One thing I love about Switzerland is the proximity of the mountains to the cities. And nowhere sums that up better than the Salève, Geneva’s local mountain.

It was a glorious autumn day and I was in Geneva to visit a friend who works there. It was too sunny to visit a museum, and I didn’t want to shop. I wanted to know what else Geneva – a town I’ve to date found pretty bland and uninspiring – could offer me. After lunch in the old town my friend took me to a lookout point over the city below. To the right is the Jura, she told me, and to the left the Salève.

It didn’t look too far away. At the top I could make out a telecomms tower. It seemed to glitter in the sunshine as it stood proudly at the peak of this mini-mountain (it’s only 1,379m) with potentially the best view of Geneva I’d never seen.

I had to go there.

Luckily, doing so was simple. After a bit of faffing about I found the bus stop for the number 8 from Rive, in the centre of town. (It also goes from Cornavin station.) I hopped on, along with a group of schoolkids from a local international school also planning to take advantage of the sunny afternoon.

Within 20 minutes we were at Veyrier Douane, the final stop on the route and the border between Switzerland and France. It was a short walk from here to the cable car station, built in 1932, which whisked us up in a few minutes to La Salève.

There was something incredibly satisfying about leaving behind the bustle of a large city and within minutes finding myself on top of a mountain, breathing fresh air, watching that same city spread out before me.

The view really is special. Geneva’s roads and buildings and squares sprawl below, and I could just see the jet d’eau, normally so impressive, but tiny from up here. The Jura looked down on it from the other side, another indication of the natural delights so close to this grand city obsessed with money making. How often, I wonder, do the bankers and traders from the city make the short hop into the hills?

Wanting to find peace, I left the schoolkids behind and followed a forest path from the cable car station up to the telecomms tower. It was a muddy uphill track strewn with rocks and tree roots and I slipped several times, my footwear inappropriate for hiking, so spontaneous was my visit.

Half way up I came to a clearing where a paraglider was preparing to take off. He paused, his colourful wing laid out behind him, before suddenly running off the hill into flight. I’ve always been reluctant to try paragliding, but on seeing him step so easily from the mountain and fly freely over the valley with such stunning views to enjoy, I was sorely tempted. A place like this inspires freedom.

At the top the true beauty of the mountain revealed itself. In front, the whole of Lake Geneva lay spread like a puddle. Behind me, Mont Blanc preened and posed for my admiration, so white against the rich blue of the sky. I lay on the grass and felt the sun on my face, the warm breeze on my arms.

Soon the schoolkids had joined me and the air was thick with chatter and laughter. They posed for photos, their city as the backdrop. Several dog-walkers were up here too, some having driven the winding road that provides an alternative way up to the cable car.

Hikers have been coming here for centuries – pictures in the cable car station show Victorians enjoying the mountain in hats, long skirts and waistcoats. As well as walking, the Salève now offers numerous active exploits including rock-climbing, mountain-biking and, in winter, snowshoeing and cross-country skiing.

It even has its place in literature – it’s mentioned in Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel Frankenstein as the place where the creature escaped to. I can see why she made him choose it. The Salève is a haven, a place of serenity and wilderness so close to the confining city. I, for one, plan to escape there often.