high altitude bar crawl

(Second instalment in The Dolomiti Appreciation Society series)

Spring skiing is something of a mixed bag. Head out too early and the snow tends to rattle your teeth out of your skull, too late and you're wading waist deep in sludge. Some wise owl once said to get the best of the snow you need to follow the sun and ski from east to west. Does that not just sound horrifically over-organised? If you're anything like the vast majority of the Dolomiti Appreciation Society, your spring ski will be a scenic route from bar to bar to bar to bar to floor then back to bar.

Are you ready? We're about to go on a Dolomiti bar crawl.

Primo bar: The Cow Bar

This is possibly my favourite bar in the Dolomites. It's nestled in the side of the mountain, hidden away from the world. If you're ever in the area, look for a 15ft one-eyed cow with a quiff. Duck under the cow and ring his bell to let him know you're coming. It's only polite!

Spritz Hugo, Spritz Aperol and one helluva view

They even have real life mountain cows

And mountain poultry

Next we're going to my other favourite bar in the Dolomites. It's halfway down the James Bond run (seen in For Your Eyes Only) so you're obligated to feel like James Bond as you shoop down to it. When you get there, forget all about your martini shaken not stirred. Get a hot chocolate with extra cream and chocolate sprinkles. It's what James Bond would've done. Honest. 

High altitude selfie

Terzo bar: Here you want an espresso, a pre-packed hipflask of brandy/baileys/whiskey and a retro ski do

Jake & Sophie

Me with the little gnomie

Another incredible view

Quarto bar: Now you already know about this hidden little gem, you savvy thing.

Delyth found a friend

It was retro ski day. Apparently.

As a result of the altitude-alcohol combination, things started to get a bit silly.

Now your tootsies are warm and you're feeling all brave and gnarley, you've just about got time to play in the park before we head to our next bar.

(before I had the most least graceful of falls)

And there's always time for a bit of Dolomiti Appreciation between fine drinking establishments

Couldn't have put it better myself

His & hers shiny puffas with matching velour. Che donna, che uomo!

Quarto bar: Prosecco Bar

This could (also) possibly be my favourite bar in the Dolomites. The prosecco is bottled in-house and de-corked with pliers. Did I mention the prosecco is sublime? If you look closely, you'll see a certain Parisienne looking chic even when she's upside down and stuck inside a wine glass!

L'ultimo bar: Sassbece (okay you got me, they're all my favourite bars!)
This was the final bar for a few reasons. In part because we introduced Sophie to Grappa Williams and things always tend to go downhill from there. But mainly because it was 6pm and so the Carabinieri kindly insisted on escorting us down the mountain.

Yewwwwwwwwwww

Then monday came along and said it was time to go home to flatland, where there are no cow bars, no mountain poultry and retro one-piece's are less acceptable as daywear. An extra special grazie mille to the lovely Elisa who singlehandedly denounces the claim that women can't drive, and all members of the Dolomiti Appreciation Society for the food and company (but mostly the food.)

Ci vediamo presto!

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the swiss family secret

We've just been to Switzerland. We almost didn't make it. Now here's a story for you: two trains leaving Milan at exactly the same time. One going to the Italian seaside resort of Genova, another to Geneva in the Swiss Alps. One vowel, 294km difference. As luck would have it, we got onboard the wrong one. What followed was all very Bridget Jones. Picture a loud 'oh shiiit', a frantic scramble off one train and onto another, with four minutes to run twenty-two platforms, unsuspecting bystanders were unceremoniously knocked aside and finally, a leap of faith onto the last train to Switzerland.
Red, sweaty and puffy. Who says travel isn't glamourous?

Zinal is a pretty little mountain town in the Swiss Alpine valley, Val d'Anniviers. It has all the familiarity and charm you might expect from a small alpine village. A boulangerie which remembers your morning order (deux multi-céreales merci), the man at the cheese counter insists you try before you buy and absolutely everybody wishes you a bonne journée!

The views are spectacular, the queues (almost always) non-existant. It really is the hidden gem of the ski world.

Meet the team. The Hewitts plus some

The usual suspects

Mama & Papa Hew having a natter

Brother bear & my beautiful mama

Off-piste in the Zinal bowl

Lunching

Here's our customary 'we're skiing, be jealous' instagram. 

When I was little, Papa Hew used to say "if you don't fall, you're not trying hard enough". Now I'm older, this is both my insurance and assurance. Taking my bruises as proof of a hard days work, I treated myself with a glass of wine and a bubble bath.

With Jool's Favourite Stew for tea

The next day we woke up to clear blue skies, only to reminded of the old saying. Red sky in the morning, shepherd's warning. Sure enough, the clouds barged in and brought with them a snow storm.

Which could only mean one thing... Cheers to another hard days work! (Papa Hew's glass on the left, mine on the right)

Now for the real money maker. Fondue time. Pots of bubbling cheese, overflowing baskets of fresh baguette, cured meats, crudites. If it was American we'd call it disgusting, because it's French we call it délicieux!

The last morning we padded around, filled a flask of Baileys coffee and went for a walk, before heading home, albeit less dramatically than the outbound journey.

If you're ever in Zinal you must walk through the old town. The room-sized wooden chalets seem unliveable, but the smoke billowing from the chimneys say otherwise. It's unbelievably magical.

When you hear the jingling of bells and the smell of, well, mother nature, you've reached the cow shed. Leave yesterday's baguette. Because half a loaf is better than naan!

Soph the eskimo

Anyone else feeling like they're in Narnia?

Then at the end of the town, stop for a drink in the Alpina. Mix-matched chairs, juices and liquors fait à la maison, every spare inch of wall filled with assorted pictures, paintings and prints.

'The reasons for living are worth a lot more than life itself.' If I were philosophically inclined I would've pondered this whilst sipping my jus de gingembre. As I'm not, instead I just admired the pretty pictures. 

Selfishly I'd like to keep Zinal a family secret, but it's so breathtaking, up the mountain and down, that I really just had to share it with you.

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