Sketches From The French Alps : A writer and an artist discover three hidden valleys of the Haute-Savoie, a region of Alpine landscapes, modern art and medieval villages where shepherds still milk goats and prices are not as dear as the quality of life.

Flying straight into the mountain, we suddenly felt like the ill-fated passengers in “Lost Horizon.” Our young pilot skimmed his four-seat sightseeing plane up the jagged glaciers of Mont Blanc, banked sharply at the end of a col and barely cleared another serrated ridge. Elisabeth and I exchanged tight smiles. Our pilot grinned and pointed north across the deep crevasses to the three hidden valleys we told him we had discovered. It’s 0K, I motioned, no need to fly farther. We could see them from here, the narrow green valleys in the high French Alps where we had spent the last week--Passy, Sixt Fer a Cheval and Abondance, our Shangri-Las of the Haute-Savoie.

The Winter Olympic Games recently focused world attention on the Savoie region of France, where many villages near Albertville were overbuilt to accommodate the influx of tourists. But to the north, in lesser-known Haute-Savoie, la qualite de la vie --quality of life--is held more dear than development, and the prices are lower. That is where we had been late last summer, before the snows came.

Elisabeth, an artist and writer who lives half the year in France, had discovered this region after attending the first-annual Mountain Book Fair, held in Passy last August. “You must come,” she urged in a transatlantic call, explaining that Passy is only about an hour’s drive from Geneva and two hours from Lyon.

Elisabeth described the town’s gorgeous Alpine setting and her surprise at finding a wealth of stunning modern art. Up the mountainside, she said, is a series of outdoor sculptures, one after the other, including a huge piece by Alexander Calder. And on a narrow ledge above the town is an extraordinary chapel decorated by a roster of modern masters. “Stained-glass windows by Chagall, altarpieces by Matisse and Bonnard and more. There’s nothing like it anywhere else in the world,” she said.

Elisabeth is a Francophile, which can lead to exaggeration. “So what else is there to do?” I asked.

She described an itinerary: After we’d digested all the rich fare in Passy (I knew she meant art, but I thought of pates and cheese), we’d hike up to the spectacular Cirque Fer a Cheval in the valley of Sixt. Then we’d top it off with a gorgeous drive up the Dranse River to the high pastures above Abondance, where shepherds milk their cows and goats and we would eat the best cheese in France straight from the herders’ huts.

“Meet me at the airport,” I replied, and I booked a flight to Geneva.

Tooling down the autoroute from Geneva to Chamonix, we zipped out of the traffic at the sign to Passy, slowed through the new outskirts on the valley floor where the Mountain Book Fair is held in the local gymnasium, and crept up a narrow switchback road to the old village center of medieval stone buildings. There we looked up the local doctor of Passy, Jean Soudan, and Joelle Chappaz, a dynamic blond womanwhom he’d helped organize the first Salon du Livre de Montagne, a sort of combination bookseller’s convention and literary festival. Would we like to know about the unusual legacy of Passy, they asked? Over lunch, of course, higher up on the Plateau d’Assy. We jumped in the doctor’s mini-car and headed up the mountain.

Careening around the first sharp turn in French racing car fashion, we flashed past an intricate silver shaft of abstract shapes, the first of the mountainside sculptures: “ ‘La Porte du Soleil’ by Albert Feraud,” Joelle explained.

A few more turns, past crossing signs for cows and children, and there it was! The monumental sculpture by Alexander Calder, “La Porte de L’Espace,” stood like sun and mountains in steel, back-dropped by the jagged Alps. It soared from its solid base, repeating the rhythm of the peaks. Majestic. “Got to get back to it,” I gasped to Elisabeth as she lunged against me as we rounded the next curve.

Seconds later we parked on a steep village street and sedately settled down at a table in the Hotel Les Edelweiss, with Mont Blanc looming outside the window like a stage prop. Our leisurely lunch began with delicious homemade pate, followed by steak with wild mushrooms for Elisabeth, trout for me, accompanied by a fine local white Savoyard wine, then cheese, salad and a marquise au chocolat we still dream about. All for $12 per person. We knew then that we had reached a Shangri-La.

“Before World War II,” Joelle explained in her excellent English, “tuberculosis was common and this was a health center famous for its sanitoriums because the Alpine air is clear and we have a very sunny situation. Better-known ski areas have lots of shadow from Mont Blanc.” She said that families like to come here with their children because it is not expensive. The Plateau d’Assy is called the balcony of the Alps because it has the most beautiful view of Mont Blanc. She passed the crusty bread.

“Marie Curie, who, with her husband, discovered radium, came here to cure her TB. And the great artist Pierre Bonnard’s brother-in-law came also,” Dr. Soudan said. “Then, in the 1930s, our village priest, Father Coutourier, said, ‘Let’s build a small church on the mountainside and ask modern masters, whatever their beliefs, to design and decorate it.’ ”

Through Bonnard, the good priest persuaded avant-garde artists to contribute their work. Georges Rouault’s magnificent stained-glass windows are his first work that he ever allowed in a church. “Ever since, Passy has been passionately dedicated to modern artists,” the doctor explained. “My dream is to build a museum.”

The chapel, Notre Dame de Toute Grace, sits on a ledge facing Mont Blanc. A strong, stylized mosaic by Fernand Leger covers the entire facade, its vivid reds and yellows subdued now by the late-afternoon light. We stepped inside.

Gregorian chants were playing softly from an unseen sound system. Above the simple Romanesque altar was an enormous tapestry by Jean Lucrat depicting an immense figure of a woman inside a whirling sun on one side and a giant scaly dragon on the other. The background was black. “Overwhelming!” I whispered to Elisabeth.

A world-famous group of artists, including Bonnard, Georges Braque, Marc Chagall, Leger, Jacques Lipchitz, Henri Matisse and Rouault, contributed to this out-of-the-way chapel in the Alps. It was built between 1937 and 1946, and for many of the artists it was their act of faith during the dark days of World War II. In the baptistry, Chagall inscribed on his mural of Moses leading the Hebrews across the Red Sea, “In the name of liberty for all religions.” Here it was possible to believe that such a spirit would prevail. Elisabeth and I, deeply moved, sat in silence as we drove back down the mountain. I looked back at the darkening slopes. Nothing showed against their rugged silhouette except, high up, a white sanitorium floating in the blackness like a monastery in the Himalayas. Then we noticed three figures parasailing like eagles in the twilight sky. We stopped on the valley floor and watched them float gently down and quietly land in a field. Delicately and deftly, the black-clad figures folded their pink and purple wings and walked away as the lights went on up the mountainside.

All over the French Alps, men and women are jumping off cliffs with their colorful parasails arching above them as they glide down to flat river valleys like giant butterflies. Mieussy, in our second Shangri-La of the Sixt valley, claims to be the parapente (or parasail) capital of the world. It seemed to us that the fields amid the forests were rather small and vertical for landings. There were signs for Ecole de Parapente (a parasailing school), where one could learn, but we drove on through.

We thought of seeking out the hamlet behind Mieussy where John Berger, an English writer with a cult following, had retreated in the 1980s to live the simple life, leaving behind his astonished admirers. The works of Berger--Marxist author, art critic and screenplay writer--include three novels of peasant life, “Piq Earth,” “Once in Europa” and “Lilac and Flag,” the critical book and TV series “Ways of Seeing,” and the film “Jonah Who Will Be 25 in the Year 2000.” In the winter, Berger sometimes goes to Passy to give readings from his books in the community center, accompanied by a young Savoyard who plays local tunes on his fiddle.

On reflection, we decided that probably his visits to Passy were all the socializing Berger wanted, so we continued up the valley to Sixt, “One of the Most Beautiful Villages in France,” as its entrance sign proclaims. This is not boosterism, but an official recognition by the French government awarded to only 120 selected villages in the country.

The celebrated Alpinist Lord Alfred Wills “discovered” the towering cliffs of Sixt in the mid-1800s, and for a century the English were attracted to the area as Europeans and Americans are to the Himalayas today. Peasant women used to cut hay in the high pastures and push their bales over the cliffs into the valley. During World War II, Allied planes dropped rifles to the Savoyard Maquis, or resistance fighters, who operated from this mountain stronghold. Now Cirque Fer a Cheval (Horseshoe) and Cirque des Fonts (the Springs), Sixt’s two great natural amphitheaters, are nature reserves, beloved by the French more for their beautiful walks and climbs than fine skiing.

At the car park for the Cirque Fer a Cheval, shaggy little off-duty trekking ponies ambled among the tables of the outdoor restaurant like brown-eyed seductresses, breathing heavily at the patrons’ elbows. Elisabeth whipped out her sketchbook and I sat down for a cup of tea. A pony with a white dot on her forehead rolled her eyes at me from across the table. As I unwrapped my cubes of sugar, she watched intently. When I passed the sugar cubes across to her, she accepted them daintily, then moved in closer now that she was an invited guest.

Some visitors take the pony rides up the valley floor to the base of the cliffs, where a dozen Yosemite-like waterfalls cascade down the sculpted granite. Others choose the easy day hikes or more rigorous expeditions up the cliffs with guides from Sixt and spend the night in chalets for hikers, called Refuge huts.

We decided to stroll on our own. Through the forest and across the meadows, we reached a buvette , a small food-and-wine bar in the middle of nowhere. The only other customers were two merry local hunters with rifles and bottles of wine in the side pockets of their backpacks. Elisabeth (who was educated in an English girls’ boarding school and is unfailingly polite) explained in her impeccable French that it was impossible for us to accept their kind invitation to join them on their hunt for marmots and chamois. So we shook hands all around and went on alone.

It was very quiet until we began to hear the distant sound of falling water and the baa-baa of sheep. On the other side of the river, a flock was coming down from high pastures. They hugged the cliff, an occasional dark sheep outlined against the massive rock like a small cave drawing.

Back in the beautiful village of Sixt, we peeked into its 13th-Century abbey, now a hotel, and admired the dining room in the ancient refectory. The charming old village of austere, pitched-roof buildings brightened with flower boxes is clustered around the abbey and a great stone fountain. We were tempted to check in, but chose instead to stay up the hill in a more modest and modern hotel, Le Petit Tetras, owned by an attractive young couple named Catherine and Marcel Scuri--she from Paris and he a ski instructor from Sixt. I nearly threw my arms around Catherine when she spoke to me in English, and happily listened to her enthusiastic account of all the activities that she and Marcel arrange for their guests. One new French sports craze Catherine loves is “canyoning”--riding down a waterfall with or without a rope.

“Now we’re headed for Heidi country,” said Elisabeth as we drove up the valley of Abondance, quite near the Swiss border. It’s the narrowest of the three valleys we visited, with the Dranse River cutting a deep gorge through it. At Vacheresse, we turned off the main road to Bise and Ubine. They are the summer hamlets of herders tending their cows and goats in high pastures. Before we even saw a cow, the din from the huge Alpine cowbells was almost deafening. Then clouds wafted across the road (the altitude here is 5,000 feet), slowing us to a standstill, the bells got louder and bovine shapes began to materialize through the mist. When the clouds lifted, we saw that we were at the end of the road, at the Refuge de Bise, a hiker’s chalet run by the French Alpine Club.

Goats and cows were everywhere. A black-mustached man with a single-legged stool tied around his hips grabbed a goat, then squatted so that he sat on his stool. Quickly he milked the goat, let it go and grabbed another. For five centuries, these mountain people have been tending herds and making cheese. Before us was a timeless pastoral scene. We went into the goatherder’s stone hut and bought some fresh goat cheese from him.

In 1989, Abondance cheese (from cows) was awarded a Grande Signature, a legal status as one of the great cheeses of France, like Camembert and Roquefort. We brought a wedge from the lovely village of Abondance. Now we sat on the rocky terrace cafe of the Refuge de Bise sipping our hot chocolate, savoring this newcomer to the official French cuisine and gazing at the picturesque mountains rising directly on either side. Ahead, through a high saddle, wound the steep hikers’ path. It was pleasant just to sit in the sun and contemplate how far we might walk along it.

GUIDEBOOK

Hidden Valleys of the French Alps

Getting there: From Los Angeles, either Geneva, which is served by several international airlines, or Lyon via Paris, served by Air France, are good starting points for an exploration of the Haute-Savoie. There is local train and bus service, but driving is recommended for schedule flexibility. Passy is less than an hour’s drive from Geneva and about two hours from Lyon. Both Avis and Hertz offer car rentals from the airports.

When to go: May through September are good times for walks and hikes. June, July and particularly August, the traditional French holiday month, are the most crowded times. Altitudes in this region range between 2,000 and 5,000 feet, so summer evenings can get slightly chilly. Winter skiing and snow activities run from October through April.

Where to stay: Passy has a number of small, modest hotels. The one we dined at, Les Edelweiss (Plateau D’Assy, 74480 Passy, France, telephone 011-33-50-58-82-51), seemed congenial. During our visit last summer, when $1 was worth about 5.6 francs, double rooms were $21-$35.

In the village of Sixt du Fer a Cheval, the one-star Hotel de L’Abbaye (74740 Sixt Fer a Cheval; tel. 011-33-50-34-44-01), a 13th-Century former abbey, had double rooms (all without baths) for about $32. Open in spring and summer only.

We stayed at the clean, modern Le Petit Tetras (Salvagny, 74740 Sixt Fer a Cheval; tel. 011-33-50-34-42-51, fax 011-33-50-34-12-02), which has double rooms with baths for about $30 in summer (or up to $40 with all meals included during May and July). Winter rates are based on weekly or longer stays, with many special activity packages offered, such as ski lessons and a “Ski Baby Club” for 3-year-olds and up.

Sightseeing flights: Jacques Brun, L’Aero-club de Megeve, local telephone 50-21-33-67. A 10-minute flight over Vallee de Megeve is about $20 per person (two-person minimum). A 30-minute flight over Mont Blanc costs about $60.

Mountain book fair: The second-annual international Salon du Livre de Montagne will be held August 9-11. This combination book-seller’s convention and literary festival specializes in mountain lore, including maps, old etchings and old and new books. Contact Joelle Chappaz, Salon du Livre de Montagne, Mairie de Passy, 74190 Passy; tel. 011-33-50-78-30-80.

For more information: Passy, Sixt and Abondance all have good tourist offices with maps and information on Refuge huts and points of interest. Literature is printed in French, however, since the region gets mostly French tourists. Because these villages are so small and relatively undiscovered by American tourists, guidebooks and other literature about the region are hard to come by.

For general information about the Haute-Savoie region of France, contact the French Government Tourist Office, 9454 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 303, Beverly Hills 90212, telephone (900) 990-0040 (calls cost 50 cents per minute).