Day 44 – to Ventron

Day 44 – to Ventron

Day 44 – to Ventron

I meandered on quiet roads about 20 kilometres north west. I had my eye on a trail on the west side of the Ventron ski area. I suspect skiing in the Vosges is more about it being cheap. Camping is a third of the price of the Alps, and restaurants and bars noticeably less expensive also. The ski slopes are short, shorter even than their Scottish equivalents, and like Scotland, the season is short also.

I parked up at about 700 metres and followed a circuit I had planned that took in the top of Haut de Rouge Gazon.

On the way up, I came across a memorial and wreckage from an air crash in 1944.

On the foggy night of 5th February, at around 11 pm, the EF469, of 196 Squadron of the RAF, crashed on the snow covered mountain, in this spot. It had been dropping supplied for the French Resistance. The pilot, 22 year old Thomas Moore, Flying Officer John Lyndsey, and Warrant Officer, Lionel Woodruff, were killed. The rest of the crew were injured, and purely by luck, stumbled upon a chalet lower down the mountain. They were looked after by locals, before being arrested the following day.

Some of the wreckage is displayed next to the memorial, photos 2, 3 and 4.

Along with late lunch came rain, showery at first, but setting in later in the afternoon, just after we had ascended the neighbouring lump, Tête des Champs. With the rain grew the humidity, the temperature not dropping below 18C even at night.

I moved round to the camper parking at Ventron village, and ate at the L’art de Vivre restaurant, which looked very nice, and had good bottled black IPA, but the food was only average.

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supera superiora sequi

SafeReturnDoubtful is my alias.


Where is Andy?

Shap, Cumbria circa 2016 – Tia, Roja and Mac behind

I was so much older then…

Dartmoor 2019


Quote of the Week

Alice asked the Cheshire Cat, who was sitting in a tree, ‘What road do I take?’ The cat asked, ‘Where do you want to go?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Alice answered. ‘Then,’ said the cat, ‘it really doesn’t matter, does it?’


Lewis Carroll