Five hours south brings me to Savoie, a land of mountains and lakes, of rich green meadows nurturing white limousin cattle, and brown and white dairy cows. I’d chosen this campsite as a suitable stop off, a change from Lyon and the Rhône-Saone corridor. And Huttopia is a known quantity, with pizza on a bank holiday weekend. Given the latter, I thought it best to make a booking, and on the principle of travel – reset day – travel, I’ve booked two nights. I’d forgotten that public holiday (Feast of the Ascension on the French calendar) is also when the reason for the business, is the influx of small children in wellies, with their parents, in a variety camping units, running around excitedly, and sheltering in the games room by the fire when the heavens open, frequently. My neighbours stood looking troubled over their extension cable. They were using a domestic extension, with adapters to 16A C-form couplings: the rain had got in and was shorting out the trip on the post. I offered the use of a multi-meter, and then found WD40 and PVC tape, got them working. The woman was English, and offered a bottle of white wine in thanks.

The queue for pizza was enormous (I think) and chaotic; in any case I’d had a slice on the autoroute. So got another sachet of vegetarian stuff from the cupboard. As the night was cold, I put the heater on, and made the bed up. Sleeping bag and duvet, like the night before. For the second time, I woke in the night soaking with sweat, and had to dispense with pyjama top. A different plan for tonight – time to dig out the electric throw to cover the sleeping bag. In the morning, I dressed quickly to collect my bread order – an evening shower might be a better idea, given how chilly the morning is, about 7deg.

The morning starts with sunshine and heavy showers, which eventually passed over. I took a stroll down the lake beach. Three grinning lads were coming back, with a huge perch in a keep net. From the jetty I could see others of the same size lazily cruising the shallows. Most of the people gathered were well wrapped against the cold wind, with the exception of one hardy soul in a wetsuit, with a clever board with a fin under water. Google tells me it’s a pump hydrofoil. Who knew? Momentum was gained by bouncing up and down: he seemed to make good progress.

Climbing back up the slope was the usual effort, but after getting my breath back found a footpath, round the back of a children’s adventure playground, rising above the lakeshore. As it was getting towards lunchtime, I doubled back to the van.

In the afternoon, the rest of the path needed exploring, and with a shortage of volunteers, I set off along the path. Everywhere was quite damp, but passable; the path undulated at about 100m above the lake shore. Passing through some woodland, bordered by a mountain stream, I came out on paved lane, which was, I think, access to the cemetery of St Alban de Montbel. With a developing view of the lake as the path rose higher, I reached the church, and the viewpoint which had been promised at the start. A few French holidaymakers had gathered there: a group off pensioners who installed themselves on a bench to take in the view; and an extended family of younger cyclists: mums, dads and kids, getting ready for their downhill return. In the distance, as far as I can tell, are the Charteuse range: The snow covered peak in the distance is Mt.Chamechaude, I think.

In the evening, I did have the pizza. In fact I was first in the queue. Very pleasant it was too! after getting rid of the box, it was time to turn in. Tomorrow I head for Provence, hoping for sunshine and warmth.