'Rat-tat-tat-brrrrrrrmmm, rat-tat-tat-brrrrrrrmmm!' I could scarcely believe my ears, for there, dogfighting over my head, were World War I fighters — SPAD, Fokker Triplane, Camel, Albatross, and Nieuport — marques I had read and dreamt about, and even seen in a few museums. But never had I guessed that one day I’d actually hear them fly.

'Pick any table you like,' said the waiter with a flourish. 'This is a special occasion.' Radiant, my wife made her way through two huge dining rooms, assessing mountain views through the chalet's A-framed windows. 'This one,' she beamed, making her choice. 'From here we can watch sunset illuminate Engineer's Peak.'

Magic! The whining of gyros gave way to mystical drums and rhythmic chanting, crazily mixing images of flight with those of ancient and sacred ceremonies. Chills traveled our spines - we could scarcely have been more astonished if we'd arrived by flying carpet.