Refuge Robert Blanc to Maison Veille

As eager as I was to begin hiking down and over to the Col de la Seigne, I failed to research the trail. It did not go down. Instead, it went straight across the face of Mont Tondu. Uh, ok sure, no problem, how hard can it be?Very hard is the answer.

Italy was waiting for me as I strapped on the shoes and backpack.

Almost immediately the path turned from rocks into dirt, but not really dirt. More like a slippery solid clay mixture that had flaked into a million pieces. Each step forced the ground out of the way as it tried to resist the force being applied to it. The feet would slip a few inches down each time I tried to stop level.

Several descents did take place, but they brought me towards ever increasing obstacles.

First was the 2x4 wooden beam laid across a gully that had a stream of water running underneath it with two steel ropes to hold on to as you crossed.

The ground, which was solid stone now, turned from flat into slanted and bulging, making the footing tricky. The trekking poles came in handy, giving me a solid planting to push up and off from.

Next came the chains that you had to climb and pull yourself up. Good thing I started doing pull-ups back at home before leaving for the trip. The third and final type of obstacle was fields of boulders with gaps in-between them. Each boulder moved just enough when you stepped on it to make you panic. The dark gaps between the rocks made you realize that they were piled high.

Most of the two hour traverse of this mountainside was filled with a variation of these types of obstacles. Time and again I would get turned around, and have to search for the double yellow line marks, or a cairn, which would tell me that I was back on the right path.

Finally the end of this mountainside trek was here, and it was a nearly vertical climb using steel cables the entire way. With a threshold of only a few inches, the climb zig zagged up the side of the cliff that would bring us to the Col de la Seigne.

After reaching the top and pulling myself up and over onto flat, grassy, ground once more, a strange feeling washed over me. I wasn’t relieved that I had survived, no, it wasn’t that kind of feeling. It was a feeling of “I did that, I pushed myself and did that”. It was a feeling of triumph and personal best.

During the morning trek, I had become separated from a pair of Golden Teapot toting Swiss-germans. They were more experienced than I was, and had sped ahead. I quickly set off on foot for the Col and to rejoin them.

The col offered beautiful views back into France, and forwards into Italy. I did not stay here long since I did not see my new hiking companions. I raced down from the top. I had learned how to do fast descents on gradually sloping dirt paths in Spain (walk like a monkey, trust me), and made quick work of this part.

Rifugio Elisabetta was the next resting place, but again after not seeing them, I kept going.

Glaciers and mountains surrounded me as the vegetation transitioned from grass to bushes to trees. A few cow herders decided that now was a good time to let their creatures cross the path. I took an alternate route to get down to the valley floor because of this.

Once I got to the valley floor I turned on the after burners. Speed walking was my jam, and I made quick work towards Lac Combal.

There was no sight of them along this part though, and I decided to stop speed talking and save the speed, because more ascents were on the way.

It would take another three hours of up’s and downs (mostly ups) while Mont Blanc smiled down at me. Before I realized it I was already high above the valley floor again, and the views took me by surprise. It’s hard to put these types of things in perspective until you’re either very high up or very low down.

Mont Blanc decided to hide behind clouds for the entire afternoon, and I was focused the lake dotted path in front of me, especially since the cow herds had returned and were taking up most of the path. I always felt nervous when I tried to pass them.

I ran out of water an hour from my destination, not good! But, I arrived safe and sound, with my reservation waiting for me. Some familiar faces gradually arrived, along with someone from Barcelona who I had met at Auberge le Truc. I also had a chance to say so-long to the Swiss-germans who were there relaxing before they would be continuing on that afternoon.

The place had beautiful views of the valley that would bring us to Courmayeur. Ponies and horses lived at this refuge, and they came out to say hello. The horses also tried to get inside in order to get at the food.

Dinner was delicious, the evening sky was relaxing, and the beds were comfortable. I can feel a congestion in my sinuses coming on…