Start: Cogne/Finish: Rifugio Dondena, 21.8km, +1308, -649
I was counting on sleeping at Rifugio Sogno di Berdzè (who's name I don't know how to pronounce and is therefore known in my head at Rifugio fjdkflsdfjk), but I was unable to reach them by phone last night to reserve a bed.
Stopping by the Cogne Information Center this morning, they tell me the hut was closed unexpectedly last night. It seems that they are not happy with this. So I call Rifugio Miserin, the next hut over, to make a reservation for tonight.
The weather is turning, and rather than the heat that's been constant for the first two weeks, I can feel autumn coming. The forecast promises rain, and it really does feel as if today it will happen.
The trail takes me through the main street of Cogne. The smells coming out of the bakery slash deli are too enticing, and I walk in to find they sell Bruttinoni, crunchy meringue-y hazelnut cookies that I absolutely love. I buy a few and can't help myself but munch on them as I walk the easy 45 minutes from Cogne to the village (and the waterfalls) of Lillaz.
As I start the climb from Lillaz, the man that overtook me in Promound is here as well. Unless he also skipped a few stages, he's been very fast. He is clearly surprised to see me.
Today is mostly up, with an unusually long section in the woods, crossing the river several times. At one point it's clear the bridge has been destroyed, and the temporary bridge they installed looks more like a ladder than a bridge.
As I cross from the forest to the meadow, the view is distinctively autumnal, with the green of the summer making way to the browns and yellow of fall. It's not the same browns and yellows that I know from home, created by the withering of all plants due to the long dry summer. It's browns and yellows of leaves turning, dramatic and oh so beautiful. I see a marmot, and do my eyes deceive me, or has it changed its colour too? It's a gut-wrenching kind of beauty, making my heart expand with equal parts wonder, joy and longing.
I'd like to be over the pass and down by the other side before rain arrives. Remember my fear of descents? muddy, slippery ones are even worse. But i'm loathed to let go of this view.
Rifugio Rifugio Sogno di Berdzè is just below the pass, and there's a bike path leading up to it. It is indeed closed, but they left the dorm room unlocked as a winter room. I go there to hide from the wind, quickly eating lunch as it starts drizzling.
The climb into the pass is probably the easiest one I've had on this trail, 300 meters ascent on a well-made path, the zigs and the zags very long and not steep at all. Even the high-voltage electricity pylons cannot distract form the beautiful scenery on both sides of the wide pass.
Thankfully the drizzle did not turn into rain, and the descent is easy, even with the boulders being wet.
Rifugio Misrin is beautifully situated next to a lake. It's a somber building, made of stone with a large, even more somber church next to it. It used to be a hostel, build to accommodate the men crossing the mountains to find work in on the other side. It's cold and windy as I reach the hut, but inside it's inviting and warm and I immediately fall in love.
But they don't have my reservation. And they are full.
You see, Rifugio Miserin and Rifugio Dondena, the next one over, are owned by the same family. And share phone numbers. And when I called to make a reservation, I booked the wrong one.
So I walk to Rifugio Dondena, longingly thinking of the warmth of Rifugio Miserin. Luckily it's not a long walk, and 45 minutes down the mountain brings me to the hut. I've read that it used to be the king's hunting lodge, but there's nothing to indicate it on the outside. On the inside it is relatively specious, but not particularly inviting. I have a room on my own, with it's own bathroom (!)
There's other in the hut, with at least 6 tables taken at dinner. But with the common room being large, and the rules of social distancing, there's no feeling of camaraderie. This is to be my last hut, and I look back on my experience in the huts. I don't know whether this is due to the trail I chose not being very known, or whether it's covid-19, or not speaking Italian, but the huts have been more of a lonely experience, compared to previous trips. I still adore the huts system, and the culture around it. It's the thing that makes it possible for people like me to take these long trips. They are providers of shelter, and advise and a kind face to see at the end of a long day.
After dinner, and two glasses of wine, I head back to my room. Burrowing under a pile of blankets, it doesn't take me long to fall asleep. Today has been long, but not rough. Today has been a good day.
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