OUR mountain guide must have lost the plot. Here we are in the French Alps on a perfect August day, snow tipped peaks glinting under azure skies, crystal clear streams carving through carpets of green pastures, a chorus of twittering birds, clicking crickets and tinkling cow bells.

But Cathy Gallioli is telling us to close our ears and eyes to the wonders around us while we learn to walk.

Learn to walk? Haven’t we done that already?

Babies usually morph into toddlers by 12 months, so why on earth would a group of developmentally normal, healthy women, and one male doctor, want to re-learn such a basic skill?

Well, because this is no ordinary uphill hike. We are here to master the art of ‘conscious walking’ – a sort of mobile meditation in the mountains.

Morzine is a charming French Alpine year-round resort, with varied summer attractions which often draw almost as many visitors as the vast Portes du Soleil ski area, which lures keen piste-bashers every winter.

Although mountain biking and hiking are major summer attractions, the Zen weeks it hosts every summer and spring are becoming a major draw, too.

Forget about chanting, om-ing and high altitude yogic flying. This is more of a down-to-earth approach to meditation through walking.

And, without exception, it puts a spring in our step while eliminating the huff, puff and weariness of the long-distance hiker.

Now, concentrate: conscious walking requires concentration, and while you concentrate on the mechanics of each step and each breath, you leave your everyday worries and concerns behind.

We learn to listen to our bodies and tread softly to avoid jarring. We don’t rush.

The walk itself is our only goal, not how fast we’ve ‘attacked’ the steep slope. This novel approach is good news for hurried town-dwellers who are forever rushing from A to B.

Nomadic tribes as far afield as Afghanistan and Kenya, we’re told, can teach us a thing or two about walking.

Their breathing techniques allow their bodies to be efficiently oxygenated so they can walk better, for longer, and without tiring.

It works. Really.

You are so busy concentrating on matching your breathing – always through the nose so there’s no gasping and heaving of chests – to your strides that the ground just flows beneath you as if riding a travelator.

Of course, that’s while you are still in the car park at the start, and on the level.

Our group – including a hotelier, teashop owner and teacher – kick off our shoes on the grassy bank of a gurgling stream to prepare with 20 minutes of Qi Gong, an ancient form of Chinese exercise like static Tai Chi.

Our teacher, Jocelyne Huet, an acupuncture practitioner, instructs us to visualise absorbing the energy of the mountains.

Mmm.

We calm our bodies with every breath, as roughly translated, Qi Gong means breath effort.

We inhale the fragrance of fir trees.

We stretch, we bend, we hold invisible energy balls in front of our chests (yes, we do...).

We close our eyes. We are tranquil (ahhhh...).

A blur of mountain bikers wobble in wonder as they hurtle by – Morzine is a mecca for mountain biking, and also lies on the official Tour de France 2010 route.

Then Cathy, a beacon in turquoise and orange, leads us in single file up a stony mountain track. We are under strict instructions to ignore the stunning sights and sounds of the mountains, and instead focus on pacing our breathing.

We don’t chatter, but take regular rest breaks for water, until eventually we’re allowed to take in the majestic mountain scenery and chorus of birdsong and bleating goats.

The key to conscious walking is being mindful of each step, says Cathy.

We take short, soft strides, aware that heavy footfalls knock the body. We try to relax our legs between the steps, clearing the mind as we heed the sensations of the body.

“You learn to leave the big rocks of worry behind you,” says Cathy, 43, who fell in love with the mountains at eight, and has been a guide for 15 years.

She and her paragliding husband have two teenage children, and a seven-year-old daughter. She walks with them, and her 84-year-old mother, too.

“When you are concentrating on your walking you are out of your everyday mind, not thinking of working on your computer, housework or personal family problems.

“It’s very calming. With our busy, stressed lives, this walking makes us in the moment. It’s a way of de-cluttering, of washing everything from the mind.”

No de-stressing holiday – or “distressing” holiday, as my French colleague insists on calling it – would be complete without a spa visit, preferably two. A Swedish steam bath combined with a head and face massage at Massage du Monde, followed by four-handed body massage – performed, not by half an octopus, but by two therapists – has me weak at the knees.

A body-scrub and organic body treatment at Cocon au Pays des Locons sends me to seventh heaven.

In a waft of aromatic aromas I emerge into the heart of Morzine, with its traditional timber Savoy architecture and window boxes groaning with blooms.

I am at one with nature, and so relaxed that after dining on a typical dish of grilled pork and potato dumplings, I chill out on my sun-turned-moon terrace, lying back on cushions as shooting stars whiz across the blue-black sky.

Then, it’s back to reality, and a return to my humdrum town life. I feel de-cluttered, relaxed, refreshed, de-stressed, energised, and determined to employ my newly-learned techniques on daily walks to the bus stop.

I don’t notice the distance, and I can blot out the grey suburban landscape of pebble-dashed semis and the sound of police sirens. And, I don’t even fret when I miss the bus.

When you do come down to earth from Planet Zen there are plenty of other things to try in this delightful spot: the ice rink, a couple of cinemas, and restaurants with sun terraces. And if you still have energy to burn after a day on the slopes, try a Morzine speciality – night skiing, every Thursday. Be cool...