Start: Rifugio Elisabetta/Finish: Albergo Rolland, La Thuile, 16.9, +451, -1140
I've made it to the top. More accurately, I've made it to the top in the time indicated in the sign.
Breakfast and I'm out the door, going in the other direction from everyone else. Down back towards the army barracks, across the stream and up on the other side. There are runners making their way from France into Courmayer, they've been running all night. But soon it's just me and the marmots, out in large numbers this morning.
View from the top at Col des Chavannes
The climb to the pass is not hard. Not only is it not hard in any standard way, it is also not hard for me. The sign at the start of the trail today said 1 hour and 30 minutes. I've made to the top in 1 hour and 30 minutes.
I can't explain the sense of achievement, joy and wonderment it gives me. I want to shout about it, to celebrate. I feel as if now I belong. Now I'm part of the club. There is nothing logical to it. It doesn't matter that the signs are just signs. It doesn't matter that they are there to just give an indication. It is not a test, and i'm not mandated to complete the trail in the time allocated to me.
I've overjoyed. But i'm also weary. This could be a coincidence. After all, it was only a short climb. It doesn't mean It will be the same tomorrow.
Up at Col des Chavannes (2592), the views are expansive, with the Mont Blanc in front of me, and the Italian-French border on the left. Two runners ask me to take their picture and we exchange some words on the trails, and running vs hiking. I love these interactions with like-minded people who i'll never see again and know nothing about, other than their love of the trails.
There are so many marmots it looks like they are sun bathing. Of course they scuttle away when they notice my presence, hiding beneath the rocks, peeking to see if the human has left and it's safe to go back outside.
On the way down
From the pass the trail soon widens to become a gravel road. From here it will be a long way down, sharing the road with hikers, bikers, runners and the occasional cars. Below me is a lovely valley, and the view from above is dotted with deserted farms in all stages of decay.
I really like the little furry creatures, but oh my good, their whistles can sometimes wake the dead.
Deserted farms and houses is a constant here, just like the cows and the marmots. How hard life's been here, how many people left to the towns and cities and never looked back.
Two hours of descent and I decide to stop for a short nap under a beautifully old tree. Barely closing my eyes, a sharp whistles explodes in my ear, jerking me awake with the thudding heart. It's a marmot, standing on a rock beside me. Not nice!
From here is 45 minutes on a asphalt road, with the occasional car forcing me to the narrow edges. And then I'm on the highway, cars and motorbikes whizzing by towards Colle del Piccolo San Bernardo and the French border. Five more minutes downhill and i'm at the outskirts of La Thuille.
I spend rather a lot of time looking for my hotel. There is a sign visible from the trail, but all the streets I pass by here have the same name, and the numbers make no sense. I finally find my hotel, and think maybe I got it wrong, but turns out I did not. La Thuille is composed of a town centre and several frazioni, neighbourhoods that started out as hamlets. For some reason they didn't bother naming the streets in each frazione, so they are all named after the frazione they are in.
Hotel Roland is exactly what a hiker needs in a hotel: simple, homley, and welcoming. The walls of the smal dinning area are decorated with beautifully designed posters in different styles, all advertising the annual Sant'Orso fair. When asked, I'm told by the hotel owner, a lovely German lady, that it's the annual arts and crafts fair taking place in Aosta every year. This year has been the 1023 time it took place.
It's only 13:00, and If it wasn't for my hotel reservation, I would have pushed on to tomorrow's stop - Rifugio Deffeyes, as it's only 3 hours away. That's the challenge in having to book ahead. Next time i'll challenge myself to being more flexible. As i have the entire afternoon at my disposal, I go out exploring. La Thuille is a ski town, but I get to see what that looks like at the end of the hiking season: empty and a bit sad. There are a few tourists around, wondering aimlessly. The supermarket, located at the edge of town next to the ski lifts and the caravan park, is empty, it's shelves almost bare. It's clearly not being restocked, with the season ending.
Back at the hotel, I skip dinner (can we talk about stomach problems and hiking? these two do not go well together. And the food here is tasty and plentiful, but it would be nice to have a vegetable or two every once in a while). Today has been a good day.
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