I remember the silence just before. We had walked steadily uphill for an hour above Divonne-les-Bains, the group had strung out and then gathered again in a small clearing, and everyone was finding a spot, a flat rock, a patch of dry grass. Nobody really knew why I had stopped us there rather than anywhere else. And then a voice rose, with no microphone, no platform, carried by the shape of the land alone. Within seconds, twenty or so walkers who had not known each other that morning were holding their breath together. That was the first RandOpéra, and I think that was the day I understood the idea stood up.
The simple idea behind a slightly odd word
RandOpéra is a portmanteau, and it says exactly what it promises: a hike, then an opera. Nothing more, nothing less. We walk at an accessible pace, with no sporting performance involved, on paths I choose for their beauty and for their acoustics. At a moment I keep secret until the very end, a lyric singer joins us and sings in the open air. Not in a hall, not in front of a curtain. In front of the trees, the blue line of Lake Geneva in the distance, and us.
The effect has nothing to do with a classical concert. In a hall you know when to applaud, you know the ritual. Out here the voice arrives in a setting that was never meant for it, and it is precisely that mismatch that catches you. I have watched people close their eyes, others quietly take out their phone and then give up, because you can feel that a recording will never convey what is happening in the body at that moment.
Why I keep the artist secret
For every edition, I insist that the identity of the singer stays unknown until the last minute. It is not a marketing gimmick. It is what protects the surprise, and the surprise is half the experience. When you do not know what is coming, you walk differently, you look at the landscape wondering whether the moment is now, you stay present. The day I started announcing the programme in advance, I would turn an adventure into an ordinary box office.
I work with different artists from one outing to the next. It is a constraint I accept, because it guarantees that every RandOpéra is unique and that nobody lives exactly the same thing twice.
What it actually feels like
The walking prepares the ground without you noticing. You breathe harder, you talk, you slow down, your head empties of the week. When the voice arrives, you are no longer the same listener as the one who might have pushed open a theatre door an hour earlier. The body is already there, open.
There is something very simple in the sharing too. You eat your sandwich side by side, you raise a glass to the small aperitif I bring along, you talk to strangers with the ease that open air gives you. I have run enough events to know that this bond cannot be ordered up. Here it comes on its own, somewhere between the top of the climb and the last notes.
Two formats, depending on the time you have
I run the RandOpéra in two versions. The half day, at €40 per person, an outing that fits into a morning or an afternoon and suits people trying it for the first time. The full day, at €55, to take your time, walk a little further, enjoy the break without checking your watch.
In both cases the spirit stays the same: a guided hike, accessible, and a musical moment that belongs to that day alone. You can find the next dates and book your place on the dedicated page to live a RandOpéra.
Walking guided, in good hands
A word about the framework, because it matters. I am a qualified Mountain Leader trained by experts, and I choose every route so that it stays within reach of a varied group, with no nasty surprises in the ascent and no technical sections. The aim is not to tire you out, but to bring you gently to the point where the music will have the most force.
If you like this idea of nature lived differently, take a look at our hikes : the RandOpéra is only one of the ways I try to get the path and the emotion talking to each other.
An experience to give, or to give yourself
Since that first edition, the question that comes up most often is not about difficulty or price. It is: when is the next one. I think that is the best feedback possible. People come out of curiosity, they leave with a memory that resembles nothing else, and often with the urge to let someone else live it too.
The silence before, the voice rising, the landscape that suddenly seems to have been composed for it: that is what a RandOpéra is. The rest you have to live to understand.