A return to the E2 / GR5, a steam boat ride and a steep climb.
My kind wife dropped me at a modest motel by Bristol Airport ready for an early flight in the morning. I had time for a walk over nearby Felton Common. As I watched planes fly low overhead as they took off from the airport I worried about grumbling from my knee. A few weeks earlier I completed the "Purbeck Plod", a 25 mile walk around the Isle of Purbeck organised by the East Dorset Ramblers. I finished the course in a creditable 8 hours and 43 minutes, but it was at the cost of my troublesome left knee. Continuing to ache three weeks later, I wondered if I was ready for the big ascents the next, and hopefully final, stage of my walk down the E2 to Nice.
This stage, down the GR5 from Lake Geneva will involve climbing 1500 metres or more on several days. Much more than on any of my previous trips on the E2, so I felt some trepidation.
At 3:30 am next morning I headed for the airport. I had walked to the airport twice before so was confident I knew the way. In consequence I found myself marooned in a large car park instead of "Departures" with cars circling around. Fortunately there was a shuttle bus.
Bristol Airport was packed with people, all shuffling along dropping off bags, emptying their pockets at security, queuing for coffee and trying to find somewhere to sit down. An ideal environment for transmitting the latest strain of Covid I thought, making me wish I had brought a face mask. Fortunately the fully booked flight lasted only one and a half hours and my rucksack arrived intact. Soon I was on a train direct to Lausanne. My previous trip on the GR5 ended in Nyon, where I could have caught ferries to the start of the next stage starting from St Gingolph. However I decided on a shorter boat ride across Lake Geneva from Lausanne. La Suisse, my ferry, was a paddle steamer, powered by steam, dating from 1910. 114 years old with an original "Sulzer" engine, whose shiny metal workings were on display behind glass. Great pistons moving in and out. Ahead of me St Gingolph was diminutive compared with the mountains rising up steeply behind it. Not seeing any easy way up, my concern about completing this trip increased.
Arriving at St Gingolph, I was tempted by the crepes and galettes being sold at cafes with tables and umbrellas by the lakeside. I wisely declined. I had a steep climb up to Novel where I had booked a room for the night. This exertion combined with the panini I enjoyed at Lausanne would probably have made me sick since the ever rising path was unrelenting as it strove higher and higher. The path was a stony track on one side of a narrow, wooded valley with a foaming river cascading over rocks at its base. Shrieking swifts circled in the sky. My heart rate was high and I was sweating profusely with the effort. Fortunately the leaves of the deciduous trees gave me protection from the sun, but I still felt myself becoming very red. Although only a one and a half hour walk, the continuous ascent meant I was glad to reach my hostel for the night, nestled among rocky peaks.
Excellent diner!
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