On the night of August 16-17, 1689, Pastor Henri Arnaud led a band of approximately 800 commandos from Prangins, along the Swiss shore of Lake Geneva back to the valleys of the Waldensians. The trek took fourteen days and included a significant battle against a French encampment near the town of Salbertrand, in the valley of the Dora River in what is now northern Italy. Eventually Henri and the Waldensians regained their home valleys, but it took an additional year of skirmishes against the French. This trek became known as the Glorious Return, the glorieuse rentrée.
The territory they traversed was ostensibly under the control of Victor Amadeus II, the Duke of Savoy. For some time, Amadeus II had allied himself with the French, but after their return to the Valleys, he switched allegiances to the Dutch and England during the Nine Years' War, granting toleration for the Waldensians.
My grandmother came from Villar Pellice, in the Waldensian valleys. Her natal name was Janavel, and my father can trace back our ancestry to Joseph Janavel (Giuseppe Gianavello), brother of Joshua Janavel (Giosue Gianavello). Joshua was both a spiritual and military leader of the Waldensians in the 17th century. He organized resistance to the French and the Duke of Savoy in numerous battles, and wrote a manual on guerrilla warfare. He accompanied the Waldensians on their exile to Geneva and other areas. Ultimately he was too old to accompany Henri Arnaud on the trek back and died in Geneva in 1690.
Janavel was known as the "Lion of Rora" having led a guerrilla resistance from the mountain crags in the valley of the Rora River. His home is now an historical site in the valley. When my family visited his home in 2012, we saw the Janavel crest and the motto, "Let nothing be stronger than your faith."
Details of the history of the Waldensians and Glorious Return itself can be found elsewhere.
I set out to retrace part of the Glorious Return route, crossing from the French province of Haute-Savoie into Italy, ending up at Salbertrand. The 'concept' of the trek was to hike during the day, and stay in hotels or mountain refuges at night, to make life easy - much easier than the Waldensian guerrillas had it, but still with some challenges and magnificent scenery.
I set out to retrace part of the Glorious Return route, crossing from the French province of Haute-Savoie into Italy, ending up at Salbertrand. The 'concept' of the trek was to hike during the day, and stay in hotels or mountain refuges at night, to make life easy - much easier than the Waldensian guerrillas had it, but still with some challenges and magnificent scenery.
Photos of the trip can be found here.
There were six of us total. Over the course of the trip we adopted trail-names in the manner of thru-hikers of the Appalachian Trail. With no further ado, here is the cast of characters:
Dan Carr - aka "The Minister" - he's my sea kayaking buddy and on the Maine Island Trail Association's Board of Directors. His trail name comes from Monte Python, which he was fond of quoting on the trail, the particular sketch being "The Minister of Funny Walks".
Pam Carr - aka "L'Herbaliste". Pam is Dan's wife and makes herbal medicines of all kinds, hence her name. She brought along home-made arnica gel and a salve she called "Weekend Warrior". The application of these were a regular evening ritual.
Phoebe Huth - aka "Birks". Phoebe's my older daughter, and veteran of Camp Merrowvista's Hundred Mile Wilderness hike. The trail name came from the day after she got a nasty case of blisters and wore Birkenstock sandals the next day.
James Huth - aka "Jukebox". James is my son, and also a veteran of the Hundred Mile Wilderness hike. he earned his nickname on that hike because he was constantly singing various tunes, and regaled us throughout the trip.
Hallie Woods - aka "Mountain Goat". Hallie is James' girlfriend. She got her nickname as we descended from the Col de L'Iseran and nimbly made her way over the rocky trail.
John Huth - aka "Henri".
From left: Phoebe, James, Hallie, Pam, and Dan. This was a the top of the Telepherique de Rochebrune.
Italy has established an 'official' Glorious Return trail from the French border at the Col de Clapier (Col means 'pass' in French), the GRV (Glorioso Rimpatrio dei Valdese), but in France, I had to piece together the route. I should point out that this entire region was the Duchy of Savoy back in the day, so any French or Italian references are contemporary. Recall that the nation of Italy only came into existence in 1871. The Florentine dialect was identified as the language of the government. Before this, there were numerous regional dialects - the Waldensians speaking various versions of Languedoc French.
The walk in France from the landing point across Lake Geneva is heavily built-up, so I elected to bypass this and begin the trip just outside the town of Megève, which is, effectively the point where the Glorious Return entered the Alps, but I still tried to trace some of this by van.
By Sunday August 10th (2014), the six of us had converged on Geneva. We had dinner that evening in a pub called The Cafe du Jura in the neighborhood of Eaux Vives. We had fondue, that classic Savoyard gut-bomb. I imagined that Joshua Janavel ran an establishment like this. it was attended by locals.
Day 1: 11 August, Monday
On the 11th, we dropped off our extra baggage at a friend's apartment and went to Gare Cornavin, the main train station, to get tickets for our return trip. Since this was August, trains tended to book up quickly.
I booked a van from Geneva to our jumping off point for the actual walk in Megève. Owning to bureaucratic needs, the driver had to pick us up at the airport as if we were deplaning from a flight from Amsterdam that just happened to arrive more or less when I wanted to leave. We even pretended to be just off the plane, but driver didn't seem to care.
We drove on the main autoroute that leads to Chamonix and the Mont Blanc tunnel. Soon, the Glorious Return path began to parallel our route as we passed through the town of Cluses, then Sallanches. From Sallanches we diverted and began the climb up to Megève.
Megève is a ski town, with plenty of lifts and trails. Much later into the hike we bumped into a couple who lived in Aix les Bains. When I mentioned we'd started our hike in Megève, the wife said "Oh, Megève, much bling-bling." She was right about that. There is a town plaza converted to a shopping/walking extravaganza with all sorts of jewelry shops.
We were dropped off at our hotel and scouted out the town. I tried to find ways of cutting out the toughest or less interesting parts of the trail. The plan was to take the telepherique to Mt. Rochbrune, avoiding a climb of about 1500 feet. We visited the telepherique that afternoon, looked at the bling-bling plaza, and had dinner.
Day 2 - 12 August, Tuesday
The next day, Tuesday, we began the hike in earnest. We had an early breakfast, strapped on our packs and hiked up the hill to the telepherique. Megève receded into the distance and we found ourselves on the ridge line leading to the Col de Very, some four miles in the distance.
This area is known as the Graian Alps, and includes the famous Mont Blanc Massif as part of its territory.
The trail certainly was not deserted as we passed and were passed by a large number of hikers, including one group that used ponies to transport young children. The ascent to the Col de Very was pretty modest over alpine pastures. Up at the Col there was a restaurant, so we stopped and had lunch at the picnic table there. The restaurant was hopping and hikers were going to and fro on the trails. Of course, this is August in the French Alps, and everyone is on vacation.
We picked up a Grande Randonnée (GR) path at this point and worked our way in the general direction of Mont Blanc. I could see mare's tales (cirrus) and mackerel scales (cirrocumulus) clouds closing in, the sign of an approaching storm. We continued on the side of the ridge, past many cow pastures, trying not to step in manure piles.
At one point, we had a steep uphill that had some of the party cursing. We began to approach the Col de Joly, and could see the Col de la Fenêtre in the distance. From the record of the Glorious Return, we know that Henri's party suffered in a storm on this part of the trek. At some point, he directed the men to make a small encampment and built a bonfire. I found a likely spot where the trees grew a bit higher in a sheltered nook. I imagined Henri and his men huddling in that spot for cover and warmth.
The Col de la Fenêtre looked like an impressive roadblock. I had a crossing of this pass as an option, but after taking a good look at it and the incoming storm, I rapidly put this option off the table.
Here, I make a digression on the actual Glorious Return. A number of books say that the route went through the Col de la Fenêtre, but reading Henri Arnaud's original account it strikes me that, no, they didn't. Part of it is just geography - it's an unnecessary obstacle and the route we would have continued on to the Col de la Croix du Bonhomme makes more sense. Henri says that the Savoyard guides misled them up a mountain peak called "Haut Luce" - there's a town in the valley we were crossing called Hauteluce, but no mountain bears this name. It's likely one of the lesser peaks in the area, as Henri said that there was a barn at the summit. They then spent the night in a town called St. Nicholas de Verose, which I'm assuming is the present town of St. Nicholas de Veroce. If that were the case, then it makes more sense that they went over the Col de Joly, which appears much more benign than the Col de la Fenêtre.
At the Col de Joly, we descended to the Refuge de Roselette. It began to rain, but wasn't too bad by the time we reached the refuge. The slopes of the Mont Blanc were across the valley, but the peak was shrouded in clouds.
This was our first time at a refuge, and although I'd read about them, I wasn't totally sure what to expect. The Alpine refuges have bunks and wool blankets. The owner/proprietor serves dinner and breakfast and will often make a trail lunch.
Given the time of year and the location, the Refuge de Roselette was fully booked. I'm glad I made reservations months in advance. The bunk room could take about 18 people and we were all stacked in there like cordwood. The owner, Jean-Pierre, had some paper coverings for the mattresses and pillows.
Dinner was great, however, with a nice soup, followed by a risotto with chicken. This was a nice change from the cheese-laden Savoyard cooking.
Day 3 - 13 August, Wednesday
We retired to bed, but boy was it hot. That room rapidly reached 98.6 degrees, at least up in the top bunks where we slept. Around 3 AM, the rain really started to pour. Then the wind started up. I began to wonder about the hike in the morning. It 'felt' like serious hypothermia weather. The plan was to hike up to the Col de la Croix du Bonhomme and then into a valley where there was a town called Les Chapieux. I had ordered up a van to take us from Les Chapieux to the town of Val d'Isere, which cut out about 30 miles of a crowded section of the Glorious Return. I began to have some doubts due to the weather - the downhill to Les Chapieux was very steep and I was unsure about how seasoned everyone was in the party. But, I couldn't figure a way around going over the pass - the van would be waiting at the far end of the pass and we *had* to get there.
Such is the nature of worry at 3 in the morning - I turned this over in my mind. Finally by about 6 AM, I figured out a plan. There was a road that reached up to the Col de Joly and could be gotten to from Val d'Isere, where the van was coming from. It would be straightforward to drive the extra distance to the Col de Joly and we'd be spared the hike in the storm.
The only problem was: how could I reach the taxi company? There seemed to be no cell phone coverage there. I then remembered that there was a working phone in office of the refuge. At 7 AM, I got up and saw Jean-Pierre making breakfast. I knocked on the door, but he shooed me away, saying, "terminé" (closed).
Finally after breakfast, Jean-Pierre said that he had a little cell phone repeater in the office, and sure enough, I was able to get a signal. I phoned up our driver, James, and asked if he could drive the extra distance to pick us up at the Col de Joly. I had to describe the directions off the map - through a few more towns past Les Chapieux, but also in the same general direction. He agreed to pick us up at noon, and we were all high-fiving each other around the breakfast table.
This was probably 9:00 AM. We asked Jean-Pierre if we could stay at the Refuge until about 11 AM before walking up to the Col de Joly. He said "No, the cleaning lady needs to clean the bunks." I later found that this was pretty much standard operating procedure at refuges - they like to have everyone out by 9 AM or so.
We packed, but slowly. Some of the people staying in the Refuge were families with young children. The families were hiking up to the Col du la Croix du Bonhomme - which was also our destination, plus some. Some of the kids (and adults) were wearing shorts and didn't seem to me to be dressed warm enough for the storm. I could just imagine being 9 years old and hiking up to the Col in that storm - not pleasant - but not my problem either, I suppose. We got our own taste of the storm.
The hike back up to the Col de Joly wasn't so bad, but it was raining hard and it was about a kilometer and maybe 400 feet vertical to get up there. There is a restaurant and large parking lot at the Col, with the road coming from the other side of our approach. Although there were workers inside the restaurant, they weren't hospitable enough to invite us in out of the storm. So, we hung around outside the restaurant as the storm blew across the col. Boy, was it impressive - very cold rain, and wind at maybe 40 mph - the rain was blowing practically horizontally. At first we were decently comfortable, but as the storm wore on, it sapped our body heat. We ended up huddled between two walls of the restaurant and a pick-up truck, and still got cold. I did jumping jacks, but my fingers and toes started to go tingly.
Around 11:30 AM - half an hour early - a van with green lights on top pulled into the lot. It looked a lot like a van for hire to me, so I ran over to it. The driver rolled the window and I asked,"J'espère que votre nom est James (I hope your name is James). He said "Oui," and I yelled back to the crew to come load up.
People were happy to be in the van, and drying out. The storm continued to rage and we speculated on the young hikers going up to the other col. There were news stories of a number of deaths on Mont Blanc that year. Just the day before five people died from a fall on the mountain. While we probably could have made our trip over the Col with some struggle, but adding yet another 1000 meters of altitude in that storm would have been brutal.
After some time, we popped down out of the clouds and picked up the path of the original Glorious Return along the river valleys that extend from the town of Bourg St. Maurice, the major ski town in the area. We followed this until Val d'Isere, where James dropped us off. By the time we reached Val d'Isere, the storm had abated and the sun was out.
Now, the logistics of a hike like this can be complicated. My plan for the next day was to hike from Val d'Isere up to the Col de L'Iseran - a climb of 2500 feet, then to descend to the town of Bonneville-sur-Arc on the other side. Due to hotel availabilities, four of us would have to continue on to the town of Bessans, making for a day of maybe 12 miles of hiking and a large ascent/descent.
I wasn't sure of everyone's capabilities, but the plan for the day seemed to be a bit much, so it seemed prudent to seek out a way of bypassing the initial climb to the Col de L'Iseran. I had scoured some websites and it seemed that a telecabine ran from the nearby town of Fornet during the summer. When we arrived in Val d'Isere, I went to the local tourist office and asked about the telecabine and they answered that it doesn't run during the summer. I told them that we were hiking and asked if there was any way we could get up to the Col - does a bus run or anything? Well, it just so happened that on the very next day - only - a special set of buses were running from Val d'Isere to the Col to take people up for a naturalist lecture. AND...it was for free. The woman at the Tourist Bureau gave me a folder with the departure times of the bus and it looked like another problem was solved.
We spent the rest of the afternoon tooling around Val d'Isere and had a nice dinner at a nearby restaurant.
It turns out that the storm was providential in a way. It gave us a day of rest, which helped break us in easy. Since we got into Val d'Isere ahead of schedule, it also gave me the opportunity to figure out how to reach the top of the Col de L'Iseran without the 2500 ft. climb.
Day 4 - 14 August, Thursday
We were up early to make it onto the 9 AM bus that was scheduled up to the Col. We just marched a block up from the hotel, and there was the bus! We put our packs inside the luggage compartment and started up. Other folks were there for the nature lecture and the guide sat up front.
When we got up to the Col, we spoke briefly with the guide, who turns out to have spent some time in Vermont and was familiar with Middlebury, where James and Hallie went to college. She totally understood our need to take a cheap ride up to the Col and congratulated us on our resourcefulness. Not only that, she had no expectation that we'd stick around for the lecture!
So, off we went, on the hike down from the Col. Col de L'Iseran evidently is the highest mountain pass in the Alps with a paved road over it. At 2770 m (9090 ft), it was our highest point in the trip, and also the highest point of the Glorious Return itself.
There was very little snow in evidence, certainly none on the trail. We descended past a pyramid meant to mark the trail and followed this first over scraggly rocks, past a roaring torrent of a river and every so often making contact with the road that runs over the pass.
The trail eventually leveled out to cow-pasture country and we passed a number of cows (and a mean looking bull) grazing and houses of the folks tending them.
We finally hit a very steep descent along switchbacks to the town of Bonneval-sur-Arc. The Arc River runs down this valley and Bonneval is the highest town. Nominally this would have been everyone's stopping point, but when I tried to book rooms in Bonneval, only one was open, so four or us had to hike down to the next town along the Arc, called Bessans.
This region of Haute Savoie is called Maurienne, and is defined as the valley formed by the Arc River, and its tributaries.
Since Dan and Pam made a pair and the group of Phoebe, James, Hallie, and I made a group of four, it made some sense for Dan and Pam to stay in Bonneval. I helped them check in and then we all had lunch at the restaurant there. There were a lot of cyclists, motor-cyclists, and tourists - of which I count us as such - in the restaurant. It was high summer season there and this was the last stop before the Col de L'Iseran.
After lunch, Phoebe, James, Hallie, and I started down the trail toward Bessans. It was quite an easy flat stretch. We passed a little trail wayside testifying to a neolithic rock painting, which was fascinating. In the fields we saw people gathering hay.
Bessans has an interesting piece of history. As you walk around town, you see all this paintings and wood carvings of devils. This started as something of a game in the 19th century when one of the cantors was refused a meal by the local priest. He placed a carved statue of a devil carrying a priest outside his headquarters. That night, the priest moved the statue back to the cantor's place. This see-sawed for something like a month when the carver relented, and it was bought by a tourist. Bessans now has the Devil established as the official town mascot.
By the time we reached Bessans, Phoebe was complaining about her feet. We checked into our hotel for the evening. When the boots came off, we surveyed the damage - one major heel blister with the skin peeled off and a couple more blisters. When the proprietor heard about our trek down from the Col de L'Iseran, he exclaimed, "Oh, beaucoup d'ampoules" (Lots of blisters!). Great.
Phoebe took some ibuprofens and aired out her feet. James pulled out his speciality scotch - and we enjoyed its medicinal qualities after a long day's hike. We stayed at the Hotel le Grand Fond. The owner wanted us to try his tartiflette, a traditional Savoyard dish that is, effectively, scalloped potatoes topped with bacon. It was delicious, but like a lot of Savoyard food, quite filling.
Just after we arrived in Bessans, Karen texted me to let me know that the son of a close friend died of a drug overdose at the age of 33. This was a haunting reminder of the world outside.
Day 5 - 15 August, Friday
The plan for the day was for Dan and Pam to get an early start out of Bonneval-sur-Arc and meet us in Bessans. Phoebe, James, Hallie, and I were up at a civilized hour, had breakfast and got ready for the hike. Phoebe wanted to give her blisters a chance to harden up before going back to the boots. Since the day's hike was going to be relatively flat, she put on a sock liner and Birkenstocks for the day.
We packed our gear and met up with Dan and Pam in the Bessans town square. The people in town were gearing up for some festival which involved the famous Bessans devil. It would've been nice to stick around for the festival, but we had to make it to Lanslebourg-Mont-Cenis by the evening, which was still about 7 miles down the trail.
The trail went through the same mixture of hay fields alternating with some woods. The trail had been moved since the topographic map was made and stuck to a higher path, staying away from the highway, which was a good thing.
In the distance, I could see the approach to the Col du Mont Cenis, which I knew would be a challenging uphill for all of us the next day. Soon we were above the town of Lanslevillard, and dropped down. Phoebe hadn't brought trekking poles and Dan wondered if her case of the blisters hadn't been aided and abetted by the lack of poles. He lent her his, and she seemed to do really well with them.
We made our way into Lanslevillard and had lunch at a nice place with the classic Savoyard offering. After enquiring at the tourist bureau, they put us onto a place where we could buy trekking poles - a godsend! Once we all got up there, people discovered the magic of liner socks to alleviate blisters, so everyone bought a round of those. We were still learning, but doing pretty well.
The hike from Lanslevillard to Lanslebourg-Mont-Cenis was more a suburban walk than anything, although I found a "secret" trail right next to the Arc River. The map indicated that this was a chute that was probably used for slalom kayaking during the spring run-off.
We entered the town, which is the gateway to the upper Arc Valley. It's fairly built-up, but the main street has long line of bars, cafes, restaurants and hotels. We were staying at the Hotel Doree.
After checking in, we all had showers and were feeling the hikes of the last two days. We had dinner reservations for 7:30, and went down to the bar in the hotel for some beers. Most folks ended up playing rummy while we waited for dinner. The bar there was a magnet for some of the locals and one gregarious guy wanted in on the rummy game until he realized we didn't speak french. Well, I did and muttered "dommage," much to his surprise.
Dinner was nice and we retired for bed.
Day 6 - 16 August, Saturday
We wanted to get breakfast at 7:30 and get onto the road - this seemed to be the arrangement, but the place was empty when we got down there. Logistics. Dan and I went out to a patisserie to get some baguettes for lunch later on.
We also patched up our gear and feet. For Phoebe's blisters, she settled on the tried-and-true technique of gauze covered by duct tape. As per standing orders, I always carry a good supply of both on any trips.
Finally the guy who ran the bar got up and got to moving and we had breakfast. We were all packed up and ready to go at that point. It was only a matter of putting on the packs and tightening the straps.
The ascent planned for this day was to go up into a region known as the Cottian Alps, which forms part of the French-Italian border.
We started out crossing the Arc River. The transition between towns and trails is always a bit sketchy - this one was complicated by the trail starting out at the base of a ski run. There were a lot of tracks going one way and another, mainly for trail grooming purposes. I got directions from some workers who were clearing out brush. After several false starts, we began on the uphill.
The night before, I calculated the grade, which I figured to average about 20%. Now, 20% isn't much for a climber, but for a backpacker, it's quite the grade. We slowly worked our way up, taking breaks every so often. There were some odd constructions on the ski-trail, like a construction to block skiers from blundering into a creek bed.
We finally topped out of the majority of the steep part and saw a car-park in the distance as a good spot for lunch. By the time we made it there, Phoebe was nearly done in - I suspect mostly from the stress on her blisters. We took off our boots to air out our feet, and tore into the sausage, cheese and bread. After eating our fill of this, we turned to some home-made gorp and put back on our boots.
The trail at this point followed the road over the Col du Mont Cenis. There was a cute construction there - it had three silhouettes: the first was of a pack of elephants crossing, then it had a troop of soldiers following Napoleon, and finally a pack of bike racers, presumably from the Tour de France. The elephants were a reference to Hannibal, who is said to have crossed over this pass (maybe).
We proceeded along the main road, which was quite busy and then took the trail off onto a side road that led to the next pass, the Col du Petit Mont Cenis. The car traffic on that was also thick. At one point, an Italian guy with an eagle feather and a US flag stopped in the middle of the road, hanging up traffic. He wanted to show his love for the United State and held up his (index) finger, saying "Obama number one!!". I guess if you'd had Berlousconi for some years, Obama would be a breath of fresh air. Tell that to Maureen Dowd.
There was an option at this point - the trail departed from the road and headed on another uphill. We could take that or walk on the road, which may have been easier. I confess that I was getting tired of the traffic and wanted to strike out overland. I think this broke down into something of a gender divide. James, Dan, and I all wanted the trail. The women waffled, but I could sense that they would prefer the road. With waffling in hand and my license as "Henri" the guide, I decided on the trail.
After the first bit of climb, it wasn't so bad, and the trail wound through a number of cow pastures and past houses of the people who tended them. I began to regard the cows solely as a machine for turning grass into cheese. The gals were milked twice a day and I swear that some of them were perilously close to having their teets explode by the end of the day, judging by the looks of them.
We finally arrived at our destination, the Refuge de Petit Mont Cenis. I'd worried that my only contact with them was a phone call, but when I arrived, the owner said, "Oh, oui, John H.....we expect you...". Well, that was nice. We got a 6 person bunk room all to ourselves.
Phoebe had had a better time of it in the afternoon with her blisters and was in a good mood. The sun was out and everyone else was also in great spirits. The area round the Col du Mont Cenis was spectacular - a kind of valley unto itself high up in the alps. For the first time, I heard Italian spoken to a large extent. Families would come up here from Torino and Susa for a quick escape from the city. For me, the Italian language has this relaxing quality to it. I can't really explain why, but there you are.
We had a nice meal that included local sausages, topped off with Genepy, the local alpine liquor. I *really* have to find what goes into it, but it's kind of a poor-man's Green Chartreuse, for lack of a better description.
That night, I slept reasonably well, but I was worried about a sketchy part of the trail we were to encounter on the next day, just across the border into Italy
Day 7 - 17 August, Sunday
This was the day to cross into Italy. We had two passes to go through - the Col du Petit Mont Cenis, and the Col de Clapier. The day's goal was the Rifugio Vaccarone, run by the Turin division of the Italian Alpine Club (CAI) and run by a guy named Nino who I'd be in contact with about reserving space for six people via e-mail.
The Italian maps were pretty sketchy on the path the trail takes on the Italian side of the border. Moreover, it goes through fairly steep territory - so this was the challenge of the day.
We got up fairly quickly in the Refuge du Petit Mont Cenis and tried to pull our stuff together, then have breakfast. We grabbed a few extra pieces of bread for the trail (as does everyone).
The hike up to the Col du Petit Mont Cenis was quite easy. One could barely call it a pass, although technically it is. The rock formations were astonishing. There is a fair amount of limestone that forms kettles and the occasional cave - so there was ample evidence of the effect water on the limestone, except most of it was buried under the alpine meadow - so it was a bit like reading the topography of an uneven floor with a green carpet thrown over-top.
The Col itself was not spectacular as mountain passes go, but there were a lot of abandoned rock buildings in the area, leading me to believe that it housed troops guarding the French border with Italy. A lone post read "France 1861". Not a lot has been written about this part of the frontier, but without significant roads, I imagine that the actual dotted line was somewhat fluid in those mountains.
We then started up the trail towards Lac Savine. This lake is drained by the Savine River, which is more like a creek. There was also a magnificent view up the Ambin River Valley, which the Savine flows into. Both are classic U-shaped glacially carved valleys.
It was Sunday and a whole bunch of Italian families were hiking up from the Col du Petit Mont Cenis. The trail up the valley was spectacular. The lake itself was dammed by a terminal moraine, which we ascended and were greeted by a spectacular view of the basin and lake.
Past the head of the lake was the Col de Clapier - the border with Italy. On the far side of the Col, there was a large cloud bank. We stopped for lunch on the edge of the lake. Phoebe remarked that the clouds looked ominous. They swirled around in the distance.
After lunch, we pushed on to the Col, and stopped to take photos. There was a plaque that described the remains of a 1st century Roman road and also the idea that perhaps Hannibal cross the Alps at this point. One trail led steeply down toward the town of Susa, while there was another path, which we took, and led in the general direction of the Refugio Vaccarone, our destination for that night.
We started onto the path, and after about 400 meters came across two guys who were holed up in a mini cave. I asked them if the sketchy piece of rocks in front of us was the trail. They said "Oui, mais marchez doucement" (yes, but walk carefully).
They were right - the trail was tough to find in places. The trail split into an upper path that was labeled as the "Alpine" path and a "normal" path, which we decided to take. As we followed the normal path, we saw that we were walking toward a cliff that the map indicated we had to basically walk 'through' or 'around' - it wasn't clear.
We started into a very rocky, craggy section of the trail, and naturally the clouds closed in on us at that point.
This part reminded me of the story of the Battle of Balsiglia. The Waldensians had made it back to their valleys successfully, but still were under attack by the French and troops of the Duke of Savoy. They built up a fortification in the mountains near Balsiglia. The French found out their location and began to lay siege to the Waldensians, who now numbered about 400. The French commander in charge of over 20,000 troops, Nicholas de Catinat, was so sure of victory that he hung 400 hanging nooses up to dispose of the last of the Waldensians. After an initial charge failed to dislodge the Waldensians from their fortifications, Catinat opened fortification with cannon fire.
At this point, all seemed lost, but miraculously, a cloud bank formed and enveloped Arnaud's troops. A Captain Poulat in their midst said that he knew a track that he could lead the Waldensians through the rocky outcroppings past the French soldiers to safety. The troops crawled around on precipitous ledges and managed to escape the trap laid by Catinat. When they later saw the territory in the clear, the Waldensians expressed amazement that they were able to find their way through the crags of Brasiglia. Soon after that episode, Amadeus II sided against Louis IX and allowed the Waldensians their valleys as a buffer against the French.
In the clouds, one could only see perhaps 20-30 feet down the trail at best. The broad silhouette of the cliff-side we were traversing was evident in the fog. There were bits of scree alternating with rock ledges. We'd have to pause frequently until it was clear where the path wound. At some point, we ended up in the shadow of the cliff and it became quite dark. The trail then began to move uphill and we eventually emerged above the clouds to a monument near some abandoned Italian troop barracks.
Along the hike, we saw evidence of a number of troop emplacements, including a convulsed mass of concrete and reinforcing steel that had evidently been hit by artillery fire. Before the advent of the Vichy Government during WWII, there was an Italian artillery company quartered in these parts.
After a break, we had a climb up to Rifugio Vaccarone. This is located on a high promontory with a wide view into Italy across the Ripario Dora. This river valley is home to a series of towns leading up the the Frejus tunnel: Susa, Galiagogne, Exilles, Salbertrand, and Oulx. We were above a cloud-bed enveloping the towns in the valley, with only the high peaks protruding above.
The Rifugio was owned by a guy named Nino, who I had corresponded with previously. The was easily the best refuge experience we had. It was comfortable, not too crowded and Nino, and the two other people tending it were very friendly. Nino was an alpine guide with the CAI (Italian Alpine Club) and also ran a winter refuge in Angrogna. He was quite familiar with the Waldensians.
Our original plan was to take the GRV trail past a peak called Cimo Quattro Denti (Peak of Four Teeth), but Nino advised that this might take too much time to reach Salbertrand the next day. He suggested instead that we take a more direct route that goes over the Passo Clopacca and then drops steeply into the Dora valley.
With this in mind, I studied my map after dinner, but before turning in, I went outside. The lights of Susa glowed faintly down below in the valley, and the Milky Way shown brightly.
Day 8 - 18 August, Monday
This was our last day; our destination Salbertrand. The first path to the Passo Clopaca was relatively flat, sticking to the high country, where we passed some grazing cattle.
We took a break at the Passo Clopaca, surveying the very steep downhill maze of switchbacks. While resting, a chamois wandered by. Chamoix are a strange half-goat/half-antelope creature that inhabits the Alps and Pyrenees.
The descent across the switchbacks was arduous. I knew that we had a vertical mile drop to go (5000 feet), but did not advertise this widely to the group. After what seemed like an endless series of switchbacks, the alpine meadow gradually gave way to the tree-line. This was the first tree we'd seen in three days - the last being on the climb up to the Col du Mont Cenis.
We continued to drop elevation rapidly and passed some folks on their way uphill. Eventually we reached a road and small picnic area where we stopped for lunch. Lunch lasted for some time - we were close to the Refugio de Levi Molinari, but didn't go over to it. The picnic area was a kind of trail-head parking area. After eating, people didn't seem to be in much of a mood for moving on, but I knew we had a substantial amount of ground to cover before we reached Salbertrand.
Finally we got moving, first following the road and then regaining the GRV, which now dropped through a pine forest. There was not much grade at first, but then we began to really lose altitude and everyone's knees began to feel the accumulated stress.
The downhill abruptly terminated next to a small cluster of houses that seemed partly abandoned, but still showed evidence of habitation with a satellite dish. A gravel road led up to the houses and we took a break. At first, some of us thought that we were done with elevation change, but it appeared that the trail went back up the hill.
Here it's worth mentioning a bit of the Waldensian struggle. In the valley, there was Fort Exilles that guarded the passage from a hill. In order to circumvent the Fort, the Waldensians had to go back on the high ground to detour around it. From the side of the ridge, once past the Fort, they could descend to Salbertrand proper. At this point, a surprise awaited them: there was a French garrison on the other side of the Dora. With the French in front of them, a steep mountain slope behind them and Fort Exilles down the valley, the Waldensians were hemmed in. At first, they were repulsed by the Frency, but at 4 in the morning, Arnaud ordered an attack on the bridge. After some exchange of musket fire, someone shouted "the bridge is ours" and the Waldensians stormed across, routing the French who were still asleep in their encampment. This opened the path to the south.
During the steep descent, Pam, aka L'Herbaliste, remarked to me that she could see how the Waldensians stormed Salbertrand, "they just got some momentum going on the downhill and couldn't stop." I somewhat agreed and imagined that after the hike over all those passes, the Waldensians wouldn't let a French garrison stand in their way.
In any case, I mustered the troops and we began the uphill swing around Exilles. To tell the truth, I think the uphill was a relief to everyone as it took the stress off the sore knees. After traversing some woods, we emerged in a terraced area and then a small hamlet. The town had only a narrow road through the center. As we entered, a dog appeared that seemed eager to guide us through and would push ahead of us, stop, turn around and await as we walked through. The place was nearly 100% shuttered down - it being Monday. Finally, as we emerged from the town, the dog stopped and gave us a friendly bark as we were on our way.
The rest of the walk was a pleasant downhill through some pasture until we finally reached Salbertrand. At first we wanted to find a bar to have a beer while we waited on a taxi, but the entire town was shut-down (Monday). I phoned up the taxi service Nino recommended, but it didn't operate on Monday. Finally I phoned up the hotel in Sauze d'Oulx, where our hotel was located and they gave me the number of a cab driver who found us in the nearly deserted town square.
My boots delaminated at the very end. I contemplated leaving them as trash in my hotel, but Phoebe convinced me to bring them home and use them as planters.
Day 9 - 19 August, Tuesday
We were up early, and the taxi took us down to Oulx, where there was a major train station. All of us got on the TGV to Paris, but at Chambery, Dan, Pam, and I got off, leaving Phoebe, James, and Hallie to find their way to Paris. Already our happy little band was dispersing, blowing like straws in the wind.
We all made it to the States on Wednesday, the 20th. As I write this, I'm already plotting my return. The route from Salbertrand to Bobbio Pellice remains to be completed. This will require a different strategy, perhaps just camping in the high country. We'll see.
The walk in France from the landing point across Lake Geneva is heavily built-up, so I elected to bypass this and begin the trip just outside the town of Megève, which is, effectively the point where the Glorious Return entered the Alps, but I still tried to trace some of this by van.
Overview of Glorious return route. In blue are sections we did by van, and in red are the sections on foot.
By Sunday August 10th (2014), the six of us had converged on Geneva. We had dinner that evening in a pub called The Cafe du Jura in the neighborhood of Eaux Vives. We had fondue, that classic Savoyard gut-bomb. I imagined that Joshua Janavel ran an establishment like this. it was attended by locals.
Day 1: 11 August, Monday
On the 11th, we dropped off our extra baggage at a friend's apartment and went to Gare Cornavin, the main train station, to get tickets for our return trip. Since this was August, trains tended to book up quickly.
I booked a van from Geneva to our jumping off point for the actual walk in Megève. Owning to bureaucratic needs, the driver had to pick us up at the airport as if we were deplaning from a flight from Amsterdam that just happened to arrive more or less when I wanted to leave. We even pretended to be just off the plane, but driver didn't seem to care.
We drove on the main autoroute that leads to Chamonix and the Mont Blanc tunnel. Soon, the Glorious Return path began to parallel our route as we passed through the town of Cluses, then Sallanches. From Sallanches we diverted and began the climb up to Megève.
Megève is a ski town, with plenty of lifts and trails. Much later into the hike we bumped into a couple who lived in Aix les Bains. When I mentioned we'd started our hike in Megève, the wife said "Oh, Megève, much bling-bling." She was right about that. There is a town plaza converted to a shopping/walking extravaganza with all sorts of jewelry shops.
We were dropped off at our hotel and scouted out the town. I tried to find ways of cutting out the toughest or less interesting parts of the trail. The plan was to take the telepherique to Mt. Rochbrune, avoiding a climb of about 1500 feet. We visited the telepherique that afternoon, looked at the bling-bling plaza, and had dinner.
Day 2 - 12 August, Tuesday
The next day, Tuesday, we began the hike in earnest. We had an early breakfast, strapped on our packs and hiked up the hill to the telepherique. Megève receded into the distance and we found ourselves on the ridge line leading to the Col de Very, some four miles in the distance.
This area is known as the Graian Alps, and includes the famous Mont Blanc Massif as part of its territory.
First day hike shown in red. We took the telpherique up to Mt. Rochebrune, then proceeded over the Col de Very (where the trail makes an a hair-pin turn to the east. We went over the Col de Joly and dropped down to the Refuge de Roselette. The flanks of the Massif du Mont Blanc is just on the right of the map.
The trail certainly was not deserted as we passed and were passed by a large number of hikers, including one group that used ponies to transport young children. The ascent to the Col de Very was pretty modest over alpine pastures. Up at the Col there was a restaurant, so we stopped and had lunch at the picnic table there. The restaurant was hopping and hikers were going to and fro on the trails. Of course, this is August in the French Alps, and everyone is on vacation.
We picked up a Grande Randonnée (GR) path at this point and worked our way in the general direction of Mont Blanc. I could see mare's tales (cirrus) and mackerel scales (cirrocumulus) clouds closing in, the sign of an approaching storm. We continued on the side of the ridge, past many cow pastures, trying not to step in manure piles.
At one point, we had a steep uphill that had some of the party cursing. We began to approach the Col de Joly, and could see the Col de la Fenêtre in the distance. From the record of the Glorious Return, we know that Henri's party suffered in a storm on this part of the trek. At some point, he directed the men to make a small encampment and built a bonfire. I found a likely spot where the trees grew a bit higher in a sheltered nook. I imagined Henri and his men huddling in that spot for cover and warmth.
The Col de la Fenêtre looked like an impressive roadblock. I had a crossing of this pass as an option, but after taking a good look at it and the incoming storm, I rapidly put this option off the table.
Here, I make a digression on the actual Glorious Return. A number of books say that the route went through the Col de la Fenêtre, but reading Henri Arnaud's original account it strikes me that, no, they didn't. Part of it is just geography - it's an unnecessary obstacle and the route we would have continued on to the Col de la Croix du Bonhomme makes more sense. Henri says that the Savoyard guides misled them up a mountain peak called "Haut Luce" - there's a town in the valley we were crossing called Hauteluce, but no mountain bears this name. It's likely one of the lesser peaks in the area, as Henri said that there was a barn at the summit. They then spent the night in a town called St. Nicholas de Verose, which I'm assuming is the present town of St. Nicholas de Veroce. If that were the case, then it makes more sense that they went over the Col de Joly, which appears much more benign than the Col de la Fenêtre.
At the Col de Joly, we descended to the Refuge de Roselette. It began to rain, but wasn't too bad by the time we reached the refuge. The slopes of the Mont Blanc were across the valley, but the peak was shrouded in clouds.
This was our first time at a refuge, and although I'd read about them, I wasn't totally sure what to expect. The Alpine refuges have bunks and wool blankets. The owner/proprietor serves dinner and breakfast and will often make a trail lunch.
Given the time of year and the location, the Refuge de Roselette was fully booked. I'm glad I made reservations months in advance. The bunk room could take about 18 people and we were all stacked in there like cordwood. The owner, Jean-Pierre, had some paper coverings for the mattresses and pillows.
Dinner was great, however, with a nice soup, followed by a risotto with chicken. This was a nice change from the cheese-laden Savoyard cooking.
Day 3 - 13 August, Wednesday
We retired to bed, but boy was it hot. That room rapidly reached 98.6 degrees, at least up in the top bunks where we slept. Around 3 AM, the rain really started to pour. Then the wind started up. I began to wonder about the hike in the morning. It 'felt' like serious hypothermia weather. The plan was to hike up to the Col de la Croix du Bonhomme and then into a valley where there was a town called Les Chapieux. I had ordered up a van to take us from Les Chapieux to the town of Val d'Isere, which cut out about 30 miles of a crowded section of the Glorious Return. I began to have some doubts due to the weather - the downhill to Les Chapieux was very steep and I was unsure about how seasoned everyone was in the party. But, I couldn't figure a way around going over the pass - the van would be waiting at the far end of the pass and we *had* to get there.
Such is the nature of worry at 3 in the morning - I turned this over in my mind. Finally by about 6 AM, I figured out a plan. There was a road that reached up to the Col de Joly and could be gotten to from Val d'Isere, where the van was coming from. It would be straightforward to drive the extra distance to the Col de Joly and we'd be spared the hike in the storm.
The only problem was: how could I reach the taxi company? There seemed to be no cell phone coverage there. I then remembered that there was a working phone in office of the refuge. At 7 AM, I got up and saw Jean-Pierre making breakfast. I knocked on the door, but he shooed me away, saying, "terminé" (closed).
Finally after breakfast, Jean-Pierre said that he had a little cell phone repeater in the office, and sure enough, I was able to get a signal. I phoned up our driver, James, and asked if he could drive the extra distance to pick us up at the Col de Joly. I had to describe the directions off the map - through a few more towns past Les Chapieux, but also in the same general direction. He agreed to pick us up at noon, and we were all high-fiving each other around the breakfast table.
This was probably 9:00 AM. We asked Jean-Pierre if we could stay at the Refuge until about 11 AM before walking up to the Col de Joly. He said "No, the cleaning lady needs to clean the bunks." I later found that this was pretty much standard operating procedure at refuges - they like to have everyone out by 9 AM or so.
We packed, but slowly. Some of the people staying in the Refuge were families with young children. The families were hiking up to the Col du la Croix du Bonhomme - which was also our destination, plus some. Some of the kids (and adults) were wearing shorts and didn't seem to me to be dressed warm enough for the storm. I could just imagine being 9 years old and hiking up to the Col in that storm - not pleasant - but not my problem either, I suppose. We got our own taste of the storm.
The hike back up to the Col de Joly wasn't so bad, but it was raining hard and it was about a kilometer and maybe 400 feet vertical to get up there. There is a restaurant and large parking lot at the Col, with the road coming from the other side of our approach. Although there were workers inside the restaurant, they weren't hospitable enough to invite us in out of the storm. So, we hung around outside the restaurant as the storm blew across the col. Boy, was it impressive - very cold rain, and wind at maybe 40 mph - the rain was blowing practically horizontally. At first we were decently comfortable, but as the storm wore on, it sapped our body heat. We ended up huddled between two walls of the restaurant and a pick-up truck, and still got cold. I did jumping jacks, but my fingers and toes started to go tingly.
Around 11:30 AM - half an hour early - a van with green lights on top pulled into the lot. It looked a lot like a van for hire to me, so I ran over to it. The driver rolled the window and I asked,"J'espère que votre nom est James (I hope your name is James). He said "Oui," and I yelled back to the crew to come load up.
People were happy to be in the van, and drying out. The storm continued to rage and we speculated on the young hikers going up to the other col. There were news stories of a number of deaths on Mont Blanc that year. Just the day before five people died from a fall on the mountain. While we probably could have made our trip over the Col with some struggle, but adding yet another 1000 meters of altitude in that storm would have been brutal.
After some time, we popped down out of the clouds and picked up the path of the original Glorious Return along the river valleys that extend from the town of Bourg St. Maurice, the major ski town in the area. We followed this until Val d'Isere, where James dropped us off. By the time we reached Val d'Isere, the storm had abated and the sun was out.
Now, the logistics of a hike like this can be complicated. My plan for the next day was to hike from Val d'Isere up to the Col de L'Iseran - a climb of 2500 feet, then to descend to the town of Bonneville-sur-Arc on the other side. Due to hotel availabilities, four of us would have to continue on to the town of Bessans, making for a day of maybe 12 miles of hiking and a large ascent/descent.
I wasn't sure of everyone's capabilities, but the plan for the day seemed to be a bit much, so it seemed prudent to seek out a way of bypassing the initial climb to the Col de L'Iseran. I had scoured some websites and it seemed that a telecabine ran from the nearby town of Fornet during the summer. When we arrived in Val d'Isere, I went to the local tourist office and asked about the telecabine and they answered that it doesn't run during the summer. I told them that we were hiking and asked if there was any way we could get up to the Col - does a bus run or anything? Well, it just so happened that on the very next day - only - a special set of buses were running from Val d'Isere to the Col to take people up for a naturalist lecture. AND...it was for free. The woman at the Tourist Bureau gave me a folder with the departure times of the bus and it looked like another problem was solved.
We spent the rest of the afternoon tooling around Val d'Isere and had a nice dinner at a nearby restaurant.
It turns out that the storm was providential in a way. It gave us a day of rest, which helped break us in easy. Since we got into Val d'Isere ahead of schedule, it also gave me the opportunity to figure out how to reach the top of the Col de L'Iseran without the 2500 ft. climb.
Day 4 - 14 August, Thursday
We were up early to make it onto the 9 AM bus that was scheduled up to the Col. We just marched a block up from the hotel, and there was the bus! We put our packs inside the luggage compartment and started up. Other folks were there for the nature lecture and the guide sat up front.
When we got up to the Col, we spoke briefly with the guide, who turns out to have spent some time in Vermont and was familiar with Middlebury, where James and Hallie went to college. She totally understood our need to take a cheap ride up to the Col and congratulated us on our resourcefulness. Not only that, she had no expectation that we'd stick around for the lecture!
Hike from Col de L'Iseran to Bessans.
So, off we went, on the hike down from the Col. Col de L'Iseran evidently is the highest mountain pass in the Alps with a paved road over it. At 2770 m (9090 ft), it was our highest point in the trip, and also the highest point of the Glorious Return itself.
There was very little snow in evidence, certainly none on the trail. We descended past a pyramid meant to mark the trail and followed this first over scraggly rocks, past a roaring torrent of a river and every so often making contact with the road that runs over the pass.
The trail eventually leveled out to cow-pasture country and we passed a number of cows (and a mean looking bull) grazing and houses of the folks tending them.
We finally hit a very steep descent along switchbacks to the town of Bonneval-sur-Arc. The Arc River runs down this valley and Bonneval is the highest town. Nominally this would have been everyone's stopping point, but when I tried to book rooms in Bonneval, only one was open, so four or us had to hike down to the next town along the Arc, called Bessans.
This region of Haute Savoie is called Maurienne, and is defined as the valley formed by the Arc River, and its tributaries.
Since Dan and Pam made a pair and the group of Phoebe, James, Hallie, and I made a group of four, it made some sense for Dan and Pam to stay in Bonneval. I helped them check in and then we all had lunch at the restaurant there. There were a lot of cyclists, motor-cyclists, and tourists - of which I count us as such - in the restaurant. It was high summer season there and this was the last stop before the Col de L'Iseran.
After lunch, Phoebe, James, Hallie, and I started down the trail toward Bessans. It was quite an easy flat stretch. We passed a little trail wayside testifying to a neolithic rock painting, which was fascinating. In the fields we saw people gathering hay.
Bessans has an interesting piece of history. As you walk around town, you see all this paintings and wood carvings of devils. This started as something of a game in the 19th century when one of the cantors was refused a meal by the local priest. He placed a carved statue of a devil carrying a priest outside his headquarters. That night, the priest moved the statue back to the cantor's place. This see-sawed for something like a month when the carver relented, and it was bought by a tourist. Bessans now has the Devil established as the official town mascot.
By the time we reached Bessans, Phoebe was complaining about her feet. We checked into our hotel for the evening. When the boots came off, we surveyed the damage - one major heel blister with the skin peeled off and a couple more blisters. When the proprietor heard about our trek down from the Col de L'Iseran, he exclaimed, "Oh, beaucoup d'ampoules" (Lots of blisters!). Great.
Phoebe took some ibuprofens and aired out her feet. James pulled out his speciality scotch - and we enjoyed its medicinal qualities after a long day's hike. We stayed at the Hotel le Grand Fond. The owner wanted us to try his tartiflette, a traditional Savoyard dish that is, effectively, scalloped potatoes topped with bacon. It was delicious, but like a lot of Savoyard food, quite filling.
Just after we arrived in Bessans, Karen texted me to let me know that the son of a close friend died of a drug overdose at the age of 33. This was a haunting reminder of the world outside.
Day 5 - 15 August, Friday
The plan for the day was for Dan and Pam to get an early start out of Bonneval-sur-Arc and meet us in Bessans. Phoebe, James, Hallie, and I were up at a civilized hour, had breakfast and got ready for the hike. Phoebe wanted to give her blisters a chance to harden up before going back to the boots. Since the day's hike was going to be relatively flat, she put on a sock liner and Birkenstocks for the day.
We packed our gear and met up with Dan and Pam in the Bessans town square. The people in town were gearing up for some festival which involved the famous Bessans devil. It would've been nice to stick around for the festival, but we had to make it to Lanslebourg-Mont-Cenis by the evening, which was still about 7 miles down the trail.
Hike from Bessans to Lanslebourg-Mont-Cenis.
The trail went through the same mixture of hay fields alternating with some woods. The trail had been moved since the topographic map was made and stuck to a higher path, staying away from the highway, which was a good thing.
In the distance, I could see the approach to the Col du Mont Cenis, which I knew would be a challenging uphill for all of us the next day. Soon we were above the town of Lanslevillard, and dropped down. Phoebe hadn't brought trekking poles and Dan wondered if her case of the blisters hadn't been aided and abetted by the lack of poles. He lent her his, and she seemed to do really well with them.
We made our way into Lanslevillard and had lunch at a nice place with the classic Savoyard offering. After enquiring at the tourist bureau, they put us onto a place where we could buy trekking poles - a godsend! Once we all got up there, people discovered the magic of liner socks to alleviate blisters, so everyone bought a round of those. We were still learning, but doing pretty well.
The hike from Lanslevillard to Lanslebourg-Mont-Cenis was more a suburban walk than anything, although I found a "secret" trail right next to the Arc River. The map indicated that this was a chute that was probably used for slalom kayaking during the spring run-off.
We entered the town, which is the gateway to the upper Arc Valley. It's fairly built-up, but the main street has long line of bars, cafes, restaurants and hotels. We were staying at the Hotel Doree.
After checking in, we all had showers and were feeling the hikes of the last two days. We had dinner reservations for 7:30, and went down to the bar in the hotel for some beers. Most folks ended up playing rummy while we waited for dinner. The bar there was a magnet for some of the locals and one gregarious guy wanted in on the rummy game until he realized we didn't speak french. Well, I did and muttered "dommage," much to his surprise.
Dinner was nice and we retired for bed.
Day 6 - 16 August, Saturday
We wanted to get breakfast at 7:30 and get onto the road - this seemed to be the arrangement, but the place was empty when we got down there. Logistics. Dan and I went out to a patisserie to get some baguettes for lunch later on.
We also patched up our gear and feet. For Phoebe's blisters, she settled on the tried-and-true technique of gauze covered by duct tape. As per standing orders, I always carry a good supply of both on any trips.
Finally the guy who ran the bar got up and got to moving and we had breakfast. We were all packed up and ready to go at that point. It was only a matter of putting on the packs and tightening the straps.
The ascent planned for this day was to go up into a region known as the Cottian Alps, which forms part of the French-Italian border.
The hike from Lanslebourg-Mont-Cenis to the Refuge du Petit Mont Cenis.
We started out crossing the Arc River. The transition between towns and trails is always a bit sketchy - this one was complicated by the trail starting out at the base of a ski run. There were a lot of tracks going one way and another, mainly for trail grooming purposes. I got directions from some workers who were clearing out brush. After several false starts, we began on the uphill.
The night before, I calculated the grade, which I figured to average about 20%. Now, 20% isn't much for a climber, but for a backpacker, it's quite the grade. We slowly worked our way up, taking breaks every so often. There were some odd constructions on the ski-trail, like a construction to block skiers from blundering into a creek bed.
The crew coming up the steep slope from Lanslebourg-Mont-Cenis toward the Col du Mont Cenis.
We finally topped out of the majority of the steep part and saw a car-park in the distance as a good spot for lunch. By the time we made it there, Phoebe was nearly done in - I suspect mostly from the stress on her blisters. We took off our boots to air out our feet, and tore into the sausage, cheese and bread. After eating our fill of this, we turned to some home-made gorp and put back on our boots.
The trail at this point followed the road over the Col du Mont Cenis. There was a cute construction there - it had three silhouettes: the first was of a pack of elephants crossing, then it had a troop of soldiers following Napoleon, and finally a pack of bike racers, presumably from the Tour de France. The elephants were a reference to Hannibal, who is said to have crossed over this pass (maybe).
We proceeded along the main road, which was quite busy and then took the trail off onto a side road that led to the next pass, the Col du Petit Mont Cenis. The car traffic on that was also thick. At one point, an Italian guy with an eagle feather and a US flag stopped in the middle of the road, hanging up traffic. He wanted to show his love for the United State and held up his (index) finger, saying "Obama number one!!". I guess if you'd had Berlousconi for some years, Obama would be a breath of fresh air. Tell that to Maureen Dowd.
There was an option at this point - the trail departed from the road and headed on another uphill. We could take that or walk on the road, which may have been easier. I confess that I was getting tired of the traffic and wanted to strike out overland. I think this broke down into something of a gender divide. James, Dan, and I all wanted the trail. The women waffled, but I could sense that they would prefer the road. With waffling in hand and my license as "Henri" the guide, I decided on the trail.
After the first bit of climb, it wasn't so bad, and the trail wound through a number of cow pastures and past houses of the people who tended them. I began to regard the cows solely as a machine for turning grass into cheese. The gals were milked twice a day and I swear that some of them were perilously close to having their teets explode by the end of the day, judging by the looks of them.
We finally arrived at our destination, the Refuge de Petit Mont Cenis. I'd worried that my only contact with them was a phone call, but when I arrived, the owner said, "Oh, oui, John H.....we expect you...". Well, that was nice. We got a 6 person bunk room all to ourselves.
Phoebe had had a better time of it in the afternoon with her blisters and was in a good mood. The sun was out and everyone else was also in great spirits. The area round the Col du Mont Cenis was spectacular - a kind of valley unto itself high up in the alps. For the first time, I heard Italian spoken to a large extent. Families would come up here from Torino and Susa for a quick escape from the city. For me, the Italian language has this relaxing quality to it. I can't really explain why, but there you are.
We had a nice meal that included local sausages, topped off with Genepy, the local alpine liquor. I *really* have to find what goes into it, but it's kind of a poor-man's Green Chartreuse, for lack of a better description.
That night, I slept reasonably well, but I was worried about a sketchy part of the trail we were to encounter on the next day, just across the border into Italy
Day 7 - 17 August, Sunday
This was the day to cross into Italy. We had two passes to go through - the Col du Petit Mont Cenis, and the Col de Clapier. The day's goal was the Rifugio Vaccarone, run by the Turin division of the Italian Alpine Club (CAI) and run by a guy named Nino who I'd be in contact with about reserving space for six people via e-mail.
The Italian maps were pretty sketchy on the path the trail takes on the Italian side of the border. Moreover, it goes through fairly steep territory - so this was the challenge of the day.
Hike from Ref. du Petit Mont Cenis across the border to Rifugio Vaccarone.
We got up fairly quickly in the Refuge du Petit Mont Cenis and tried to pull our stuff together, then have breakfast. We grabbed a few extra pieces of bread for the trail (as does everyone).
The hike up to the Col du Petit Mont Cenis was quite easy. One could barely call it a pass, although technically it is. The rock formations were astonishing. There is a fair amount of limestone that forms kettles and the occasional cave - so there was ample evidence of the effect water on the limestone, except most of it was buried under the alpine meadow - so it was a bit like reading the topography of an uneven floor with a green carpet thrown over-top.
The Col itself was not spectacular as mountain passes go, but there were a lot of abandoned rock buildings in the area, leading me to believe that it housed troops guarding the French border with Italy. A lone post read "France 1861". Not a lot has been written about this part of the frontier, but without significant roads, I imagine that the actual dotted line was somewhat fluid in those mountains.
We then started up the trail towards Lac Savine. This lake is drained by the Savine River, which is more like a creek. There was also a magnificent view up the Ambin River Valley, which the Savine flows into. Both are classic U-shaped glacially carved valleys.
It was Sunday and a whole bunch of Italian families were hiking up from the Col du Petit Mont Cenis. The trail up the valley was spectacular. The lake itself was dammed by a terminal moraine, which we ascended and were greeted by a spectacular view of the basin and lake.
Past the head of the lake was the Col de Clapier - the border with Italy. On the far side of the Col, there was a large cloud bank. We stopped for lunch on the edge of the lake. Phoebe remarked that the clouds looked ominous. They swirled around in the distance.
After lunch, we pushed on to the Col, and stopped to take photos. There was a plaque that described the remains of a 1st century Roman road and also the idea that perhaps Hannibal cross the Alps at this point. One trail led steeply down toward the town of Susa, while there was another path, which we took, and led in the general direction of the Refugio Vaccarone, our destination for that night.
We started onto the path, and after about 400 meters came across two guys who were holed up in a mini cave. I asked them if the sketchy piece of rocks in front of us was the trail. They said "Oui, mais marchez doucement" (yes, but walk carefully).
They were right - the trail was tough to find in places. The trail split into an upper path that was labeled as the "Alpine" path and a "normal" path, which we decided to take. As we followed the normal path, we saw that we were walking toward a cliff that the map indicated we had to basically walk 'through' or 'around' - it wasn't clear.
We started into a very rocky, craggy section of the trail, and naturally the clouds closed in on us at that point.
This part reminded me of the story of the Battle of Balsiglia. The Waldensians had made it back to their valleys successfully, but still were under attack by the French and troops of the Duke of Savoy. They built up a fortification in the mountains near Balsiglia. The French found out their location and began to lay siege to the Waldensians, who now numbered about 400. The French commander in charge of over 20,000 troops, Nicholas de Catinat, was so sure of victory that he hung 400 hanging nooses up to dispose of the last of the Waldensians. After an initial charge failed to dislodge the Waldensians from their fortifications, Catinat opened fortification with cannon fire.
At this point, all seemed lost, but miraculously, a cloud bank formed and enveloped Arnaud's troops. A Captain Poulat in their midst said that he knew a track that he could lead the Waldensians through the rocky outcroppings past the French soldiers to safety. The troops crawled around on precipitous ledges and managed to escape the trap laid by Catinat. When they later saw the territory in the clear, the Waldensians expressed amazement that they were able to find their way through the crags of Brasiglia. Soon after that episode, Amadeus II sided against Louis IX and allowed the Waldensians their valleys as a buffer against the French.
In the clouds, one could only see perhaps 20-30 feet down the trail at best. The broad silhouette of the cliff-side we were traversing was evident in the fog. There were bits of scree alternating with rock ledges. We'd have to pause frequently until it was clear where the path wound. At some point, we ended up in the shadow of the cliff and it became quite dark. The trail then began to move uphill and we eventually emerged above the clouds to a monument near some abandoned Italian troop barracks.
Along the hike, we saw evidence of a number of troop emplacements, including a convulsed mass of concrete and reinforcing steel that had evidently been hit by artillery fire. Before the advent of the Vichy Government during WWII, there was an Italian artillery company quartered in these parts.
After a break, we had a climb up to Rifugio Vaccarone. This is located on a high promontory with a wide view into Italy across the Ripario Dora. This river valley is home to a series of towns leading up the the Frejus tunnel: Susa, Galiagogne, Exilles, Salbertrand, and Oulx. We were above a cloud-bed enveloping the towns in the valley, with only the high peaks protruding above.
Entering the fog bank after Col de Clapier.
View from Rifugio Vaccarone across the Dora River Valley.
The Rifugio was owned by a guy named Nino, who I had corresponded with previously. The was easily the best refuge experience we had. It was comfortable, not too crowded and Nino, and the two other people tending it were very friendly. Nino was an alpine guide with the CAI (Italian Alpine Club) and also ran a winter refuge in Angrogna. He was quite familiar with the Waldensians.
Our original plan was to take the GRV trail past a peak called Cimo Quattro Denti (Peak of Four Teeth), but Nino advised that this might take too much time to reach Salbertrand the next day. He suggested instead that we take a more direct route that goes over the Passo Clopacca and then drops steeply into the Dora valley.
With this in mind, I studied my map after dinner, but before turning in, I went outside. The lights of Susa glowed faintly down below in the valley, and the Milky Way shown brightly.
Day 8 - 18 August, Monday
This was our last day; our destination Salbertrand. The first path to the Passo Clopaca was relatively flat, sticking to the high country, where we passed some grazing cattle.
We took a break at the Passo Clopaca, surveying the very steep downhill maze of switchbacks. While resting, a chamois wandered by. Chamoix are a strange half-goat/half-antelope creature that inhabits the Alps and Pyrenees.
The descent across the switchbacks was arduous. I knew that we had a vertical mile drop to go (5000 feet), but did not advertise this widely to the group. After what seemed like an endless series of switchbacks, the alpine meadow gradually gave way to the tree-line. This was the first tree we'd seen in three days - the last being on the climb up to the Col du Mont Cenis.
We continued to drop elevation rapidly and passed some folks on their way uphill. Eventually we reached a road and small picnic area where we stopped for lunch. Lunch lasted for some time - we were close to the Refugio de Levi Molinari, but didn't go over to it. The picnic area was a kind of trail-head parking area. After eating, people didn't seem to be in much of a mood for moving on, but I knew we had a substantial amount of ground to cover before we reached Salbertrand.
Finally we got moving, first following the road and then regaining the GRV, which now dropped through a pine forest. There was not much grade at first, but then we began to really lose altitude and everyone's knees began to feel the accumulated stress.
The downhill abruptly terminated next to a small cluster of houses that seemed partly abandoned, but still showed evidence of habitation with a satellite dish. A gravel road led up to the houses and we took a break. At first, some of us thought that we were done with elevation change, but it appeared that the trail went back up the hill.
Here it's worth mentioning a bit of the Waldensian struggle. In the valley, there was Fort Exilles that guarded the passage from a hill. In order to circumvent the Fort, the Waldensians had to go back on the high ground to detour around it. From the side of the ridge, once past the Fort, they could descend to Salbertrand proper. At this point, a surprise awaited them: there was a French garrison on the other side of the Dora. With the French in front of them, a steep mountain slope behind them and Fort Exilles down the valley, the Waldensians were hemmed in. At first, they were repulsed by the Frency, but at 4 in the morning, Arnaud ordered an attack on the bridge. After some exchange of musket fire, someone shouted "the bridge is ours" and the Waldensians stormed across, routing the French who were still asleep in their encampment. This opened the path to the south.
During the steep descent, Pam, aka L'Herbaliste, remarked to me that she could see how the Waldensians stormed Salbertrand, "they just got some momentum going on the downhill and couldn't stop." I somewhat agreed and imagined that after the hike over all those passes, the Waldensians wouldn't let a French garrison stand in their way.
In any case, I mustered the troops and we began the uphill swing around Exilles. To tell the truth, I think the uphill was a relief to everyone as it took the stress off the sore knees. After traversing some woods, we emerged in a terraced area and then a small hamlet. The town had only a narrow road through the center. As we entered, a dog appeared that seemed eager to guide us through and would push ahead of us, stop, turn around and await as we walked through. The place was nearly 100% shuttered down - it being Monday. Finally, as we emerged from the town, the dog stopped and gave us a friendly bark as we were on our way.
The rest of the walk was a pleasant downhill through some pasture until we finally reached Salbertrand. At first we wanted to find a bar to have a beer while we waited on a taxi, but the entire town was shut-down (Monday). I phoned up the taxi service Nino recommended, but it didn't operate on Monday. Finally I phoned up the hotel in Sauze d'Oulx, where our hotel was located and they gave me the number of a cab driver who found us in the nearly deserted town square.
Last day of the hike from Rifugio Vaccarne to Salbertrand.
Sauze d'Oulx is a ski-resort town and was the only place where hotels were available. From the cab ride, we checked into the hotel and had our first hot shower in three days. Everyone was pretty tired at dinner - I think the cumulative mileage and the day's downhill did everyone in.
My boots delaminated at the very end. I contemplated leaving them as trash in my hotel, but Phoebe convinced me to bring them home and use them as planters.
Day 9 - 19 August, Tuesday
We were up early, and the taxi took us down to Oulx, where there was a major train station. All of us got on the TGV to Paris, but at Chambery, Dan, Pam, and I got off, leaving Phoebe, James, and Hallie to find their way to Paris. Already our happy little band was dispersing, blowing like straws in the wind.
We all made it to the States on Wednesday, the 20th. As I write this, I'm already plotting my return. The route from Salbertrand to Bobbio Pellice remains to be completed. This will require a different strategy, perhaps just camping in the high country. We'll see.
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