Two novices, a large van and a lively Irish setter make for an eventful road trip through the French mountains

When I first had the idea of taking a winter road trip through the Alps, I imagined snowy walks followed by fondue in the comfort of our van, feet warmed by 25kg of auburn fluff (it was to be our Irish setter’s first encounter with snow). Waking up to snowflakes on the skylight and the freedom of being able to go wherever we wanted. What I hadn’t quite pictured was spending our first night in a car park on the outskirts of a city, sandwiched between the medieval ramparts and a graveyard.

We were in Albertville, on the edge of the French Alps, in an enormous campervan that afforded theoretical freedom but size-induced restraints. Those born before the 1980s probably know Albertville as the home of the 1992 Winter Olympics, those born after may have passed it if heading for Chambéry for a ski trip. The new town of Albertville sprawls industrially through the valley, tower blocks overshadowed by snow-capped mountains, while the old town, known as Conflans, fortified and cobbled, is so pretty it looks like an illustration, and is home to more cats than a Greek island.