Day 72: Magnificent Vanoise
After our bivouac at the Entre Deux Eaux Refuge, another beautiful day begins. Today is a short one, only twelve kilometres. We will reach Pralognan, a small village with a campsite, and we will make the most of the facilities to relax.
After a good climb, the trail opens onto a valley filled with alpine lakes and rivers.
At the Col de la Vanoise Refuge, I treat myself to a delicious biscuit that has just come out of the oven, you do not say no to that. The moment Roel and Hugo see it, they copy me immediately. I look so delighted with my dessert that the people sitting around us must start wondering what is going on. Hiker life.
After this snack break, it is time to head towards the famous Lac des Vaches. You might be wondering what makes it so famous. Well, if you look at the HexaTrek route, you can see the path crossing the lake. A mistake? Not at all. A series of stepping stones lets you walk right through the middle of it. My description is probably unclear, so I will let the photos do the talking.
The lake is stunning, but extremely popular. There must be more than a hundred people gathered along both shores. With chairlifts only about three kilometres away, it is a favourite spot for day hikers.
Because of the crowds, we keep moving without stopping. Besides, we will have plenty of time to rest at the campsite. In the meantime, Robin, Lauren and Scott tell me they will also be in the same village tonight. The more the merrier. They will arrive late though, as their day will total thirty seven kilometres.
I reach the campsite in the early afternoon. After pitching my tent, I head to the grocery shop. In tourist villages, everything is incredibly expensive. Two days of food costs me almost forty euros. To give you an idea, it would have been around twenty five in a normal supermarket.
Tomorrow, we will not leave too late because a big storm is forecast around 4.00 pm. That day will also mark a special milestone: reaching 1,500 kilometres.
Day 73: Halfway Through the HexaTrek and a Thunderstorm Scare
When I wake up this morning, I am genuinely excited. Today I will hit the 1,500 kilometre mark on the trail, which means I have reached the halfway point of my HexaTrek adventure. On the menu today: the Col de Chavière. There is no particular difficulty on this twenty kilometre day, except for heavy thunderstorms forecast at 4.00 pm. I want to cross the pass before 2.00 pm so I have two hours to descend and avoid being too exposed. I set off with Hugo and Roel, but I pull ahead quickly. I feel great today.
After about five kilometres, I reach the 1,500 kilometre milestone. I feel a mix of emotions: pride at having come this far, the realisation that wow, I have to do everything I have just done all over again, and at the same time the feeling that it is all going too fast, time is slipping through my fingers. Since the spot is not particularly interesting, I decide to wait until the top of the pass to take my little souvenir photo.
I arrive around eleven at the Péclet Refuge, about three kilometres from the pass. Because I walked quickly this morning, I feel like taking a longer break. In any case, I still have time before the weather turns. Right now, the sky is blue, with no sign of a storm. After forty five minutes, Roel catches up and I extend my break until 12.30 to eat and read a little. Meanwhile, Hugo and his friend choose to continue towards the pass and take a break later.
Roel and I start walking again towards the Col de Chavière. The first part of the climb is not too difficult, and we enter a valley of cairns. There are literally thousands of little stone sculptures everywhere, as if it is a tradition to add one each time you pass.
The final stretch before the summit is brutally steep. I zigzag to avoid delivering the final blow to my Achilles tendons, which I am already asking a lot of.
The view from the pass is magnificent. We take a few photos, including one with a piece of paper on which I have scribbled “1,500 km”. It is already 1.30 pm, and we decide not to hang around because the storm forecast has been brought forward to 3.00 pm, they are lightning fast, sorry, another terrible joke. In the last hour, the sky has slowly changed. Clouds have grown heavier and more menacing.
On the way down, we pass Hugo and his friend peacefully eating their meal. I warn them that the storm will arrive earlier than expected. Even though we are lower than the pass, we are still very exposed in this wide open valley.
I continue descending with a strong feeling that I really should not hang about. I pass three young women heading in the opposite direction, towards the pass. I tell them about the storm and, surprisingly, they say they did not check the conditions before leaving. It is 2.15 pm and they still have a good thirty minutes to reach the top. That is going to be very tight. Before I got caught in a violent storm with a friend on a 2,700 metre summit in the Dolomites, I used to take thunderstorms far less seriously. That traumatic experience taught me that nature and the mountains always have the final word. It is naïve to think we can outbrave the elements or imagine ourselves immortal. I explain that the storm will hit around 3.00 pm and that the pass is extremely exposed. After that, there is nothing more I can do. The decision is theirs. They choose to continue, picking up the pace.
Around 2.30 pm, the sky grows darker and more menacing. I do not feel safe in the valley and my stress starts rising. I increase my pace dramatically and gradually leave Roel behind. I know there is a restaurant about three kilometres from where I am. That is my goal, a place to shelter. I remain in panic mode until I enter a small forest. I know it is dangerous to stand near trees during a storm, but it still feels safer than being one of the highest points in an open valley.
Around 3.00 pm, I am only 800 metres from the restaurant. A light rain starts and I tell myself that maybe there will not be a storm after all. I reach the restaurant and sit down to wait for my friends. Seeing the HexaTrek sign on my rucksack, the manager brings me the trail guestbook and asks whether I have somewhere to sleep tonight. I tell her I planned to bivouac nearby, and she replies that I can sleep in the small chapel next to the restaurant if I want to stay dry. I accept, thanking her warmly. Brilliant: my tent will not be wet tonight.
Three minutes after I sit down, a bright flash tears across the sky and a powerful clap of thunder follows only seconds later. Wow. That was less than five kilometres away. I hope everyone still up in the mountains is safe.
Soon after, the sky opens and a torrent of rain pours down. Hugo and his friend arrive on the terrace at that very moment. What a relief, they are fine. I ask where Roel is and they say he is only a few metres behind them. Not long after, hail joins the party, yes, hail in the middle of summer. Thank goodness we reached the restaurant in time.
Just before they arrived, I started chatting with a couple on their first long distance hike. I introduce everyone and we sit together. We quickly realise the couple have no experience with multi day hiking and have brought rucksacks that are far too heavy, nearly twenty five kilos each. They did not bring a sleeping bag or a rain jacket. They are going to be cold. We give them as much advice as we can for the rest of their trip. I sincerely hope they will be alright and still able to enjoy the experience.
After about twenty minutes, Roel appears at the restaurant. When the rain started, he sheltered in the first house he saw and the owners invited him in for tea.
The storm eases slightly, but it clearly is not finished. Roel, Hugo and his friend decide to rent an Airbnb in the village below. They still have four kilometres to go, but some restaurant customers offer them a lift. I will join them tomorrow morning.
I suggest to the hiking couple that they sleep in the chapel, which they accept enthusiastically. So we spend the night in a rather unusual, narrow little refuge.
Day 74: A Very Strange Lift Share and Forced Rest
The next morning, I wake up around six. The sky is still extremely threatening and when I check the forecast, thunderstorms are predicted almost every hour of the day. I need to go down into town to meet my friends, so I do not really have a choice but to keep moving. Do not worry, I am not taking unnecessary risks. If I walk, it is because I feel confident enough to do so. Luckily, the descent is not very exposed and mostly through forest. I wait for the storms, which started at 7.00 am, to calm down a little and around 8.00 I set off. Thunder rumbles every ten minutes, which does nothing to reduce my stress. I cannot wait to reach my little group, especially since Roel cooked crêpes and saved some for me.
I race down in under an hour, fear is a powerful engine, it seems, and I arrive completely soaked at my friends’ Airbnb. It smells like good crêpes. I even melt chocolate on top. Honestly, it is delicious. This second breakfast sets the tone for a day where I will consume more food than kilometres.
Together, we decide that today will be a nero, a day with very few kilometres. Partly because there is sometimes no point battling bad weather, and partly because the refuge near Mont Thabor, our objective for tomorrow, is fully booked, both for beds and for bivouacking. When storms are forecast at night, it is possible to bivouac, but ideally near a refuge so there is shelter if things turn bad. We therefore decide that tonight we will sleep warm and dry at the Tavernes Refuge in the village of Valfréjus.
To get there, the HexaTrek follows a national road with hairpin bends and no pedestrian space. Roel has already done this section and strongly advises hitchhiking. We take his advice. We walk a little way out of Modane and stick our thumbs out. After about fifteen minutes, a car stops. The driver says there is room for only two people. Hugo offers to wait for the next car, and Roel and I get in.
We set off and, unfortunately, at the first turn, the driver goes the wrong way and joins the motorway instead of taking the road to Valfréjus. And then, plot twist: the motorway is completely jammed. Nothing moves. And when I say nothing, I mean not even a millimetre. Five minutes pass, then fifteen, then thirty. Listening to the news, we learn that a car has broken down in a tunnel further ahead. At this rate, we could be stuck for hours. Meanwhile, Hugo texts us: “I’ve arrived, where are you?” Very far away, Hugo. Very far
We resign ourselves to waiting when the car in front of us suddenly turns around right there on the motorway. The manoeuvre is bold, but since the turning car leaves a large gap in front of us, our driver carefully decides to do the same. Safety discussions for another day, but at least we are back on our way to Valfréjus. In the end, Hugo is the one who waits for us for thirty minutes.
Back to what I was saying earlier: today, I am hungry. Very hungry. And I eat constantly.
Here is a glimpse of today’s menu:
Breakfast 1: Three pain au chocolat, fruit and coffee
Breakfast 2: Four chocolate crêpes (you do not say no to homemade crêpes)
Lunch 1: Cappuccino, pork and potatoes (at 10.30 am, why not) and a kilo of strawberries (only three euros)
PS: the pork and potatoes were a ready meal that needed a microwave. Spoiler: I do not carry one in my rucksack. Solution: ask a café to heat it up in exchange for buying coffee. Deal made.
Lunch 2: Guacamole and a full bag of crisps (guacamole is dangerously good)
Lunch 3: Cheese and guacamole sandwich (triggered by the fact I had no crisps left for dipping and there was no way I was throwing away guacamole, so cheese guac sandwich it is)
Dinner: The traditional pasta and aperitif to celebrate Hugo’s 1,000 kilometres
By evening, I finally feel full.
At the refuge, we celebrate Hugo’s 1,000 kilometres on the trail. The heavy rain outside makes us appreciate our decision to sleep indoors tonight. On top of that, the beds are incredibly comfortable.
After dinner, we do not stay up too late. Tomorrow, the alarm is set for 5.00 am to attempt the ascent of Mont Thabor, a summit over 3,100 metres. Of course, thunderstorms are forecast around 3.00 pm, but if we set off at 6.00 am tomorrow morning, we should have more than enough time to cross the pass. Right, time to turn the lights off. Goodnight.