The Vuache is a long lean mountain. Not at all a Fujiyama. Not even a Môle. But I see it every morning from my kitchen balcony. And it tells me what the day’s weather will bring. Geologically it’s part of the Jura range. Good Jurassic limestone, no doubt riddled, like the Salève, with water-filled cavities. And maybe bottomless potholes that nobody has explored. But physically it’s an isolated mountain, cut off eons ago by the melt waters from the immense Rhone Glacier that filled the whole Lemanic basin. And it holds secrets known only to those who explore it in early Springtime.
Eleven of us – the two Marks, Peter, Nathan, Rudi, Richard, Mike M, Ralph, Drew, Mervyn and me, Philip, plus our two canine friends Nessie and Kobie, but minus the otherwise-occupied Stephen, Thatcher and Rob – met at Chaumont, an old twisted village at the southern end of the spine of the Vuache. The promised rain seemed to be all around us but failed to reach the ground.
We found the sign to the Vuache summit tucked away in a small alley behind the church and set off up a steepish rocky gully. Initially the promised Spring flowers were scarce, with only a scattering of the Violets (both blue and white, plus the occasional yellow and white bicolour), blue Spring Squills and Corydalis (both white and red versions) brightening the path.
A Spring Squill
Nessie out in front, while we pause for breath
However, just past a little gate at around 900 m altitude we suddenly found hundreds of Dog’s Tooth Violets, which are unknown at lower altitudes. As though a notice had told them “yes, you can here”.
Dog’s Tooth Violet
Not long after, we started to see the wild Daffodils for which the Vuache is famous – millions of them forming a yellow carpet up to the cairn marking the summit (1105 m). However we were probably too late to spot the Snowdrop-like Snowflakes that grow near the summit.
A carpet of wild Daffodils
Team at the Vuache summit cairn (1105 m)
There was no handy auberge nearby, so we ate our picnics (in a particularly windy spot) with extensive views over the Rhone Valley and in the distance the Plateau de Retord.
Nessie was as quiet as a mouse, while Kobie was on general food lookout and realised that barking was a good way of attracting attention and the odd titbit.
The only points of deep discussion at picnic time seemed to be (though I could have missed a few others) the merits of Richard’s latest potent potion, namely Prime Uve Nere, and those of the new First Minister of Scotland. Unfortunately Rob was not with us to give his expert well-informed opinion of the latter.
On the return, we initially retraced our steps but then deviated down the steep western slope of the Vuache, fortunately relatively dry and unslippery. This took us through the hamlet of Chaumontet and back to the village of Chaumont.
The centre of attraction in the car park turned out to be Mike’s Renault Alpine, the type of sports car that used to do well in the Monte Carlo Rally. It’s sleekness attracted a lot of envy. Less so the luggage compartment under the bonnet, just big enough for half an average suitcase. Undeterred, Mike pointed out a second, but even smaller, luggage space in the “boot”. So where was the engine? Ah, to expose that would require unscrewing the back window. Clearly a car that requires careful attention to engine checks and suitcase size before setting off for Monte Carlo.
Mike’s sleek Renault Alpine half-hidden behind sleek Mervyn (notice dog seat)
Vuach vital statistics: height rise 525 m; distance 7.4 km
A search of the dusty GIN blog archives revealed that the same hike was organised in June 2018 by David Colledge. There were three participants then, an indication of the significant increase over the last 5 years in GIN hiking interest.
Posted by – Philip Jenkins