Brunissard to Ceillac: E2 Day 195

A visit to Chateau Queyras with its Vauban castle, via ferrata and rafting, followed by a long climb up to the Col Fromage.

A breakfast at the campsite bar set me up for my walk, which started with a trip down the road to Brunissard, a village with little to distract me. After the next cluster of buildings the path left the road and rose up the valley side among the grass and flowers. I passed farm buildings with rusting corrugated iron roofs and a few other hikers. Entering some woodland, a fellow hiker was picking wild strawberries, and gave me a few of these small fruits. After a lengthy upward path through forest to a car park and lake the path made a rapid descent, crossing a rubbly track several times on the way down to the village of Chateau Queyras.

The main feature of Chateau Queyras was the castle on a hill in the valley. Although first fortified in the 13th century it was brought up to date by the famous Vauban in 1692. I lacked the time to visit the castle, I still had almost 6 hours of walking ahead of me according to a sign. However I did stop at a buvette near the stalls advertising rafting and via ferrata. After my waffle (gaufre) with blueberry jam (myrtille confit) I watched as children, kitted up with helmets, harness and lanyards, left with their parents for the via ferrata.

Chateau Queyras.

The stony track steeply strode uphill out of Queyras joining the narrow valley of a small river as it gained height through conifer forest. Eventually it levelled out a little in a region of alternating meadows and trees. I admired the many butterflies, orange and brown, dark brown and white, white with back tracery. I was not sure whether the small orange and brown insects were classed as butterflies, but they looked pretty enough to be. There were grassed over pits where my guidebook said gypsum was mined, and an eroded, white ravine that the path edged around the top of. After Alpine, flower filled meadows the path finally reached Col Fromage. The name amused me, although there was no sign of any cheese. I did not stay long there, unlike two bare chested men sitting among a group of trees. The yellow signs were misleading. One stated that Ceillac, my destination, was over three hours away, far longer than an earlier sign. I realised that the GR5 sign, with its more direct route to Ceillac was missing, and spotting a red and white waymark, started down the track it indicated.

Marmot looking to see who was about.

Mountainside path.

The way down was steep, but the path was cut into the mountainside, sweeping left and right with many turns so the gradient was not so great, and my knees appreciated that, even if it added a kilometre or so to our journey. Reaching Ceillac I found the town full of visiting people. Although I was keen to get to my campsite, a little out of town, in the hot weather I could not resist an ice cream from one of the stalls.

Ceillac, old wooden buildings and an an unusual bell tower.

Settled into the Municipal Campsite, a fellow camper said hello and pointed out that we had met at the Refuge de Chésery, 3 weeks earlier. He was also walking the GR5. I walked back into Ceillac for a meal of fish for a change and ordered a Glaci'Ale beer. As I sat in the restaurant thunder was rumbling and the skies were black. Heavy rain followed and the customers were moved under cover. Thunder had rumbled around the mountain peaks earlier in the day, but without any rain. Afternoon storms are often forecast, but on my trip so far, have rarely actually happened. As I lay here in my tent the rain, thunder and lightning continue.

Briançon to Brunissard: E2 Day 194

After a visit to the bank I was on my way back into the mountains. 

I was at the bank opposite my hotel at 8:30 am, as a young lady was opening the shutters, to try to reclaim my bank card that their cash machine had cruelly sucked into its innards. With the use of Google Translate I explained the problem, however nothing could be done until the technician arrived to fill the machine. His arrival time was unknown and apparently unknowable, however 10 am was mentioned. So using my back up card I collected some cash from another bank's cash machine and checked out of the hotel, returning to the bank just after 10. The good news was the technician had extracted my card, the bad news was that the "Service" told them not to give it to me. Although I had already "frozen" the card in my banking App, and would shortly cancel it altogether, I asked them to destroy the card to ensure that it could not be used in any way. They cut it up as I watched. Cruel.

At least the matter was closed and I walked through the suburbs of Briançon knowing there was nothing more I could do. I thought of the atmospheric performance of Aladdin last night. Taking place in front of the city walls they used them and a three arched bridge over the defensive ditch in front of it to display coloured images projected through the darkness. There was much music and dancing and glittery costumes. The story was not hard to follow, I had seen Aladdin in pantomime as a small boy so knew the outline of the story, I even picked up some of the French.

My route today, as on many days, started with a climb through forest. This time it was not too hard. A gravel track took me gently uphill to the Chalet des Ayes where a "Buvette" served me a very good baguette of ham, mozzarella, pesto, cherry tomatoes and lettuce. On the way I passed rock climbers on a rather large cliff on the narrow valley I had been following. People on mountain bikes were also racing down the hill, or going up much more slowly.

After the Buvette, the narrow path that the GR5 now followed climbed more steeply, a rapidly flowing stream on my left somewhere. Trees enclosed my path until I broke out into open ground, with chalets dotted across a wide valley. After a little time on a gravel track I was onto a steeply rising path over rock scree with the Col des Ayes now visible in the far distance. Every so often I stopped, to catch my breath, look at the view behind me with the city of Briançon in the far distance, and drink some water. When was the last time I peed? Sweating profusely, especially now out of the shade of the trees I thought just a straight, slanted path to reach the Col, but a series of tight "S" turns were hidden that I still had to conquer to reach the top of the pass.

Above Chalet des Ayes.

At last the Col des Ayes.

Once at the top, photo taken, I started down the other side, steep but not as bad as some days. I could generally stretch my legs out on the gravel paths to avoid straining my knees. Finally a road, cars and Camping de l'Izoard. The campsite, my destination for today was spread out beneath trees, the ground stony, difficult for the tent pegs to find purchase. On two sides rocks rise up to enclose the bowl of land on which the site lay, on another there was a steep forested hillside. The campsite served a simple evening meal of ham, cheese, olives and bread. It reminded me of when working in Ferrol in Spain. Sometimes we would visit a bar where they would serve ham and cheese with red wine. The hams hung from the rafters of the smoky bar and the labels on the wine bottles had General Franco's head on them. Unlike today, after eating they served home made liquors from bottles without labels. On returning to my tent, I found a swarm of flies had taken residence between the inner tent and flysheet, they are buzzing around now, why do they like me so much? Maybe punishment for killing a number today, especially the clegs who were after my blood.  Not all insects are quite so unpleasant, there were miniature orange and brown butterflies on my walk today, and red and black winged insects extracting nectar from knapweed.

A six spot burnets on a knapweed flower (according to Google).

Briançon rest day: E2 Day 193

The day a cash machine swallowed my bank card.

This morning I visited the old town. Fortified by the famous military architect, Vauban at the start of the 18th century it had thick walls, substantial gates and with projecting "bastions" on which to fire on the enemy. At this strategic point near the border with Italy and formerly Savoy, there are several substantial forts built up the side of the mountains. I visited the main church, the Collegiale, a solid affair with dark paintings on the wall inside. Higher up (the town is very much on a slope) there was a museum of mining. It seems coal was mined hereabouts but the forces that created the Alps pushed some of the coal seams into a sub-vertical orientation with much faulting and fracturing making mining difficult.

Looking up at the Old Town.

Looking across the old town at the towers of the Collegiale.

Later I had a disaster. A cash machine swallowed my debit card because I was unable to pull it out, too little of the card was exposed for me to give it a good pull. The bank was closed so I now have to wait until tomorrow to see if I can retrieve it. This has cast a cloak of gloom over the rest of my day and together with worries about things at home I am feeling depressed and anxious. More anxious that I should be regarding the card eating cash machine. In my planning I realised there was a risk that a card may be lost or not work and I have a second card as a contingency, so my trip is not at risk. I worried that I am getting like older people of my acquaintance who are unnecessarily anxious about things. At least talking to my wife on the phone gave some comfort, as she pointed out it could have been much worse, my phone could have been stolen! I have a ticket for a musical edition of Aladdin later tonight, which I bought before the bank card's disappearing act. I am hoping it will distract me.

Roubion to Briançon: E2 Day 192

A long climb with a cloud of flies, a lake, a pass then a long descent into the historic town of Briancon.

I was up early as I informed my accommodation at Briançon that I would be there at 5:00 pm and it was a good distance. After a short stroll along the valley bottom the climbing began up the GR5C. (There are three variants of the GR5 in the area, this one was conveniently accessed from my campsite). There was the usual zig zagging up the mountainside through trees but today a cloud of flies joined me. It was hot and I was sweating and the flies and mosquitoes (there seem to have been both) distracted me from the beauty of my surroundings. However I did see good views down to the town of Nevache, and the surrounding fields with the piles of stones that had been cleared from them. Shadows cast by the low morning sun sharpened the shapes and enhanced the beauty.

Climb out of Roubion.

I was a bit confused at a junction with another GR path which was signposted to Col du Granon, where my route also went. The flies took advantage of me while I stopped and checked my guidebook. 

In time I rose above the trees and the path levelled out. The flies, despite taking a preference for me rather than other hikers, did ease a little, maybe as I was walking faster. At the Crystal Lake there was a family with three children, one in a baby carrier on the mother's back. It seemed they camped there. I was amazed they managed to get their children up the long climb. From the lake the path rose again to the Porte de Cristol, a high pass. I was glad from there it was an easy walk on a track which contoured the hillside to the Col du Granon. Here I hoped for a coffee and a tart de myrille, but the lady at the buvette said the coffee machine was being cleaned and that I could not be served tart before 12:00 (it was 11:00), although I could see the tart waiting behind the counter. I settled for a Coke, the best I could hope for, a little put out as I had just eaten one cereal bar for breakfast.

My guidebook indicated a choice with a variant of the GR5C following a ridge. Although it sounded an attractive option, the way up to it was marked with a red and white "x", indicating it was no longer considered a GR route. This and the extra climbing and reports of a steep descent where you could slip on the gravel dissuaded me from the ridge route. I felt I had done enough climbing today. The following section of the GR5C was at first an enjoyable route high up the valleyside, mainly through trees but with views of the settlements in the valley far below. There was then an unexpected period of more uphill walking, however, it did lead to a viewpoint from which I could see the city of Briançon spread out beneath me with its numerous fortifications. A viewing table showed the directions to many places, although it is unlikely you would be able to see Nice or London from here.

Path to Briançon.

Looking down on Briançon, the small size of the buildings reflects the height I was above them.

A long descent then began, the gravelly path going back and fore. Initially the houses below looked tiny, and it took a long time for them to get any bigger. However, with my knee complaining, in time I reached one of the town's fortification, a 19th century structure of thick stone walls and ditches with a locked entrance. Loosing more height I reached the old part of Briançon. The houses, shops and cafes inside were protected by thick stone walls and impressive "gates", stone arches through which you entered the old town. Among the narrow cobbled streets, with a drain running down the centre, I found a boulangerie which served me a coffee and tartlette a framboise. On subsequently walking to the accommodation that I had booked, I discovered a major error. I had booked it for two days time! I cancelled and found a central but modest hotel where I could spend the next two nights. Two nights as I wanted to explore the town (and to give me a day off climbing mountains).

That evening after I had eaten I discovered a festival of mussels. A street had been taken over, mussels and chips were being served from huge cooking bowls to tables of people.

Refuge du Thabor to Roubion: E2 Day 191

Another short, sunny day, through an area with an Italian influence.

Lacs Ste Marguerite by where I camped.

Morning view.

The area around "Lacs Ste Marguerite" was popular with people bivouacing, I saw many tents around the lakes as I left this morning. It was a fine day as I climbed back up to the Col de la Valley Étroite. A long descent followed, in parts steep and gravelly, but mostly on a pleasant gradient over a flat area of streams and through conifers down to Les Granges de la Valley Étroite. At this small settlement there were two refuges and a café where I stopped. By that time the trail was full of people, day walkers who had left their vehicles at a nearby car park, the end of the road up the valley, or else caught a bus. It was noticeable at the café and from people's greetings that many were Italian speakers. "Buongiornos" were as common as "Bonjours", and there were other Italian sounding greetings that I did not recognize. Signs telling you to keep your dog on the lead were written first in Italian and then French. The valley was once part of Italy, and with both French and Italian flags flying in the little village, perhaps the current inhabitants enjoy a bit of ambiguity. Another thing I noticed was that houses were now roofed with panels of overlapping wooden boards, quite different from the traditional stone roofing I had seen up to now.

By now the GR5 had become tired of descending and from Les Granges began a steep ascent, uphill on zig zags through trees perched on the steep mountainside. As a reward there were good views of the Three Magi, a group of grey, rugged, rocky mountains on the other side of the valley. In the grass pasture at the pass which was the eventual terminus of my climb, there was a shallow lake, with too much plant growth for swimming in, a place that seemed a convenient destination for day trippers coming up from valleys each side.

The Three Magi: Balthazar, Melchior and Gaspard.

My route took me down another valley on a switchback, gravelly path leading to a walk through pines and larches. Many people were walking up. Some looked to be carrying too much weight around their middles for a pleasant climb on a hot day. I was asked how far it was to the lake. Such questions always worry me as it implies that people have no map or GPS, and may not be properly prepared. The guidebook indicated that I should start to see Mediterranean influence on the landscape, and indeed the vegetation seems sparse, less luxurious, but it could also be the progress of the year, July soon coming to an end. I was also seeing grasshoppers for the first time among the dry grass. The route wound into Roubion where there is a campsite where I am staying, as well as a busy car park, restaurants and modern looking buildings. Having pitched my tent I am being troubled by ants and flies so have retreated to a sheltered picnic table.

Fourneaux to Refuge du Thabor: E2 Day 190

A shorter walk today, but all uphill climbing with a 1500 metres total ascent.

The GR5 offered two alternative routes today, one starting at Modane and a variant starting from Fourneaux. As I had been staying at Fourneaux, the variant there was the obvious choice, however my guidebook, which tends toward understatement, described it as a "steep climb", which was somewhat disturbing.

After a light breakfast, I crossed under the railway lines and headed up to where the GR5 path left the urban sprawl. A blog written last year indicated that the path was blocked by work to remove an old road viaduct. I was hoping the work was complete. This was not the case, however an official diversion of the GR5 saved me from having to secretly cross a demolition site, following the footsteps of the blogger of the previous year. Soon I was walking steeply upwards through conifer forest. The GR5 swapped a few times between a twisting, gravel vehicle track and narrow paths through trees, and I may have missed out a path section or two by following the easier vehicle track. Part of the route was by electricity pylons. Given the Alps are a beautiful area that needs to be preserved, I had not expected to see quite so many pylons and their associated wires strung out over the mountains and valleys on this trip. Although the climb was long I was mentally prepared for it, I also had a goal. Refreshment at the village of Valfréjus, where I indulged in a refreshing coke and ice cream. It was also here the variant joined the main path coming from Modane. The bar where I enjoyed this break was beside a square containing an obstacle course of the type often found in trees. Young children, and with less grace their parents, walked along planks and wires suspended a few metres off the ground, safely secured to safety wires with two lanyards. I suppose the apparatus, and the ziplines I had seen across the valley on my way up, were devised to provide attractions for tourists in the summer, while skiing brought winter visitors. Also at the bar was another hiker. I was intrigued as she had a pair of small socks attached to the straps of her rucksack with miniature, pink pegs. Not doubt washing out to dry as she walked, together with other clothing tied onto the back of her rucksack.

My climb continued through trees, for which I was grateful as they gave shade from the fierce sun. A blessing as I was sweating with the heat and the effort. I left the trees at a place called Le Lavoir. Here there were Second World War blockhouses of the type used on the Maginot line, built to protect against invasion by the Italians, whose border is nearby. There was also a large building, the windows only partly glazed, many were empty sockets, that cast an ugly shadow on the landscape, whereas the scattering of traditional buildings, low and stone built, seemed an integral part of the broad valley. There was also equipment associated with channelling water to a hydroelectric plant elsewhere, which, if not entirely natural, did at least provide clean energy.

Second World War defences.

Now above the tree line, my path continued up a grass covered valley. After the car park at Le Lavoir, I was joined on trail by many more people, most out for a day's walk. My pleasure was slightly spoilt by periodic attacks by horse-flies. Finally I topped the pass known as the Col de la Valley Étroite. Here I left the GR5 to firstly visited the Refuge du Thabor for a lunch of omelette "Bleu", i.e. with added blue cheese, also nuts and ham. Outside of the fixed evening dinner, the menus at refuges are pretty predictable: omelettes, crepes, tartelette de myrtle and tart aux noix. Using blue cheese in an omelette was a bit of a novel variation.

Approaching the Col de la Valley Étroite.

Refuge du Thabor.

Having refreshed my water bottle I continued to the nearby lakes where I planned to camp. People were swimming in the lakes, and as I had little else to occupy me for a few hours I made a brief foray into the water. The depth of the lake swiftly increased and I was soon swimming a few strokes. Not as cold as I expected given the patches of snow on the nearby mountain slopes, but not exactly warm. A passing English man assured me that I would "not get him in there". Although one is meant to wait until 7 pm to erect your tent, people were doing so much earlier, so after reading for a while I pitched at 6 pm, and ate the ham salad roll I had bought this morning with an apple and some other stuff. Bored of reading I am now wondering how soon I can get into my sleeping bag.

Fourneaux rest day: E2 Day 189

A day catching up on washing, shopping, blogging and resting my knee.

I am staying in Fourneaux, ribbon development along the valley south of Modane. The main street is lined with shops with apartments above, old and dusty but not ancient. These are sandwiched between the fast flowing River Arc and overgrown railway sidings. By no means a tourist town, one gains the impression it is in slow decline.

Fourneaux.

My apartment overlooks the river at its rear. The water is milky grey, its power captured by a hydroelectric station a little further downstream. There was a tea room / boulangerie near the apartment where I enjoyed breakfast and later a coffee and cake. Further on there was a supermarket for my shopping and nearby a bank machine for cash, so all my needs were catered for. In the afternoon I decided to try to visit the fort that looks down on the valley above a steep slope. Although I knew that you could not get inside it looked an interesting structure. My first attempt was blocked by a sign stating no pedestrians, rock falls. My second attempt, following red spots on the rocks, took me over loose rock falls and onto crumbly ground over a large drop. I decided that wisdom was the better part of valour, and gave up sweating profusely. (Next day, from the other side of the valley I saw a clear track up to the fort as indicated by my maps. Its start was probably hidden by parked cars. Shows I was not paying attention to navigation, but then it was my day off). After a bit more washing of clothes I finished with a meal at an Italian restaurant, celebrating my progress so far with a Limoncello (they had no cognac).

Le Montana to Fourneaux: E2 Day 188

A day shorter than recent ones, leading to the welcoming prospect of a day's rest tomorrow. 

A woke on my perch on the side of a mountain and cleaned my teeth at a nearby stream. Clouds filled the valley before me, distant mountain peaks poked above them beneath a blue sky streaked with jet trails. Not a bad view from your "bathroom".

My morning view.

My walk began by following a path around the grassy mountain side. I could hear the bells of sheep grazing higher up the slope. Although not near them a large, grizzly white "patou" sheepdog came rushing down the mountain furiously barking. Signs tell you not to look at or pat these dogs which guard the sheep, instead I continued slowly on my way (later I checked and the signs said I should have stood still). Fortunately the dog stopped just behind me, then followed me for what seemed a long time. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, careful not to make any sudden movements. Finally, I reached a gate in an electric fence, walked through and shut it firmly behind me. That stopped him. I suspect he thought he had done a good job, seeing a hiker off his patch.

Shortly after I passed "Peyra Levrousa", a house which offered spaces for bivouacing that I was unaware off, so I could have camped more officially last night. They also sold food, but it was closed, too early for breakfast. It was in an area of cows and chairlifts which I left to start a circuit of the slopes around two reservoirs. Half way around I stopped at a refuge and asked in my best French if I could buy a breakfast, remembering to say "s'il vous plait". My request seemed to take the staff by surprise (they had just seen off the guests staying at the refuge and were tidying up), however they served me a petit dejeuner, complete with a bowl of coffee.

While I had hoped the path would stay low on the slopes, I knew that would not happen and soon I was on a climb to higher ground. However the views back down to the reservoirs and to the mountains to the south, compensated for the effort. For a while the path contoured among grassland, over streams and rock, before loosing height to enter a forest....until it began another steep climb.

Reservoir of Plan d'Amont, part of a hydroelectric scheme.

Path around mountainside.

Distant views.

Reaching the Refuge de l'Orgère I awarded myself a goat’s cheese salad for lunch as I had been missing my "greens". It included goat’s cheese samosas! Then it was down hill to Modane. I had booked an apartment in a nearby suburb of Fourneaux for two nights. First job was a shower as I was starting to smell, next job was washing my clothes, my socks were stinky!

Refuge du Plan du Lac to Le Montana: E2 Day 187

An even longer day owing to lack of permitted camping spots, around an arena of spectacular mountains followed by a walk high above the valley below.

One of the difficulties with refuges and mountain huts is you are never quite sure of how things are done, and it varies between places. Some things are universal, such as changing out of your hiking boots into flip flops or plastic shoes, a selection of which is often provided, before entering the premises. Instructions at communal evening meals were delivered in rapid French, unintelligible to myself, so I simply copy what everyone else is doing. My faux pas this morning was to use my coffee bowl for my cereals, which I should have spooned into a smaller container, that people obtained from an unknown source.

Leaving the mysteries of refuge etiquette behind I walked through morning mist, dropping down to a road where the bus from Termignon turned around. A small dam diverted water to a hydroelectric plant some distance away. Then the climb began. I plodded up the grass covered mountainside as the mist cleared, around temporary electric fencing, then following a narrow path this way and that as it struggled to a shoulder of grass and rock. One couple passed me and I overtook another with dayglo orange rucksacks (raising the question: should you have bright clothing so you can be seen in the event of an accident, or subdued colours so as not to distract from the beauty of the surrounding environment). Once at the top, the path was joined by one from another refuge, and there was a good number of people climbing slowly into a terrain of rock, stone and, subsequently, a few small lakes. People frequently stopped to take photos and admire the spectacular view of the summits surrounding us on three sides. Small glaciers were visible spilling down from the mountain tops. Lower down, snow collected on terraces in the dark grey rock faces. White, candy floss clouds drifted across the mountain peaks, adding to the grandeur of the scene. Closer to me, on the stony ground with only sparse grass, I admired the cushions of pink saxifrage (or was it moss campion?) and occasional examples of low creeping juniper. There were several impressive waterfalls today, the water falling in threads and ribbons, startlingly white, soap powder advert white in the sun against the dark rocks. There were many streams to cross. Footbridges or planks were provided on some of them, others you had to pick your way across. I was glad my boots were still waterproof.

Glaciers on the Vanoise mountains above a small lake.

River crossing.

One of the waterfalls.

Buildings look small within the immense landscape.

The route described by the GR5 was a large semi circle around a bowl of mountains, so that after four or five hours I was looking back over a deep valley to where I had walked yesterday. Not all that motivating. I was planning on lunch at the Refuge de l'Arpont. It seemed a long time coming  eventually appearing behind a shoulder of land. Sadly I arrived just as the staff were starting their own lunch which they had between 12:21 and 13:13 according to the notice. I wondered how they selected such precise times, symmetry? I waited until they finished to buy my own food, among a rush of waiting people. Most were registering to stay the night and I probably confused the three people milling around behind the counter by wanting only food. They certainly confused me, a product of my lack of French no doubt. My original plan had been to stay at this refuge but it was full, both the beds inside and the bivouac sites outside, whose numbers were limited by the Vanoise National Park (as I understood).

My attempts to book into the the next nearest refuges had also failed as they were full, so I headed off after lunch without a clear plan. The path followed the side of the mountain rising up and down and crossing streams. Often there were angular rock outcrops and slanting slabs of silver schist to negotiate. One had to be careful not to over estimate the amount of grip your boots had on the rock before they slid down. My poles helped to stabilize me. Based on my progress I expected to reach the Le Montana refuge by 7 or 8 pm. Although it was full it was outside the National Park so bivouacing (overnight camping) was possible near it. At first there were many people heading the other way up to the Refuge d'Arpont, but as I kept going, the afternoon turned to evening, and I was alone on the trail. A marmot stood on its back legs and whistled at me as I dropped through multiple switchbacks. Much effort had been made to make a good path among the crumbling rock, building up the path below rock faces. I  arrived at the National Park boundary around 7:30 pm. A few metres further on there was a small patch of flat ground. Stones had been cleared to the edge of it so evidently it had been used for camping before. I soon had my tent set up and waited for it to dry out while I ate some of my emergency rations, tinned tuna, oatcakes and trail mix. My phone had recently regained a signal so I have booked an apartment for tomorrow for two nights near Mondane as a rest day. After over 11 hours on the trail today I am looking forward to getting there and relaxing.

Looking down on the valley from my camping spot as night fell.

Bessans to Refuge du Plan du Lac: E2 Day 186

Another long day, partly spent in cloud, with the usual lengthy climbs and beautiful wild flowers.

Leaving the campsite early, as clouds drifted down the valley, the first section of walk reminded me of how wonderful walking across flat ground was. Along the valley bottom, hay had recently been gathered in from small fields. Meadowsweet, knapweed and similar flowers bloomed beside the path. A group of low, stone walled, stone roofed houses formed the little settlement of Le Collet. Like other houses in the area, various designs were used to keep the snow out of the chimneys. After this village, the climbing began...

Back and fore, left and right, the path crept up the huge mountainside, in an unending effort of muscle, lifting my body and its heavy rucksack upward by pushing one leg down after another, like an ant trying to climb a skyscraper. A group of old stone buildings, some with collapsed roofs, peered out of the mist, an excuse to stop and examine their construction. Apart from the logs used to support the heavy, flat, flags of schist forming the roof, the reminder of the buildings seemed to have been built of stone collected off the hillside, roughly shaped and carefully placed without the use of cement.

At the end of the long ascent, a farm track led me along the mountain, embedded in white cloud. There was a simple, small chapel (locked), the third of its type I had seen today. It was dedicated to Saint Antoine, patron saint of mules and mule drivers. Appropriate as mules may have been used to transport goods up and down the mountain before pick ups and 4 X 4's were invented. A similar chapel at Le Collet was dedicated to Mary Magdalene, patron saint of prostitutes and perfumiers.

Chapel of Saint Antoine.

At the Refuge de Vollonbrun I stopped for a late breakfast. One of the smaller refuges, the coffee, apple juice, muesli, bread and apricot jam was delivered with a smile. A little after the refuge, the path slowly lost height to enter a coniferous forest, before turning back uphill. There were a couple of large mounds, made of detritus from the trees and covered in crawling ants. I moved away quickly before the ants on the path decided to crawl up my legs.

Anthill.

To gain a sense of progress I counted the number of switchbacks on my GPS before I would reach the top. There were ten, five hairpin turns to the left and five to the right, from where I started counting. By turn five I was beginning to leave the trees. Rock scree and outcrops faced me as I stood in a small meadow. The winding path continued to the right and in time I was at the top of this section among rocks, grasses and flowers.

High mountain pasture.

The cloud had now cleared and I had a view down the valley to a village far below me. Thinking I would have a signal I checked my mail and had another go at booking a bivouac spot, dinner and breakfast for tomorrow night. I was unsuccessful. Everywhere was full. After dropping a note to my wife (as I correctly surmised there would be no signal at the refuge tonight) I continued. Following more gentle terrain the path rose again to cross over the top of a steep sided valley. At a large car park, full of cars, there was a dramatic change in the numbers of people around. Until this point I had met few hikers, but on the good quality path I now followed, people of all kinds were out, mainly returning to their vehicles from a walk towards the refuge where I am staying. This last section of my route ran along side a short ravine, where a stream ran between cliffs, above was a lake and then an area of undulating grass pasture. Beside the track, plaques had information about birds, animals and plants. Little quizzes (such as the "poo quiz") added interest.

The refuge is a larger building than many, stone built to match local farm buildings. A road leads to it and you can even catch a bus to the nearby town. Beyond it grey mountains reach upward into ethereal clouds, snow collecting in patches and gulleys on their sides. After dinner there was an event, a comedy act. Two men dressed only in towels around their waist, mimed to music and engaged in fast paced repartee. As it was in French I only caught one word in twenty, not enough to make much sense of it, however it seemed on the general subject of masculinity and femininity, ending with a song stating "Je suis un homme". The older part of the audience found it funny, although I was unsure what the party of young school children made of it. These youngsters are camping, no bivouacing, at the refuge with me. I chatted for a while with a couple from the Lake District, the only other British people at the full refuge, then headed to bed, soon asleep despite the chattering of the school party.

Evening view from my tent, bivouacing at the refuge.

Val d'Isère to Bessans: E2 Day 185

A long, wet day in which I crossed the Col de l'Iseran, which at 2770 metres is the highest point on the GR5 and the E2.

As I headed off from the campsite I wondered why a group of people had gathered together near the entrance. A hooting van announced the reason, a bread delivery! I had already walked into town for my breakfast, making a real mess at a Salon du Thé. My croissant crumbled over the table, and my attempts to clean up only served to move them to the floor...

So began my long climb up to the Col d'Iseran, mainly over grassland beside where a ski lift was being rebuilt. A few mountain bikers raced down the mountain otherwise I was alone. Possibly prospective hikers had seen the rain and thunderstorms forecast for today. These materialized when I was half way up. Fortunately it was cold so I did not overheat while encased in waterproofs. Although there was much rain, and thunder rolled around the mountains, there was little lightening, the electricity no doubt discharging in the high mountains around me. 

Col de l'Iseran.

A road crosses the Col and when I finally reached the top I found plenty of people on motorcycles, having driven up the winding road. Later I saw a convoy of several Porsche sports cars heading up to the pass, making suitably rorty noises. I felt quietly pleased to have reached the top through my own efforts. Although the rain seems to have kept cyclists away today, the Col is known for being a particularly difficult stage on the Tour de France cycle race in some years. Nearby was a chapel, built at about the same time as the road in 1937. Dedicated to "Notre Dame de Toute Prudence", who advises care in the mountains. There was also a stone cairn or pyramid, built by the King of Savoy in the 18th century to help guide travellers.

The path dropped steeply from the Col with patches of snow. After crossing the Pont de la Neige (a bridge), the path dropped below the level of the road on a track cut into a cliff of crumbling rock. A stainless steel chain was attached to the rock for you to hold onto. I took care not look down to the raging water below.

Path below the Pont de la Neige.

The Col was a watershed. The river to its south grew rapidly. Fed by streams flowing down the mountainside, it formed some impressive cascades. After the path became a little more level among overgrown, floriferous meadows, there was a junction. A board with a map showed the route. There was a right turn marked although no GR5 waymark or direction sign. However the map agreed with my GPS so I started on the track up another hillside. I missed a turning onto a small unsigned path to my left and was forced to retrace a few steps. Relying on the pink line defining the route on the screen of my GPS, I continued on the thin path as it contoured the steep mountainside, gaining height intermittently and often steeply. Crossing into an area containing sheep, bounded by an electric fence, the muddy, little path became covered with slippery sheep droppings. The lack of red and white waymarks, and any recent human footprints  made me worry that I was following an old route, and that the GR5 had been diverted, maybe as the path had been washed away. My unease increased as the path developed a tilt, as if trying to tip me down the mountainside, at times over an outcrop of rocks. My confidence slightly increased when, faced with large streams of foaming water tearing down the hillside, two planks had been placed across the flow. There were several of these crude bridges. Although the planks were wobbly, and it was unsettling to look down at water rising in white waves over the rocks below, at least they showed people were expected to come this way.

Crude bridge.

Finally a sign appeared, yellow with black lettering of the type used in the area for footpaths. It pointed towards Bessans, fortunately where I was headed, but made no reference to the GR5. As the slopes became a little less steep, the rain stopped and a weak sun shone. There were abandoned stone buildings scattered beside the path. Once many people must have been employed to bring flocks of sheep or herds of cows up the mountainside in summer. In one valley, backed by a waterfall and darkly coloured rock, the Alpinage du Vallon still seemed to be in use. After the Alpinage I joined a gravel vehicle track. Initially it rose but later went into a series of many twisting curves as it dropped steeply, down towards Bessans. The GR5 left at one of the many bends and finally reached the river and the valley base.

Abandoned building on the empty mountainside.

Briefly leaving the GR5 I crossed a bridge into the village of Bessans to pick up some provisions for tea from the Boulangerie. I sat in the square for a while sipping a "café long" watching people chatting in groups or having a drink outside a bar. However my campsite was still two kilometres away, so I walked quickly down the riverside track as the rain resumed. Fortunately the campsite has a small common room, a more congenial place to sit, and eat my tea, rather than in my wet tent. I struggled for a while trying to find somewhere to stay for the night after next. All the possible refuges seem to have filled their allocation of bivouac spaces, as well as their beds.

Refuge d'Entre le Lac to Val d'Isère: E2 Day 184

A shorter day with visits to the tourist resort of Tignes-Le-Lac and the older, and more famous resort of Val d'Isère.

The refuge only had "squat toilets" which I rather struggle with, although at least these had an old person's type handle on the door which I grabbed onto, making stable squatting easier. Most of those walking the GR5 today were taking a deviation along the GR55 as far as Moderne. A higher level route and according to my guidebook more exciting and scenic. However I was seeing plenty of high mountains so I stuck with my plan to continue on the GR5 as I had never visited the town of Val d'Isère. Saying goodbye to those I had met at the refuge, I climbed rapidly out of the bowl in which the refuge and its lake were located, and re-joined the GR5. Further climbing led me to the Col du Palet and its nearby refuge, the highest point on my path today.

Flat, marshy plains sometimes appear, surrounded by mountains.

This high pass marked a sudden change in the use of the landscape. I had been walking through the Vanoise National Park where little was allowed and humans were tolerated only if they kept to the paths and refuge. After the pass, everything was allowed. Ski lifts were strung out down the mountains with the associated booms to spread fake snow. Dogs ran free. Light aircraft droned in the air disturbing the quiet, practicing take offs and landings on two grass strips (not entirely flat). Helmeted Mountain Bikers raced down specially prepared tracks. All this activity was centred around Tignes-le-Lac and its twin town Val Claret. Modern towns of tall apartments, with towering cranes adding yet more buildings. Between the two towns was a lake on which paddleboarders played, beside which the GR5 led me through neatly cut grass and flowerbeds. There were cafés, shops, many hotels, a waterpark for children, a cable car station, and clean public toilets of the type you could sit down on (much appreciated). Despite all the development, the marmots still ran around on the slopes and the wild flowers were just as beautiful with massed yellows, blues, pinks and purples.

Tignes le Lac.

Despite having looked at a map yesterday, I missed the steep climb out of Tignes-Le-Lac which zig-zags up the hillside. In compensation it led me to a green valley, then dropped me into woodland, the path crossed by mountain bike tracks. The valley floor made by the River Isère was sprinkled with grey buildings and included a silent cable car station, with two horses sheltering in its shade, and a stationary funicular, maybe waiting for the winter skiing season. I followed a track along the riverside until the strip development reached Val d'Isère itself. I was told that the town is one of the classier resorts, and it certainly looked pretty smart. My campsite was at the far end of it and despite the relatively short day, I was glad to reach it. As the sun was beating down my shower was very welcome and I retreated to a cluster of trees to phone my wife in some shade.

My path among the flowers.

Later I caught a free bus to the town centre and ate a meal of a galette and crêpe while watching some kind of relay race by mountain bikes, which followed a circuit through the streets.

Landry to Refuge d'Entre le Lac: E2 Day 183

Another long climb, villages with traditional houses and marmots near the refuge.

After sleeping poorly I was not looking forward to the long climb up to the refuge today. A bus service could have taken me part of the way, but I reluctantly resisted this temptation having walked all the way from Galway without missing bits out. As Landry is built on the side of a mountain the climbing began at once, as the route went up narrow roads between traditional grey stone houses, mixed with more modern buildings. A little above Landry was a church with a handsome, bulbous, metal spire, however the sundial on the tower was half an hour fast. There followed a steep climb on an ancient looking track, that might once have been surfaced with stone. Passing through woodland, my route crossed minor roads heading steadily upward.

I was annoyed when the track started to drop, loosing the height I had worked so hard to gain. However, it was doing so to take me into Peisey. An attractive village of stone houses, clustered together, with their now familiar overhanging roofs and wooden balconies. Older buildings were roofed with flat stones, but these irregular materials were being replaced by metal roofs as properties were renovated. I was trying to "pace" myself, to avoid getting tired too quickly, so stopped for an Orangina, that quintessentially French soft drink, although it was sold in a can rather than the distinctive glass bottle. Above the village, high in the sky, a large cabin was traveling across the valley on wires hundreds of metres above me. Called the Vanoise Express it is apparently the biggest cable car in the world, capable of carrying 200 people at a time. Within the village there was also a sort of ski lift where you stood up in boxes rather than sat on chairs.

I continued up the valley, sometimes beside a fast flowing river. Silver bearing lead was mined in one area visited by the path, and there was also a school for miners dating from the 18th and 19th centuries. I would like to have toured the relics of the operation but was concerned I still ahead a long climb ahead of me. A little later I passed a place with donkeys and horses. Donkeys were being led along the track with small children sitting on their backs. Later I passed a donkey returning from my refuge with empty saddle bags having delivered provisions, hopefully for my dinner.

The GR5 led me to a river crossing where the flow was more dramatic than I expected. I later learnt that I had missed a sign (in French) indicating that I should take a different route due to the condition of the river. Instead, I replaced my boots with my "hotel" shoes which I had originally bought to cross rivers in Iceland. Then, after putting all my loose valuables into dry bags, I crossed the river in true, textbook taught manner, my poles facing upstream, using them to provide stability as I found where best to place my feet on the pebble river bed. There was only one tricky spot, where maybe spring floods had cut a deeper channel. Even here, the cold water only came up to my calves, barely wetting the bottom of my trousers, rolled up in comic book fashion.

At the end of a huge car park stood a visitor centre for the Vanoise National Park, closed for lunch, and a refuge where I indulged in a Pepsi and ice cream to prepare me for the climb ahead. There was also a sequence of posters comparing the same views photographed many years ago and more recently. They showed glaciers retreating, ski resorts appearing where cows once grazed, isolated farms expanding into small holiday villages, and the enlargement of a mountain refuge. Unable to put off the climb any longer I started up the path. Fortunately it was not all steeply uphill there were some sections of a gentler gradient and good views of a thin but tall waterfall on the other side of the valley. As the water fell it collected to form separate white veils falling across the cliff. I passed on "Private Fishing" sign which I thought curious as there was nowhere to fish on the mountain side. On rounding a shoulder of the mountain, after a short but steep section of crude rock steps, there was a stretch of "rock hopping" over the glacier smoothed bedrock of gneiss and boulders of limestone. Rocks gave way to damp, grass pasture in a broad valley between tall outcrops of rock. Cows, grouping themselves in herds of different colours, grazed by the path, studiously ignoring me as I passed. The trail was surprisingly busy with day trippers who had walked the considerable height up from the car park, often with young children. Crossing the boundary into the Vanoise National Park was marked by a sign forbidding most things.

Climbing into the Vanoise National Park.

After further climbing I turned off the GR5 onto a path leading to my refuge which went around the Lac de la Plagne. Marmots were much in evidence on this quieter trail. A foot or more long and rather hairy they were not too concerned about my presence but scurried into holes under rocks if I came too close. There were also some smaller "meerkat" like animals, maybe young marmots. One hid in a hole as I walked by, starring at me from its darkness with two black, shiny eyes.

Lac de la Plagne.

At the refuge I met up again with a couple I had spoken to on both of the previous two nights. We discovered a connection via the oil industry and discussed French and English politics, then adjourned to watch a cow being milked by hand. This was how the refuge obtained fresh milk, they also baked their own bread and had a type of greenhouse for some fresh lettuce or herbs. In this way we whiled the time away before dinner where I was seated with a Flemish family. I was very impressed that their 4 1/2 year old boy and 8 year old girl had managed the climb of at least 500 metres vertically and a walk of several kilometres horizontally from the car park at the base of the valley. Then after a little stroll I was into my sleeping bag cosy inside my tent, bivouacing close to the refuge, and soon asleep while people were still talking around me.

Refuge Plan de la Lai to Landry: E2 Day 182

Two passes, and a long descent into the Isère valley.

After brushing my teeth in a basin that may or may not have been intended for my use in the refuge, I enjoyed a simple breakfast and was away at 7:30 am, starting the first climb of today, a head start on the others from the refuge. Although I was the only person camping at the Refuge Plan de la Lai, there were a few more tents near another refuge higher up the hill. Starting from an elevation of 1822 metres today, I was well above the tree line among grass and flower covered slopes. A patch of dock plants engulfed the path by the ruins of an old farm building. I crossed a pass and after a few alder trees in the damp ground, it was more high pasture. Cows grazed on patches of slope enclosed by temporary electric fences. Their wires sometimes crossed the path, and I had to remove my rucksack to duck under them. At one point I walked through a herd of brown cows who just stared at me, refusing to move out of the way. As I tried to avoid the numerous cow pats I wondered if they were waiting to be milked. More likely they had just been milked as a tank lorry was negotiating the rough track nearby, picking up (I assumed) milk from large, rounded, silver containers.

One of the typical farm buildings in the valley.

My long climb up to the Col du Bresson began in cow pasture but progressed to rock strewn terrain in a valley edged with high cliffs, the source of large boulders that now lay by the path. Way below was a reservoir and in the distance grey peaks with patches of snow. People frequently passed me, and a few groups of youngsters were being led down. As I made my way between and over rocks I tried to spot where the pass was. Ahead of me, in the direction indicated by my GPS, was a high wall of rock. Finally, behind a shoulder of rock, the Col du Bresson appeared and after further laboured climbing I reached it....then I went down the other side.

Col du Bresson looking south.

As I began the long descent, ahead of me on the skyline, above a deep valley, was a line of mountains, their dark slopes streaked with white snow. The path turned this way and that before reaching the Refuge La Balme - Tarentaise. My plan was to stop there for a snack and I was faced with a choice. A Savoyade Omelette was repeatedly mentioned in a book I had read, "South to the Sea", which described one man's walk down this stretch of the GR5. An omelette with bits of bacon, potato and granted cheese, I worried it would be too heavy on my stomach for the afternoon section of the walk. The alternative I considered was a nut tart, something frequently on menus which would be a bit lighter. I selected the omelette, which was lovely with its healthy salad accompaniment, but I regretted it, later suffering indigestion on the long trek down.

I still had to loose 1200 metres in height, which took place in two stages. First a relatively easy descent on a gravelly track, its gradient allowing me to stretch my legs out in an efficient stride. Then a pleasant path among flowers and by fields where tractors were turning the hay to dry it in the sunny weather. However, a steep drop then followed. Falling steeply by farms, through villages and among sycamore, ash and hazel trees, my tired legs complained and I almost did not notice the attractive surroundings. In particular, in village of Valezan the GR5 took a steep alleyway between a jumble of grey stone buildings, squashed together and hugging the hillside, their roofs overhanging their front elevations in a classic alpine way. The next village of Bellentre had another attraction, in addition to its church which had a bulbous, steel spire on top of its tower, there was a bar selling Magnum ice creams. Finally I reached the bottom of the valley, then walked beside the fast flowing River Isère to reach Landry and my hotel (there was a campsite but I felt after a few nights camping I deserved the luxury of a modestly priced hotel). Over dinner at the hotel, two of the people I met at the refuge last night came over to say hello. They live in Chamonix and have been much involved in the race around Mont Blanc. Like me they found the descent today rather long...

Les Contamines to Refuge Plan de la Lai: E2 Day 181

A long climb to the Col de la Croix du Bonhomme with the multitudes on the Tour de Mont Blanc (TMB), then a quieter walk with an Alpine ridge section.

After a chat with a New Zealand couple over breakfast, I left the campsite this morning with many others, almost all walking the TMB. After an easy flat path we reached the Chapel of Notre Dome. I popped in to see its baroque interior while outside a guide was explaining its significance to his tour group. After the chapel the track began to climb steeply and people bunched together. All sorts were walking the TMB. Talking with an American group last night I wondered if they were going to manage the complete circumnavigation of Mont Blanc that forms the TMB. Despite staying in chalets and having their luggage transported, they had struggled with the walk from Les Houches, probably one of the easier days. While some moved up the hill so slowly I could easily passed them, others raced ahead of me. The first part was beside a gorge, which most of those walking the route probably failed to notice, as it was almost entirely hidden by trees. At one point however, there was a sign indicating a natural bridge. Although only a few steps off the main trail, I was one of the few people who went to have a look at where the furiously flowing water in the ravine below had cut a hole through a slab of rock.

As the path climbed, the land flattened out for a while and we left the trees for open grassland populated by sheep and cows, kept within restricted areas by temporary electric fences. Among the sheep was a dog, a "patou", who looked like the sheep it was guarding with its white coat. It barked at the group ahead of me then, job done, sunk off for a rest. After much switching back and fore to scale the mountain slopes, crossing streams and rocky patches, I eventually reached the top of Col du Bonhomme after a few false summits.

View from Col du Bonhomme, looking back.

Unfortunately there was further climbing over rocky ground with patches of snow to reach the top of the next pass, Col de la Croix du Bonhomme. At the nearby refuge, after a coffee and chocolate cake, I used the "dry" toilet. After doing one's business, you were instructed to press a pedal five times which moved whatever you had deposited on a belt to somewhere else.

Refuge de la Croix du Bonhomme.

 

At 2443 metres, this was the highest point of the day, and also where I left the TMB crowds and followed the quieter GR5 to the south. There followed an excellent section, the path initially followed the top of the ridge and then for a few kilometres a path cut into one side of it. A stone tablet beside the path indicated that it had been built by the 22nd Bataillon de Chasseurs Alpins in 1912. The contorted schist of the ridge was infused with quartz veins. Easily cleaved, the weak rock broke into thin, shiny grey fragments which coated the path. Many alpine flowers bloomed among the grass and rock to my right, blue gentian making an appearance at this altitude. 

Ridge walk after leaving the TMB crowds behind.

Then it was a long trek down, the path taking steep shortcuts to avoid the wide curves of a gravel track as it lost height. Tonight I am bivouacing (i.e. camping) at the Refuge Plan de la Lai, surrounded by wild flowers. A nearby, but unseen bird or maybe marmots, was making alarm calls, possibly as it did not approve the location of my tent. Dinner was at the refuge, everyone on the long table speaking rapidly in French over our pasta bake, salad and a slice of cheese. However they politely dropped into English to check if I was following the same route as them. My lack of French rather puts me to shame.