Below is a compilation of my entries during the hike:
I sip my tea and just sit still, listening to the sound of the rushing river and cow bells clinking. Watch the clouds move slowly, always evolving. It appears that the mountains, animals, houses and people have all found the peace which I am experiencing a part of. I feel blessed. September 11. Refuge Des Mottets. Rising higher into the clouds soon the sound of the bells blend with the sound of the river until the two are indistinguishable. They grow faint, as a silence takes over. It is hanging in the clouds like a hazy blanket, waiting to envelop whoever enters. The beauty is in the silence, because taking away one sense heightens another; I start to become aware of the mist in the air and on the grass, the fog opening and closing windows through which I can get a glimpse of the majestic peaks and valleys before me. September 13 Ref. Bonatti The alps have a very strong resemblance to the Canadian Rockies. They are wild and unforgiving, with jagged peaks, vast forests, glacial rivers, steep valleys and high passes. What separates the two is the flocks of sheep and cows followed by their shepherds, power lines running in unimaginable places, and warm, inviting guest houses. As I hike, my mind drifts to different thoughts, which go as freely as they come. Sometimes they are conversations with myself about my purpose on the hike. Other times I am just counting the breaths I take on a steep uphill slope. Clouds drift by, enveloping me in their swirling blanket, like a bubble beyond which everything disappears into the abyss. For a long time the bubble will be mine alone, until shapes emerge out of the fog, and the dreamlike episode is over. Elevation is gained and elevation is lost. Victories won, and then lost, only to start all over again. the clouds continue to change and manipulate the visibility of the landscape before me. September 14 Champex To stay at guest houses is to become privy to an unofficial yet exclusive club of people dedicated to their love of nature and the mountains. You will not find such a collection of mountain geeks, self proclaimed experts, and philosophers in a city hostel. Once the wine begins to mix with dehydrated blood, conversation can be addicting, even when there is much sleep to be had. But every time, you learn something. A glimpse into the life of a person, or a new culinary miracle, the list goes on. And so does the wine. September 15 Trient It's only fitting to finish with something which is only so familiar yet brand new at the same time. A mountain refuge perched high in the alps, one of few which is not accessible by road and requires you to prove yourself prior to access by forcing a challenging ascent involving ladders, boulders, and a substantial elevation gain. The reward however is a trip back in time to the Nepalese Himalayas, of the guest houses situated in impossible places, with spectacular views of the valley, a teal blue lake out front, and friendly Sherpa guides. Despite no Masala tea or Dhal Bhat, we had a three course dinner of soup, pasta with a (marmot) stew, and hot wine. Did I say Marmot?! We were never really sure, but it was great regardless.. The wind whipped and howled at night, reminding us that we were in the domain of the mountain gods, and given the chance would tear the place apart and chill us to the bone. But the refuge stood strong, and our beds remained warm. The excitement and anxiety of finishing the hike growing in our hearts, while our minds demanded rest. Tomorrow would be the final day, the final push, for the finish of a great adventure. Sempember 16 Refuge Lac Blanc Elevation gained, elevation lost. Preparing mentally for the final 9 hour descent only worked if I did not think about the descent at all, but just as another day of hiking. Simple, like waking up in the morning and going to work. Only we would gear up, don full waterproof gear with minimal amount of skin exposure, and head out to complete the last leg of the hike. The weather was not terrible, but this fact was all the more depressing. A drizzle of rain, grey clouds, low visibility. The fog threatened once again to enclose us. And as we pushed on, the sky raged. Rain turned to ice, clouds blocked all view of the surrounding area, as if trying to hike the yellow signs which defined our route. it was as if the mountains themselves had turned against us, refusing to release us back to the human realm. Water found holes, seeped through zippers, filled boots, furthering our misery. Not only was I fully aware that the contents of my top backpack compartment were soaked, but I was also feeling the cold set in as we abruptly began to gain elevation. Rain turned to snow, wind was sending near horizontal sheets of ice at our faces. And then the cable car emerged. I will never know if it would have been safe to push on into the growing storm, soaked head to toe. But the risk is not always worth the reward, and at times it is better to feel human, and give into the mountains, than to be rebellious against the forces of nature. In the end, they could not take the away the pride of having completed the classic 166km ultra route, of having pushed on for sometimes as many as 11 hours, until dusk, until fatigue was a regular sensation. The last "classic" 10 km would be ran a day later, with impeccable views which would have otherwise been missed. One can not say that the mountains nor people in a region are more intense than others, or that they are more pure. Because each experience is individual, unique. My experience in the Alps was one of self discovery. I found happiness, pain, impatience, endurance. In the end, and before starting the next great adventure, we should ask, how much can I endure? September 17 Les Houches
3 Comments
S S
9/22/2015 02:56:33 pm
Incredible! Like a thought straight out from heart and mind!
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Colin
9/22/2015 09:01:52 pm
Wine is a good replacement for masala tea !
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Duncan
9/27/2015 11:58:51 am
Fascinating...
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