Start: Rifugio Grand Tournalin/Finish: Rifugio Barmasse, 13, +977, -1369
From Rifugio Grand Tournalin it's a short hike up to Col de Nanna at 2773m. Quite a few people do the hike up with me, as it's a popular overnight one from the hut.
From Col de Nannaz it's down into Col Fontaines, in a standard, not-challenging-at-all gentle descent, and them down into the valley. At one point I see Lago Cignana, my destination for the day, at eye level, across the valley. All I need to is go all the way down to Valtournache and then back up to on the other side.
From From Col de Nannaz to Cretaz
Almost reaching the valley floor, the trail takes me through the village of Cretaz, a well-preserved old village with communal laundry sinks in the centre (for those of you who trekked the TMB, its very much like Dolonne, on the other side of the river from Courmayeur).
One minute I'm in the narrow cobbled streets of Cretaz, the next I find myself at a largish car park, further juxtaposed with the ancient feel of Cretaz with a water ATM: simply bring your bottles, enter a coin, choose between natural, sparkling or extra sparkling and voilà. I'm curious who the taeget audience for this service is - there's free water literally less than a minute away.
I reach Valtournache, the main town in the eponymous valley, at around noon. Finding the main square, ,my attempt at having an early lunch in the balcony overlooking the valley fails because they are already full. I wander around the main street, with is also the main valley road, full of people and cars. My plan to eat something and then drop by the supermarket is thwarted when I find the supermarket closed. Like so many businesses around these parts, it closes between 12:30 and 15:30. I'm always both impressed and puzzled by this: does this mean they are making enough money in their limited opening hours? is there no pressure on them to open longer hours? A quick survey of the main street shows that the panetteria (selling bread and other baked goods) and La Maison Des Gourmands (selling local products) are closed as well.
Signage here is a bit confusing with conflicting trail marks sending me in different directions. I head down the valley following a set on trail marks, cross the stream and start the climb on a paved road, then a lane running at the back of a small village. Later i'll learn that this is the old route, with a new route sending hikers up the main street and then through the forest on a hiking trail.
Lago Cignana is an artificial lake, and signs of the water works are visible around. In addition to the standard abandoned farm houses throughout the climb, what looks like a large hotel or old villa turns out to be the headquarters for managing the dam. The straight line crossing the mountain that I noticed this morning from the other side of the valley turns out to be a supply trail.
From here the path climbs in a straight line in the forest, and soon the giant wall of the dam is visible. By now there are dozens of people descending from the hut, and again I'm impressed by the diversity of day hikers - people of all ages, families with grandparents and babies. I'm envious of a culture where a day out spent hiking is so natural. I like how the trail is composed of long sections of solitude, punctured with moments like this, full of Buon giorno, Bonjour and Salve.
The trail emerges from the forest just below the right-hand side of the dam. Walking past a modern building, presumably used for the waterwork, I reach the hut. It is strangely surrounded by deserted buildings, made of stone and concrete. Old army buildings? something to do with the dam?
There's still people sitting outside, drinking beer, including a pair I've noticed yesterday at Rifugio Grand Tournalin: two Italian men in their late 40s perhaps, one of them short and squat and silent, the other - tall, lanky and chatty. Chatty notices me, realising he saw me yesterday at the hut. He is not deterred at all by my lack of Italian. He is impressed when I say I'm from Tel Aviv (far, far, he says), and even more so when I explain I'm hiking the AV1. You'd be surprised how little Italian one needs to know to convey this information...
The hut has no wi-fi, but does have hot water. I take advantage and have a shower, cleaning off the sweat of yet another hot day. Heading downstairs, Chatty grabs me and excitedly points at a couple I have not seen before. Tel Aviv, he says. Tel Aviv! turns out they are Israelis, hiking the Sentiero Italia for their honeymoon. We get chatting, and the chat turns into dinner and wine, taking hiking and cultural differences and places we've been to and ones we haven't yet. It's the trail experience I've been craving: spending an evening with like-minded people, knowing that i'll probably never see them again, but i'll remember this night in a hut in the Italian alps. We exchange phone numbers, they head out to put their tent up for the night and I head upstairs to the 8-bunks room which I have to myself.
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