Fondu Savoyarde

Journies at home left France for Andorra;  a quick retail therapy session for all that is ephemeral: Tobacco, gin, rum, olives, ail confit, cat flea treatment, liquorice and Fairy's washing up liquid.  

The snow lay thick outside the door to Mathieu's restaurant, so we hunkered down in the warm and shared a fondu.

Merens on the way back and a 600 metre climb through pine, beech and oak, wild daffodils, cowslips, violettes and rocks that formed steep steps, the sound of the stream and waterfalls.    

We never got to the elusive Etang de Comte.  We never do.