The High Vineyards of Valais
Take the train east from Geneva and watch as the land begins to fold inward — the mountains closing around the Rhône River like a book being gently shut. This is Valais — Switzerland’s great wine valley — where stone terraces hold centuries of work and the light feels as tangible as the soil itself.
We came here to visit Justine Blanc, a French winemaker we first met years ago in McLaren Vale, Australia. She’s now assistant winemaker at La Cave de l’Orlaya in the village of Fully, a patchwork of vines and orchards nestled beneath the Alps. The winery is run by Mathilde Roux, whose deep curiosity for the land has helped shape some of the most expressive wines in the valley.
“Orlaya,” Justine explained, is a delicate white flower found scattered among the vineyards — something humble, beautiful, and distinctly local.
A Valley Built on Light
Driving through the valley, you start to understand why Valais wine tastes the way it does. The mountains rise so abruptly on both sides that sunlight becomes a form of currency. Locals talk about the sunny side and the shadow side of the Rhône — one where villages bask in long days and vines ripen early, the other where winter light never quite reaches the rooftops. Rent and property prices follow the sun, as though daylight itself were part of the real estate.
The terraces that cling to these slopes were first built by Roman settlers and later expanded by monks, their dry-stone walls still warming the vines long after sunset. The region grows over fifty grape varieties, from familiar names like Pinot Noir and Syrah to native treasures such as Petite Arvine, Heida (Savagnin Blanc), Amigne, and the deep, spicy Cornalin. Each thrives in its own pocket of altitude, rock, and relentless light.
Dinner Among the Terraces
photo credit: Château de Villa
That night, Justine took us to dinner at Château de Villa in Sierre — the last French-speaking town before the dialects shift to German farther east in Haut-Valais. The restaurant is a pilgrimage for cheese lovers, serving the country’s best raclette in a room that smells faintly of toasted alpine grass.
Five regional cheeses are offered, each melted and scraped onto plates alongside baby potatoes, pickles, and onions.
“All you can eat,” the waiter said, grinning.
We took him seriously — and left feeling we’d eaten our weight in cheese and mountain air.
Steam and Stone
photo credit: Bains de Lavey
The next day brought a different kind of indulgence: the Bains de Lavey, thermal baths just outside St-Maurice. Steam drifted through glass walls framing snow peaks; pools shifted from warm to hot to nearly scalding. Then there were the saunas — one marked “textile-free.”
We hesitated, clinging to our cultural modesty, while Justine laughed.
“We go like this with our boss,” she said, meaning completely naked. “It’s normal.”
Maybe it is. A reminder that comfort, like wine, changes with climate and culture.
A Valley of Patience
By the time we left Valais, the rhythm of the place had settled into us. Everything here — the people, the food, the wines — moves according to light. It’s a valley that teaches patience and precision, where even shadow has purpose.
The wines taste the same way: bright, grounded, quietly assured, shaped by centuries of sun and stone.
If You Go — Notes from Valais
Getting there: Around two hours by train from Geneva, following the Rhône Valley line toward Sion, Sierre, and Brig.
Wineries to visit: La Cave de l’Orlaya (Fully), Cave Benoît Dorsaz (Fully), Domaine Jean-René Germanier (Vétroz), Marie-Thérèse Chappaz (Fully).
Don’t miss: Raclette tasting at Château de Villa, a soak at Bains de Lavey, and a walk through the centuries-old terraces above the Rhône.
Wine to try: Petite Arvine — bright, saline, unmistakably alpine.
