At time of writing, I am sat in a hotel just outside Paris, on my way back to the UK. This year's alpine adventure is coming to an end.
The last few days of my time in the Vanoise National Park were unfortunately dogged by bad weather. On my very last day, I headed up to the Col de la Chal, which acts as a handy connector between the valley of the Ponteuran river and the heights of the Lac des Moutons and Les Arcs. It would have been a fantastic and fitting conclusion to the trip, had I not become completely engulfed by mist as I neared the top. It was an improvement on the previous two days of rain and storms, but still enormously frustrating.
As I stated in the introduction at the very start, I was expecting worse weather in this area than at Serre Ponçon, but I was still hoping I would be lucky. I guess – despite the perhaps prevalent image of hikers as being old conservative men in anoraks – hiking does take a lot of risk, and the weather is probably the biggest risk of all. But, if you are going to places largely undiscovered, you need to take risks.
And, of course, you have to go the distance to discover. Over the past three weeks I have travelled miles upon miles in both car and on foot in order to walk where relatively few have walked before. These have taken the form of everything from short strolls to epic adventures, and I have seen everything from jagged cliffs to all-pervasive forests, from sweeping glacier to pointed peaks, from marmots to chamois to lamaguire, from the deep blue of Lac de Serre Ponçon to the gushing waterfalls of the Ponteuran valley. It has been a fantastic few weeks, and I have enjoyed every second. And I have, I hope, provided you with some handy guides so you can explore these areas yourself.
Each blog post is, in truth, part guide, part description and part musings - feel free to comment below any of them if you find any errors, anything you particularly agree of disagree with, or indeed if you would like more information about any of the walks. All walks are, I have tried to ensure, correct at time of writing. I hope you have a great time hiking, whatever the weather.
Funny about that weather though. This morning - the morning I left Nancroix and the Vanoise behind - I awoke not to rain, not to thunder and lighting, not to mist, but a brilliant blue, cloudless sky. I looked around the valley, to find all of the mountains I had not see for days were now not only visible, but crystal clear and beautiful. On the north side of the valley, the spikes of the Aigilles de Russ and Aigilles de Grieve sat defiantly, the early morning sunshine picking out all of the different nooks and crannies of their cliffs spectacularly. Further down the valley, the glaciers of Mont Pouree to the north and the Sommet de Bellecote to the south glimmered beautifully; this week has been defined as much by glacier as anything else and it was great to see them one last time before I left. At the head of the valley, a rocky monolith: the giant pyramid of l'Alliet stood proud, gazing down the entirety of the valley, no doubt watching for new hikers to come and discover its kingdom.
I, however, am heading in the opposite direction: back to the UK, back to my native hills of the Lake District. Weather permitting, I shall be detailing some of the undiscovered walks of the Lakes very shortly.
But as far as the Alps go, that is your lot for this year. If you are heading there some time soon I hope you have a great time discovering them for yourself.
Cheers,
Jack.
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