Start: Rifugio Dondena/Finish: Pontboset, 15.7km, +36, -1439
The last days on the trail should take me first into the small village of Chardonnay. The trail used to end here, but they've recently added two more days. From Chardonnay via into the tiny village of Crest, sleeping at Dortoir Crest, and then down into Donnas through the last Col of the trail. Preparing for the trip, I found very little written about those additional two days. I wasn't even sure what a Dortoir is, and how/if I should book it.
And now there are several parameters to consider: yesterday I walked further than originally planned. Ending my day in Chardonnay will make for a short day, which I'm a not a fan of. I couldn't find accommodation in either Chardonnay or Champorcher - most places were either full, offering only family accommodation or not allowing booking of just a single night. Trying to reach Dortoir Crest (communication via whatsapp!) I find they are closed for the season. The map shows there's another option, Dortoir Retempio, an hour away from Crest, but I can't reach them and I don't want to take the risk in case they are full or closed.
I want to finish the trail, I want to complete the circle and get back to the starting point. But I also think I'm done. With the season ending, continuing will make for a more lonely experience, and I think I've had enough. But I also don't want to let go of this beauty. Not to get too philosophical, but the trail doesn't have to end when the trail marks end. If time is not a limitation, how do you know when the trail is ending?
I decide to complete the circle, but rather than take the AV2, say my goodbyes to the high mountains and make my way down into Donnas and the main Aosta valley through the Champorcher valley.
From Rifugio Dondena I take the AV2 into Chardonnay, the trail taking me below the cable car (unfortunately), and on an ancient paved road (beautiful, but not very practical with hiking boots). At Chardonnay I say goodbye to the AV2 and the triangular trail sign that's been my constant companion for the past three weeks, and take a local trail down the gorge. The scenery is quietly dramatic, with small villages alternating with waterfalls and bridges.
I stop at one of the villages, finding the local grocery store. It's one person at a time, and as I wait outside, I'm interrogated by the other shoppers, all clearly tourists. They are impressed by my backpack, impressed by the idea of spending my vacation hiking on my own. I'm embarrassed by these encounters, not sure what to say, I just shrug and smile shyly. Inside it's a tinny, old-fashioned store, the kind where you the seller asks after your family's health, and fetches the products for you. They have a home-made apple cake on the counter, and I buy a piece. It weighs a ton. I'm not hungry, nor do I lack in supply, but I can't not taste it - what if it's the best apple cake in the world?
Moving on, the trail takes me through a small meadow, more of a clearing in the forest, with an abandoned building and the familiar cow fence. Like almost all fences I've seen here, it's not a sturdy one, just a few strings, with one section lowered for ease of access for hikers. As I climb over it, a lone cow stares at me. And stares. And stares. And then it starts walking towards me, raising its hind leg just like in the cartoons, you know that moment when the bull sees the red flag and loses it? just that. At first I hesitate, then I get a bit scared, and then the sense of urgency takes over. I start walking backwards, climbing up through the forest, giving the cow a wide breadth. All this time I was telling myself there is nothing to fear, it's only cows, only to encounter an angry one at the end of my trip.
As I head back down into the trail, I look back and see the cow staring at me. It all seems silly now that I'm at the other side of the meadow.
Like so many of the villages here, Pontboset is long, the narrow gorge allowing for only a long main street and some smaller side street. As I walk along the main street, I come across the square with a large church looming over, only to realize that the people milling about are waiting for a funeral to start. I put my head down, feeling as if I'm intruding on something private, intimate, me with my big bag and my ratty hiking gear. Overtaking the hearse, I find my hotel a few steps down the road, a large, somewhat forbidding building. But inside Ostello Lou Créton di Lui has a nice little yard with benches and the inside is warm and welcoming. The host Andrea is just lovely. Chatting to him I find he is a local, and the hotel's name is in the local language. I've heard of it, but this is the first time I meet a speaker. It is based on Provencal, and sounds nothing like French or Italian.
If I want dinner, he says, I should head over to the restaurant at the entrance to the village to book my table for tonight. Rain starts as I head out, first time on my trip. The restaurant just finished serving lunch, so I book my place and order coffee. The funeral is over by the time I come back, and I know realize that the posters I saw in the villages today, the ones with the photo of a man and a date, are not, as I thought, an invite for a lecture, but a death announcement.
Dinner is served at 8 and by now I'm starved. The rain has stopped, but the air feels fresh. The restaurant is full, 7-8 tables with families and pairs. It's a set menu, and for 15(!) euros I get soup, risotto, meat and vegetables, desert, coffee and wine. Food is served communally, with the waitress coming out of the kitchen with the pot, walking around the room dolling its content out. Once everyone are served, she makes a second round until the pot is empty. Hearty, tasty meal for what has become my last day on the trail.
As I was checking in, Andrea offered to give me al lift back to the trail tomorrow morning, if I decide I want to get back on the AV2. I thanked him and said I need to make a decision and let him know if I'm taking him up on his very generous offer. But as I head back from dinner, I can't find him anywhere, and guessing that he has already retired for the night, I don't want to disturb him. So tomorrow it's down the valley. tomorrow is my last day.
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