Our alp adventure to raise money to build libraries in Nepal

June 30: Well, another long day.  30km, 1250m up and 1800m down as we approached our next rest break in the famous garrison city of Briancon.  We started a bit late as we enjoyed a nice big breakfast and some Frosted Flakes!!!!  We were completely out of food for today, so asked the owner of the hotel we were in to make us lunch.  While it cost 20 euros, we got some amazing couscous, a giant 4 egg omelet (filled with veggies and peppers), two apples, some cheese, half a loaf of bread and some potato chips.  Also, I decided to put water worries behind and filled every device we had, lugging 4.5L of water in our packs (and two full bladders in our midsections) up the path out of the valley.

It was a hot day, but thankfully a lot of the route was in the shade.  We passed the others we had passed the day before and Lynn and I were again kicking ass on the uphill.  Then we got to a river, where half the bridge had collapsed.  Now I hate little bridges, stemming back to falling off of one while doing the Torres de Paine circuit in 2002 and dunking my gear and my boots in fetid water.  My lack of balance that day saw me blistering my feet walking around mountains in flip flops.  Since then, I’ve looked for other solutions to rickety bridges.  Today, I decided to try and build a little bridge of rocks through the rapids.  I strained with giant boulders, drenching myself in the process and i tossed the boulders in the stream.  15 minutes in and I wasn’t making good progress.  A friendly dutch couple arrived, and with the deliberate instincts of people who have never fallen from a rickety bridge into a fetid swamp, carefully crossed the river.  Well, if they can do it then so can we.  Lynn crossed and then I did, both of us getting to the other side without incident.

We continued our ascent, taking a nice water break to enjoy an apple and the fresh air.  We continued upwards to our first col (mountain pass) which was exsquisite.  We stretched out on the grass and ate our amazing lunch, making omelette sandwiches and enjoying the day.  We were feeling great, on schedule and happy filling our faces with great food.

After a nice break, we continued on our journey, climbing to another col.  At the top of this col, I suggested we get a boogie on and we put on our iPod’s.  Much like several days before, we felt euphoric as we quickly descended from the pass.  I listened to the new Phoenix album and was very, very happy with the day.

A couple hours of descent got us into Montgenevere, another closed mountain town.  We filled our bladders and one canteen at a fountain and ate our apple. Yumm!  We then continued down a forest path and quickly noticed the high mountain forts.  We quickly realized that this was an important valley, with two high forts guarding the valley and two lower forts guarding where the valley narrowed to 200m wide or so.  Very impressive, especially as we crossed into one of the forts on a 300 year old bridge that was a couple hundred feet above the river below.

We were tired by now, having walked for 9 hours, my feet being very weary the last 30 minutes.  We passed a very old village beside the fort, and while we dismissed it at first, we were curious, it looked like it was out of a movie set.  We wandered in and got one of the last rooms at the only hotel in the old cite (officially Vaubaun).  It is a great little town, built on the hill and undulating.  Not 25m from our hotel is a great candy store.  I like candy, but Lynn was possessed, racking up over 12 euros of candy.  I ate a lot of it as we had a mediocre dinner at a restaurant run by a couple of english guys.  We needed something that wasn’t creamy or cheesy and this was the only option.  I am still unsure if it was the right decision, though the candy saved us.

June 29: It sounds crazy to say that 7 hours of walking up and down mountains is an easy day, but after to 10 hour days, this 7 hour day was a piece of cake.  While others in the refuge started waking up at 5.40am, we stayed in bed until 7.30 and were by far the last to leave the refuge around 9am.  It was a lovely day for a walk.

We were on fire from the start, tearing up the paths and enjoying the spectacular scenery.  We quickly started to pass the others that had left up to 2.5 hours ahead of us.  I don’t know what they were doing, but they were sure doing it slow.

After the events of the day before, today seemed rather serene and uneventful.  The biggest change today was the climate change.   Coming over a Col (Col = Mountain Pass), we went from the somewhat wet mountains we’d been in for 2+ weeks into a very dry climate, reminding me of some of the drier parts of the BC interior.  It was another smoking hot day as we dropped down into the valley.  We made a detour into a village of Nevache to get water (again, we ran out as water spots were dried up), though we foolishly missed the little general store (well, foolishly we thought, but more on that in day 17’s post).

We came into Plampinet, still somewhat fatigued but quite early (usually we arrive around 6pm – 7pm) and were able to listen to some iPod, have a beer and then a delicious 90 minute nap.  We had a nice dinner and went back to bed.  After two bad sleeps (squeaky bed and the loud dormotories in Refuge de Thabor), it was so nice to have such a nice sleep.

June 28: Well, today was another long day, 9 hours of walking with a huge uphill and downhill component.  We would need to be prepared, and we were greeted by a good breakfast at our hotel.  Many breakfasts are old bread and super sweet jam.  The coffee ranges from acidic instant to good instant to bad authentic to excellent.  This breakfast had good bread, good coffee, good jam and some yogurt.

I was down a bit earlier than Lynn and started to talk with the owner.  I asked if the loud noise at 5am had bothered him.  To my surprise, he said “No, they were celebrating the wedding”.  I asked if this was normal, indicating that if this were to happen in Britain or Canada, there wouldn’t be a lot of tolerance.  I was surprised to learn that every wedding (at least in this valley, though the hotel owner said throughout France) was like this.  The party goes until very early in the morning, but usually around 3 or 4am the bride and groom slip out to a mysterious place (not their house) for a bit of sleep.  The wedding party, thoroughly inebriated get into their cars and try and find the bride and groom.  Discretion is not the name of the game in this endeavour, as it is believed the best way to find the happy couple is to make as much noise as possible.  The key aspect in all of this is a metal pot, filled with luxuries such as chocolate and champagne.  This pot is beat and eventually the couple will respond, accepting their gifts.  The revellers can now drive home (many come from far up the valley).   Lynn and I were both very grateful to hear of this wedding tradition, and it made our day a heck of a lot more fun.

Well, onto the walk.  The day would unfold like this.  3 hours or so down to Modane, 2.5 hours up to ValFrejus and 4 hours to the refuge.  Water should be available at Modane, Valfrejus and the refuge.  As such, we took only my canteen.

It was blazing hot, but quite lovely as we walked through the wood down to Modane.  We both had our iPod’s on and were blissful in the early morning with our books.  Out of this revelry we were astounded to hear a giant white dog (the size of a St. Bernard) barking at us from behind a fence 200m away.  I noticed a flock of sheep, and realized that this was a legendary Pastous dog, a herder for the sheep, a dog that lives with the flock and protects the flock from wolves and other dangers.  Thankfully, the dog was collared to a giant car tire, and was unable to do more than bark.  From the corner of my eye, I spotted a quick movement.  HOLY SHIT, THAT PASTOUS DOESN’T HAVE A COLLAR AND HE JUST JUMPED THE FENCE LIKE A GAZELLE.  This giant bugger was barking mad and bounding towards us.  I was scared as he approached.  I had instructed Lynn several days earlier when a lovely border collie tried the same on us (and she yelled at it) to remain calm, say nothing and not to be aggressive.  Thankfully she did.  The Pastous had a giant bark and snarl and we could feel his hot breath at our legs.  I was very scared and Lynn even moreso.  For 20 seconds, as we tried to continue on the track he circled us barking and snarling.  It was the scariest part of our trip so far.  As we moved farther on, he stood his ground and stopped circling us, and saw us off with a lot of barking.  About 30 seconds after we lost sight of him, he chased us down to give us another good barking.  Now, I’m not a dog and I don’t profess to speak dog, but I’m pretty sure I heard in his barks a loud “Piss off you”.

We were scared by this.  Throughout the day our thoughts returned to this dog and Lynn said a few times it really put her off the walk.

Thankfully, we arrived in Modane with no further incident.  Alas, while there were some gypsies, there was not water.  It was damn hot.  The ascent (roughly 1500m or so) should find us some water in Valfrejus, so we agreed to push on rather than deviate off path for 30 minutes to another listed water source.

We climbed quickly through the heat and arrived at Valfrejus.  It was a big village, filled with 6 cars.  Another damn winter only village.  These sons-of-bitches had also turned off the fountains.  Damn.  We continued through the village and finally found the only open place, the Gite (roughly like a hostel), with two giant signs (20 feet by 6 feet) trumpeting they were open every day for lunch.  It was 1.30, and Lynn and I were hungry, very thirsty and in need of a break.  I walked onto the patio and was informed that the gite was in fact not open for lunch, and the owner was having lunch with his family.  I asked if I could buy a drink, to which he said now.  I was desperate for a drink, and begged him to fill up my water.  Thankfully he did, and Lynn and I now had 1.2L of water for 4 hours of climbing.

We sat on a mountain path near the gite to eat a bit of our limited food stock and drink the water.  As we did this, a young dutch girl came down the path, a bit frantic / frazzled.  “Do you know that the refuge is 1km above where we are!!!”  I looked in my guide, and corrected her “it’s actually only about 900m, and it says it is good paths all the way, so it shouldn’t be too bad”.  She was tired as she had been hiking alone in Italy for a week and wanted to stay at the closed Gite, as she was waiting on a “male friend” who would arrive the next day in Modane with a 27 kg pack (note: this is a lunatic size of pack).  Why she didn’t wait in Modane is beyond me, but both Lynn and I could tell that she wanted something.  I offered her information from our guide book and we said she could walk with us.  Out of the blue she said “do you think I could sleep in the toilets in town”.  I hadn’t seen them, though Lynn suggested this to be a bad idea.  We chatted some more, and then we moved onto our trip.  Lynn and I think the dutch girl was just tired and a bit scared of where she would stay that night, and had probably been alone in other refuges like we had.  Unlike us, who could afford a 50 euro hotel, she probably had 15 euros a day for a budget, and blowing it all in a gite was hard to ponder.

After talking to this dutch girl, I thought back to all of my trips when I was in my early 20’s and was hiking in Nepal, the Pyrenees and the Alps and how little money I had and how hard it was to be alone all the time.  Sitting here now, I honestly don’t know how I did my trips on such limited budgets.  In 1999 I spent 2 months in Europe and didn’t eat out for one meal other than having a coffee ONCE.  In 2 months of my hiking in 2002, I didn’t eat out once, each night slinking out of the hostel or refuge to cook pasta and combine it with dehydrated tomato soup.  Many nights I couldn’t even afford a hostel and would set my tent up alone in a forest or on a hill overlooking a road.  What a life I did, how hard it was.  Just the lack of amenities would make that trip seem very hard now.

While a lack of cash can make a trip hard, I think it is doing it alone that makes it harder.  I couldn’t imagine doing a trip like this without a partner like Lynn.  During the hardest days, I know the day will be over and we can both change into our one set of clean clothes, talk about the day and eventually snuggle in bed and listen to a story on my iPod.  As we walked through the mountains this day, I turned to Lynn and said “I think I would have given up if it wasn’t for you”.  This is a powerful statement as I don’t give up, but it is probably true.  This has been a hard trip and having a strong woman like Lynn has made it infinitely easier.  I’m a lucky fella to have such a great wife.

Well, back to the day.  We continued up from the gite for about 4 hours.  It was hot as hell, over 30 and though I was faring well, Lynn was finding it tough.  As the refuge came into sight, Lynn started to cry.  This had been our biggest and toughest day yet.  It was also the hottest and we had been short on water and food all day.  Seeing the refuge was important.

We arrived at the refuge and were both thankful just to be able to stop walking.  We took our places on the top bunks in a dormitory (I hate the top, but all others were taken), and then had a couple of beers before we had an excellent meal.  We quickly retired to bed, our iPod and some Seinfeld episodes. 

At 3am, the dutch couple below us got a bit panicked and woke the room up as there was a nosebleed.  At 5.40, they woke the room up again as they had to start packing as they wanted an early start.

June 27: Today was a day of decisions.  At the upcoming village of Bessans, we could either continue down a great valley, enjoying little towns and, though lots of km’s, no big altitude gains.  On the flipside, we could climb up into the Vanoise and look down on the villages from up high, enjoying great scenery and some good tough days.  As we left Bonneval, we didn’t know which way we’d go.  As it stood, we decided we’d let the decision make itself.  If it was cloudy up high, we’d stay low.  Conversely, if it was a lovely day, we’d go up and enjoy the views.

As we left our hotel, the valley was clear but all the peaks were surrounded by heavy cloud.  We walked the 2 hours to Bessans and the weather didn’t change, we had lovely weather in the valley, but the path we wanted to take was obliterated 1000m up by clouds.  Lynn and I discussed and agreed that it was pointless to climb to see nothing, especially as we had seen so few villages and this valley was so nice.  (of note, Bonneval is listed as one of the prettiest villages in France).

Our decision to stay in the valley meant a long day.  About 40 – 45 km in hot weather.  We pounded from village to village, enjoying lovely little towns as we boogied to our iPod’s.  After some music, we both settled into good books.  I was listening to ‘The Man Who Loved China’, a fascinating biography of eccentric scientist Joseph Needham and his life in Cambridge and eventually in China. 

Particular highlights of this day were passing a village that must have been 500 years old and had very few updates since then.  Alas, I have forgotten my book so I’m going to guess that the village was called Le Verney.

As we approached 10 hours, we came into Bramans.  We were greeted with a wedding party coming down the hill out of town, horns blaring and the bride and groom in the front of a giant digger. Now, any 6 year old boy would dream of getting married and the limo being a digger, but it seemed strange to use the digger as adults.  As the valley is still quite rural (most of the alps are decidedly touristy), perhaps the digger is part of the rural lifestyle.  Lynn snapped a photo and we both had a giggle.

We got to our hotel, it was very old and quite fun.  We watched some BBC news (funny, the same news stories from two days before were still running on BBC) and tended to our very very pained feet.  We noticed that the bed was squeaky, but didn’t think too much of it.  We walked down to the little general store, bought candy (Lynn is very persuasive when it comes to candy) and I got some old time Pop Rocks!!!  We came back to our room, ate candy, a beer and some olives and waited for dinner.

After dinner, we quickly fell asleep.  During the night, every movement of our bodies caused the bed to squeek loudly.  We didn’t sleep well.  As if that wasn’t enough, the crazy wedding party came back through town at 5am.  Horns blared, people yelled and a cowbell (later confirmed to be an iron pot) was banging to beat the band.  A groggy Lynn quizzed me on how to hurl obscenities in French at these lunatics.  Thankfully, I demurred.  After 15 minutes, the hootenanny (note: that is the first time I’ve ever written that word) stopped and we went back to a light sleep interrupted by our squeaky bed.

Read the post of the next day to find out more on the strange early morning disturbance.

June 26: Today we left the ghost town of Val D’Isere.   It was a nice cloudy day, but it was going to be a long hard slog.  A big ascent up to the Col de L’Iseran and then down and back up again. 

Lynn and I realized today that we are becoming uphill powerhouses.  We killed the first 1000m ascent, driving up through trees and ski runs to the Col de L’Iseran.  For those of you not familiar with this famous col (pass), the tour de France often goes over the col and it is one of the highest navigable passes in France.  Lynn and I were motoring up the pass, doing about 2 hours of climbing (book timings) in 90 minutes.  We feel really strong now that we have sent back 3kg of stuff to Canada.  It is interesting, but there is a perfect pack weight, which once achieved, allows speed and a lot more walking pleasure.  Even half a pound above this weight and walking gets harder and ascents slower.

Lynn and I arrived on the pass, expecting to be lonely as Val D’Isere was so quiet.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  The pass was filled with motor homes, motorcycle tourers and a lot of cyclists.  Lynn and I had a quick cup of tea as it was pretty cold and then had our lunch (bread and cheese) in a little wind shelter.  We got the photos next to the sign and then started to descend.  One concern I had was that we hadn’t been able to get any water, and I hadn’t brought much as my book said that the Col was a water stop.  We were on rations.

We dropped quickly over the Col, both of us listening to our iPod’s.  I rejoiced to Mogwai while in the quieter parts I would hear Lynn giggling behind me listening to a Seinfeld show (FYI – Lynn has a lot of Seinfeld shows – audio only – on her iPod).  It was a euphoric feeling as we dropped down. 

The euphoria would not last, as our route was barred by significant snow covering the route and what I thought (and lower down was confirmed) was a giant eroding snow bridge covering a ragged stream.  We followed the auto route for an extra 500 m and then made our way down a steep rocky path to rejoin the path.  We looked back on the snow bridge and saw a 15 foot drop between the fragile bridge and the water below.  I was glad I was cautious.

While we are maniacs on the uphill, on the downhill we are slowpokes.  We lost time as we descended, losing all the gains we made on the uphill.  As we came to a little shepherd’’s chalet we hoped to find water.  The water was not on, and we were out of luck.  At this point Lynn and I had to make a decision.  We could drop into the valley to Bonneval and get some water in about 60 minutes.  The other option was a 3 hour dry run up high.  We’re not maniacs here, this is fun, not some sort of battle of pain, so we dropped down to Bonneval.

Bonneval is a great town, we were very impressed.  We walked through the town, loaded up on water (we are becoming like camels, downing a 1.5L at a water stop in addition to filling our canteen) and then went for a coke.  While we were having our coke, black clouds rolled in. 

We left the bar and continued into the old village (Bonneval has only 250 residents, but is somewhat popular in winter so has more buildings than would be expected).  It’s a lovely village and we had a closer look.  When we started again on our walk, distant mountains were obscured and we could see the rain.  We walked about 10 minutes out of Bonneval when we started getting pelted with rain.  We scampered back and asked at the few open hotels if they had space.  We found a room at one and went inside to remove our soaked clothes. 

The hotel room was covered with flies, about 50 of them.  While Lynn got dry, I started a campaign of terror on these flies that will live in infamy (two flies evaded my wrath and I let them out of the window in the morning so that they could tell their countrymen to leave Lynn and I alone).  Standing on tables, beds and jumping about, I left a path of destruction in the room that saw the walls, windows, mirrors and ceiling covered in dead flies.  Lynn was proud of me, ridding our room of these unwanted guests, a true man am I.

While I was killing, the storm passed and a nice evening arrived.  Lynn and I wondered if we should have toughed out the rain and kept going.  Alas, we didn’t.  As compensation though, there was a little restaurant that had been guidebook recommended for 10 straight years.  ‘Au Vieux Pont’ was as kitchy a restaurant as I’ve seen, but very cool.  An old french jukebox played french pop music from the 50’s and 60’s.  In addition, there was some old country, and maybe even a bit of old french country.  We ate a giant meal of Tartiflette.  What is tartiflette.  Well, to start with, it is delicious.  It is shredded potatoes with spices (like you find in turkey stuffing), covered in great beaufort and other local cheeses and baked.  We ate a kilo or two of this lovely concoction with a giant salad, bread, wine and some Badoit (don’t get me started for my love of Badiot – a french sparkling water).  Lynn was concerned that this was not enough food, so pressured the chef into provide a half a kilo of french fries.  Somehow we put all this away.

Being new to the region, I ask a lot of questions and take a lot of advice.  After such a big dinner, I felt we needed a digestif to break through the heavy food.  A glass of Genepi (as far as I can tell pure alcohol with a bit of green genepi grass) was provided.  We sipped this and the pain in our feet went away.  True to form, it did seem to cut through the immense meal we had.

We went back to bed and slept like babies.