Hello again! I once again apologise for the lateness of me publishing this! This adventure happened way back in September and was such a welcome break from work and life. But since then, I have been swamped with work stuff. Still, now, it should be fairly chill until Christmas. Let us see how that goes. I finished writing and editing this. Now I have a couple more to do. The aim is to get all the posts for this year finished and published before New Year. Should be doable! Enjoy this read, and as ever, feel free to comment or get in touch!
Also, if you want a map, just comment and I will strive to make one. Onthegomaps do not give contour lines, which I feel s vaguely crucial for a hike like this! So I still need to find a mapping app that allows me to plot something cleanly like this to show route easily…
Also also, I notice that WordPress has obviously updated themselves or something, because if I now write a caption on a photo, it blurs the bottom fifth which is annoying… :/
Day 1 | 06/09/24 | 16km | 1950m elevation
The cows are back in town. Lessgo! Rob and Reid had arrived the previous evening, Thursday, and we had had a wonderful time in Lausanne, eating at a brilliant, incredibly Italian pizza place, and exploring the city by night. We had gone up to the cathedral and gazed over the lake and south towards Geneva and headed to a nice outdoor bar area that I had heard about. Really nice evening, truly European. But really, we were all here to hike.
Friday morning. We woke up at my flat at 06:15. I was well happy – no work today and instead, the prospect to escape into the mountains. I had been up the previous night until 01:00 submitting an assignment for my first year PhD exam and now it was some stupid early time of 06:15 and I was needing to pack… Yeah, it was gonna be one of those mornings!
Between frantically packing my bag and making Rob, Reid and myself coffee/tea and milky porridge, we somehow managed to get out the door by 07:15, our train just fourteen minutes later (every minute counts when talking about Swiss trains). We hurried through Renens, our packs on our back, feeling back where we belonged. Feeling like home. The grey clouds hung low over the city. The train was on time to the second, of course, and we climbed on board. I had bought a couple extra croissants to eat at the station because, you know, carb loading or something…
The train took us swiftly east, through Lausanne and then the Lavaux with the old vineyard terraces upon the hill side to our left, and the lake a leaden grey away to our right, stretching all the way to France. Small boats made their way across the surface slowly, steadily. The grey clouds still hung over the lake, but out towards St Gringolph towards the Alps, there was blue sky and the golden god rays were streaming down to illuminate the entry to Valais. Oh yes, the signs and omens were all there. Not that I am superstitious at all… Rob and Reid were well impressed with the trains I think, quiet and efficient and everyone was so well behaved! Apparently this isn’t necessarily the case wherever you go! And also, you know, the views. I ensured that we had seats beside the window of course.
We changed first at Vevey, then once more at Aigle (where the sun was now shining in full force) to take us up to Champéry. OK, confession time. I had messed up. Originally, I had planned on us starting form Lac d’Emosson for this Tour. However, I had not realised that since it was now September, that the buses stopped working on the weekdays but now only ran at the weekend. And it was a Friday. So we now couldn’t get to Lac d’Emosson, and it was the same deal with starting at Lac de Salanfe. So we had to start at Champéry. Still, everything worked out. I broke the news to the guys the previous evening (when I was procrastinating with my assignment) with “So I messed up, but I fixed the issue” and Rob simply replied with a simple smile “Good, that’s what we like to hear”.
We got off the train at Champéry after a beautiful ride through the preceding valley. The train had made its way, teetering on the edge, through villages and towns. Out the window we saw churches, the steeples framed alongside the snowy mountains tops. We saw Alpine meadows and chalets, their wooden façades something completely new for Reid. Not so much for Rob though. I believe they both really enjoyed that train ride though! The trains here in Suisse are just exceptional, they do really go everywhere. From the station at Champéry, we had one last bathroom break and then put some jumpers on and set off up the road. It was a little bit colder outside the train than we had anticipated, but boy were we excited and eager.
A brisk road walk (nice déjà vu from Northland) for a couple kilometres, and then we turned on to some dirt trails into a forest and started making our way up and up and up… and up. Poles out, jumpers off, time for some sweaty work. We passed an elderly couple (who were absolutely blasting along!) and continued beasting up the switchbacks. Got the heart going for sure! We passed another tired hiker who already looked completely drained, before we got to a flattish section and started stomping along at a fair pace. Rob put on ‘Skux life’ and it truly felt that way! We came across a perfect picnic bench looking back over where we had come from, across Champéry, and we decided to stop here for a small rest. We sat down and Reidso produced some feijoa gummies. Oh my! Oh my oh my, hello! Honestly, I missed the flavour of feijoa, it is just so good! A thousand memories flashed through my head as I ate it. We had, after all, eaten so many in NZ, as well as picking them up off the road and eating them then and there!
We got going again when we heard some young yobos coming up behind us, some electro dance music playing loudly from a boombox. Not amused, to say the least. Or maybe I’m getting grumpy in my old age (a nice square number now). They were the classic type, shirts off, muscles out, tanned skin and backward caps as their loud music played out. Not our cup of tea, no thank you. We hustled to try and stay in front of them, and we emerged from the forest out into some Alpine meadows. The mountains reared up right in front of us and it was just so majestical. A nice flat path led us to our first refuge, Bonaveau, where we decided to have a coffee. We had literally been stopped five minutes before, but coffee is coffee and we wanted to see Rob on a caffeine high. I ordered a Rivella as well because I wanted the others to try it. Rivella is the classic Swiss soda drink, and the base ingredient was – drum roll please – cheese curd. Oh yeah! Welcome to Switzerland, where they’ll try and get dairy into any food product that they can. We sat in the sun and enjoyed our drinks, admiring the high mountains all around us. It was just spectacular. We were all awed by the scenery for sure.
We continued on after having the caretaker lady take a photo of us (professional, she cleaned my grubby phone lens before crouching in all the positions to get the best angle! Also, I am happy because I asked her to do it all in French, always fun to practice!), and the path started to rise again. It passed under cliff faces where water was dripping down from up high, before it turned up a gorge and we started having to use chains and ropes to haul ourselves up. Indiana Jones section. Coming the opposite way, there were lots of people with race numbers and bibs on. Turns out, there was an ultra-race on. I looked it up afterwards, it was called the SwissPeaks 170. And the ‘170’, want to guess what that stood for? Yep. Distance. They were running 170km with 12000m of elevation gain. That is… just… I can’t even grasp what superhumans were doing this sort of endurance challenge! We spoke briefly to the guys that were passing us in the opposite direction, they had started at 08:00 on Thursday morning (so about 27hrs previously) and had had 1hr of sleep all night… That’s just masochistic at this point!
We continued on as the pack of runners limped past us. Trail runners here are ridiculous (but I do secretly want to join their number…), finishing climbing up the side of this steep gorge. I had actually been down this way twice now, but never coming up and I won’t lie, I thought going up would be worse than it actually turned out to be! We came out and saw a small dam ahead of us. We crossed a small bridge and then climbed up past this dam. I was expecting a wonderful alpine, glacial reservoir/lake on the other side but boy was I disappointed, it was a small muddy puddle at this point in summer! Sadness. We settled down to eat our lunch though overlooking this dam and “reservoir”. There were heaps of people – hikers, runners, mountaineers – going past us as we tucked into our wraps and peanut butter and cheese and trail mix. My brother had gotten me some awesome trail mixes for my birthday that had dried strawberry and rhubarb and stuff in it and honestly, having this in a wrap with peanut butter and cheese was so so good! Chur Duncan! Rob, of course, got his entire cooking set out of his bag (wouldn’t expect anything less) to make his lunch which, to be fair, smelt amazing. Reidso had gone with wraps as well, rather than crackers and salami.
The yobos with the music were approaching us again, and so we packed up lunch and set off again. We turned off the trail pretty soon though, turning from the main path that everyone was seeming to take up towards Susanfe, and onto the Tour du Ruan proper. Here we go! We crossed a dry river bed (déjà vu again) and then started a steep climb once more. We were up over 2000m in elevation at this point and I think we were all feeling the altitude. As a rule of thumb, I think it starts effecting people once they are over 1800m. I think. Fit people, at least. But once again, whilst we were struggling up (albeit, with packs on our backs) a couple of trail runners just casually made their way past us. Honestly, Swiss people may be the fittest population on average around the world, I reckon. Or at least, they would be up there, it’s actually crazy.
We crossed some rocks and streams (Rob dunking his entire face/head in naturally. Tarzan), and then some scree with a big snow sheet stretching away up above us, before the path once more started to really climb. Like, really climb. Now this was the bit I was a little nervous for since I had no clue what to expect. This was labelled as a ‘blue’ path on SwissTopo (free Topographic maps of the entire of Switzerland… about the only free thing in this country), meaning that some Alpine skill was required. And my research had said that all that it boiled down to was climbing a ladder… But boy, that ladder was something completely unexpected and awesome. It was called the Ottans Scales. We reached the bottom of the scales and looked up and gaped, open mouthed. ‘What!? This is insane’ we said to each other, grins plastering our faces. We were facing a blank cliff face with only one narrow cleft in it going directly up. A funnel. Our eyes followed the cleft directly up and we saw chains, ropes and then eventually steps and ladders above us, all leading to a small hole in the rock well above us. We were climbing through a cleft, about twice as wide as our bodies, with a hole at the top which I was not sure we could squeeze through. This was going to be awesome!
We packed our poles into our packs and then spoke about strategy. I would take point, Broccoli Rob after, and then Gump. We would keep one chain length apart so no accidents would happen and not feel like we were being rushed from behind. Alright, let’s go. Oh, and communication of course. I headed on up first. Chain section first, nice high staircase essentially, carved into the rock. Get those quads and calves going. This ended quite quickly though, and I was confronted with iron rebars, bent round a full 180 degrees and hammered into the rock, making steps. One hand on the rock, one on the chain, I started pulling myself up higher. Three points of contact at all times. I was relaying things to the guys behind me. ‘Slippy rock here on the right’, ‘This is insane’, ‘Take your time here’, ‘What even are these steps!’… I am not sure they were really listening but concentrating on their own challenge at hand. The rebar steps made their way vertically up, before they petered out and I was once again confronted with a ladder, bolted to the rock wall. It was an awkward shift to pull myself on to it, and it actually felt less secure than before. I wasn’t as close to the rock anymore, and it was narrower than when I had been holding on to the rock around me, along with the chain. Still, I pulled myself up, and before long, the ladder was finished and I had the last ten meters to climb… through the hole in the rock. Standing on a narrow platform, bolted onto the rock beside the top of the ladder, I looked up and started climbing again. This time, there were no iron rebar steps, but instead small platforms hammered directly into the rock, shaped almost like a small trowel. I climbed these until I was at the hole. I tried to push myself through and… no luck. Ah. Problem. OK, how was I going to do this? I unclipped my bag from my waist and slung it off one of my shoulders, and turned sideways. I squeezed through the rock at this awkward angle, my bag squeezing through after me and I stood once more on terra firma. What a crazy climb, my heart was beating and the sun was high in the sky and the adrenaline was making everything ten times sweeter. The air, the cool breeze. Amazing. Gosh, isn’t life great?
Rob was next through. I suggested to him my manoeuvre of slipping the bag off one shoulder and coming through sideways, but he actually ended up climbing slightly higher and bending his body in such a way to be able to squeeze through with his pack still in place. And then finally Reid came last. Like a true Gen Z (ashamedly), I filmed him as he struggled to get through the hole with Rob telling instructions and encouragement and a helping hand and finally with a scrunch of his bottles and pushing with both of his arms (brute force method in other words), he came free and on to solid ground once more.
Grins all round. High fives all round. That was truly insane, truly nuts. That was so fun! Honestly, that was just something else altogether. To climb about 80m up a cleft in a cliff face to emerge through a hole in the rock, it felt awesome. Writing it down afterwards, it is hard to describe how we were feeling.
We had emerged onto the Tête des Ottans, a broad ridge, now well over 2500m. The Swiss Alps spread away to our right, rows upon rows of ridgelines marching into the horizon. The French Alps spread away to our left, rows upon rows of ridgelines marching into the horizon. It was breath taking in all honesty. We felt like we were on top of the world, truly. The air was sweet and wonderful to breathe in. A nice wind blew from France, across us and into Switzerland. We were now looking down into the valleys either side of us and to our amazement, we were looking down on the birds. The birds of prey as well, circling lazily on the thermals. We were higher than the birds. That’s crazy! And so awesome. Some of the birds we saw were just magnificent as well, we think we saw the biggest bird in the Alps, the Bearded Vulture. It was so beautiful to watch, spiralling around, watching for prey. It’s wingspan was on the order of two metres. That’s taller than me! I think bird watching is something I could totally get into, you know. I like birds. At the least, to have a birdhouse/feeder in my garden in the future is a ‘must’.
We buzzed down from the top of this mountain and stopped at the signpost at the Col des Ottans. Snack time. We were wanting to get to Lac de la Vogealle to camp at for the night. Therefore, before long, we climbed back onto our feet and headed out once more. A beautiful hike now, contouring around the valley ridgeline. We each put music in and enjoyed the hike across this ridgeline, the ground plunging away to our left. The path was leading us through a beautiful Alpine meadow, flowers in bloom and the grass thick and wild as the sun dropped slowly towards golden hour. We passed through this meadow, over another col and then started to descend towards the lake. Disappointingly, as soon as we spied it, we also saw heaps of sheep all the way over by the lake shore, and it wasn’t the beautiful glacial colour that we were expecting. There were also heaps of people around by the looks of it. There was a refuge close by after all. Therefore, taking advantage of the height that we were at, and our tired state of being, we decided to call it a day here and now. We scouted out a decent camp spot (really, Reid found a corker), perched high up on a limestone outcrop, overlooking the entire valley. Oh yeah, this was it. Winning.
We pitched up and boy, what a view. We sat, overlooking the entire valley, and started cooking. Couscous for me, naturally. We had also gotten beers from the refuge in the morning, and so we cracked a cold one with each other. A perfect end to a perfect day. Dinner was so satisfying as well. So good. And we had heaps of great conversations, real interesting. Politics, life and purpose and all the questions you ask yourself on a constant basis. It’s so good to be in the company of people who think the same way as you, and yet who also challenge your thinking, expanding it. To crown it all, we got a spot of frisbee in as the sun was going down, setting fire to the world as it did so with the sunset. What more could one ask for!? I went to bed that night at 20:30 (hiker’s midnight) extremely tired, extremely happy, and extremely grateful.
Day 2 | 07/09/24 | 26km | 2300m elevation
We woke up at a relaxed 07:30 and had a chilled pack up. No stress, no rush. We had gone to bed believing we were the only people camped up here. But all of a sudden this morning, there were a bunch of other people camped relatively close by. Wack. There was a guy in a MSR just down from us, just out of sight, and then as we pushed on down towards the refuge, we came on two sets of three wild campers. Wild!
It was a nice stroll down to the Refuge de la Vogealle though, and boy these French refuges are just like the Swiss ones, for all intents and purposes just a hotel in the midst of the mountains! They had a little exercise bike outside that powered the batteries for the refuge which was funky. The building was also situated underneath a sheer rock face, in a hidden clearing and it was very nice for sure, with fairy lights and bunting strung up all around the place.
We continued on our way, pushing down towards into the valley. And this descent was kinda awesome. Like, it hurt our knees, of course, as per… But it was such a cool descent. It started with us hiking down through a boulder field, sheer cliffs on our right hand side illuminated by the rising sun, and the deep valley dropping away to our left, sitting in shade. I actually felt like we were chasing this retreating shadow, and never quite getting there. Evidently, our rate of descent was the same as the sun’s rate of ascent (lots and lots of mathematical assumptions have just been made). Down through this boulder field, and then through some meadows before we reached the tops of a dark pine forest. Here, in a clearing was a chalet and also our first rest stop. Coffee break. Oh yeah!
We got a picnic bench with a view overlooking the entire valley (that was slowly being lit up as the sun stood taller in the sky). This valley was just stunning, I swear. Sheer rock faces on both sides, pine forests climbing up and waterfalls. Waterfalls everywhere. Everywhere! Across from us, away at the end of the valley to our left, away to our right, further down. Thin ribbons of white water streaming down the flanks of these bulk mountains. It was incredibly. And the peaks ahead of us, jagged and mystical. Yeah, Yosemite is meant to be THE valley, but as a result all of these other stunningly beautiful places in the world get overlooked. This was definitely amazing. What a place to live! There was a cool dog that came and said hello as we gazed out over the scenery, and the whole chalet was a total vibe. Like, colourful benches, chickens, a nice little hatchway where the smiling lady happily took my order as I stuttered away in French. Noice!
After the chalet, we were in a pine forest for the rest of the way to the bottom of the valley floor. Down some wicked switchbacks, places with sheer drops and chains and ropes for us to hold on to… You know, standard Alpine stuff. There were lots and lots of French people coming up for the weekend evidently, so a lot of the time we were standing aside to let people pass. I am not actually sure who has right of way, like, the person ascending, or the person descending? Anyways, we also taught Reid to say “Bon montée” as we passed people sweating and gasping as they climbed their way up!
Eventually, we came out on to the flat valley floor. We must have just descended something close to 1500m… Close to what we climbed the previous day! And now, it is time for another confession. I had a map on my phone, but it wasn’t downloaded. Meaning that I didn’t actually know which specific path we were meant to take when we got to the bottom. There was no phone signal after all. There was a car park and it was a popular weekend place evidently for French couples and families. However, what I did know was that we needed to head towards Cirque du Fer-du-Cheval. And I also saw the next mountain we were meant to be heading up. So, like, it was impossible to get truly lost, you know?
We made our way, wandering, down along these smooth, gravelled paths that led us to Cirque du Fer-du-Cheval. We saw horse riders clip clopping past down the riverbed, we saw mountain bikers, people with push chairs and people with climbing gear, overladen with cams and ropes and belays and wearing very serious boots. A whole host of people. We were evidently the only population for overnight, smelly hikers though!
Having arrived at Cirque du Fer-du-Cheval, we then stopped for a bit for a bathroom break, to get rid of our rubbish in our packs, and the put on some suncream, now that we were out of the woods and in the blazing sun. Actually, that is something that we all commented on, the strength of the sun was nothing in comparison to what it is like in NZ or Australia! Having had a ten minute breather, we put on our packs again and set off. I had retrieved signal once more and downloaded the map and I led us down some small roads, past a campsite, and then veered off to the left and directly uphill once more.
OK. Time for another uphill slog. Lessgo. We entered a pine forest once again (11:45), and the switchbacks immediately started and our speed immediately dropped by about 2000%. All that suncream we had just put on now came off straight away as we sweated it away, milky drops making their way down our arms, necks and faces as the uphill pull continued. We saw a sign that said ‘5hr 15 minutes’ to the next refuge which was a total lie (for us, at least). In the occasional break in the trees as well, we saw the valley we had just come from, looking so good. Yeah, this could probably hold more than half a candle up to Yosemite for sure, it was really beautiful.
We continued uphill until our stomachs started complaining and at that exact moment, a picnic bench, carved from a fallen tree, appeared around the corner. Could the timing be anymore perfect?? We sat down for our meal, ready to devour anything that came out of our packs. Whilst we sat there for forty minutes or so, not a single soul passed us except for one trail runner. Such a massive difference from literally an hour earlier when we walking past a whole host of people! Blessed silence again, with only our laughter and conversation filling it. I guess ‘silence’ and ‘black’ are the same concept, they’re an absence of ‘sound’ or ‘light’. I am sure there must be similar concepts for the other three senses… Let me think on that. Speaking of which, I have an interesting question. We have luxuries for some of the senses, right? Art is for sight, music is for hearing, cooking is for taste… What is there for touch and smell? Perfume maybe? But touch? Hmmm…
After lunch, we pressed on. Whilst we were walking, we had a real interesting conversation on the ‘hiker trash’ concept that has kept coming back to me over the weeks. A real interesting concept for sure. Like, is it a good thing to flaunt the fact that you are, essentially, a nuisance to society? Smelly, taking up space and no shame etc.. I am not sure it is, but also, it is so fleeting that I am not sure it is a completely bad thing either. Just something with a foot in each camp. This was a real interesting conversation we were having as we continued up, through the forest and out into some cow fields. There was a commune directly ahead of us – Les Praz de Commune – where we refilled our water bottles, and then continued on our way, passing through cow fields, contouring along. We were relieved to be walking without climbing, I won’t lie! We also saw a sign for the HexaTrek (3000km thru-hike of France) here which was unexpected and very cool! At this point, we all put music in and strung ourselves out into a line, hiking at our own pace. We passed massive bulls, saw marmots, and basked in the absolute freedom.
The path soon started heading downhill (depressing) until we arrived at the top of the ski resort Vagnys. From here, it was a direct uphill charge to the Refuge de Grenairon and the signposts were now saying that it was only 1hr 50 minutes to get there. It was 14:40. Yeah, we’ll make it up before then. Or maybe that is just our hubris speaking! We sat at the bottom of this uphill climb for a couple minutes, eating some feijoa gummies, listening to a woodpecker hammering away somewhere up above us, the only other sound the rustle and creak of the trees in the slight breeze.
Time to crack on, let’s go. A big breath, we put our packs on, and then started on the uphill charge. It was a really nice track actually, through the forest, but man it was switchback hell/heaven (dependent on viewpoint). So so many. If you weren’t careful, you’d get dizzy from how many times we went back and forth across this mountain face! We made our way up through more forest, a couple sections requiring us to hold on to chains as we crossed perilous, damp bare rock faces. Up more, and up again. I was loving it personally, I really love a big uphill pull, especially when it was nice paths, in the shade and plenty of amazing vistas greeting me at each switchback turn. The views just got slowly better as we climbed higher as well. What a life it would be if we could fly high like the eagles.
The switchbacks slowly emerged out of the forest and continued through some Alpine meadows, tall yellow grass and wildflowers hidden away. We continued pushing, and we actually came up to the back of a group of hikers who seemed a bit… taken aback by being overtaken. The snowcapped mountains were now ringing around us, and the golden green valley we had come out of was behind us. The air was thinner, cleaner and cooler. It’ s hard to express this big climb from the dark forest into the mountain tops. It was a whole journey in of itself!
Finally, we turned a final corner and stumbled straight into the arms of dear Refuge de Grenairon. And also onto one of the most amazing vistas ever. Again, it is so difficult to describe this in words. We were perched thousands of metres up, with mountain tops stretching away all around. And what really took my breath away personally was the fact that Mont Blanc was right there. It was right there, over the next ridge, with clouds swirling around its lofty wise head. Snowcapped, of course, and just looking oh so majestic. Kingly. Every time I see mountains like Mont Blanc, it makes the wanderlust grow just a little bit more.
We sat down at a small table outside of the refuge, and then ordered ourselves some food. Yeah, we deserved this. It was a spot on 16:00 and we had absolutely cranked out that last section. We deserved some food and drinks for sure. We all ordered homemade (!) blueberry pie. Rob and Reid went for the frangipane version, I went basic… And personally I think mine was better! It had a bunch of cream to put on top. I dunno, it just hit the spot. We sat there, chatting, resting our legs, overlooking Mont Blanc and the other mountain ridges, enjoying the sun.
The waiter guy who served us inquired if we were staying at the refuge. When we told him ‘no’ and that we were headed for some lakes just up the trail, he seemed slightly doubtful, but also gave us some valuable advice about water and conditions which was super nice. Also, the guy kinda looked like Kevin AKA ‘All You Can Eat’ from the TA. It was kinda funny for us to realise that!
Eventually, after a nice long pause, we begrudgingly got up out of our comfy, rectangular seats again, put our shoes back on (because they had come off, of course) and then set our packs back upon our shoulders. We refilled our water bottles, and then set off. This last section of today was to hike along a ridge line for about 4km. Doesn’t sound like too much, right? But it was a rocky ridgeline, and we had to climb about 800m to get there. Still, could be worse.
Our first steps up this slope and we all realised, we felt heavy! Oof, all the energy had been sapped from our limbs. Our bodies had obviously thought that we had finished for the day and had begun the process of switching off! Sorrryyy! The path looped around the back of the refuge, and then made its unrelenting way up the mountainside. We headed through a rock field, weaving our way between rocks the size of (small) houses which perched precariously on the side of this mountain, above the refuge down below. The sun was getting low in the sky and the views out across France were becoming hazy. It was actually delicious. Such a beautiful autumnal, golden light.
Above this boulder patch, we came upon verdant green pastures and we made our way up switchbacks to reach the beginning of the ridge (frête). We just needed to make our way to the end of it and ‘hey presto’ we were finishing with the day! And boy oh boy, France was delivering for us. This ridge was just otherworldly. Like a spine of a stegosaurus, there were tall pillars and jagged peaks along its entire length, which we slalomed between, getting alternating views to the north-west and south-east. Down below us, on both sides, were deep, wide valleys filled with scattered sleepy villages, Alpine farms and clusters of smaller settlements. It has always attracted me, this romantic idea of living in a secluded valley, far from the hustle and bustle of everyday city life. Or I think actually, what really attracts me is the idea of a ‘simple’ life. I believe the idea of being content (for happiness is only a fleeting feeling whilst ‘contentness’ is a way of life) goes hand-in-hand with a ‘simple’ life. But I think there is also a certain naivety to my thinking because what life is truly ‘simple’? You know? And this is one of the absolute reasons why hiking speaks to me. It is fundamentally a ‘simple’ pleasure. You get up, you walk, you eat and you sleep. You interact with your friends, you have fun, and all the worries and stresses of the real world are washed away with time and space and perspective.
This ridge we walked along was the epitome of the simple joy of hiking. We bounced along. We stumbled around a corner and into an ibex at one point which casually and nonchalantly ignored us and navigated the steep mountainside with no worries. This actually highlighted to us how artificial it was for us to be here, how unadapted we were to this environment. At other points, we emerged onto sharp crevices with steep falls on both sides of us and the sky all about us. There were handrails here, thoughtfully. Towards the end of this ridge, we were reaching golden hour and as such, when I looked back at Rob or Reid, they were silhouetted against the setting sun, a golden atmosphere about them, and their lonesome figures cast against the endless sky. It was such a perfect way to end the day I believe.
The ridge ended and we regrouped. The waiter at the refuge had mentioned a stream where we could find water and so we trooped along until we heard the joyful splashing of a stream. We refilled our bottles from this freezing water, nice and refreshing, before we pushed on. The sun was now in its final moments, and was starting to set, and so we needed to get to camp before long. There was a lake, Lac du Plan du Buet, where we intended to pitch up for the night. And indeed, when we came upon the lake, there was a large, dried out mudflat in front of it that we decided to pitch up on. Nice and flat. And soft. I thought about how much mud there would be on our groundsheets in the morning, and then I thought about how much cleaning Reid would have to do for his tent to take it back into New Zealand!
A quick pitch, and then we went and sat up on the rocks above our campsite, overlooking France and the ridge we had just hiked along. This had been an epic day, simply gorgeous. I think we were all feeling it though, for sure. Lots of climbing. Before long we had eaten our dinners and climbed into our tents by the light of our headtorches. Sleep swiftly followed.
Day 3 | 08/09/24 | 14km | 660m elevation
Oof, when we woke up, I won’t lie, we were a bit chilly milly. At that altitude, around 2500m, it got cold in the night, and it stayed cold well into the morning. We climbed out of our tents and also found that the clouds had assembled around us, adding to the chill. We had a slow morning, eating breakfast and packing up. And then, in jackets and all our warm layers, we set off once more. The last day, isn’t it sad how fast it all whizzed by?
There were two options open to us. Either charge from our camp spot directly up a steep scree slope to the top of a mountain peak, and then descend down a ridge line. Or, we could walk beneath the peak, through a parallel valley and meet the ridgeline halfway along. We chose the latter. We were tired, plus navigation in this dense cloud was not ideal. Hiking up through this valley was interesting. At points, ghostly pylons (yes, really) loomed out of the darkness, carrying the buzz of electricity and evidence of human ambition. We followed alongside them for a little while, before they dived away off to our right and we didn’t really see them again. Kind of wack to see such structures well above 2000m in the depths of the Alps. But this is what I have seen upon spending time in the Alps. There doesn’t really seem to be any true wilderness left here at all. Humanity have spread themselves upon them all, so that no matter where you go, there are roads, pylons and villages to be seen. Completely and utterly different to the Scottish highlands, or the NZ Southern Alps.
We stripped off our jackets, now that we were warm from exercise and work, and we continued on. At points, as we climbed up and over 2600m, we encountered patches of snow and ice where nervous paths across them had been trod. As we approached the top of the valley and to join this ridgeline, the cloud swept itself away, dissipating into nothingness, and the world opened up to us again and my goodness, what a view. We could see the Mont Blanc massif clearly, it’s snow saturated flanks above all the other mountains around. We saw rows upon rows of ridgelines, marching into the distance and the sky was grey above us, where birds circled lazily. So much world to see, so much world to explore!
We followed this ridgeline along until we started climbing once more. The final climb. A gentle one this time, or at least, it was with respect to everything we had done up until now. It was probably a brutal one, held by itself. We reached the top, and it was a wonderful summit and the highest point on this route. Le Cheval Blanc. 2830m. Pretty lofty, almost 1000m higher than Stag Saddle on the TA. It was also, incidentally, the Swiss-French border, we were back in Switzerland (no passports to be checked though!). The views continued to be unreal. Honestly, just so good. Now we had the previous views of the Mont Blanc massif, and the entirety of the Swiss Alps as well to contend with. Immediately under our feet were the Lakes Emosson, their colour reminiscent to the glacial lakes of the South Island. We spent a while here, admiring the view. Jackets had to be worn though, it was a wee bit chilly milly with a small icy breeze in the air.
Once we were done admiring our world and where we had found ourselves, we continued on. And boy, this descent was gnarly. I was totally not prepared for this, and I don’t think the other two were either. But to be fair, this entire route has continued to surprise us for the entire way. An absolutely hidden gem amongst the Alps, and completely quiet and relatively remote of other hikers – we had not met another overnight hiker on this entire route. This descent though, it just plunged downhill at 100%, no remorse. There were chains and ropes, but even so our knees were not thanking us before long. And it was exposed too, going right off the nose. Oof, yeah, it was pretty gnarly. We took it slowly, but with a sense of fun because my goodness, this was just so good. So epic. Laughing and happy, we communicated with each other. ‘Mind out, slippy rock here’ or ‘Woah check out that herd of Ibex down there’ or ‘I need another coffee’. I was vaguely familiar with this area now, at least down by Lac d’Emosson.
Before long, the descent started to become more gentle and at this point, I put in some headphones and ate some kilometres. We headed through a boulder field, and then down onto some nice Alpine trails once more, entering cruising mode. It was chill now, all downhill. There were grassy slopes to our left and right, and the glacial lakes were far away to our left. Razor ridgelines defined the shape of the sky and there was a gentle, albeit cold, wind blowing across us. We also came across some dinosaur footprints, which is crazy. They are imprinted into this rock which used to be at sea level. The dinosaurs that actually made them were about the size of a dog. I just think that is so cool, direct evidence of your childhood obsession!
Past the dinosaur footprints, the path branched. We could either go left, which stayed low, descending all the way, alongside the Lac d’Emosson, all the way to the dam and then onwards down to the second lake. It was slightly longer, but required no climbing and, crucially, past Cabane du Vieux Emosson. Alternatively, we could go in a straight line directly towards the second lake, but that required a small climb and we would lose view of the first lake, and we wouldn’t have a chance to stop at the cabane… So, naturally, we decided to go the first direction, left, since there was a hope of coffee.
After having this discussion, we put in some music, went left, and headed on down this path. The lake was beside us and everything was as it should be. Dreamy, at peace, content. My knees felt cooked though, but I am OK with that. That’s kinda part of the contentness. We walked along the entire length of this lake, emerging out onto the top of the dam. On my left was the lake stretching away, and at the end was Cheval Blanc, where we were a couple hours beforehand. To my right, there was a large 100m drop. Dams are so impressive. I always wonder how they even build them, and what the risks are if they fail.
We regrouped on top of the dam, and then walked ourselves across it, and entered the cabane. Coffee, please and thank you. We sat inside this cabane, beside a fire, three armchairs drawn up close, and as we waited for our drinks and cake (because of course we had to have cake. Or tart. It was plum flavoured), we started to nod off. Like old men.
We woke ourselves up when the drinks arrived, and then we had a discussion. Lots of decisions to be made today. Firstly, the next dam was only about 3km away, so super easy and quick to get to. A road walk as well. At this dam, there was a bus that we could take and get home fairly quickly. Alternatively, we could push hard, going over two more high passes towards Lac du Salanfe (a total of 21km away) and hustle to get to the bus there, 6hrs from now. Which would also get us home at midnight… I laid out the options to the two guys, and we all looked at each other and straightaway, I could tell that we were thinking the same thing. ‘Let’s get home and not stress about hustling over some mountains to get to a bus when our legs are cooked and we have had such a good time so far and the other two have early flights in the morning and hustling would stress us out and maybe make the end of this not so enjoyable’. Or words to that effect. We voiced our opinions, and sure enough, this is exactly what we all thought. Nice, done deal, we’re going to get to the next dam, get the bus, and head home. Time to shower and make a dinner as well, cool.
Eventually, we levered ourselves out of our sunken armchairs beside this cosy fire, and decided to get going. The crowds of Sunday hikers were arriving, and taking up more tables and making more noise. We put our shoes back on, and then put our jackets on as well. It was starting to spit with rain after all… We headed out of the cabane (Reid needed help opening the door) and headed on down towards the next lake and dam, where the bus was waiting. Whilst we walked down this paved road, we had all sorts of chats. Religion, philosophy, other life stuff. You know, that sort of thing. Before long, and without getting too wet, we made it to the next dam and to the bus stop.
The bus was due to leave in about fifteen minutes, so we had some time. We changed clothes in the public toilets to something less smelly, and then we hopped onto the bus. Tour du Ruan, finished. I can not recommend this hike enough honestly. It is quiet and just stunning. The time of year was perfect as well, long enough days, but not too hot and not too cold. Ideal conditions.
The bus took us down this mountainside, dropping us off at Finhaut where a train took us to Martigny. The guys dropped off on the train, sleeping all the way practically down the valley until we arrived and had to change. This valley we had come down was also epic by the way. Swiss mountain trains are just the best, not gonna lie! We eventually got home to my place in Renens, where we headed through the shower, packed our bags, and then cooked together. I thought we could try to make traditional rösti, but honestly, it turned into a vague disaster. But that’s OK, it was delicious nonetheless, and the company was wonderful.
This long weekend was so good, ideal. We all enjoyed it massively, and I will forever hold dear the memories we forged here in the Alps. It was also ideal training for our next big trip in a couple of weeks, the GR20! Man, life is good.