After a few days sampling the urban pleasures of London and Paris, we took the train to Chamonix, France, where we prepared for our hike. From Chamonix, we took a short (6 km) train ride to Les Houches, where the hike began. We ran into a heavy lightning storm on that first day of hiking, and decided to stop for the day sooner than expected at the Miage dortoir. (A dortoir is a mountain refuge; literally, "dormitory." )
I begin my journal excerpt with the entry from the following evening.
July 24 -- Thursday
Refuge de la Croix du Bonhomme, France
I'm writing this by very dim candle light in the Refuge de la Croix du Bonhomme. It's raining outside, still twilight at 9 p.m. I've just skunked Chris 2-0 at gin rummy. This is the first time I've approached this accomplishment -- dimmed only slightly by the fact that he was writing in his journal at the same time that he was playing.
Today was a long day. But at least we did not have to endure much in the way of rain, fortunately. We got a late start, being the last hikers out of the dortoir, at 9 a.m. Up to Truc, then down to the resort town of Les Contamines where we had crepes for lunch.
Then along a level road and path, past many local families out for a stroll, each of whom greeted us with a "Bon jour." We arrived at Notre Dame de la Gorge, a painted church that is a prime sightseeing attraction in the area. Then steeply up an old Roman road to Nant-Bourrentz, where we stopped at a pleasant outdoor café, surrounded by neat lawns and high mountains, and had cokes.
We continued on to Balme, where we planned to stop for the night. It was only 4 p.m., however, and so we decided to go on to this refuge, in order to make up some of the time we lost yesterday by stopping at Miage. I figured that we were only an hour and fifty minutes from de la Croix, which would get us in about dinner time. After we had hiked about a half hour uphill, however, I discovered that the actual time would be two hours, 50 minutes. I suggested that we return to Balme. I was concerned that we no longer had any food in our packs -- we had split the last Snickers into three pieces -- and that we might arrive starving after dinner had already been served. But Chris -- who had been looking very tired since the beginning of the trek -- resisted the idea of giving up the altitude we had just gained. So we went on ahead, with Chris unexpectedly charging into the lead. Chris led for the rest of the day, and was first at the col du Bonhomme and the first to arrive at the refuge.
As I came over the final col, the col de la Croix, I was totally exhausted. The sight of this large, modern, clean-looking building was like a mirage. Chris had already checked us in, and had found us a tidy room with bunkbeds all to ourselves.
A few minutes of examining maps, and then on to dinner -- rice with beef stew topping, soup, cheese plate and custard. Then gin rummy, and journal writing. Now, at 9:10, we realize that we're almost alone in the common room. Bed will look very good, although, strangely enough, I feel quite well and alert now that I've had dinner.
July 25 -- Friday
Elizabetta, Italy
I woke up several times last night feeling dehydrated. I have to remember to get more fluids.
I'm writing this in the dining room of Elizabetta refuge -- Italy! This place is really crowded. Our beds -- straw mats -- are side by side in a large dorm room on the third floor under the eaves. The roof comes so low at the foot of the beds that we could get our feet wedged between the roof and the floor. Chris and I inveigled Denny into playing rummy with us. Denny won -- but still hates the game.
Up fairly late this morning, and began the 1½ hour descent into Les Chapieux. It was raining all the way down. (We had lots of lightning last night and very heavy rain -- nice to be under a roof, and not in a tent!) We arrived at Les Chapieux fairly early, and stopped for café au lait. We drank slowly, but the rain continued. So we sat around some more, and I surrendered my briefly-owned gin rummy championship back to Chris. Then we had lunch in a crowded room filled primarily by a tour group who had arrive by bus. (The restaurant is part of the Auberge de la Nova, in case I'm ever back this way again. A very pleasant hostelry.)
We couldn't decide whether to stay at the auberge because of the inclement weather, or to hike onward. Braver thoughts prevailed, and we hiked for 1½ hours up a long road to Mottets, then up an interminable series of switchbacks to the col de la Seigne -- which marks the Italian frontier. Then down a valley to Elizabetta shelter. It's been a long day, and we're all tired and in need of showers. But feeling quite satisfied with ourselves.
We had a brief conversation with some Italian hikers who had come the same direction as we did, but who hitchhiked up the long road to Mottets. I had some satisfaction in serving as a translator between these hikers and Chris and Denny.
We've decided to take a break day in Courmayeur -- and are feeling quite excited about this prospect.
We had a long day hiking from the Elizabetta shelter to the Italian resort town of Courmayeur. We loved the town -- what's not to love? -- and felt like explorers, long lost in the wilderness, who had stumbled into an upscale resort community. We found a hotel room for three, at $100 per night, at the Select Hotel. We stayed there two nights. I exulted in my journal:
July 27 -- Sunday -- 11:20 a.m.
Courmayeur, Italy
Happiness is reclining in a canvas lawn chair on an old wooden deck outside your hotel room in Courmayeur, the warm sun at your back, staring at snowy peaks through the trembling leaves of nearby trees, and listening as a favorite nephew reads you rambling, poetic passages from Jack Kerouac -- passages that transform the gritty world of South San Francisco into images as dreamy and evocative as a lazy summer day in the Italian Alps.
We didn't realize it at that point, but our Tour du Mont Blanc would come to a premature end just two days later. Denny had injured his knee several years earlier, and had undergone knee surgery. On Monday, his knee began giving him problems, and we had to hike very slowly down to the valley at La Vachey. His knee only became more of a problem the following day, as we crossed the Swiss frontier to La Fouly. We decided to cut the hike short at that point -- two nights short of completing the circuit -- and took the train back to Chamonix to pick up our non-hiking baggage. We spent the extra days before our return flight from Geneva on train trips to Zermatt and across the border to Munich. We of course celebrated the end of an enjoyable vacation in the usual manner at the Hofbrauhaus.
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