Alps

Nine-thirty on a sunny Tuesday morning, and the platforms at Nice-Ville station are buzzing. Office workers nudge their way past backpackers, passengers clamber on to trains heading east to Monaco and Italy, or west to Antibes and Cannes. My husband and I, however, are heading away from the glittering coastline and boarding the Train des Merveilles (Train of Wonders) into the Alpes-Azur mountains.

Back on track last December after a programme of major works closed the line for a year, it’s one of the most spectacular train routes in Europe, a two-hour journey that climbs 1,000 metres in 100km, linking Nice with the medieval town of Tende, surrounded by the soaring peaks of the Mercantour national park.

It’s barely 10 minutes before the suburbs of Nice begin to melt into low hills, scattered with auburn-roofed villas and copses of chestnut trees. Once the ascent begins, it’s easy to see why maintaining the line, begun in 1883, is a serious task. More than 100 bridges and viaducts – and almost as many tunnels and retaining walls – stitch the track together, along with ingenious helical loop tunnels, which gain altitude by following a series of bends inside the mountain itself.

It’s a breathtaking ride, the hills gaining height and heft, until a great mountainscape begins to unfold before us; jagged peaks that make the valley road below seem little more than a thin sliver of ribbon.

Many passengers ride straight up to Tende and set off to hike the mountain trails that lead off from the town. But we want to see a little more, and disembark first at Sospel, a medieval town where the 13th-century Pont-Vieux straddles the Bévéra River. It’s market day and, even in such a small town, there are flower and vegetable stalls, great wheels of cheese and delicious looking breads. We stroll the quiet streets, past crumbling baroque churches and gothic-style houses. It’s amazing to think we are barely an hour from Nice – it feels like we’ve been transported to an entirely different region of France.

The higher we go, the more the feeling of stepping back in time grows. At La Brigue, the gateway to the Mercantour national park, the tangle of medieval streets feel barely raised from their winter sleep; the town only really comes alive in summer, when the hikers arrive. La Brigue’s claim to fame is the Chapel of our Lady of Fountains, a couple of miles outside the town. Named for the seven springs that trickle through the rocks nearby, parts of the church date back to the 13th century, when, legend has it, villagers built it as a sign of gratitude to the Virgin Mary after prayers for a new water source for La Brigue were answered. While the facade is unassuming, the interior is truly extraordinary; its walls and ceiling are covered in 15th-century frescoes by Giovanni Canavesio that are so vivid the church is sometimes called the Sistine Chapel of the Southern Alps.

By the time we arrive in Tende, where the houses cling to the mountainside, we are 800 metres above sea level and there is nothing but wooded slopes leading to high peaks and a crisp, clear silence. We follow the modern main street through the clustered, medieval houses of the old town up to the ruins of Chateau Lascaris, where the views stretch to the distant peaks of the Marguareis massif, the last mountains before Italy. It’s quite a pull, and afterwards we reward ourselves with mammoth croque monsieurs at Stella Alpina – part outdoor equipment shop, part rustic eaterie. Around us, hearty looking chaps in Lycra cycling tops are tucking into pints of lager and platters of local cheese and cured meats.

Much restored, we dip into the Musée des Merveilles, where we learn (through our fractured French) that the area is home to one of Europe’s largest Neolithic and Bronze Age rock-engraving sites. The town’s more recent (relatively speaking) history is tied to the Salt Road, a mule train route between the Piedmontese Alps and the Ligurian coast, used from the middle ages until the 18th century. Built as the last French stop-off along the trade route, it partly explains why a town of such a size was located in such an isolated, mountainous location.

Next morning, we’re back in Nice, from where we head along the coast to Antibes. It’s such a bonus, being able to explore so easily; 40 minutes later, we’re strolling past gleaming yachts in the marina and on to the 16th-century ramparts, to sit in the sunshine and watch the kitesurfers whisk across the bay. We head to a restaurant on the Place Nationale, where I eat crispy fritto misto (mixed fried seafood) and try to ignore my husband tucking into buttery, garlicky snails. The following day we take the 10-minute hop east for lunch in Beaulieu-sur-Mer, where the streets ooze belle epoque glamour, and the Plage de la Petite Afrique makes the perfect spot for a paddle and a pile of mussels, thick with cream and garlic.

Food, inevitably, plays a big part in our time in Nice too. As touristy as the old town is, we find two absolute gems; a recommendation sends us to Acchiardo (on Facebook), where the fourth generation of the Acchiardo family serves up classic local dishes such as daube Nicoise – a rich, slow-cooked beef stew and duck breast with fig sauce. The second, Les Bar Des Oiseaux (on Instagram), we simply stumble across. It’s a classic bistro, with wood panelling painted with flawless reproductions of artworks by everyone from Joan Miró to Paul Klee and Roy Lichtenstein. My bourride (a traditional Provençal fish stew) was one of the most delicious things I’ve ever eaten.

And that’s the beauty of Nice. It’s both a destination itself and a gateway to very different worlds, all of them just a train ride away. The Train des Merveilles is unarguably the highlight; those extraordinary twists and turns, the grandiose scenery, wild and untouched, so different from the busy streets of Nice. But to pack all of it into one short trip is to make the very most of this diversely beautiful region; a trip des merveilles indeed.

The trip was provided by Mama Shelter hotels and the Nice Côte d’Azur tourist board. Doubles at Mama Shelter Nice from £114 B&B. The Train des Merveilles runs daily from June-September, with an onboard guide on the 9.30 departure. A regional rail day pass with Ter Zou!, including the Train des Merveilles, is €20

After a day spent hiking across the Col d’Entrèves glacier, a sugar hit is required. I descend on the cable car and join the queue at the ice-cream counter. Above me, surrounded by jagged peaks, looms the huge white figure of Mont Blanc, serene and pure against a brilliant blue sky. Although it’s late afternoon, people are still heading up the mountain, and there are two clear groups. On one side are the tourists, who are about to be lifted into unfamiliar frozen realms at 3,375 metres (11,072ft), hoping to grab a picture and return. Mixed among them are the weathered faces of mountain experts: hikers confidently heading for a high-altitude hut, or climbers with coils of rope.

How many of those tourists, I wonder, are wishing they could be mountaineers, secretly regretting the twists of fate that kept them away from that path? But all is not lost. The aspiring adventurer, no matter what age or background, can begin the journey to competence in the mountains. The annual mountain festival I am attending aims to facilitate that by offering the chance to gain hands-on experience with experts.

I have been up on the glacier with an Italian Alpine guide, who was coaching me in crossing the ice safely. Next to me when I make it to the lemon sorbet is Meta, a musician from Berlin, who has just been rock climbing. “I’ve only ever climbed indoors,” she says. “But I want to get experience outdoors. This seemed the perfect way to start.” What had held her back? She raises an eyebrow. “Berlin doesn’t have any mountains.” And how was it? “Amazing. I definitely want to do more.”

The Arc’teryx Alpine Academy in Chamonix began 16 years ago with a focus on rock climbing, but has since extended its range. There’s now a UK festival too in the Lake District in May. These days, there’s tuition in everything from Alpine botany to advanced multi-pitch climbing. Max from Rome is buzzing after a day of trail-running with experts. “They were so helpful, sharing their knowledge and tips.”

When we get back to the festival base camp, I meet others who have been out studying photography and mountain geology. Frenchman Jean-Luc is in a state of blissful shock. “I went on a climbing course and found myself teamed up with Jim Pope,” he says. “Can you imagine? He’s a climbing hero of mine, and was so friendly and encouraging. I still can’t believe it happened.” Elvin and Annie from Stockholm did an introduction to ice-climbing and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Meta and I watch the male and female Alpine guides chatting. “Look at them,” she says. “I want to be like that: with that physique and those skills.” She turns back to me, laughing. “They are cool.”

Rock climbing as a sport is cool right now. My local climbing wall is full of cool. Hamish McArthur, one of the stars of world climbing and an expert tutor at the festival, began his career on that wall in York.

Meanwhile, the crowd is enjoying the festival. There is a programme of music too, from live bands to DJs, and the London band Kokoroko are playing as I tour the stalls. There’s one where you can borrow equipment for a day, just to try it. That solves one tricky part of the how to get started equation. At another stall, I learn how to wash my waterproofs correctly and do small repairs. At the next tent, I get a beer and wander over a small grassy hill to discover Austrian climber Alex Luger chatting to a small group about psychology and climbing. Alex is a professional climber turned psychotherapist who specialises in facing fears, an appropriate area of expertise for a man who has scaled some of the most terrifying rock walls on the planet. “I enjoy meeting such a variety of people,” he tells me afterwards. “And facing fears is not just about climbing; it applies to many situations.”

Next to the food tent, I meet organiser Stéphane Tenailleau, from the brand Arc’teryx, who is also facing his fears. “Sending 800 people, some of them total beginners, into the mountains carries a certain amount of risk.” That number includes disadvantaged kids from Paris and other underprivileged groups.

All too soon, the festival is over, but nearby Geneva provides an interesting coda. I stroll around the historic old town, my need to climb still burning. On the side of a cable car station overlooking the city, I find a climbing wall and instructor Pierre, who turns out to be an unsung genius of motivational psychology. I had always regarded the crux of a climb, the hardest bit, as the moment when I give up. Pierre rewires my brain. On the 20-metre concrete wall, with Lake Geneva far below, I reach the pinch point and get ready to fail.

“That desire to stop,” pipes up Pierre, who seems to know exactly what I’m thinking, “that is the dark place of climbing. Now balance your mind and body. Breathe. Move your left foot 2cm to the right. Extend the ankle. And now go on.”

And I do.

The trip was provided by Geneva Tourism, with accommodation at the Crowne Plaza Geneva, doubles from CHF 225 (£212). The 2026 Arc’teryx Alpine Academy in Chamonix, with a range of individually priced clinics, takes place 2-5 July. Other locations for the festival include the Lake District, 23-25 May

Thick grey-green mud squidges through my toes as I step into the icy, irresistible water. I’m on the descent from the Britannia Hut at the foot of the Allalinhorn in the Valais canton of the Swiss Alps, and this turquoise pool of glacial meltwater has been on the horizon tempting me for an hour. I peel off all five layers of clothing and plunge into the murky water. After a night in a shared dorm without showers it’s bliss.

In winter, the jagged ridges of the Valais are the domain of expert skiers and ice climbers, but in summer the lower slopes become accessible to hikers, with the added bonus of the ski lift infrastructure. You can be surrounded by dramatic peaks with the security of well-marked trails ranging from gentle strolls to serious alpine routes. I’m here to hike to mountain huts, test my nerves on via ferrata routes, and fill my city-dweller lungs with clean Alpine air.

I begin my trip in Saas-Fee, a car-free high altitude village in the south-west of Switzerland, where I spend the night at the Walliserhof Grand-Hotel, famous for hosting Wham! when they filmed the Last Christmas music video here. From my balcony with a cold beer, I spend the evening drinking in views of church spires, geranium-covered balconies and the towering wall of mountains beyond.

Between Saas-Fee and the village of Saas-Grund lies a deep gorge – the Sass-Fee Alpine Canyon – which can only be tackled with a guide. A via ferrata system of ladders, metal rungs and cables allows climbers to access high-level routes while clipped into a safety cable. I’m lucky to be assigned Aldo Lomatter as my guide the next morning – he built this canyon route and knows it better than anyone. We criss-cross the gorge on wobbly bridges, climb ladders up and down the rock face, and disappear into gulleys on ziplines.

The intensity of the challenges build as the route progresses: crossing high above the river a vertiginous ladder bridge abruptly stops, and it’s a 40-metre abseil to the riverbed. We finish with a zipline, which ends deep in a dark cave: it’s a leap of faith, but also the only way down – and a thrilling finale. Climbing out of the cave on a shaky ladder, I emerge blinking into the sunlit hamlet of Saas-Grund and take the free minibus back to Saas-Fee for a fondue lunch.

Suitably refuelled, it’s time for my next adventure: a gondola and cable car take me to Morenia, the top gondola station, for the walk to the Britannia Hut at 3,030 metres. Only reachable by foot or helicopter, it’s a gentle two-hour hike over Egginerjoch but, even in mid-summer, much of that is over snow – though thankfully no crampons are needed.

The hut was built in 1912 as a gift from British members of the Swiss Alpine Club to thank the Swiss for their hospitality in the mountains. From the deckchairs outside, the views over the Allalin glacier and the Mattmark area are jaw-dropping.

Accommodation is simple but practical. Hikers share dormitories with wide wooden bunks, ours sleeps eight. There are communal plastic clogs to give tired feet a break from walking boots, otherwise guests pad around in thermals and big jumpers. The tap water isn’t drinkable and there are no showers. Supplies are brought up by helicopter, and water is as expensive as beer. Dinner is one sitting at 7pm, served family style with all guests eating the same meal. It’s hearty mountain food: cream of vegetable soup, saffron risotto, roast beef, vegetables and a fruit pudding. Hiking tales and weather forecasts are swapped jovially in many languages around the table. I sleep soundly, though I’m grateful for my earplugs and eye mask. Many guests here are preparing for long days and distant summits, so breakfast is served at 3am, 5am or 7am, and by the time I turn up for the last sitting the hut has mostly emptied.

I retrace my route to Morenia, stopping to cool off in meltwater on the way, and take the gondola back down to Saas-Fee where a second dip awaits at the WellnessHostel 4000, a youth hostel with its own spa. Below the cafeteria and dormitories, there are a 25-metre swimming pool and elegant wood-panelled, adults-only spa overlooking the gorge I traversed days before. I buy a day pass (CHF34.40) and spend a leisurely few hours in the pool, saunas and steam rooms, gazing out at the trees and river below. After a day in the mountains it’s a wonderful way to stretch tired muscles.

Keen to explore the area further, I take the free PostBus down the mountain to Visp and catch a train to Champéry at the other end of the canton. I spend a night at traditional family-run Hôtel Suisse, and eat at Café du Nord sitting outside under a fairy-light canopy. The next morning I meet Lloyd Wiltshire from Experience Champéry to be fitted with a harness for my next vertiginous challenge, Champéry’s Tière via ferrata, which takes climbers up steep cliffs high above the valley and is reached by a winding uphill walk through woods dripping with lichen. The most challenging point is a tricky climb in the spray of a thundering waterfall, followed by a single wire crossing above the River Tière – not for the faint-hearted.

After lunch I take the Croix de Culet cable car from Champéry to 1,962 metres. Covered in lush grass and alpine flowers, it’s hard to imagine that this is a popular ski area in winter. I walk through farmland, stopping to buy freshly made cheese and cakes from simple cafes and honesty boxes. My summit today is the Col de Cou mountain pass, where I stand with a foot either side of the French-Swiss border looking over the Terres Maudites and the Manche valley in France, and the Dents du Midi and Dents Blanches ridges in Switzerland.

Descending to the tranquil Barme plateau with tired legs, I find rest and refuge at Cantine de Barmaz, a rural restaurant with rooms. On the menu, the house special is choléra, a deliciously hearty leek, potato and cheese pie, ideal post-hike fortification with a glass of cold Swiss wine. I watch as the last light of the day illuminates the jagged spikes of the Dents du Midi in shades of glorious umber and gold. I then cosy into my dormitory bed in the eaves, lulled to sleep by the deep breathing of tired hikers and the rhythmic clang of distant cowbells.

The trip was provided by Saas-Fee Saastal, Région Dents du Midi and Visit Switzerland. For more information on the region see valais.ch. Half-board at Britannia Hut costs CHF98 (£92) a night for non-SAC members (CHF84 for members). Half-board at Auberge de montagne Cantine de Barmaz costs CHF68 a night in a dorm or CHF75 in a private room