It's that time again: by which I mean, the nice gap (in the UK) between the start of the school year and the start of the university year, just perfectly placed for a small holiday escape, when the main summer mayhem has died down a bit and before the students reappear to shatter the calm.  My goal this year is to visit some new parts of the Alps (especially in France -- new ground for me), and to revisit some more familiar and favourite places.

I had (of course!) started planning this year's trip just about as soon as I came back from last year's: but some developments in the interim meant I embarked on it with a certain amount of trepidation. First, and most stupidly, I managed to mark the last day of 2022 by fracturing my ankle rather awkwardly (when not cycling: always the most dangerous moments...); 8 months later, I feel pretty much back to normal (all thanks to our miraculous NHS) but this would be the first sustained test of my newly titanium-enhanced leg.  Second, and more existentially, the crazy weather this summer seemed to make heading into the mountains a more than usually uncertain prospect: every day seemed to bring more stories of storms, snow, and landslides.

I'm writing this up after my return, so -- spoiler alert -- I can say that everything turned out fine: I was exceptionally lucky with the weather; and my leg didn't fall off either.  A double result! For the longer version, read on...

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