Where devils once dwelt, peace now reigns

In Switzerland, Ramble Worldwide leader Avril feels the pull of tranquillity

The tinkling of cowbells drifts across the morning meadows as we board the little two-carriage train at Geneva airport. Legend whispers that devils once lived in the mountains ahead, hurling stones and avalanches from their rocky lairs. But as our train winds along Lake Geneva, passing hillsides draped in vines and the Belle Époque elegance of Montreux and Lausanne, we feel only the pull of tranquillity drawing us upward.

There's no rush or hustle here. The holiday slows us down from the moment we change to that small mountain railway, leaving the stresses of the airport far behind as we climb into the mountains to make new memories in a little Alpine haven. Les Diablerets welcomes us with the friendliness of residents who still value visitors, whose farm houses dating from the 1600s shelter working families rather than holiday rentals.

Our morning ritual begins: a walk from the hotel along the glacial la Grande Eau river as it makes its way down to join the Rhône. The mountain air carries the fresh promise of pine and wildflowers. One of our guests pauses, breathing deeply, and mentions this reminds her of the Switzerland of 40 years ago. Unspoiled, uncrowded, no hordes of others disturbing our peace or crowding our photographs.

We watch farmers cutting meadows for winter feed just a few hundred metres from our hotel. The rhythm of their work, unchanged for generations, sets the pace for our own wanderings. Mixed woodlands beckon with butterflies dancing between shafts of sunlight and birdsong threading through the branches. As John Muir says, 'Between every two pines, there is a doorway to a new world.'

The devils of old folklore seem very far away as we settle into the gentle cadence of Alpine life. Tomorrow we'll venture higher, but tonight we simply listen to the river's lullaby and wonder why anyone would call this peaceful valley the 'abode of devils.'