A long walk in the Piedmont

Today was a monster of a day. S woke up with a stinking cold and elected to stay in bed. The rest of us headed off on a long drive to our start point, a car park above Rhêmes-Notre Dame, our goal a refuge at 2,300 metres. An hour and a half to reach it, allegedly. I was slightly concerned about this … but we started off well, a fairly easy climb. Then we were confronted with a steep-banked, gurgling stream. There was a wobbly plank about 3 inches wide to cross it. Lorenzo scampered across it like a mountain goat. None of the rest of us wanted to fall in this early in the walk, so he spent a few minutes constructing a footpath by lobbing stones, then helped us across. Both he and I got wet feet in the process. No-one else did, because they all have big sturdy British walking boots, not fell-running shoes. I’d have preferred it to be not so early in the walk, but it’s fine — most of the water squirts out as you walk, and the rest warms up to match your body temperature.

Only a little further on, Lorenzo scrutinised the narrow pass in the distance and declared it too blocked with snow for us to cross. So we climbed up to the alternative much longer but less steep route, along the gravelled track leading to the refuge. It was very scenic (blip) and we saw loads of alpine flowers, birds, and marmottes pretending to be rocks (extra). Water was gushing everywhere and we splashed through more streams. Then, exciting moment of the day, we encountered a neve — a slope of compacted snow blocking the track. You need to be wary of these — they often have water flowing underneath, and are less solid than they look. Lorenzo climbed up to a thicker part, testing with his stick, and led us across one at a time, stepping in his footprints.

We crossed another easier one before we reached a bridge with a small hydroelectric plant. Not far to the refuge, in theory. Instead of continuing up the track we took a very steep, rocky short cut which suddenly and unexpectedly offered us a vista of hundreds of beautiful white and pale yellow flowers — ID to come later when I’ve looked at Google Lens. Edit: pulsatilla alpina/Alpine anemone. I’ll do an album of flowers when I’m back home. Such wonderful variety.

I was pretty tired by now, and looking up saw the refuge perched on a rocky outcrop seemingly close, but very high above us. And a steep and snowy slope to contend with. I was tempted to give up at this point, as was Bundle, but I sternly told myself not to be a wimp. The snowy bit was mercifully short, and then there was a bit of scrambling left to do. We all made it! I felt really proud of myself … definitely well out of my comfort zone.

At the refuge, we stuffed ourselves with snacks (the lunch was in the van) and then sheltered from the spitting rain. A couple of Italian women took a photo of us — I’ll post it as an extra. It had taken us a mere 3 hours and 15 minutes. Bundle and I put on our waterproof trousers, which was enough to prompt the rain to stop. Then we set off back, walking all the way on the track this time in order to avoid the scrambling down rocks and the foot-wetting stream. More marmots and gorgeous flowers. When we got to this morning’s neve, there were two young and fit-looking men hesitating next to it. Two middle-aged women ahead of us bounded confidently over it. And when the young men saw decrepit old people like us picking our way across following Lorenzo, they decided they couldn’t be shown up like that and joined us. It was certainly wetter and more slippery than it had been in the morning.

Finally, back at the van! Stats: 12.2 km, 480 m climbing … 6 hours! But only 3 hours 45 minutes of that were actually moving. Definitely the hardest walk I’ve done since we were in Abruzzo in 2019. Wikiloc for the interested:
https://fr.wikiloc.com/itineraires-randonnee/rifugio-benevolo-216733868

I Whatsapped S to say we were back down and he asked if we were on our way back. Nope: we drove 15 minutes to a picnic park for “lunch” — at 4:30. We eventually got back to the hotel at about 6. No-one was hungry enough to contemplate dinner, but I was a bit worried that S would be starving. So when Lorenzo said he was driving to the supermarket to buy tomorrow’s lunch, Bundle, the other S and I joined him. The supermarket was vast and confusing, and very poorly supplied with instantly edible food. I eventually tracked down a quiche. Back at the hotel, S ate a quarter of it and pronounced it disgusting. But Lorenzo had suggested going down to the village bar for a beer, so S joined us, and to our surprise the owner brought us a generous platter of charcuterie and cheese, plus bread, crisps, and peanuts, perhaps because we were foreigners. S ate nearly all of it while we enjoyed our well-earned beer.

And so to bed!