Out of breath after a steep ascent upward, I pause and stare up at Annick as she beckons from the mountain path above. “Come on!” she tells me. “Come look at the cows!”
I do as she says, continuing the climb up, up, up the steep mountain side. The faint ringing of bells grows louder and louder, until I reach the top of the crest. There, looking over an enormous valley in the Vercors, I spot the cows. The herd is far below us, but their bells echo up the stone mountainside. They graze near a small but solid house, made of stone and plaster.
“Who lives there?” I ask.
“A shephard,” Annick answers. “You can tell because there’s no road that leads to the house.” She’s right. I stare at the house, wondering what it must be like to wake up to the sounds of cows’ bells and a view over the Alps.
Claire, Annick’s friend, joins us at the hill’s crest. I ask another question.
“Think their cow milk is used to make the Vercors blue cheese?”
“Oh definitely. And we’ll be eating that tonight, on our pizza!”
I smile as we continue on, Annick and Claire outpacing me. I’ve returned back to the Alps for a brief stay with my former hosts, who are starting to feel like family. This visit to the Vercors, a range of mountains close to Grenoble, has been one of the highlights of my trip.
Camping sites in France have one major difference from those in the United States: in France, you can order fresh bread in the morning, and it will be delivered to you. Instead of soggy, stale Wonderbread packed into cartons, we eat fresh baguettes and croissants for breakfast. Although I love the simplicity of camping cuisine, I must admit that this morning luxury of fresh baked bread is much appreciated.
We eat well during our four day trip, packing a light lunch to eat in the mountains and preparing a healthy dinner in the evenings. One evening, we visit the camping site restaurant, where the three of us share well-earned pizzas. My favorite was aptly named “The Vercors”, topped with specialties from the region: ravioles, bleu du Vercors-Sassenge cheese, and lardon, or diced bacon. What a perfect meal after a day climbing up and down those steep mountain peaks.
The final evening, I try what I’ve been waiting for, since I was in the Rhone-Alpes last month: ice cream, à la Chartreuse. With a scoop of chocolate ice cream, la Chartreuse flavor is strong and tasty. I debate ordering the small shot of la Chartreuse to pour over the ice cream, but I choose to enjoy the flavors alone instead. We drink more Chartreuse later, snuggled near the campfire.
I sigh contentedly when I’m finished. The Alps have left me feeling absolutely full: mountain views, mountain air, and mountain food.