Rentrée, autumn Ecrins, hammam

It's the annual gear shift as everyone returns from holidaying on the south or Atlantic coasts, school starts and every village has its forum des associations to launch the programme of sports and other activities. Serge asked the aikido club (all four of us) to support him at Vaulnaveys-le-Bas. The event was a qualified success as far as we were concerned: when the occasional punter approached the stand we shot ourselves in the foot by Véronique describing our style of aikido as a travail personnel (heavy, man) and Isabelle talking about the pedigree of Sumikiri (which no one has heard of). I berated them, explaining what an elevator pitch is and suggesting that we marketed the class as massages, bières et détente (this is how we end each class). Intriguingly, the three people who called by in the 2 hours we were there, each thought the class would be good for their spouse! (which is of course true)

For the last 2 weeks the weather has been perfectly temperate: lashings of rain (a relief after the drought but 3 days was quite enough) early in the month followed by cooler temperatures and the sunny, pleasantly warm days that precede the displays of colour we'll see in weeks to come. When Katrina's parents came to stay, and she had the unaccustomed luxury of live-in childcare, we seized the opportunity and indulged in a girl's morning at the downtown hammam. On a Monday morning the place was deserted and we had the steam rooms to ourselves to enjoy long chats as we sweated and scrubbed.

Another social highlight was a girls night out at Vaulnaveys-le-Bas. Again thanks to Kat's parents kindly babysitting, Katrina, Honor and I ate a delicious meal, each cooking a course. Around the kitchen table we put the world to rights, chewing the cud until midnight - all, I think, a little nostalgic for a time when this kind of socialising happened a little more often.

September is an ideal time of year for walks. A couple of weeks ago Juan and I headed for Molines en Champsaur, in the southern Ecrins, long on my hitlist of places to (re)explore. I feel real embarrassment when I write that I was there in 1981, after the work camp that I did in Grenoble that summer, and then in 1984 with the family - and that on that second occasion I didn't recognise that I was in the same village. I cannot explain my lack of awareness. And it has only been as a result of perusing old photos (I knew I had been somewhere in that area), and seeing the identical skyline in photos of landscapes from both years, that the penny dropped just recently.

As soon as we walked into the village I recognised the house in the photo. Here it is in 1981:

and in 2012:

In a nearby building was a display of "then and now". We read about the last permanent inhabitant of the village, who died in 1987. And of course, when I looked at my photo, I saw it was the man who appeared on the steps of the house in 1981. Did I realise, at the time, his significance? I have no memory of it.

The following weekend Juan and I went to Prentiq valley (near Ubac, in the Valgaudémar), where I'd walked with dad in August. Agreeing that there was no compulsion to complete the full circuit, we started to walk up the valley.

As the potential destination - Sebeyras and Pétarel lakes - grew closer our (or was it just mine?) motivation to get there heightened. So we continued, Juan finding the last 300m to Prétarel col a challenge more than he needed.

It was here that we realised (by dint of the accumulated effort, nothing whatsoever to do with me being an incompetent map reader!) that we'd climbed a total of around 1500m. This is how Juan felt at this point:

But it was worth it, to see the views of the lakes and Pic Olan:

and to know that we are still capable of doing the occasional mega walk.

Descending to the village of Andrieux, on the main valley road, we were lucky to get a ride back to the car almost immediately - which was just as well as we wouldn't otherwise have been in time for the meal booked at the Ban de l'Ours hotel. From there we drove to the campsite at La Chapelle, pitching the tent in the dark.

The next morning we had breakfast in 6 degrees, wearing full winter gear:

An hour later summer returned and we were in shorts and t-shirts in 24 degrees.
Such is the diurnal range at this time of year.

Juan was in dodgy physical shape (every muscle complaining) so we had a relaxed day exploring the hanging valley that leads to the abandoned (1935) village of Navette south of La Chapelle. Its chapel was recently restored, in line with the wishes of the descendents living in less challengingly inaccessible villages close by.

Today I have the luxury of Juan here on a Monday (it's a public holiday in Switzerland). We have done a successful IKEA run to make Juan's Yverdon pad a bit cosier. Just like old times.