Swooping up off the tarmac at Auckland airport, we bid farewell to the bleak monotone of the kiwi winter and jetted toward warmer horizons. Only the unavoidable trepidation of two back to back long haul flights harnessed our enthusiasm and fingers were tightly crossed for the tranquility of our littlest team mate. To our relief, the flight to Shanghai went smoothly for all, aided hugely by a little Air NZ inside help from Andre (my sister’s partner). A wonderful flight crew gave us a VIP service and we landed on schedule and feeling fresh in the grimy and overcrowded Chinese metropolis. Killing 5 hours here was no picnic and we eagerly boarded the gargantuan Lufthansa A380-800 at the front of the queue, thanks fully to Arlo who granted us priority service. Make way for the Lady with the baby! As badly as we wanted out of China, Thor, the God of Thunder gridlocked Shanghai airspace and a tedious 6 hour delay kept us grounded. We temporarily questioned the merits of travelling, but finally touching down in Frankfurt in proximity of a hotel bed, we regathered and rested up for our journey across the border to Colmar, France.

German people are awesome – everyone seems smart and helpful, including a kind taxi driver with a cleft palette and a passion for football who informed us that catching the train was a foolhardy decision. It turns out that renting a brand new jeep and driving the mere 220km is half the price and double the fun – who likes public transport anyway? As a kiwi bloke, the natural inclination is autobahn A5 and we duly crawled our way down the slow lane at 170 toward the Black Forest where we ate the best restaurant meal of the trip so far in a rhododendron garden in the picturesque village of Baden Baden.

Crossing the river Rhine, The road scene changed instantly from rapidly moving BMW’s and slick highways to potholes, renaults and citreons. The French don’t specialise in driving. This was quickly forgotten as we entered Petit Venice, the prettiest face of Colmar with centuries of history and notably beautiful architecture. Air BnB is the way to travel and we don’t bother with hotels – this idea was reinforced as we swung open the door to our 410 year old apartment which overlooked a cobblestone street coloured with flowers, French faces and boutique shops. 3 days of relaxation here put us in good spirits, especially when we discovered the fresh food market. French restaurant food is universally terrible but they do fresh food markets like nowhere on earth!

We traded the jeep for a very European little Alfa Romeo and I got comfortable with its driving quirks en route to Switzerland. Alli and I were really excited for the Swiss road trip and Arlo was settling in as a great little traveller. The scenery did not disappoint. In fact, you couldn’t have imagined more fairytale surroundings with bright green hills, lush with forest and grassland that rises dramatically to sheer granite mountain tops dusted with snow. Swiss log cabins are beautiful and that theme holds constant through every town and village – there must be a stern regulation in this respect, or perhaps they all share good taste. Naturally, we opted for the path less travelled and took the narrow, winding scenic route through the high country. Thun is a beautiful town nestled in the alps beside a stunning lake and fast flowing, turquoise hued glacial water flows through the town past a lively cafe scene. We enjoyed a traditional Swiss lunch and contemplated the general excellence of Switzerland. The only thing we hadn’t figured was that our waitress here was to be the last kind, helpful English speaking person we would encounter in Switzerland. But who needs hospitality in a place this beautiful.

That night we arrived an hour later than planned at our chalet in Veysonnaz, perched high on the mountain side above a spectacular valley studded with small settlements, old churches and typical Swiss grandeur. We were touching the sky. Due to our slightly tarde arrival, our kind Swiss Air BnB host disowned us and we found our house by luck alone – but it was worth the hassle. Cow bells gently rung from the paddocks behind the cabin and wild raspberries, strawberries and old cherry trees burdened with fruit coloured the ramshackle outdoor spaces that were favoured by the locals. A couple of days passed peacefully here and we enjoyed home cooking, wandering the forest with Arlo and exploring the valley.

We began to miss the welcoming folks in France and figured the nearby French alps would offer the same geographic beauty on the other side of the imaginary line. Dialling Chamonix into the GPS, we fired up the alfa and headed for greener pastures across the hill. Winding over the mountains we spared a thought for the tour d France riders who would soon grind their miserly way over the same steep route and were amused by the traffic jam caused by some Swiss tractor enthusiasts who were road tripping in convoy with the most lovingly restored old tractors. You just wouldn’t see that anywhere else!

Just when we thought Swiss scenery couldn’t be beat, we rolled into chamonix and this place tops the lot. Perhaps the most scenic mountain resort town in the world – leaves Queenstown and Aspen in the dust. Paragliders soared atop wafting thermals that carried them high against the backdrop of Mont Blanc and gondolas swung from cables that swept down from the most impossible peaks. A vibrant and lively village hummed with well heeled holiday makers and the shops were all as boutique as you like.

Although the restaurant scene looked tempting, we quickly confirmed a few hundred euros later that even here the French still can’t do restaurants to save themselves. But a quick trip to the gourmet butcher and Cheese boutique sorted that issue out and again proved the merits of renting people’s holiday homes – having a kitchen is a must.

We dropped a small fortune in the awesome clothing and outdoors shops and soaked up the magnificence of Chamonix for two more days before moving on. But not before Alli boldly jumped off a cliff under a parasail while Arlo and I watched her scraping the clouds from miles below. Luckily she landed alive and we gapped it for La Clusaz.

Sitting here today, my only anxiety stems from the temporary abandon of my precious little business back home. But it’s raining cats and dogs in Auckland and you can spend your whole life reaching for the next rung on the fiscal ladder. I’m learning that it’s good to pause sometimes, and enjoy the view from where you are standing. And right now we are in a log cabin oozing with charm and authenticity, eating locally made sausages cooked over open wood fire and wild raspberries from the garden. Our son is smiling at me from his post on the couch and Alli is ceremoniously tending to her business obligations. La Clusaz is heaven and certainly a mini Chamonix, easily as beautiful and a premier ski destination in winter but equally as appealing on this clear summers day. Our cabin belongs to Loic Collomb – Paton, the world champion freeride skier and you can see how this place breeds skiers of that calibre. It is a wonderland of slopes, chairlifts and grand mountains.

Tomorrow the adventure continues and we’ll be in the south of France by nightfall. We look forward to sharing that with you too.