If you were to ask me what my favourite part of living in the French Alps for three months was, it would definitely be photographing the incredible scenery—especially during wildflower season.
And my least favourite part? Definitely the hills!
The name is probably a dead giveaway, but in the French Alps, flat ground just doesn’t exist. To get anywhere, you either have to climb a ridiculously steep hill or stumble down one.
Even my morning walk to the boulangerie for a Pain Blanc—fresh from the oven, its crust golden and crisp—meant conquering hundreds of stairs before I could earn my breakfast. But the reward was worth it, especially once we slathered it with butter and jam.
During our three-month house sit in the Alps, we went on several long hikes into the mountains. Now, I’ll be honest—I hate hills. I avoid them whenever possible. But it felt like a crime not to take advantage of the breathtaking landscapes.
One of my favourite (and most memorable) hikes was up Le Morclan.
Le Morclan
Le Morclan is a stunning mountain peak in the French Alps, standing at 1,970 metres and offering panoramic views over the Chablais region, Mont Blanc, and Lake Geneva. Popular with hikers in summer and skiers in winter, it provides a rewarding (but steep!) climb for those willing to tackle the ascent. Wildflowers blanket the slopes in early summer, but by mid-season, grazing livestock move in, transforming the landscape.
For those less inclined to uphill struggles, a chairlift operates during peak seasons, making the summit much more accessible—an option that, in hindsight, every hill-averse hiker should consider!
The Hike Up Le Morclan
On my first attempt, we set off early in the morning, navigating a narrow, winding, and frankly questionable road. Apart from a few farm vehicles, it didn’t seem like anyone had used it in years.
We eventually parked near a farm and walked along a track beside it to reach the trailhead. It was still early, and apart from a few barking dogs, the place was eerily quiet.
Then I looked at the hill.
It was horrifyingly steep—so steep that I had to use both hands and feet to scramble up safely. Within an hour, my calves were on fire, my lungs were protesting, and I was seriously reconsidering my life choices.
But the view at the top? Absolutely worth it.
A carpet of bright yellow wildflowers stretched across the hillside, with a stunning mountain range as the backdrop. I spent hours photographing the landscape, completely in my element.
Hubby, on the other hand, decided he wanted to make a video to send to the family—one where he heroically carried me up the mountain. He strapped my camera bag to his front, his backpack to his back, and then me on top of it all. It took three takes before he was satisfied, and the entire time, I was convinced I was going to slide off and roll down the mountain!
The Return Visit – A Wildly Different Experience
A few weeks later, I decided to revisit Le Morclan. This time, the chairlifts had opened for the mountain bike season.
Now, I have a new life motto: Why climb a hill when you can take the chairlift?
We glided effortlessly to the top, and instead of gasping for breath, I actually had the energy to enjoy the view.
As I walked down toward the spot we had visited weeks earlier, I stopped in shock—not a single wildflower remained – they had all been eaten by the sheep.
And then, the barking began.
Bounding toward us, barking madly, was a huge, white Patou—a livestock guardian dog.
He was patrolling his invisible boundary, protecting his flock of sheep, which were nowhere in sight but clearly very, very important.
We’d heard about Patous before—how fiercely protective they were and how farmers refused all responsibility if one happened to bite you. At that moment, as he bared his teeth and barked like a possessed creature, that warning felt a little too real.
.He didn’t attack, but he herded us up the hill—away from his precious (and currently invisible) sheep
Now, as someone who hates climbing hills, let me tell you: a forced march uphill while being chased by an enraged Patou is peak nightmare fuel.
Calves burning. Chest wheezing. Dog barking. Pure misery.
Eventually, we reached the top of the hill, crossing some invisible boundary where the Patou decided we were no longer a threat. Just like that, he lost interest and trotted back down to his flock, mission accomplished.
Lessons Learned
That day, I walked away with three important life lessons:
- Wildflowers don’t last long—as soon as the livestock move in, they’re gone!
- A healthy level of fear is advisable when dealing with Patous
- I still hate climbing hills.
Luckily, not all of our hikes involved being chased uphill by an angry guard dog. One of the most memorable was spent photographing marmots in the alpine meadows—an experience that was far less terrifying but just as rewarding. You can read all about it in Whistles in the Wind: Photographing Marmots in the French Alps and explore more images in my portfolio, Marmots of the Alps: A Photography Portfolio.
What is a Patou?
The Patou, also known as the Great Pyrenees, is a large, white livestock guardian dog bred to protect sheep from predators in the French Alps. These dogs are fiercely loyal and highly territorial, often patrolling their flocks with unwavering dedication. While they are not naturally aggressive, they will defend their sheep against perceived threats—including unsuspecting hikers who wander too close. It’s common to see signs warning that farmers take no responsibility for injuries caused by their Patous, making it clear that these dogs mean business. If you encounter one, the best approach is to stay calm, avoid sudden movements, and give their flock a very wide berth.
Le Morclan is just one of many breathtaking locations I had the chance to explore in the French Alps. From vibrant wildflower meadows to dramatic mountain vistas, the region is a dream for photographers.
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