The late
season
The larches turn russet, the passes empty out. The season for those in the know begins when everyone else is packing up.
Autumn needs defending. It’s the season regulars book year after year and nobody talks about: larches turning russet, the air clear again, the trails handed back to those who stay. October light makes the mountains look closer, and you can walk for hours and meet nothing but chamois.
The days are shorter and you take them differently: set off after the second coffee, summit at noon, come down through the colours. The ridges that were crowded in August are empty, the mountain huts have closed so a picnic is a must, and that’s just fine.
Down below, the Valais brings in its harvest. The vineyards of the Rhône plain are half an hour away, a chance to see where Le Caveau’s amigne and petite arvine come from, glass in hand, with the winemakers who supply our brasserie.
“When the trails grow quiet, the valley belongs to those who take their time.”
At the brasserie, the menu follows the season closely: game from the region, brisolée on chestnut weekends, the first slow-cooked dishes. Evenings stretch out at the bar, and the house slips back into its winter rhythm before the winter crowds arrive.
It’s also the season for ideas: come to write, come and work for a few quiet days, book the house for a team. The late season has that luxury: room, time, and a mountain to yourself.
