Final Stretch to North Sea

Twenty miles of walking before our hats float on the North Sea. And the geography is still surprisingly varied. Traveled next to the River Esk passing through the quaint old village of Grosmont with its steam train ready to take passengers to seaside Whitby. Climbed back up to the moorland eventually losing the faint trail amongst vacant grouse- shooting blinds. After pulling out the map and compass we figured out where to go directionally but a kind sheep farmer in his Land Rover also saw us and came over to point out the exact trail, almost impossible to see in the heather. Traversed down to Little Beck where the trusty sausage sandwiches were pulled out only to be joined nearby by about ten other hikers, like the lunch bell rang or something. Back to a riverside trail eventually coming to the most beautiful waterfall in a wooded grove, straight out of a fairy tail. The water dropped straight down from an overhang some thirty feet into a dark pool. Climbed from the woods back to pastureland and eventually reached our farm for the night, just four miles short of Robin Hood's Bay. The final walk this morning was a hop, skip and a jump. No wind and calm sea made for a pleasant stroll down the coastal trail above the cliffs. Remembered the 40+mph winds at the start of the walk which blew us into the Lake District, and the full breadth of the Coast-to-Coast walk began to sink in. In no time we were at Robin Hood's Bay dipping boots in the water, and ceremoniously tossing the rock picked up in the Irish Sea at the start into the North Sea. The most famous ceremony of all were the pints at Wainwright's bar, steps from the sea. Alfred Wainwright("AW") was afterall the inventor of the Walk, piecing together many trails into one contiguous 190-mile journey right through the heart of the English countryside. Thank you, AW!

The North York Moors

We entered our third and final national park - the North York Moors. Leaving the hostel under grey skies, climbed almost immediately on flagstone paths up the moors to panoramic cliff top views over northeast England. The countryside below is a quiltwork of pastures and forest. On either side of the trail lies fields of purple heather covering the moor in every direction. Flying up with a loud flapping of wings, the colorful grouse nest in the heather within the largest continuous moorland in England. As we peel off the miles, stone paths make the undulating trail relatively easy and delightful going. Such a switch from the Lake District where the trails were so deep with mud. Found a faint side trail to shorten our day by a mile leading off the moors down to the village of Great Broughton and the Ingle Hill B&B. Arriving around 5pm we were warmly greeted, and served tea and homemade cakes beside a beautiful garden with beds of brightly colored flowers. After eating 3 different cakes we managed to share a light dinner at the Jet Miners Inn nearby. Awoke to a sumptuous breakfast and after a fond farewell, proceeded back up to the moors for an easy 10 miles today to the Feversham Arms Inn in the Farndale valley. Made good time on flat paths and a disused railway bed built in 1860 to transport iron ore from the mines nearby. To save a few miles, took a variant trail leading directly down to Farndale with some exciting moments finding our way down past a cliff, then thru pastures and forests, over walls and locked gates. Relieved to finally reach the valley floor and the road, our relief turned to elation to discover our inn was only 50 yards further on. Having the afternoon at this cozy inn off the beaten track, we took full advantage to relax in the room. At 9pm one coast to coast guest had failed to show up and the inn keeper contacted the search and rescue folks. The mood in the pub was concern. Fortunately the guest arrived a short time later extremely relieved to have found the inn in the dark without a flashlight. He'd gotten lost in the moors that morning and had walked in a big circle for over 2 hours. After taking ribbing from the pub patrons about why his compass did not work, he ended up buying everyone a drink! Low overcast introduced a new day and after another english breakfast we were off for a 12 mile walk to Egton Bridge across the moorland. After some rain, the sun came out at lunch and the valley scenery below us was beautiful catching a glimpse of the North Sea in the far distance. Later in the forest beside the River Esk, chatted with a gentleman (straight from the Orvis fisherman's catalogue) on the opposite bank who caught a 16 pound salmon the day before. Finally reached the riverside Horseshoe Hotel by tea time. With just 1.5 more days walking, we should finally reach Robin Hoods Bay. Plenty of miles still to do but can't help but notice the eastern horizon sky looking bright awash with light reflecting off the North Sea.

Coast to Coasters

The quaint riverside location of the stone Keld Bunkhouse was outdone only by the hospitality of its proprietor serving homemade beef stew, chips, and a killer bacon and egg baguette for breakfast. We have entered the Yorkshire Dales, our second national park, and every bit as pretty as the lake district helped a bit by the dry weather. Awoke to a blue sky with a hint of fall crispness in the air. Rambled along side the River Swale all day passing thru gate after gate in stone walls separating verdant green pastures. This was a relaxing 11 miles with beautiful scenery, easy paths and warm sunshine. Stopped at picnic table outside a pub in Gunnerside village to eat lunch. Feeling relaxed and unhurried in the sunshine, CB ran inside to get a diet coke and returned with an ice cold pint of beer - and that kicked this lunch up a notch! We still had all afternoon to walk but CB explained that the bartender assured her that this brand was a lighter beer, excellent for walking. Arrived in Reeth with 10 minutes to spare before catching the bus for the ride to Richmond where we planned to take a rest day to explore its castle. Awoke in Richmond to blue sky, again, pinching ourselves on how wonderful the change in weather felt. We discovered a restored 300 year old Georgian theatre and decided to get tickets to the performance of two modern short plays. Also toured the tiny theatre and learned the nitty gritty on what the theatre experience was like for audiences and actors circa 1748. Ate lunch of our sausage sandwiches (from breakfast) on the Richmond castle grounds and climbed up its tower for spectacular views of the town and surrounding valley. Built around the 11th century after the Norman Conquest, it features advanced castle architecture thanks to the French stone masons brought over the channel to build it. Awoke (once again!) to sunshine and departed the Buck Hotel to proceed 12 miles down the coast to coast trail to the Lovesome Hill Farm Bunk Barn. Leaving the Yorkshire Dales we now spend a couple of days in mostly farm land where the trail often follows field paths and country lanes. The terrain is flat and we make easy 12 mile days enroute to the North York Moors, our third national park of the coast to coast trail. Our identity in England, at least by locals we pass by, is evidently as Coast to Coasters. Many will say something like "You're Coast to Coasters are you?" And sometimes this conversation leads to recollections of their own C2C trip in earlier years. There are many long distance trails in England but this one is definitely the grand daddy in terms of stature and national prominence. The Lovesome Farm Bunkhouse is remote, no food or pubs nearby, so we decided to dine in on pack scraps, and enjoyed a scotch with trail mix, sardines and warmed cheddar on rye krisp, followed by cookies and a Snickers bar. It was delicious, especially the scotch. Leaving the bunkhouse at Lovesome Farm, our rain gear is back. The threatening sky has returned. Today's destination is the Youth Hostel outside the quaint village of Osmotherly. We have about 11 mostly flat miles to walk and the weather keeps our pace brisk. The hostel doesn't open until 5pm and having arrived early afternoon, we enjoyed coffee and cheesecake in the Queen Catherine Hotel & Free House with lots of walkers singing songs inside, warm and safe from the light rainshowers outside.

Here Comes the Sun (finally)

The journey across England progresses. We left the Lakeland and headed toward the Pennine Hills and Yorkshire Dales. Leaving Orton, the weather showed some improvement though we left our rain gear on. Strode by large hilly sheep farms and a few grand estates off narrow country lanes. Took a few variants off the stated route, at one point finding ourselves on a pleasant disused railway converted to a nature walk. Home of the colorful Scotch Argus butterfly, this area between Orton and Kirby Stephens is also a site of considerable historical significance. Significant British-Roman settlements have been discovered. Limestone was quarried to make mortar to build England's stone houses and the tremendous stone viaduct and bridge of Smardale. In 13 miles, we reached Kirby Stephens, a larger market town and agricultural center. Our lodging was at the youth hostel, converted from a Methodist church. Now the pews are used as benches for a dining area with large tables. We slept in a private room with bath and shower. Cooked spaghetti with tomato sauce along with a huge green salad in their self-catering kitchen, delighted to eat-in for a change. Average age of youth hostel client - 50s. Awoke to an almost cloudless morning and dug out our long forgotten hiking shorts for the mild ascent to the Nine Standards (second highest point on walk). The Nine Standards are nine large rock cairns you can see far off in the distance. No one really knows why they were built but seem to be an old boundary marker - both a district border and the continental divide of England for river flow. At the top, the clouds rolled in, the temperature dropped quickly, wind picked up, and on came the rain pants again! From here, the hike is known for being a mud pit of sorts through sporadic severly eroded peat bogs. The windswept wide open moors are not a place where you want to become either stuck in the mud or lost. The paths are faint and trails are not marked. I took a map bearing just in case the weather worsened. Made it through the boggy area with only a few boot dips ankle deep into the black muck and literally crawled on all fours to get out of one ditch. Decided on a side trail down off the plateau to take the road the rest of the way to Keld. Had a lovely walk near the river, for the first time flowing east toward the North Sea, rather than west towards the Irish Sea. I still have the west coast pebble in my pack, though at times it has seemed more like a larger rock. Nevertheless, the sense of accomplishment is a powerful motivator to continue progressing forward over the remaining 95 miles. The terrain is constantly changing yet retains its country charm, and each night's accommodation is full of variety, and usually a pleasant surprise.

Advance across England

Left the green grass of Grasmere to head over the valley to Patterdale, next to Ullswater lake. A straight-forward hike to waterfalls and a remote tarn at the pass under one of England's higher mountains, Hellvyllyn. Stayed at a B&B ranch style slate home with nice view and breakfast, but severe mildew issues. Looking out that morning at dark thick clouds, I had a feeling the low pressure keeping this weather pattern in place had not budged for one of the more rigorous days on the walk, a 16-miler with 3000 ft elevation gain and longer descent, to Shap. Climbed quickly up the side of the fell to Angle Tarn. Momentarily lost the way with fog and rain rolling in. We could still intermittently see a few hikers above us but didn't know if their route was the same as ours. Realizing we were about to climb a big hill for nothing, corrected and made our way across muddy grasslands to the rocky trail. Hiked up to High Street, an old Roman road, and turned toward Kitsy Pike, the high point on C2C walk, as the rain came down harder. Haweswater lake far below appeared through the fog. After carefully descending, walked nearly four miles along its rocky coast with a quick lunch stop in a dark dense rainproof forest. An English walker, who kept to himself with his waterproof maps and compass, like many of the local walkers here, was also having a boil and some tea. (No "bon appetit!" here like the French alps as the mountain culture is quite different.) Soon enough we reached lake end for the last five miles through farm villages to reach Shap, a mining town. Next day we passed a limestone quarry on way to Orton through fields of purple heather and nesting site of sensitive bird species like golden plover. Weather improved enough to break out iPods. Arrived quickly at the picturesque village, home of an early leader of Society of Friends (Quakers), we'll preserved mansions, and a chocolate factory! Lunch has consisted mainly of food from the breakfast table splitting up the high cholesterol English breakfast. It's the same every day so DS wraps a sausage, and possibly a slice of bacon, in a tortilla (store-bought). On rainy hike days, this welcome treat along with a peanut butter and jelly tortilla have enabled us to eat on the run. The pubs don't have much in the way of fresh salad so we'll need to find some veggies at next store opportunity in Kirby Stephens, tomorrow's destination 13 miles away. Understated reactions to this weather is a reminder of the country across which we walk. "Not too bad", shouts an elderly hiker as we pass by through mucky fields and heavy rain blowing sideways against our faces. As wet as its been, it's still no big deal here in the country that produced Admiral Scott, George Mallory and Ernest Shackleton.

So Wet, Even the Cows Came Home Early

Left the green slate mine for a nice downhill walk on the tarmac to the quaint slate village of Rosthwaite. A local man pointed to the B&B on a quiet lane where he said Prince Charles comes for a bit of walking every February. Soon we walked over a small stone bridge turning toward our destination of Grasmere, one of the more popular towns in the Lake District. Ascended 2000k feet in rain to the col eventually making our way slowly across the vast dale before ascending another slightly higher col. Even up high the turf was so soggy our boots sank nearly to our socks. Crossed some growing streams carefully. Despite the rain, puddles and mud, my socks were thankfully not that wet until one unlucky leap where I landed up to my knee in muck. Took the high route undulating on top of the ridge to the base of Helm Crag, the prominent fell overlooking Grasmere. With the rain continuing, we were very happy to discover a variant trail leading directly to our farmhouse about 800 ft below in Town Head. The path turned into a green carpet like a golf course on a steep ski hill. And it was lined by the cutest sheep you've ever seen, like fluffy stuffed animals. Needless to say we were ecstatic to arrive on time at 4:30 pm having walked without a break for 7.5 hours. Our hosts at the farmhouse set out tea and cake, then left us to bring their cows home, 3 weeks early, from the higher hills due to the heavy rains this season. They disappeared on a tractor down the wet country lane as it was turning to dusk. Tomorrow's forecast calls for lesser showers and getting better as the day goes on!

Autumnal Start at Irish Sea

A two car train chugged across the northern part of England to drop us off eventually outside St Bees. As the Irish Sea came into sight from the partially open train windows, the first hint of the weather pattern to come started: strong gusty winds with on again, off again, rain squalls. The grey and frothy sea was a beautiful and lonely sight. With pouring rain we left the train fully laden with rain gear for a short taxi ride to our first village and overnight in a comfy B&B. St Bees on the northwest coast looks at the Isle of Man, thirty miles out to sea. After finding an appropriate pebble to place in the backpack for the 190 mile journey to the North Sea we began by climbing the stairs to the magnificent red cliffs overlooking panoramic sea views, walking some four miles north along the coast until turning east, inland. Having eaten a full English breakfast that morning we were ready to walk but the weather presented some unanticipated challenges like mud and wind. Buffeted by 40 mph wind gusts and rain showers, we proceeded through the thick coastal shrubs mesmerized by the forbidding sea. On a nice day (probably infrequent!) this walk would be outstanding birding through its nature reserve, protecting among other species the black guillemot. Soon we were hiking right through a marshy flood plain and the trail now covered by one foot of water. We hopped amongst grass clumps and navigated several trail junctions noting that the English don't seem to believe in marking their trails to retain the natural beauty of the landscape. But DS found the route, actually a delightful path winding its way across fields, roads and lanes in the verdant English countryside. The gentle sheep, white with some black, dotted the green pastures. Luckily the rain held off for most of the morning but became heavy as the afternoon wore one. Took a short break in the only pub en route with a few stout members of the local rugby team. After about 13 miles we found our farmhouse for the night, a bucolic setting and a farm originally traced to the 1500s. That night we made our way to the local hotel for battered cod, salad and potatoes. Met the friendly couple from Canada we saw at the start of the trip. Shared stories of hikers getting lost in the challenging conditions. But with map, compass and a few bearings you can't get too far off route. (At least not yet!) Honking domestic geese bathing below the window woke us early. Another wonderfully prepared breakfast of poached egg, fried tomato and mushrooms, hash browns and toast. Boots dry, we set off for the 10.5 miles to just over Honister Pass. Traversed the side of the long Ennerdale Water stretching for a couple of miles up the deep valley. Stone fence borders kept the sheep and cows in their place. Purple heather across the hills appeared. After a brief lunch the rain squalls set in, the sky darkening like night at shortening intervals. Pulled into the Black Sail hut just in time as sleet came down. A cup of tea and the rain stopped momentarily. Set out for the ascent to the pass above next to a green slate mine. The wind literally blew us up the hill. And on top we followed rock cairns across the higher plateau. I had to grab DS' arm because the strong winds were blowing us around like tumbleweeds and the next squall produced more driving sleet at our backs. But soon enough we were home to our youth hostel, safe and warm.

Pre-trek prep: London

Having left the sunny Riviera for England, the main topic of conversation is now: what a wet summer it has been, how the woods are grown over, and how easy it is to get lost in the mist. Oh how the French alps are looking like a walk in the park! But London has been delightful this first week of resting, laundry, and re-supply, along with sightseeing and theatre.

A few points for trip planning:
1- book rail reservations at least one week in advance. If not, get your tickets from the advance sales line at the train station instead of Internet. At Victoria Station, an experienced old-timer found us good fares. The ticket agent who himself went to the Lake District once, explained with a gleam in his eye he wouldn't go back after getting lost in the fog. The only thing he could see were the sheep five feet in front of him.
2- get a pay-as-you-go local UK mobile phone (20 pounds including some minutes), with a top-up card to buy more minutes as needed for contacting b&b's en route and occasional pickups. Or you can get a UK SIM card for your own mobile phone and buy minutes.
3- book bottleneck points on coast-to-coast trail first, and work backward. (So far, weekends in Grasmere in popular Lake District and Richmond are problem spots. "Diary is full.") Some b&b's, hostels, farms, barns (etc) are not in the main town, rather they're on farms or in surrounding countryside. With the long distances, it's a little concerning to be still walking around finding the booking ("don't worry, it's not as hard as it sounds"). Then you have to venture out again later to find dinner at the nearby pub. Well, it does look like idyllic walking over hill & dale but these questions will soon be answered starting next Monday and the first three weeks of September ... dot, dot, dot.

Mediterranean-bound: Last Day on GR5

The roosters began crowing 30 minutes into the trail on this final day of our long journey from Lake Geneva. Mist was rising from the valley, the sun above Sospel was already starting to smolder but it was fortunately still behind the mountain. We had two concerns about the day's hike: heat and lightning on ridgetops, hence the early start. What was billed as "a thrilling descent" (5000' total) to the Mediterranean was actually more climbing (3840' up, but who's counting?) Up through dark gorges we traipsed, into humid woods, up and down again to eventually climb the shoulder of Le Grand Mont, towering above the Riviera and its harbours below. Billowy white clouds continued to build from all directions. Hugging the Italian border, we finally reached the top and saw, through passing clouds, large yachts moored 3700' directly below us. A tasty ham and cheese baguette for lunch which ds somehow produced even though shops were closed Sunday, the day before.

The trail descended steeply in stony and slippery switchbacks wreaking havoc on our knees but enabling steady progress down. Did not see a single other hiker on the remote trail the entire day. Two Swiss girls and a French guy we met a few days ago, also finishing the GR5/52, were one day ahead of us due to the extra night off-route. After the long hot, humid descent, we wound our way through charming villas of the Cote d'Azur and arrived at asmall sandy beach to find a pet sheep with a Nike logo emblazoned on its wooly flank. What planet is this? Mountaineers' boots touched the sea. We ripped off our well worn hiking clothes, replacing them with swimsuits for the dreamy Med. The old town of Menton, like a painting with tightly spaced ochre-colored houses cascading toward the sea, was beginning to get a dusk glow.

Refuge de Nice Is "Nice"

Set beside a bright blue lake and surrounded by a cirque of steep rocky peaks, Refuge de Nice offers one additional unique benefit: it's brand new! What a nice break from old scratchy blankets. Refuge Nice gave a look and feel like you'd expect at a 4-star mountain lodge at Aspen. We entered Parc National du Mercantour where steep and rocky mountains are flanked by slopes of huge boulders and an unusual amount of summer snow. A one hour drive down valley would put you on the beach at Menton, yet our surroundings amidst jagged peaks make you think John Muir Trail in high Sierra.

From Refuge Nice, our ascent over the 8800' Baisse du Basti pass was steep with lots of sunshine. Midway up CB, spotted "climbers crossing snowfields" high up the ridge above our position, and after closer inspection, we decided they were actually (gulp) on our trail.
The Park abounds with wildlife and we've been fortunate to see elusive bouquetin, and more social chamois up close. Saw 6 chamois in middle of steep snowfield very high up, moving about rapidly. Their charging down slope with impromptu glisades, tumbles, and high speed triple backward summersaults, had you thinking danger, wolves must be after them. But as we climbed closer it was clear they were just playing.
Earlier, we made our way from Madone de Fenestre, a CAF hut next to a pilgrimage church to Refuge de Nice, and then to old style Refuge de Valmasque, where the rain finally caught up with us after six hours of walking. A welcome sight, Valmasque was beautifully situated with a commanding view towards 3 picturesque lakes.
After several internet attempts, we never did get any reservations at some of the huts. So in a marathon day we hiked to Refuge des Merveilles anyway in order to view some petroglyph drawings on flat turquoise and orange shale boulders. We saw beautiful rock boulders scattered everywhere exposing clues to inhabitants up to four thousand years ago.
Then we headed down a side valley several thousand feet to a road leading to a town with rail service to Sospel. We understood there was bus service at the road to take us down the final 2000' to the rail station, but arriving with 15 minutes to spare, couldn't find a bus stop anywhere except a sole kiosk with a phone labeled SOS(!) Fortunately a local man appeared and revealed the correct spot to wait, sparing us another 2 hour walk down the road. Even having made the bus transfer, we just made the last train to Sospel where we quickly found a hotel, and headed out for a biere formidable (large beer), late pizza and green salad.

Le Refuge Est Complet (No Vacancy)

A complication has arisen in trying to reserve the last few refuges. It's August in France and now everyone is on vacation. Some of the huts are full all week. It's particularly busy around the Refuge des Merveilles, an archaelogically protected area with thousands of petroglyphs (rock carvings) from the Bronze age. Thanks to the multilingual staff of Hotel Le Cavalet in Le Boreon, we were able to get on their PC and rebook a slightly different, longer route. We'll also have a chance to spend the night in a more remote hut next to three alpine lakes (douche froid - cold shower) but that's ok as it's saving the last stage of the hike. So the walking continues!

Actually, a one day layover at this lakeside hotel is a welcome break. Hotels can be a big step up from a refuge and the trick is to enjoy and move on, before getting too comfortable, if that's possible. Yesterday's walk was very pleasant - up thru a col then traversing along a single contour line on a grassy trail for several miles (finally, flat is the new up). Saw chamois, small deer-like with curved horns, in the bouldered plateau down from the col. Overcast skies and threat of rain kept temperatures lower and us moving faster. The hike was preceded early that morning with two efficient bus transfers crossing the complex Tinee Valley to get us on to GR 52, our high level variant.

One more week to go

After three weeks on the dusty trail, we find ourselves in St Etienne de Tinee, finally taking that promised rest day. It's a charming mountain village dating to 14th century with some 5-story buildings. The morning was capped off by thunderstorms, and looking at dark clouds and lightning, we were thankful to be eating a warm chocolate beignet in the doorway of a patisserrie. Yesterday's hike to St Dalmas Le Saveour, while very hot mid-day, was shorter. Spent night at a chambres des hote (bed and breakfast), a 400-year old house with original pine beams and thick walls made of rock and masonry. After another shorter hike to St Etienne the following day, who did we run into but Richard, the British hiker from the first night in Vanoise NP at the start. Richard also has been having a great walk but is finding temperatures further south to be quite hot, especially with his heavier backpack holding camping equipment. Tomorrow we'll push on toward GR52 variant trail to stay high up in mountains over next week until final day's thrilling descent to Menton and Mediterranean.

Kindle e-book is working out great. I've read three books so far and battery is lasting a long time. I downloaded over a dozen books to this 10 oz device before leaving, half of which I paid about $10 each and the other half were free. With the Patagonia cover, it feels like I'm reading a paperback.

Flies on us!

Climbed up nearly 4000' from woodworking town of Ceillac followed by swarm of flies. No breeze, kept moving. Finally reached the col and they have dissipated. Now that's one fast way to get up the mountain! Each mountain pass from Briancon south got longer in its approach and steeper for the last several days. Calves feeling it. Continue to have extraordinary meals from duck a la orange to coq au vin with frites. Crossed the dividing line from Hautes Alps to Maritime Alps. Fewer cows, more sheep. Drier - a few lizards on the trail and bright green grasshoppers. Soup has shifted to broth-based from cream-based, a welcome change for digestion. Dropped into Larche: a small town completely destroyed by German and Italian forces during WWII and subsequently rebuilt. Still trying to figure out its strategic significance amidst desolate peaks. The only structure not destroyed was the war memorial from WWI. High above town we walked by two fort ruins bwtn 8-9000'. Entered Mercantour NP with turquoise lakes and a high rocky col (Pas de Cavales) with views to the next couple of days ahead. Arrived hot and exhausted at the welcoming Gite de Boiseyas, set on a hillside, with a karma straight out of Nepal. Enjoyed a
vegetarian dinner with a Swiss couple and a large family hiking group from Lyon. Went to bed early in a charming antique but dilapidated stone and wood house.

In the 8 days since our rest in Briancon, our daily walks have centered around the ascent of at least one pass with elevation gains ranging from 3300' to 4000'. In most cases trail conditions have been good though the descents can be rocky and slippery making it slow going. The challenge is to not get distracted by the tantalizing views. Distances between huts this past week have made for full days of walking with little time or energy left for anything but a shower, dinner and some route planning before bed. Thankfully the weather couldn't be better with sunshine every day. All in all our momentum has been steady although today we decided to pack it in early and maybe take a rest day tomorrow to give our bodies a chance to rest. There is still plenty of walking left in the trip and we don't want to hit the wall until we splash down in the Med.
So far we have not met a single American since we've been in France; and fairly limited English is spoken.

Briancon, Briancon, Briancon!

A beautiful but windy walk over Col des Thures brought us to Nevache where thundershowers nudged us on to a bus headed to Briancon to avoid getting soaked. This means we pick up an extra rest day to explore this historic walled fortress city. We bypassed the strategic Col de Montgenevre where Napolean, Charles VIII, Charlemagne, and Caesar marched their armies back and forth across. Sorry Caesar, we're goin' to Briancon!

Briancon is dramatically perched on top of cliffs high in the mountains. 300 years ago when informed that neighboring Savoie's army was poaching territory, Louis XIV dispatched Vaubaun, his military architect and engineer to build a fort to guard France's eastern frontier. Today, Savoie is a French provence and Briancon the second
highest major city in Europe after Davos. It's also home to an impressive cathedral. As if Louis added, "Vaubaun, build a big church too - those guys in the mountains are major heathens!"
We luckily found the charming and inexpensive Pension des Ramparts located within the city walls. A scene out of an old French movie, the pension had the basics: petit dejeuner and an afternoon crowd gathered around the bar watching the Tour de France. A great place to explore, kick back, and relax!

Borders without borders

Proceeded over next col, Mt Thabor, 3000' up w/panoramic views, leaving Savioe region for the rocky and dry Hautes Alpes. Descending gentle paths through boulder strewn meadows and ultimately into pine forests delivered a splendid day of walking down to Valle Etroite. Now everyone seems to be speaking Italian. The original culture and language remained even though France annexed this region a long time ago (post-WWI?) Our server explained it this way, "We are Italian here but it's ok to speak French because we're in France." Had a hearty seven-course meal tonight. In a remote mountain village, consisting of a tiny one room chapel, surrounded by five small dwellings, you're treated to one of the tastiest meals you can remember. Not sure we can
handle too much more rich food. But price is right: demi-pension with small private bunkroom: 40 euros each.

One Meter of Fresh Powder

Our arrival to the highest pass, Col de Chaviere, in the Vanoise
yesterday coincided with an unusual summer snow storm. Fortunately, we awoke to a blue sky morning with a 6000' snow level blanketing the surrounding mountains. Ascending higher and higher past rock cairns toward the col felt more like Nepal than France. After some postholing through snowfields, we negotiated the final approach to the steep pass with relative safety thanks to careful footing across shifting rock scree hidden beneath the fresh snow. ("Focus on your footwork" is mantra.) Beyond the excitement, the snow dressed up panoramic views making this pass crossing one of the most memorable.

More about the cheese... On the way to the pass, the attractive solid tan cows producing the milk for the Beaufortain cheese graze. They move from the valley bottom to as high as 8000' to find the best grass. France has fought within the EU to retain its own method of cheese-making which is not subject to the standard process of pasteurization. Rather, untreated whole milk is put into production as it has been for centuries. After the moulding process, the cheese spends a minimum of 5 months maturing in cool cellars. The inability to export the unpasteurized cheese is putting massive pressure on the traditional cheesemakers, one negative to globalization.
To avoid staying in the industrial valley town of Modane tonight, we are staying not at a refuge but in a ski condo in Valfrejus, halfway up the mountain. Earlier this morning we'd quickly dropped 2000' only to proceed steeply up another trail to a similar altitude this afternoon. This leaves us a reasonable 3000' climb tomorrow to the next pass on our way south toward Briancon.

How do you say "how do you say?"?

Our train arrived on schedule at Landry, the northern edge of Savoie region a few km from Vanoise Natl Park. The park originally started as a large game reserve for high altitude inhabitants of its rocky terrain such as ibex, chamois and marmot. Our first hut, Refuge Entre Lac, was 2k ft above the park entrance as the trail climbed past treeline to reach a remote aquamarine lake. Our French language skills are sketchy at best but Dan lived in France for a summer as a teenager and has a respectable accent. My French conversation class in college is only useful for ordering from a menu and to ensure we switch to English as fast as possible. It helps being in the mountains where one's needs are expressed simply: FOOD and SHELTER! (Actually, demi-pension will get you bunk, dinner and breakfast). Three men looking like mountain climbers ran the hut, a stone farmhouse next to a glacial stream. I don't know how they get supplies because there's no road but they sure made a fantastic creamy vegetable soup and beef stew with fried polenta. It was amusing to watch one of the mountain climbers with blond rastafarian braids and scruffy beard (pictured) lure the cow grazing in front of us over for milking. That's when I was truly thankful for the hot chocolate, yogurt with berries, and steamed milk. Later that evening I saw the same hut warden take off for a mountain run. Only a few other hikers tonight: a couple from Paris doing a trek around the main glaciers, a British man also doing the GR5, and two girls with heavy camping backpacks. Our distances increased over the next three days basically walking all day even though the guidebook said only 4-6 hours of walking on each day! We sped up due to an approaching weather system and reached the 8000' Refuge du Col de Vanoise ahead of schedule. We finally reached this magical mountainous setting after a steep climb above the river. As the terrain leveled out in the short valley above, we did not spot an ibex but did spot a nude sunbather next to one of the glacial lakes. It was a hot afternoon because at the same time I was applying moleskin and bandaids to my blistered heels. Snoring in the dortoir otherwise great hut. (Broke out the earplugs.) Rain arrived the next day but we proceeded down the next valley through Pralognan. Woke at Refuge de Roc de Peche with rain and sleet, and snow blanketing the ridges above us. Now the 9k ft high pass we intend to cross tomorrow (Col de Chaviere) is covered with snow and ice, impassable with only hiking gear and freezing temps today. Forecast calls for sun coming back later tomorrow which will quickly melt any precarious conditions on the steep sections and clear the way south! Holed up for now, lucky for private room and hot shower.

Pre-trek prep: Cap D'Antibes

A one hour and one euro bus ride took us directly from Nice Intl airport to Antibes. Another short bus ride and we're at Cap D'Antibes at the tip of the peninsula. It is a short walk to the Mediterranean (Plage des Ondes) with an excellent swimming beach, snorkeling, and to our surprise a 2-hour coastal walk meandering past the vacation estates frequented over the years from Charlie Chaplin to the Kennedy's. The stone path hugs the rocky shoreline with racing sailboats and yachts motoring by and views up to the Maritime Alps, our final segment of the GR5 a month from now. After 4 days here we are rested and relaxed. (Too relaxed??) The reintroduction to France has been marvelous from cafe au lait with croissants, to salade nicoise and fresh fish, not to mention the baguettes. It is definitely time to start walking!

Walking toward Col de Coux and fresh cheese

Here's a shot along the GR5 Trail from last year: the cows kindly moved over just enough for us to pass but there was an angry bull a little bit further ahead running alongside a fence. I figured if I didn't look him in the eye, he'd calm down, but it didn't seem to make any difference. We stopped at the Lapisa buvette in the meadow featuring creamy and mild cheese of the region. Later, we enjoyed the round of cheese on top of Col de Coux grateful for a scenic day's walk thru Switzerland, before proceeding down the other side back into France.

Col du Brevent, across from Mt Blanc

DS is silhouetted across from the windy summit of Mt Blanc, which is actually on the other side of the large valley and ski resorts of Chamonix. This is about the halfway point of last year's walk.