I was in charge of the alarm clock today so we had a two snooze maximum which means I shut the alarm off after two snoozes and counted on waking myself up in another 10 minutes, or so. It worked like a charm. We made it down to breakfast by 7:30 as planned. We shared breakfast with our Israeli friends and he said to not take the road into Courmayeur (which agreed with the guidebook’s assessment). They are veering off of the TMB to do another loop through Switzerland and will return to finish the TMB in about a week.
Pam looked at the weather forecast last night and got herself in a frenzy because it called for rain and ice over night. When I was looking out the dining room window, I saw no evidence of either. All I saw was fog filling the valley. Fog. It was like an LSD flashback to the GR10 (not that I’ve ever tried the drug or even know anyone who has. I am merely referring to a large number of cultural references in which a bad trip gets revisited in times of stress. As always, I am and always have been an angel in regards to illicit drug matters–we’ll leave the subject of alcohol out of this discussion).
Thanks to my outstanding clock management abilities, we managed to get our earliest start of this trail: an astounding start time of 8:44–and we weren’t the last ones out of the refuge. I know at least two pair of boots were still in the shoe room when we walked out.
Heading downhill from the refuge, we passed the Italian gentleman who we had heard rode his motorcycle all the way up from Sicily to Courmayeur and then hiked the TMB. If this was the case, this should be his last day on the trail. We weren’t certain if this was the man, but we were certain that this man wasn’t French because we passed him and he didn’t start running to pass us back up–he seemed cool with someone passing him; definitely not French.
We made great time heading down the valley because it was fairly level walking and we’ve pretty much nailed the easy walking concept, it’s those pesky climbs and descents that get us. You’d think that after nearly 1400 miles, we’d have developed a little cardio capacity or leg strength. We are a modern sports medicine mystery.
We had less than 2000′ of climbing from the valley floor to the ridge we had to cross into the Courmayeur ski area. As we were nearing the midpoint, the guy we had passed caught up to us again (maybe he has French relations somewhere in his family tree?). We couldn’t speak Italian (having barely learned 3 phrases in French in 6 months–I still can’t ask for pepper without having French people starting to bleed out of their ears) and he didn’t speak much English. We smiled a lot and said beautiful because Mont Bianca (that’s Italian for Mont Blanc which is French for White mountain–could I be sneaking a 4th language into my language butchering repertoire?) was starting to reveal portions of her glistening self through the fog much like a fan dancer–a little here, cover that up and show a little there.
Trying to be nice, we offered to let him hike in front of us. He demurred. We’re 99.99% certain he’s not French. We kept walking together and he would catch up with us every time we were breathing into our brown paper bags to stop hyperventilating. We took pictures of each other and Mount Bianca. I finally decided to go for it and find out if this was the motorcycle riding man from Sicily. Through sign language (and Harley Davidson sound affects) we did determine that this was our man. We, more or less, walked the rest of the way into Courmayeur together, never more than 5 minutes apart on the trail and always smiling.
When we stopped for lunch, he caught up with us again except we now noticed that he must have fallen because his pant leg was up and a bandage was on his knee. We offered any assistance we could (first aid kit and vitamin I) but he had it dressed up nicely. For the first time, he allowed himself to pass us because we were taking a long, peanut butter induced haze of a lunch.
We caught up with each other again in the ski area. We sat down at a picnic table and relaxed before the final big descent into town. Honestly, we all had been mesmerized by the massiveness of Mont Blanc. Seeing the glacial washes of past lahars was beyond belief. It’s just unimaginable to see the size of these flood paths. We were standing a few thousand feet above the paths of the floods and could see massive boulders that had washed down the side of the mountain. In between clouds, we could catch sight of the glaciers near the summit of the mountain. Mont Blanc is over 1000′ taller than Mount Rainier and the Massif that we are walking around dwarfs Rainier.
After the ski area, we hit the first portion of trail in nearly two and a half days that we didn’t like. It was steep, dusty, and had lots of loose scree. Our Italian friend was a few minutes in front of us, but we didn’t catch up until we made it into Dolonne just before Courmayeur. He was waiting for us. We finally all introduced ourselves to each other. Sebastiano had completed his trip around Mont Blanc. He waited to make sure we made it safely in to Courmayeur before he jumped on his motorcycle and headed to Genoa this evening.
Sebastiano walked us to the Tourist Information office where we all said good bye. He gave us a business card with his email address on it. Now it made sense why his bandage was so nicely done; he is a physiotherapist and is a doctor in a sports medicine group. Once again, we wish we could speak the language and communicate, but we are continually amazed by the kindness and concern of the people we meet along the way.
We found a bed and breakfast right in the heart of town. I knew if I sat down, I would fall asleep so we headed out to look around a bit. As we were coming out of a little grocery store, we ran into David. He and Michelle are staying the same B&B that we are (there’s over 60 places to stay in town). Just as they think they are ditching us, we show up again.
Courmayeur is one of the most beautiful places we have been. Mont Blanc hovers above the town in the distance with her glaciers draped over her shoulders. This is a high end ski area and the starting point of the Mont Blanc trail run (which we just missed by a few weeks). The runners do in about 24 hours what we are taking 11 days to do–make it around Mont Blanc. In all fairness, though, they aren’t carrying packs and food so it’s hardly comparable.
We are in Italy, and we walked here! Italy will be the only country in Europe that we walk IN and OUT of. Spain we walked into, but took a trail out of. France, we keep coming in and out of so much that we’ve got every mode covered; plane, train, bus, and walking. What if you walked to Italy? What would you have for supper? Pizza, of course.
I knew it…. I knew it! The sign tells it all.