request. Sadly - and yet a quiet evening in will be pleasant - the travelling Lyon opera is booked out; but we were prepared to do our cultural duty.

Friday 22nd: up 7:45. We had kinda intended to leave at 9 for Les G again, but I am feeling lazy and E isn't otherwise so instead we’ll wash clothes and head off to boulder at Les Bossons around 10:30 [GPS]. Plan for tomorrow is Montenvers train and Couvercle, which should be open. E is still feeling her calves and me my quads; perhaps I like her should have used a second stick on descent. Do the Bossons boulders: quiet and peaceful in the woods also cool and shaded. We find the boulders and do some (easy) climbs but as we go on our identification becomes less clear. We get up to boulder 10. Most of the markings have weathered off; a few traces remain. Then to Chamonix to see Montenvers terminal, it is shut but promises to be open tomorrow. Walk to town and have nice proper lunch in the Isabella: entree and salmon for me; Magret de canard for E. And then a coffee; finishing after three. Thence to le Fayet thermes crags, rather a nice environment [GPS]; some old world elegance remains. Sit in shade for a bit as the sun is hot; then do the shaded 4c at the R of the RHS crag, and the somewhat less shaded 4a/5a at the R of the LHS. Which also turns out to be more than 30m so you do need to split the pitch. And ab off from the top. But we manage. Back 6:30 I go post p’card to Ma and buy bread. Video call M. Dinner is soup and bread and cheese. Book Cosmiques for Sunday - Saturday is full - and Couvercle for Wednesday and Thursday - Saturday is also full. Set alarm for 1:30 am to watch Starship flight 12: woo!

Saturday 23rd: up earlier so we can get to start of via ferrata by 9, via the cute auto Ascenseur [GPS]. There is a largeish group about to start, so we gear up, then some of them go wobbly so we go ahead. After a first easy bridge section we let two lean mean speedy types through and are then relaxed. It swiftly gets decently difficult: there are lots of rungs but there are overhanging sections. We take about 45 mins for S1 then have a rest, and look out of the passarelle. It's a lovely green gorge with plunging cataract, we rest our arms, the other group go through. And then we do the next section, which is more strenuous and leave at echappoir #2 with our arms wringing. Fun! Walk up to top; I straight to town for cafe and E via shower; sit by church again. Then move over rue to Patisserie Fattier for fruit tarts. And then a peaceful afternoon mostly at home though we do venture out to look at the local gear shop - well supplied - and buy bread cheese etc for tomorrow. Oh, and remember to book telepherique.

Sunday 24th: up 6:30 out 7:30 Cham 8 parking Grepon (for 2019, see France 2019: Cosmiques). There are cabins going already - we thought 8:30 was the earliest but no - so to nearby cafe. To reassure, there's a departure board of cabins, they are loading #17 now and we are #20. Cool, blue skies. Slightly rushed departure from cafe when #20 is signed but get on in plenty of time. Up, dramatically to Plan d’Aiguille then even more dramatically to the top [GPS]. Pause on bridge to admire views: it is gorgeous in this fine wx. Gear up there: warmer than the ice tunnel. Then to exit, crampons+rope, and out. There's a lot of people but we're at the tail of the rush. People heading up Trois Monts.There's a good trace but we - esp E - go slowly and cautiously. And so to col, easily from there, admiring views and lots of parties on the rock. And skiers, and parapents. To hut, maybe less than an hour, and snow slope up easy. Inside, too early to register says Mme so blister plaster my blister, can up, little food, loo, dump excess kit and off 11:20 for the Torino hut [GPS].

We have a good trip but it is longer than I carelessly expected: 3h, not “about 2h”. That means we can't lounge around too long because we need to be back for dinner at 6:30. Lots of views of people climbing the rock routes as we pass. Torino remains like the bar in an Italian village. And so head back, making it just in time, at least formally, though as we're at the back of the service queue we could have been later… Talk with Fr in Eng, perhaps more E than me. Dinner extends to 8:30 and we're both pretty tired so to bed after, with a brief time out on the terrasse but it's cold out. E’s eyes are troubling her: they hurt, and they seem to have more red capillaries on the outside than is right. Make her “side pieces” for her sunglasses like mine have. Discuss that her glasses may not be super-uv-protecting.

Monday 25th: E has booked us 7 am b’fast with the intent of us getting off by 8. We make 8:10. She has decided she is good for Cosmiques which is good; it would have been disappointing not; though I am nervous of the route finding mostly. She doesn't want much b’fast though: possibly feeling the altitude. As it turns out, the route is fine. And we have several parties around to keep us on track; and indeed there are footsteps since it is still quite snowy. First descend; then up to old obs where we gear up and take in coils to about 20m. Then there's a snow slope then more, then a diagonal abs for ~20m, then nominally two more 20 m but actually with a 60m rope we run them together. At that point we're “quite close”: I can see the Midi terrasse and it's not far off. But we have the notorious “wall with front point holes” to do, which is fun, but well within me; we're not pitching any of this. Then we’re at the famous chimney, I think, but everyone is going round the N side (to the L) so we do too and it's fine. And a bit more and we’re up the ladder onto the terrasse. 3:30 a good time for us. Bravo from some tourists is pleasing. Dekit, relax, look round, gaze up the Tacul face in awe at the little dots heading up. And so to cafe, for an hour or so, and then descend and home and showers and more rest. Soir: out for citron pressé and boules de glace, buy some juice, and to Brasserie for salmon ceviche, and tartiflette for me.

Tuesday 26th: up late around 9 and E a little later; quiet morning reading+phone. Outside they are strimming the grass and replacing boring modern street lights with retro looking ones. Lunchtime in town for cafe, and watch municipal folk doing stuff to flower beds in the hot sun. Buy food, back for lunch, E cooks sphag and we have cheese; relax pm until 5; take escalator down (realise it is water powered) to practice abbing-with-prussic, and also prussicing (hard, and would need lots of practice, and I don't want to knock my nice slings about). Back, video call with M. Quiet evening; pack. Book nice villa appt Autun for Sunday night, and le Shuttle for Tuesday night.

Wednesday 27th: slept with window open o’night good. Up 6:30 b’fast with E on balcony. Another nice day predicted to continue. Off 7:30 to Cham free parking just by Montenvers station (for 2019, see France 2019: Couvercle and Pointe Isabella). Get tickets - Mme informs us it is view only, the grotto de glace is fermé, and we solemnly agree - I go get some more notes, and then we're off! Fairly quick, 20 mins. E has carelessly forgotten her water bottle so buys 500ml for an outrageous €4, meh. And we're off. There is of course a trail of people. The poor old glacier continues to retreat, we pass the 1820 level sign, then the 2018, then 2020 (we were here in 2019) and still down. We can get down via grot-d-g steps not nasty moraine. And then… well, off we go, somewhat unclear, follow our noses and people and hope. The glacier is cut by largeish streams and one has to get on the right side of them. Some parties have stopped to play at crampons; we put ours on and pass a slightly dodgy section above a rushy river. At about 2h we’ve got high enough, decrampon, and turn up the moraine to the ladders. 3h start ladders, which are long but less scary this time; we take them slowly. After that, there are two path junctions to Charpoa, then around to the apparently impregnable rock face split by a giant crack and more ladders, and up, and then at last we can see the hut, just a traverse away. 5:48, was 6h last time. Sign in, sit down, notice hut has been renovated. Go in swimming pool! Have cafe/hot choc, and rhubarb tart, then outside for bread+cheese. It is almost warm: there are some nuages. 5:30: go recce start for tomorrow. And: it is further down and back than you expect. But there's a cairn and yellow pole trail start, and signs warning re Charpoa path demontage. Decent veg dinner and soon after to bed.

Thurs 28th: b’fast 4:30 as compromise between 4 and 5; off 5:30 when light enough not to need head torches. Down as recce, then via rope onto snow and so on up. Behind Mont B goes rosy then comes into sun, but happily we’re still in shadow. There are two skiers ahead of us, and some others of unknown purpose, but we're not obviously dropping back. On! Over some icky snow slopes of ~6’ snow on top of smooth rock. Fine now but feel avalanche-y later. Snow now is hard: crampons bite but don't sink in. After quite some time to base of real route, the snow slope to crest. Up this, and then start feeling it is all a bit steep, even me, but esp E. Now in sun. Gear in the “scrambling” section but more steep snow and call a halt at 3550. Ah well. This turns out to be wise as our descent is slow: I lower E down the steep sections taking advantage of tat, but there's a lot. But eventually we get back to the crest, and by then snow has softened and we get back onto safer ground. It is now simply a matter of getting down - oh, and by now the skiers, having submitted, have whizzed off for their lovely descent - and we set off into softening snow, and slowed by taking a detour to avoid the slabs. Get quite weary and dry, but eventually back to hut at 5, whew. Pool again, having washed feet. Sit. Rest. Dinner again good: egg, rice, spinach; bed soon after, I am v tired.

Friday 29th: leisurely b’fast at 7, then sit outside admiring the glorious view: up to Pt Isa, across to Dent du Geant, over Mer to the basin we walked over, up to Mt Blanc. After the slightly scary descent y’day I am counting the things to get down before we're safe: mostly the ladders. E drags us off 8:30, since we want to avoid the sun. We get to the top of the ladders before leaving the shade, and the ladders themselves surprisingly quick: 17 mins, but it's a loong way. Then the rope down dust, then down the icky soily moraine, then pick our way over the rocky moraine, to the thin central strip of ice. That's easy walking but doesn't last long; above Ecole de Glace, more mank, cross the river, more easy ice, more moraine and then finally onto the stairs, then ladders, then path, then Montenvers, sit, relax. Just over 5h: it really is a long way to or from Couvercle. E swears never to go again; I don't. Sit over cafe, then train and we’re in Cham at 3.

Saturday 30th: up 6 to take E to airport. She has an implausible amount of carry on luggage but says it usually works. My tonsils, that got very dry towards the end of Pt Isa day, are made incautious swallowing unpleasant, are still slightly sore. It's cool out on the balcony for our last b’fast together. Drive fine, kiss-n-drop nearly fine except for mysteriously absent place to stop; terror on way back as no internet (GiffGaff in Swiss) forces me to use carnav, and it wants to go through Geneva. But it is fine. Nearly stop but decide not. Back, wander to town for long leisurely coffees but read mail: ah: checkout is today not tomorrow. Oops. Make that a brief but not rushed cafe. Back, pack, clean, brief sit on balcon to relax, last shower to wash off sweat, up town to drop keys and we're done about 11:30. Decide I still want Annecy waterfront, but will settle for soir not morn, so aim to get there around… 6? Will go via Megeve. But first, to Les Contamines Montjoie, where M and I camped on TMB… 39 years ago. Cafe. Then a little further to the roadhead. There are many paths and possibilities and I feel guilty for ignoring them until I recall my left heel, which needs rest.

So start the long journey back (1300 miles, tank 7/16_. Through Megeve, to Lac d’Annecy SW end, where the folks bathed and sunbathe and sail. Peaceful lap of waves, even with a distant powerboat. Sit behind closed hotel and read for a bit and polish off old food. Then to “proper” bit for cafe, then sit, and little swim. Lovely! Not cold. Distant limestone cliffs over the lac. On, some traffic delays, don't stop Annecy - well I’ve had my lake - through nice hills to Nantua where I wished I'd stopped last year and now can, at the head of the lac. Still evening with sun down lake, beautiful. Stroll. Monument to deportation.

Sun 31st: the last of May. B’fast 7 overlooking lac. L’Embarcadere is clean fresh and modern, and good for an o’night stay but is also an image of anomie. Walk. Nantua lakefront is lovely, the town behind fading. Drive a little, to Aim, and take side road down to river above which towers the bridge I crossed on; below is another world. Drive along slowly. Sparse: fisher folk, two scullers, a jogger and dog. Park in little field; people have been camping; drone. Blue skies are over. Back en route. Stop Ceyzeriat for cafe; seems alive; what once was. Listened to S+G “America”, a good melancholy road song; the GL “If you could read my mind” and wallow in emotion. But it's not like that. Canal du Centre diversion. To Autun about 3, to Cath, look, to tresor, find the glorious Magi stone, and more. To Villas Medicci, room 208, sadly not as wonderful as ?107? was. But, fine. Make coffee. Go sit in garden. Heat is gone, breeze is balmy, bees are loud.

Monday 1st June: up for b’fast 7 but no one there; sit in courtyard by fountain and read for a bit. Same simple as before (cafe, juice, 2 rolls, one croissant, butter, honey) which is all I need. After, clear room and sit in garden. 10:30: Canal du Nivernais. Lovely, but the bar by the bridge is shut. A route to cycle. Fuel Nevers: was at ⅛. 1577 miles. Nevers is distinctly sympa to my tastes. I enjoy strolling by the river and up into town and around the Cath, and am not even put out when I find it closed, firstly for lunch, and secondly 1-3 Juin for travaux. To the main square for cafe. EDF nuke is steaming impressively. To Briare: wonderful mosaic’d church. Then back to pont canal, where I get a San Pell limonade. Then walk over it. Wow! A km long. V impressive. And there's a lovely little gite, once the eclusier’s cottage. But, it is early. Drone.

Then where? Not sure but Dreux is in the right direction, and may be by the Loire. Head off, bravely passing Orleans, but seeing a Nook. End up passing Chartres too, perhaps for the best though it is nice, and managed en car to find Dreux interesting, so we'll go, to a cheapo B+B hotel. So that's 2:30 solid driving, first for a while. Dreux does turn out to be ok, not spectacular, but ok, even if the Royal Chapel is shut le soir and, you guessed, le Mardi. Never mind; eat dinner (baguette and hummus and juice from supermarche) on wall overlooking town. Then check on car (ok, free 7pm to 9am) and to le Beffroi etc. Drone, as an experiment.

Tuesday 2nd: last day dawn's rain: I haven't seen that for some time. B’fast early. Off in rain that turns torrential along the Eure, nice. Evreux. Cath: grey and gloomy and obsessed with numbering it's doors. Old glass. So many symbols that must have meaning once. Has a somewhat Ely-like central octagon lantern, but in stone. Rouen: Cath, again. Still good. Cat cafe: also still good. 3h to Calais, I need to be there for 7. To le Treport plage. It's rather Gt Yarmouth but hilly - white cliffs, there's a funicular - sunny, windy and stony. Cafe chez Yunus. To Wissant which is nicer. But also windy. Big jumps from kite surfers. Cafe. And then… at last… time for the tunnel via one last bit of coast. Hello aviator statue, sweeping poppy lined roads, distant sea. Fr passport fine; UK is dreadfully slow. But my early train is delayed so it doesn't matter. Home, 10. Navigate new gate. Fuel: ½; total miles for trip 2100.

Notes

Lessons learnt

* in the early season, be prepared to have and use raquettes. There appear to be a variety of these.

* there can be a lot of snow in the last two weeks of May.

Wednesday, 13 May 2026

Book review: Once Upon a Time in the North

PXL_20260513_183350787 By Philip "Dark" Pullman. Given to me, or acquired by me, at Mother's at Christmas. Lightweight, but fun. An offshoot, providing Lee Scoresby and Iorek Byrnison's backstory. Finished in Rouen.

Lee is the laconic hero, better with guns and thinking than you'd guess from his exterior. Iorek and he do a thing people never do in books but it is excellent: IB says his name, and LS subtly mispronounces it, as you'd expect, instead of just getting an unfamiliar name right.

I could do without the capitalism-is-evil schtick, but then again PS's theology in HDMI was pretty ropey if you looked closely, which you weren't supposed to.

Getting a ton of polar bear into a balloon seems implausible.

Tuesday, 12 May 2026

Book review: The Grain Kings

PXL_20260512_100031709 Another one from childhood, along with Pavane. I still remember the cover. I also recall not really understanding it as a child - well, a teenager - and I don't really think I understand it now, even with the weight of experience heavy on my shoulders.

This review gives it three stars, and provides a handy summary of the stories, together with reactions to them that I largely agree with. Or this one.

Unlike Pavane, there's no linking these stories together, and that is a lack. Perhaps they are better regarded as pictures; perhaps this one star review that concludes "I really didn't enjoy reading this, but it has stayed with me and I think back on the stories a lot. I am enjoying thinking back on them far more than I enjoyed them at the time" is the best.

Friday, 24 April 2026

Book review: Perspectives

PXL_20260424_192221932I enjoyed this; I would consider it as lightweight easy-reading fluff, slightly redeemed by name-dropping Italian painters in a way that made me more interested in seeing their works. Or as the first of the blurbs on the cover truthfully says, "a racy and enjoyable detective story". But I wouldn't call it "funny".

It is written as a succession of letters amongst the various persona; this keeps things moving, and breaks things up into easy-to-read chunks; and indeed it is very readable. But after a while it becomes a little wearing; one longs for some variety.

It looks like from this that the Pontormo frescos, and their controversial nature, were a real thing. But I'm not sure that is terribly important. It was fun reading, but I realise that it hasn't really helped my understanding of any of the painting, or of the history, since I don't know which bits are faked and which not.

Now for the downsides. On the surface, the language is relentlessly modern, which detracts from any immersion into the world; and all the characters write in much the same voice; compare to say Patrick O'Brien who provides convincing conversations. This surface of language extends to ideas; for example Our Investigator starts talking about means, motive and opportunity as though it were an Agatha Chistie.

The Wild Ride of Michelangelo is not believeable; neither that an old man could do such a thing, nor that he would find his long-disused secret entrance, nor that he could do all this unobserved. Using post-horses at the very least would have left a trail of notice in his wake. Nor do I believe that someone like him would have shaken off all his servants. Come to that, that he was the killer isn't very believable either. So rather than - as Our Ag so often manages - to have the final unmasking be a satisfying conclusion, it is more like "ho hum, I suppose the book is over then, that will have to do as an ending". Also disappointing is the Klew of the Repainted Fresco. I kinda wanted it to be someone hiding something in the wall, or something of that nature. It was distinctly unsubtle how often the book hammered home that the repainting needed to be explained. OTOH, killing with a chisel is odd - especially in a city where every gentleman and many others carry daggers - so the complete lack of interest in "why use that as a murder weapon" grates. Of course the answer is that Our Author knows it isn't an interesting clue, but Our Investigators shouldn't know it.

Also... on reflection, this is a poor detective story for the additional reason that instead of a number of interesting possible candidates, with clues to eliminate them, we're really presented with no plausible candidates (the rebellious apprentices quickly fizzle out).

The sub-plot - which isn't really sub; it is more a co-plot - about the Naughty Picture is, at the end, seen to be entirely separable from the main plot; and this I think is a weakness; in a better book they would have been inseparably connected in some way. And in the end, the title is irrelevant too. It is a word related to painting, yes. And a sequence of letters gives us different perspectives, yes. But I expected more; and the out-of-place interpolations about perspective in the book make it feel like the author realised this too and needed to stuff something in.

And lastly: the wrapper for all this is Our Author finding a collection of old letters; but it seems entirely implausible that all the letters described would end up in one collection.

Note: Mfd reviewed this too, as a .doc. It is interesting to compare our two; he is more positive.

Monday, 20 April 2026

Book review: Against Gravity

PXL_20260420_110253497 Gazza Gibbo again, and yes I know I should have known better. I lasted for 250 pages, about half way through, before giving up. Before I actually say anything about the book, here is a curiously apposite quote from Lewis, in the Allegory of Love:

The De Nuptiis, as is well known, became a text-book in the Middle Ages. Its encyclopaedic character made it invaluable for men who aimed at a universality in knowledge without being able, or perhaps willing, to return to the higher authorities. The fantastical 'babu' ornaments of the style were admired. The mixture of fable with grammatical or scientific doctrine was a damnosa hereditas which it bequeathed to the following centuries; Martianus, I take it, must bear the chief responsibility for Hawes' Tower of Doctrine and Spenser's House of Alma. He established a disastrous precedent for endlessness and form-lessness in literary work. Yet I cannot persuade myself that the Middle Ages were entirely unhappy in their choice of a master. Martianus may have been a bad fairy; but I think he had the fairy blood in him. His building is a palace without design; the passages are tortuous, the rooms disfigured with senseless gilding, ill-ventilated, and horribly crowded with knick-knacks. But the knick-knacks are very curious, very strange; and who will say at what point strangeness begins to turn into beauty? I must confess, too, that I am sufficiently of the author's kidney to enjoy the faint smell of the secular dust that lies upon them. At every moment we are reminded of something in the far past or something still to come. What is at hand may be dull; but we never lose faith in the richness of the collection as a whole. Anything may come next. We are 'pleased, like travellers, with seeing more', and we are not always disappointed. Among all these figurative woods and streams, these wheeling poles and pedantic rituals, these solemn processions and councils of the gods-gods that seem no bigger than marionettes, but stiff with gold and carved with Chinese curiosity-among all these, some at any rate suffer us to forget their doctrinal purpose, and breathe the air of wonderland.

Against Gravity is a bit like that, but without the touch of faerie or curiosity.

I gave it two stars on Goodreads, in a generous mood, perhaps for old times sake.

We meet Our Hero in Edinburgh, a refugee from a collapsed America, in a noire-ish atmosphere so typical of cyberpunkiness. He has perhaps-out-of-control enhancements growing within his body that have killed some of his friends, in a manner that will surprise or interest no-one. These were acquired during a formative period in some implausible USAnian prison complex in Venezuela of which we get flashbacks; meanwhile up in the sky is a cylindrical habitat which has apparently been taken over by nano-super-intelligences intent on building a wormhole to the Omega Point in the far future. Various characters are interested in Our Hero, who may or may not be hallucinating some of them; and of course there's a giant evil megacorp, whose boss is like so mega-smart he got the Nobel Prize at age 21, FFS, that's less plausible than a wormhole to the future.

Various "adventures" happen but don't greatly advance the plot, and I don't buy scifi to read about people having fights in hotel rooms and falling from the windows, yawn. I think that if there's a story in there it badly needed excavation from the heap of refuse that had fallen onto it, to reveal the bones, if they exist.


Wednesday, 8 April 2026

100 Must-Read Science Fiction Novels

PXL_20260406_104857964 I stumbed across the 100 Must-Read Science Fiction Novels (arch) and thought it would be fun to se how I compare. My own list is here. Links are to any that I've reviewed, which number... 17. Crass omissions from their list: Hobbit, LoTR, Crowley: the Deep, Engine Summer, Beasts; Icehenge; White Queen; Jack Vance; Aldiss, and more.

1. Dune by Frank Herbert

2. Foundation by Isaac Asimov

3. Frankenstein by Mary Shelley - only technically scifi

4. 1984 by George Orwell - ditto

5. War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells - way too high

6. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley - read as a teenager

7. Neuromancer by William Gibson

8. The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin - read years ago; I haven't felt the urge to re-read it; perhaps I should; but Earthsea is her best

9. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick - again, read years ago

10. The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury - and again; elegaic, but I dount they rank this high

11. The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood - never read

12. Hyperion by Dan Simmons - quite enjoyed this but this is too high

13. Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson - decent

14. The Three-Body Problem by Liu Cixin - tosh

15. The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet by Becky Chambers - never read

16. Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut - years ago, seems high though

17. Kindred by Octavia E. Butler - never read

18. 2001: A Space Odyssey by Arthur C. Clarke - its OK

19. A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller Jr. - decent

20. I, Robot by Isaac Asimov - too high

21. Contact by Carl Sagan - never read

22. Journey to the Centre of the Earth by H.G. Wells - I think I read this as a teenager; I think it is likely tosh but don't really remember

23. Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes - I think I read this as a short story or novella

24. The Fall of Hyperion by Dan Simmons - can't remember

25. The Dispossessed by Ursula K. Le Guin - again, this is the wrong one. Her politics isn't really great; her adventures were better

26. Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer - never read

27. World War Z by Max Brooks - never read

28. Perdido Street Station by China Miéville - never read

29. Starship Troopers by Robert A. Heinlein - should be higher

30. Solaris by Stanisław Lem - read as a teenager, I recall this as boring and pointless

31. Children of Time by Adrian Tchaikovsky - never read

32. The Moon is a Harsh Mistress by Robert A. Heinlein - I'd put this higher

33. The Forever War by Joe Haldeman - and this

34. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams - not really scifi

35. Ringworld by Larry Niven - terrible

36. Binti by Nnedi Okorafor - never read

37. Blindsight by Peter Watts - meh

38. The Time Machine by H.G. Wells - I recall the film

39. Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury - as-a-teenager; decent

40. Anathem by Neal Stephenson - too low

41. Old Man’s War by John Scalzi - never read

42. The Power by Naomi Alderman - never read

43. City by Clifford D. Simak - never read

44. The Andromeda Strain by Michael Crichton - as-a-teenager; can't recall

45. Shards of Honour by Lois McMaster Bujold - never read

46. Gateway by Frederik Pohl - as-a-teenager; decent

47. The Road by Cormac McCarthy - never read

48. Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood - never read

49. Embassytown by China Miéville - I think I read this after M gave it to me for Christmas years back. It was OK, but didn't inspire me to read others-by

50. Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler - never read

51. The Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick - as-a-teenager; decent, should be higher

52. Altered Carbon by Richard K. Morgan - read, quite liked; see-also Broken Angels

53. Spin by Robert Charles Wilson - never read

54. The Calculating Stars by Mary Robinette Kowal - never read

55. Revelation Space by Alastair Reynolds - yup, liked this

56. The Book of the New Sun by Gene Wolfe - should be much higher

57. Light by M. John Harrison - no

58. Wool by Hugh Howey - never read

59. Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie - higher

60. The Diamond Age by Neal Stephenson - decent

61. Seveneves by Neal Stephenson - terrible; DNF

62. Lucifer’s Hammer by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle - never read

63. Red Rising by Pierce Brown - never read

64. The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell - never read

65. Under the Skin by Michel Faber - never read

66. A Fire Upon the Deep by Vernor Vinge - higher

67. Morning Star by Pierce Brown - never read

68. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins - I think I read 1 and 2 when D did, on the holiday to Spain

69. Battle Royale by Koushun Takami - never read

70. Sea of Rust by C. Robert Cargill - never read

71. The Chrysalids by John Wyndham - read-as-a-teenager; can't recall

72. Earth Abides by George R. Stewart - read years ago, not that wonderful

73. Metro 2033 by Dmitry Glukhovsky - never read

74. The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August by Claire North - never read

75. Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel - never read

76. Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell - never read

77. Eon by Greg Bear - meh

78. Diaspora by Greg Egan - never read

79. The Postman by David Brin - never read

80. We by Yevgeny Zamyatin - never read

81. The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi - quite liked

82. The Drowned World by J.G. Ballard - read-as-a-teenager; should read again I think

83. The Kraken Wakes by John Wyndham - ditto

84. Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro - never read

85. Roadside Picnic by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky - meh

86. The Night Side of the Sun by David Wingrove - never read

87. Pavane by Keith Roberts - higher

88. The Water Knife by Paolo Bacigalupi - never read

89. The Space Between Worlds by Micaiah Johnson - never read

90. To Say Nothing of the Dog by Connie Willis - never read

91. Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card

92. A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick - read-as-a-teenager; can't recall

93. Dark Matter by Blake Crouch - never read

94. Leviathan Wakes by James S.A. Corey - kinda generic potboilerish, if I recall correctly

95. The Library at Mount Char by Scott Hawkins - never read

96. Recursion by Blake Crouch - never read

97. The Rapture of the Nerds by Cory Doctorow and Charles Stross - never read

98. The 5th Wave by Rick Yancey - never read

99. Life as We Knew It by Susan Beth Pfeffer - never read

100. The Broken Earth Trilogy by N.K. Jemisin - never read

Book review: Travel Light

PXL_20260408_081558768 By Naomi Mitchison. We have owned this - or perhaps M has owned this - for time out of mind; and it is possible I've read it before; it is eerily familiar in parts. It is... whimsy; a jeu d'esprit; or so I say. Perhaps I missed anything deeper.

Halla as a baby is rescued from the court by her nurse-turned-bear, stays with the bears for a while, then as winter and hibernation approaches is transferred to the dragons, with whom she grows up. Slowly - later on, towards the end, it is revealed that the stoary has taken many generations and perhaps hundreds of years - men grow stronger and dragons more precarious; her protector is killed, and following a chat with the All-Father she heads off towards Midgard-aka-Byzantium, travelling light, forsaking the golden ornaments that her dragon-self loves. In Byzantium her ability to talk to animals allows her to predict the chariot races, earning money for her friends and an audience with the Emperor, and eventually the replacement of an Evil Governor that her friends had come to petition for. Returning, the result is less rosy than hoped, and she ends up heading north to Holmgard, where she abandons the world of men for the Valkyries.

So, a nice story nicely told of higher than usual literary quality. There are digs at heroes and their antics along the way, and men as a sex don't get a good book. Is there a point? Not a clearly defined one and perhaps it is all the better for that; the point is the look-n-feel.