The glaring light burns through our glasses into our eyes. Like the headlights of a police helicopter, we are dazzled by the sun's rays, which have pierced through the rich black storm clouds without warning. Slowly, they scan the scree slopes in front of us. The rocks of the huge scree fields glare back in bright white-grey. We feel a bit like burglars in this scenery. Caught sneaking up the hairpin bends to the 2361 metre high Col d'Izoard and now on the verge of stealing the jewels of the Casse Déserte - which is nonsense, of course, because the bizarre needles and sculptures on the south side of the pass are made of rock and limestone weighing tonnes.
You can find the entire article about Briancon as a PDF download below.