Stranded, on a mountainside, in the dark and rain starting to pour down, read our hospitality experience at the Hotel le Velleda, near Mont Donon in France.
To say our predicament was… fraught… would be an understatement. We didn’t know where we were, other than somewhere in/near the Bas-Rhin, Moselle, and Vosges in France.
Not knowing what was wrong with our vehicle, the free-flowing smoke or steam was a bit terrifying, or how timely/costly it was going to be to repair, we we effectively stuck in the middle of nowhere.
However, what was to transpire over the following days has now become a cherished memory. Not so much the breaking down, that will never be fondly thought of. No, it’s the experience of true French hospitality, the kindness of strangers to foreigners, and the balm of taking time to appreciate the important things in life.
This is a saga of how to handle a futile situation, and finding joy in good food, good company, and patience.
So, what happened before Hotel le Velleda?
Just before our unexpected adventure we’d been in Strasbourg, for its Christmas market. We’d been touring about in our campervan, and had a wonderful time at Colmar.
Prior to this we’d been to Trier and Köln in Germany, and Brugges, Belgium. I wouldn’t say the trip was… carefree. It wasn’t. We’d had rain come in through the side door, where an adjustment wasn’t quite right. We’d discovered the limitations of a Porta-Potti and made a mad dash to find a service point. Not forgetting the steep learning curve of LPG in below freezing temperatures.
It’d been an adventure, and for the most part we’d taken it all in our stride. Mostly.
However, as we arrived into Strasbourg and it’s extremely cold night, we’d hit a problem with the heating. Or lack of heating. It was so cold that our Truma Combi couldn’t draw the fuel up to keep us warm. We didn’t really know how to deal with this, other than light the oven, which worked, and make some hot water bottles.
We formed a plan, drive to an aire with electrical hook-up, and see what could be done.
So that’s what we were doing, driving through the last few kilometres of the Bas-Rhin and into the Vosges when the proverbial hit the fan in a spectacular fashion.
Hotel le Velleda and its Hospitality
At the time of the breakdown it was 3.30pm on a Friday. Not the most convenient of times for anything in France. But, that’s the joy of adventure. We called for assistance to our provider, unknowingly putting ourselves into a series of disappointments and frustration.
Whilst awaiting collection, we assessed where we were; literally on a mountainside with nothing much around. There was a hotel at one end of the road, and a tiny village at the other. Both about 3.5mi/5kms in either direction.
The light was fading fast, fair considering it was late November, and the light drizzle became dripping rain. Mist was settling down over the mountain, shrouding us, and cutting off next to all visability.
We now know and appreciate the description of “up sh*t creek, without a paddle.”
When the tow truck arrived it was after 6pm. It was almost pitch black, we were damp and frozen through, the outside temperature hovered between -1-0C.
Through garbled French we asked the driver to get us to a hotel, hopefully one that had a room for a few days – given it was Friday night there would be NOTHING happening until Monday, at best.
Enter Hôtel le Velleda
At that point in time, rising up through the heavy fog and in the dark, its lights emitting a golden glow out into the dismal landscape, there was nothing more beautiful. The promise of a hot shower, a bed, and maybe even some food, was it too much to hope for?
Par hasard, non. Hôtel le Velleda had one room left. Literally, one room. As the driver briefly arranged for us to stopover there, we began to hope, dared to dream, that just maybe everything would be alright.
Stumbling through the front door, having been dropped off by the truck in the sodden and muddy carpark, we fell into the entry foyer. Soaked through, muddy, showing hints of tear stains, we approached Reception looking every bit as dishevelled as we felt.
Somehow we managed to explain what we needed, a room, with a shower, and was it possible to get something to eat?
The poor staff member looked at us as though we’d lost our marbles. Quite possibly we had. By this point we’d been dealing with conflicting advice from our breakdown provider, and had been told so many inaccuracies that we no longer recognised fact from fiction. We also hadn’t had anything to eat/drink/sit down or answer the call of nature in nearly four hours. We were in bad shape, mentally and physically.
Someone showed us to our room. It was at the back of the property, an accessible room, but it had everything we thought we’d need; beds, a bathroom, a desk to work from, and quiet.
Hospitality in France and Hotel le Velleda
If you’ve paid any attention to media in the last century, then you’ll know the reputation the French have regarding non-French people. Rude, surly, uncommunicative, unhelpful, and cold. These are the nicer attributes you’re told to expect.
This is not what we experienced.
Dumping our bags down, the contents being whatever we remembered to grab from the van before its departure, we crumpled onto the floor and heaved a strangled sigh. I’m still unsure what kind of sigh it was, part wounded wild animal, and part relief at salvation.
We rummaged through our bags to find the things we’d need immediately, and discovered we’d forgotten adapters. Used to travelling in the UK and in our van, we hadn’t packed EU adapters.
We burst into laughter. Of all the things to forget, we had USB power chargers, but no EU socket adapters. It was the straw that broke the backs of these camels.
Only partially hopeful, I legged it down to Reception and managed to describe what I wanted and asked if there was a shop nearby?
“Non, il n’y a rien”. No, there’s nothing.
“Mais, oui vous avez besoin de brancher? Pour vos mobiles?” I nodded furiously, “Pas de probleme!”
I followed a staff member around to the bar, and voila; an adapter and cables, we could charge our phones! It was the tiniest of things, but it meant the world.
That night we showed up, without reservation, to the restaurant and they managed to fit us in. Shown to a table that was slightly out of the way, inconspicuous in a busy restaurant, we felt a bit of relief, less like the billboard tourists who kind of stuck out against the locals.
Dining at Hotel le Velleda
The meal we devoured, for that is the only way to describe our appreciation, will live on in our memories until our last breaths. A set or fixe menu was on offer, or a la carte if you preferred. We were s.t.a.r.v.i.n.g, so opted for the lot, but no coffee.
The prix fixe wasn’t cheap, but it was fair for what you were served. We were determined to make something positive from our situation, and we’d start with our next meal.
For entrée, the “Veloute de potimarron et sa crumble á la châtaigne.” Or in English: “Butternut squash soup with a caramelised chestnut crumble.”
What was it? A bowl of thick and creamy pumpkin soup, topped with a crumble of roasted caramelised chestnuts and a balsamic drizzle on the plate. It was delicious
For the ‘plat’ or main course:
En Français; “Onglet de boeuf et sa fondue d’échalotes, sauce bordelaise, et pommes frites” Or in English: “Beef flank steak with shallot fondue, Bordelaise sauce, and French fries.”
What it actually was: a flank steak cooked to our preference, for me that’s medium-rare, and coated in a mountain of luxuriant caramelised shallots and sauce Bordelaise, off to the side, a bowl of golden-fried chips that were crisp on the outside and fluffy on the inside. A hearty meal in cold and miserable weather.
Finally, for ‘dessert’:
En Français: “Notre emblématique créme brulée et sa boule au glace de Daim” In English: “Our iconic crème brûlée and its Daim bar ice cream”
In reality, this was a substantial dish of thick and creamy custard, literally the spoon could stand straight up, the signature toasted sugary top was perfection, making the call to dive in all but impossible. Off to the side, a scoop of Daim bar ice cream, that is both sweet and soothing with its crunchy Daim bar pieces.
What happened next at Hotel le Velleda
As you can probably guess, this tale is a long one, and there’ll be more than one post about it. Especially the restaurant and its food. Oh dear, the food. Parting really was sweet sorrow.
As for the hotel, our time there was memorable for all the right reasons. As one night became three, which then became seven, by the time we finally left the following Friday it felt more like leaving home all over again.
During our week long stay we noticed a number of things. Saturday nights are busy. This is a very popular hotel and restaurant with locals, and rightly so. The food is excellent, the atmosphere is superb, and the service matches both of these points perfectly.
We became well acquainted with several members of staff, and engaged in conversations that consisted of more than the ubiquitous ‘Bonjour’ and ‘Merci’. We met family members, were offered assistance by staff once word had spread what had happened to us, and when we did leave, several of them hugged us farewell.
These were not rude, surly, uncommunicative or unhelpful people. They were rightly wary of strangers, they were polite but not overly familiar, they were helpful and concerned without overstepping boundaries. They were professional, not personal.
Perhaps that’s what most travellers misunderstand. For many, the Anglo-overly familiar interactions feel rude and intrusive. What we experienced was care and caution, respectable distance not invasive behaviour.
Daily life at Hotel le Velleda
Each morning we enjoyed the bountiful buffet at the breakfast room, and I do mean bountiful. Shelves covered in many types of breads and pastries, a cold larder section with sliced meats and terrine or pate. There was a fruit, cereal and yoghurt chilled area, and of course juices a plenty to boot. Even a boil-your-own-egg station and nearby coffee machines that made the best non-barista coffee I’ve had in years.
We found the beds to be more than comfortable, the room spacious, and even with an ‘accessible’ bathroom, we were entirely comfortable for our stay. The nights were quiet, compared to the hive of activity around the hotel during the day, and we slept like logs.
Managing to work online helped the time fly by, and a walk in the nearby forest was a great way to blow off some steam. Maybe it was the moody late autumn vibe, with the fallen leaves covering the mountainside tracks, and the denuded trees that lined them, but it felt good to get out and fill our lungs with fresh air. Almost healing after what had happened days before only a few kilometres away.
For some, Hotel le Velleda may appear rustic, caught somewhere in a time-warp of mismatched modern ‘cool’ aesthetic of the bar area with a more traditional restaurant. The hotel has an atmosphere that’s park ski resort, part family-run property, and perhaps that’s part of its charm.
Would we stay by choice at Hotel le Velleda in France again?
That’s the big question, isn’t it? If, when you’re not backed into a corner through circumstance, you were there again, would you choose to stay?
Many, understandably after such a rough start to the experience, might say no. The sheer memory of being stuck on a mountainside for a week, with nowhere to go and very little to do would be too much.
But, yes, we would.
The hospitality we experienced at Hotel le Velleda really turned around an otherwise horrendous experience in France. Whilst this blog post will finish here, be sure to look out for the next one, where I discuss the restaurant more, especially the food we so enjoyed.
