Oh, the wind, THE WIND!

Hobart's weather a couple of days ago

One hundred and six kilometres per hour in the city, one hundred and thirty on Mt Wellington. That's how the wind blew a couple of days ago, with those strong northerlies pushing the temperature in the city up to just under 28 degrees centigrade. Pretty warm for this time of the year, as the mean maximum is only 18.7. Nowhere near the highest ever recorded temperature for November though, which is a whopping 36.8. Yes, we do have strange weather here in our outpost at the end of the world.

The wind has continued to blow pretty strongly for the past forty-eight hours, although as I type this I note that it has eased back into the thirties, with gusts "only" in the fifties. Not so bad as it has been, but spare a thought for the riders in the Tour of Tasmania, who are time-trialling to the top of Mt Wellington right at the moment. To add to the mix, a bit of rain started to fall an hour or so ago, so things will be spicy for them. Check out what they're getting on the summit of Mt Wellington right at the moment, especially the Apparent Temperature and the wind ...

Conditions on Mt Wellington

So, yes it's good to be home. I've had a couple of bike rides since I've been back, but I'm glad I'm not in the saddle riding up Mt Wellington just at the moment. This morning we had breakfast out on the way to the supermarket, and I remarked to Di how lovely it is to be home, at our favourite café and see the some familiar and friendly faces that we've been seeing over a number of years. We'd like to take some out-of-state and overseas visitors there when they come to visit ...

The wind has been playing havoc in the garden with the broad beans. They were looking so good when we returned five days ago, standing in a phalanx over a metre high, proud and covered in flowers with a few small pods already starting to appear. Many of them are now wounded - hopefully not mortally - and resting on the ground. Let's  hope that's all for such strong winds before the beans fully ripen.

Wind is a fact of life here in Hobart, especially in the spring and autumn when the weather patterns are readjusting themselves. It has got me to thinking about how in some parts of the world the wind seems to really be a part of the collective psyche. Some of you - if you're in my age bracket at least - may remember this great Cat Stevens classic from almost forty years ago ...

Compared to Hobart, I don't know how just how windy it is in London where Cat Stevens/Steven Georgiou/Yusuf Islam grew up, but a Google search suggests that it is plenty windy enough.

Our relationship with the wind does seem to bring out lots of creativity, and the theme seems to feature prominently in the arts. Given the title of Ken Loach's great film about the Irish War of Independence - The Wind That Shakes The Barley - one can only conclude that it's pretty windy in Ireland too. If you haven't seen the film it's something that's worth checking out. Here's a short trailer (sorry about the French subtitles, but I particularly like this trailer) ...

Of course, film takes its name from the Robert Joyce song about that war that finally broke the chains of English rule. There are many covers of that song, but I especially like this one by Loreena McKennitt ...

What a voice, eh!

Something completely different but equally powerful is the iconic version of "They Call the Wind Maria" from Paint Your Wagon ...

The sound in this clip isn't as good as for the McKennitt tune, but you get the picture, so to speak. And if you have never see "Paint Your Wagon" but love classic musicals, then it's something you really should get hold of, along with a big bucket of popcorn, before you die. I just realised how much I really am showing my age today. That great film was made 45 years ago. Whoa!

Of course it's not just artists that are inspired by the wind: there are also scientists inspired by artists inspired by the wind. And it's been going on for years!

Once again, Bob Dylan, another face from the distant past comes to the fore ... from over fifty years ago! (Don't worry, I am starting to wind this up ...)

Di's making rumblings about it being lunchtime. We've got the fixings for a couple of Reuben sandwiches about the place, so I think I'll get on and put them together. Enough rambling for the moment ...

Catchya later!

Catching some culture - modern and ancient

On the whole, we were extremely fortunate with the weather we had on our six and a half week holiday in the Haute Alpes, with only about four days of really wet weather. One of those was a couple of days after we finished the GR54, when we did nothing much except read all day long. Luxury, really. Then, just before we were due to come home we had three days that didn't augur well for climbing. On one of those days we went for a walk back up to Refuge de l'Alpe de Villar d'Arène (where Di and I  had spent the third night of our circuit of the Tour des Ecrins); on the other two we did a bit of driving, including popping over to Italy briefly.

Going to Italy

Our apartment just south of Briançon was only a short a short drive from the border, so when it had been raining all night and we woke up to showers on the 19th we decided it might be interesting to go to Italy. Sestrière, which was a main venue for the 2006 Winter Olympics, seemed like an interesting place to take a look at and was relatively close so we went there. Almost all of the 800 or so people that Wikipedia says live there  must have been hiding out from the rain on the day we visited, as the streets were pretty much deserted. No one seemed to be out golfing on what - along with at least a couple of others - claims to be the highest 18-hole course in Europe.

We did pop into a ski shop that was totally filled with the new season's clothing, where HJ tried on a ski jacket that was worth 600 Euros, but he decided he didn't really need it. They had a lot of other flash stuff on the racks but no climbing clothing, so I didn't think it was worth hanging around.
There was one café that was actually open, so we popped in there for coffee (the real reason for crossing the border!) and fresh Italian pastries. The coffee was definitely better than the standard fare across the border, but not a patch on the world's best coffee found  ...  in Australia, of course! Is that an idle boast? No, not at all; actually that should be emphatically: NO! Melbourne has been voted as having the best coffee in the world; it holds a coffee expo each year; the world's best baristas think it's right up there; and baristas from Australia regularly place high in the World Barista Championships (which was held in Melbourne in 2013).

After our sampling of the coffee in Sestrière, we headed down the hill to the gorgeous little town of Cesana Torinese where we wandered around and visited a couple of wonderful specialty wine and food shops. I would have liked to bring home a whole container load of some of the different pastas, cheeses, charcuteries and, of course, great wines! In the end we just brought a couple good bottles of wine back across the border along with some nice grissini.

Fort Queyras: Stepping back into the 13th Century

Visiting Italy was a bit of a lark but with the weather still being a bit damp we didn't feel much like hanging around so we headed back over the border. There was still a good bit of the day left so HJ thought it might be interesting to go to Fort Queyras, which we'd passed and admired when we had our day up at La Blanche. The first stage of the fort was finished by 1265, then added to a number of times, most notably by Vauban in the 17th century. Di preferred to kick back at the apartment and read her book, so it was only HJ, Tammy and I that continued on south from Briançon.

A plus to heading down to the Queyras area was that the weather was much better when we got there. Unfortunately the photos I took don't give a real sense of what it was like to poke around but I'll show you a few anyway ...

Here's a turret that you see as you approach the fort ...

Turrets provides protection for the corners of the castle

... and the section of the fort it protects ...

In the trench below the outer walls (once filled with water?) a quintain awaits ...

quintain

Here's one of many old large doorways inside the castle ...

... and a mixture of older and newer parts of the castle, with some old walls and a newer building with large slate tiles on the roof ...

Archers' slots on two levels meant that the castle could rain arrows down on attackers below ...

Keep the invaders at bay!

A walkway down to the lower walls above the river gave us good looks back toward the castle proper, showing how difficult it would have been to attack from this side ...

Fancy heading up for an attack any time soon?

Steep slopes protect the main castle

... although in one place the walls could do with some cosmetic repairs ...

A bit of patching would be good here!

Still, given that this part dates at least 400 years, it's holding up pretty well!

There were some interesting displays set up inside the fort, including his one which shows the trappings of heraldry and battle for the upper crust riding the horses ...

I just haven't got a thing to wear!

A closer look at the headgear shows that it was a bit more upmarket that what Ned Kelly, the iconic Irish-Australian bushranger pulled on when confronting the forces of the British Empire ...

Helmet

Despite his full flowing beard, I suspect Kelly would have loved to have been able to pull on the full medieval knight's kit ...

Suit of armour

For both the landed and titled soldiers and the hoi polloi alike, the contents of this storeroom would have helped keep the psychological demons of war at bay - or at least push them to the back of one's mind ...

Door to wine cellar

.. but perhaps it was the hoi polloi that largely visited this establishment ...

Another typical afternoon at the castle pub

This fort is in private  hands and, the historical whimsy aside, the owner obviously does not have enough money for upkeep. It's situated in what would have been a very strategic spot so it's a pity that it hasn't been restored to a higher standard. Still, as only one of perhaps hundreds of such important fortifications, it's easy to understand why it hasn't been bought and repaired by the government. It's been chopped and changed significantly over the centuries so perhaps that's why it isn't in the "significant national monument" category. However, I can't help but think it would be wonderful to see it restored to what it was like immediately after Vauban got hold of it and added his additional fortifications.

All in all, our drive over to the cloud-bound town of Sestrière with its massive ski infrastructure, back down to the charming and prosperous village of Cesana Torinese - no doubt owing its prosperity to that infrastructure up the way - then on through tiny, less prosperous villages to the ancient Fort Queyras was an interesting day of contrasts. Here's a snapshot of the route we drove, where the map clearly shows the ski infrastructure both at Sestrière and back over into France at the even more massive Serre Chevalier ...

My gut instinct tells me that if you were a skier, Sestrière would have more of a village feel about it if that was part of your consideration for a ski holiday. For mine, I'd take the autumn and summer back on the French side of the border if I were ever to come back to this area, with its stunning cycling, great hiking and - especially - a wealth of climbing variety to be had.

Abbaye de Boscodon: 900 hundred years of history

After our visit to Italy and then south to Fort Queyras, it rained heavily again overnight and was unsettled in the morning - so not very promising for climbing. There was some information in the apartment about the Abbeye de Boscodon south of Briançon, which sounded like a worthwhile place to visit and it was, providing a significant contrast to the previous day in terms of a sense of space and a slower pace of life.

Still a fair drive - like most of the driving in this part of the world, it's not the distance that starts to take its toll, it's the time it takes to get there,  and some of the drivers who are in perhaps too much of a hurry for the terrain they are traversing - it was well worth it for the serenity the place bestowed.

Here's the route from our apartment with Google Maps showing how long you can expect to take to get there ...

Like, Fort Queyras, the Abbaye de Boscodon has gone through a number of stages over its lifetime. Here's a very brief history ...

From 1132 to the present day (right click for a larger view)

According to a brochure we picked up, the monks were called into the area by the local lord, Guillaume de Montmirail, in 1142 so there appears to some discrepancy about the abbey's early history. It took something like 32 years to get the thing built. The ebb and flow of warfare in the 14th century, including the Hundred Years' War, along with frequent raids and looting led to the destruction of the monastic building and cloister but thankfully the church was spared and remains as it was originality built.  The abbey was declared a national monument in 1974 and significant restoration has taken place since, with much of the work carried out through summer camps and with the help of local businesses.

I still find it hard to get my head around the fact that this quite imposing structure has been standing for almost 900  hundred years. While it's one thing for a building of its size - or even much larger - to have been built in a more populated area, it's quite another for it to have been erected here in the heart of the French Alps where it was such a struggle to survive, and with people available to work on its construction being so very thin on the ground.

Here's a view of the back of the abbey, showing the church in the background, the monks' quarters to the right and the garden in the foreground ...

Abbey overview

Today the abbey is looked after by a "Friends of Boscodon" society. Naturally, a lot of preservation work has taken place, with efforts to reproduce original details. I love this bit of guttering on the dormitory - made up of  hollowed out logs  ...

Gutter and roof detail

Moving around behind the dormitory towards the church reveals some of the architectural detail ...

Dormitory with church behind

Building detail

.

I loved this doorway ...

Old door

.. but it was inside the church and the chapel that we were most  moved. I estimated the vault of the ceiling to be somewhere around 25 metres high ...

The magnificent, austere church interior

Unlike the pomp of mainstream churches, this one was starkly austere in its presentation. Di reckons that the windows may never have had glass in them - they are well protected by overhang arches and the thickness of the walls - let alone stained glass, and I reckon she could be right. The walls are unadorned by paintings or elaborate iconography but at the far end there is a large, simple carved Christ figure ...

An simple Christ figure

Tucked away in a corner is this simple carved statue, with a bowl in a niche behind ...

Simple wooden statue

Not being steeped in the particulars of abbey life, I'm not sure how things worked, but there is a small inner chapel for - well, can you tell me? ...

The small inner chapel

... where the focus is clearly on peaceful, silent contemplation ...

Place of Silence and Peace

Simple icons grace the corners ...

Icon in the chapel

Icon in the chapel

Back outside, a product of this year's sculpture workshop was on display ...

From the sculpture summer school

There was a definite sense of tranquility about the abbey which would have been a wonderful refuge at times when wars weren't raging. The abbey is surrounded by a wonderful forest (decimated by over-harvesting in the 18th century and since regrown) which no doubt helps create the peaceful atmosphere. However, we were reminded of the warfare that blighted the region in more recent times by this plaque honouring resistance fighters captured here at the abbey and in the surrounding forest, then tortured and ultimately killed by the Gestapo during the latter stages of World War II ...

Honouring Le Maquisards

In contrast to those despicable actions is the spirit of these words, which must be what led the original monks to come here in the first place and live such austere lives ...

Spiritual words

Here's my very rough take on what it says: 

God found that the world he created is missing the most beautiful things of all: man and woman, and him then creating them in his likeness (a bit of vanity there, nest-ce pas?); then going on to say to his new creations that are different but of the same flesh; without each other they are nothing; they are created to look after each other; he's created them in his likeness, to love and to be free, and that despite anything that might happen, nothing will change his love for them.

Epilogue

So ends another fantastic sojourn. Overall the trip was brilliant, with only a couple of disappointments, the biggest of which was perhaps that our friends Michel and Brigitte were unable to join us. (We are already scheming about how we can organise to spend some more time with them as soon as possible!) 

The highs were fantastic, including of course hiking the Tour des Ecrins and meeting Philippe on the third night, then spending the rest of the tour in his excellent company. Catching up with our old friend Carol Nash, who we hadn't seen for about a quarter of a century was another, and we had meals with her on several occasions as well as a couple of days of climbing together. Another highlight was having Philippe join us at our apartment and come climbing for a day - his first for about 20 years. (We look forward to doing some more climbing with him in the future.) Having our friends Mary and Tim come across from Ireland to stay for a few days was also a highlight: it was terrific to have their company and repay them some of the wonderful hospitality they have shown us on a number of occasions at various venues from Mazomanie to Yosemite to Jasper National Park.

Today we are home. We've got a terrific day ahead of us in the form of: exercise (a bike ride), communing with nature (poking around in the garden) and - with the Herington lads - enjoying Australia's number one cultural pursuit - the AFL Grand Final! Afterwards, Adrian and Anthony will stay on for a meal and give us some of the gossip we've missed out on over the past month and a half. Unfortunately Mary won't be able to join us as she has to bring home the bacon. And I better get at it, so that's all for now!

La dernière de l'été à Briançonais

Revisiting Refuge l'Alpe de Villar d'Arene

The deciduous trees here in the Alps have started to change colour, with that change picking up pace in the last couple of days. When we arrived to start the GR54 everyone had been lamenting the summer that hadn't been. We were lucky that the arrival of consistent good weather pretty much coincided with the beginning or our trek. We had no really bad weather and only one day where we had to put our rain jackets on and off a few times, more because of the fact that were at altitude and the light showers that came through occasionally were pretty cool.

The weather pattern seems to have changed about three days ago, with the forecast for the next week being cooler temperatures with consistent showers during the day and heavier rain at night. Yesterday it became clear that there will be no "Indian Summer" in the Haute Alpes this year to make up for the disappointing spring and early summer. Di wanted to go for a hike, and we all felt like a break from climbing so Di proposed that we walk up to the refuge where she and I spent our third night on the Tour des Écrins. We thought it would be nice for Tammy and HJ to see the area, and it is possible to do a bit of a loop at the end, dropping down into the main valley directly from the refuge. If the weather picked up we might even go a little further towards a more distance refuge in a high side valley.

As we crossed the Col du Lautaret and descended towards Villar d'Arene, HJ commented that the temperature was dropping. I looked at the outside thermometer was dropping. He was right: it had gone from about 14 degrees when we left the apartment down to 4.5 degrees. Happily, it rose again to about 10 degrees as we hit the valley floor. We got out of the car in a light shower and none of us was busting with enthusiasm - except of course "Hiker Di", who is always up for a walk. It wasn't that bad though and we thought we might as well at least get out and stretch our legs a bit although the skies didn't look very promising. As we set off up the trail towards the refuge I made the comment that it was unlikely to be very pleasant 1000 feet further up the hill (referencing Imperial measurements for our American companions), Tammy stated categorically that she wasn't going to hike up 1000 feet. That seemed fair enough given what it looked like ahead.

We paused before the one steep  climb to take photos of a steep rock face behind a couple of ridge lines, with mist swirling around it ...

Not the best day for a long rock climb

A little further along another pause for a photo of a cascade on the stream that tumbles down from the valley above ...

Colours of Autumn are starting to emerge

... and a closer study ...

Small cascade

Before we knew it we were up the main part of the climb and everyone still looks pretty happy, don't you think?

Are we there yet?

With the main - and steepest - part of the hike behind us, we wandered up the gentle slope the rest of the way towards the refuge. Another indication that autumn had truly set in was the fact that the herd of cows who were happily grazing at the head of the valley up by the Col d'Arsine when we passed through this way five weeks earlier had moved downhill a couple of hundred metres, trampling the track and covering it in cows*#it! 

We tiptoed around the worst of the cow's calling cards where they'd been sheltering in the lee of a hillock and made our way over to where the refuge is situated. This area must have been used for a very time for grazing sheep: there is an old ruined berger's hut on a mound - probably so that the shepherd could keep a watch over his flock - which has been replaced by a more modern building ...

Modern shepherd's hut

As you can see, the shutters have not yet been closed for the winter, so the shepherd must still be using his hut. However, for the time being the cows have really taken over the place ...

Just grazing ... and gazing!

While waiting for Tammy and HJ to catch up  Di and I discussed the fact that, although none of the beef we'd eaten in the Franch Alps had been particularly tender, it had all been very tasty. If most  of the meat that we've had comes from cows that have the lives of these cows, that would explain it. Strolling around hillsides eating good green grass - and an abundance of flowers with it earlier in the season - would have to make for a scrumptious end product.

Unlike the berger's hut where the shutters were still open, the shutters of the Refuge de l'Alpe de Villar d'Arene were well and truly shut up for the season and all the picnic tables had been packed up and stowed away for the winter ...

All's quiet at le Refuge de Villar d'Arene

It was something of a sad sight for Di and I. When we were last here on a hut sunny August day, there were scores of people occupying the terrace eating and drinking, chooks wandering happily amongst us pecking crumbs, and a couple of young masseurs ministering to sore muscles about where this photo was taken. I guess it's a case of "all good things must come to an end" - at least until the refuge opens again next June.

However, a lovely surprise awaited us à le refuge d'hiver (at the winter refuge) just next door. (Many of the French Alpine Club refuges have smaller, adjoining refuges where people can shelter and spend the night - or indeed a number of nights if they are climbing or skiing in the area, which are "non gardé" but still have beds with blankets and pillows. Closed in the summer, their doors are unlocked when the main refuge is closed up at the end of the season.) There was a French couple from the central part of the country inside, sheltering from the weather while they ate their lunch. We had nice little chat with them. It turns out their son spent six months in Australia last year, including visiting Tasmania and hiking in the mountains. They said he loved it - even though he doesn't go hiking in France!

Back outside, I took a photo of this stone marker behind the refuge before we descended directly to the lower valley to get out of the wind - and avoid the cows#*t - that we'd encountered ...

A monument ... or marker? Your guess is as good as mine.

Shreds of snow still cling to north-facing niches in the flanks of the mountain opposite, and will most surely not melt completely now the weather has changed.

A little ways down the slope into the valley I looked back for a glimpse and decided the stone edifice in the previous photo must have been a marker to the refuge for people coming out of the high valley.  The picture I took tells you that it's got a bit cooler and wetter again, with HJ and Tammy hooded against the elements ...

Two hooded figures

Down on the valley floor we were bemused by this spot of sunshine teasing us up the valley ...

A brief spot of sunshine

... but that wasn't the way we were headed so we turned our back on it and headed down-valley. Along the way, we came across a patch of framboises (raspberries), which Di and Tammy tucked into while HJ looked for photos to make ...

Picking the last of the framboises

I took another picture  - which suggest to me the Canadian arctic - from the same spot, to show the landscape uncluttered by two-footed invaders ...

A bouldery valley bottom

Near the end of this high, flat valley floor we came across this mysterious structure ...

Where does this doorway lead???

At the top of the bluff we paused for a look down to the valley below ...

Sunshine illuminates another alpine village

... and just as we dropped over the lip of the bluff we took one last look back towards a glacier reaching down towards us before we descended ...

Le Surplomb Jaune … well, sort of …

The day before we went for our walk with HJ and Tammy to Refuge l’Alpe de Villar d’Arene we went back up to Le Ponteil with them. Di and I wanted to do  a climb called Le Surplomb Jaune (The Yellow Roof) and give them a chance to get on Nid d’Aigle, the multi-pitch climb we’d done shortly after we finished hiking the GR54. Between those two climbs is another called Ricollet. Here is a photo of two climbers on about the third pitch of that route, which I took when Di and I were walking back from another cliff …

My reasons for including that photo will become clear later in the post.

We’d chosen to go back to Le Ponteil at this stage was because the forecast for doing a longer multi-pitch routes at a higher altitude was looking sketchy but we thought we could probably sneak in a shorter route at a lower elevation. While we were all gearing up to get on our respective climbs HJ said he thought he felt a spot of rain but it wasn’t followed up by anything definite so both parties continued with preparations.

Our climb actually traverses left around the sandy, loose-looking yellow roof from which it derives its name, then moves back right above it and wends its way through a series of four other roofs. Here is a photo showing the line in black …

Di completed the rather loose first pitch of our climb efficiently and I set off on the second pitch, which started with a few casual moves to the left …

Things suddenly got a lot more interesting as I moved out to the rib to my left and found myself doing very exposed moves. The guide describes the climb as “Belle voie, classique et aérienne”, translated as “beautiful climb, classic and airy”. It had suddenly become very airy: it starts at the left edge of a ledge and moving left had brought me out over a longer drop.

HJ and Tammy were making good progress across the way. Although for most of the way we couldn’t see each other HJ got this photo of me nearing the top of pitch two …

… and Di took this photo of HJ leading at about the middle of their second pitch, with Tammy on belay …

As Di was bringing me up pitch three it started to rain lightly so I sped up as quickly as I could and continued on to the fourth pitch. There is no easy escape from Le Jaune Surplomb once on it, so we wanted to minimise any chance of getting caught on the route. Here is a photo of Di following …

… and another nearing the belay …

At this point, things went just a little outside our agenda. We could see a very obvious bolt just a couple of metres to our right and thought that was where the route went. Di duly traversed over, clipped it and the headed straight up. And, up, and up some more. I was quite surprised to see that she’d run out 30 metres of rope by the time she’d got to the belay and started to take rope in rapidly (I couldn’t hear her because of the distance, the overhanging rock between us and the sound of the wind). I was even more surprised to arrive at her belay and see that she was at the top of the cliff. There should have been two short pitches wending their way between a couple more roofs after the pitch I’d just led, rather than one longer pitch going more or less straight up. It turns out that we’d moved across to the finish – at the same grade – of Ricollet so must have missed a bolt that led back left over the roof I’d belayed beside. This photo shows - roughly - in red where we actually finished our climb …

It was a little disappointing to miss out on the airiness of the last couple of roofs, but Di’s long pitch to finish was also fun climbing.

Putting our mistake down to experience, we wander over to the top rappel station, where Nid d’Aigle finishes in time to see HJ doing the last moves …

… and then make his way up the fixed rope which allows access down to the station for climbers – like Di and me  – finishing other routes …

As the threat of rain had eased he wanted to relax for a few minutes and get a summit photo with Tammy …

We enjoyed the view for a while and took a few photos. In the middle of the next one there is a craggy hill just about right in the middle, which has a group of climbers at its base …

… whom you can see better in this photo …

The top rappel station was a bit cramped. Di and I scrambled back down to it then I snapped this quirky photo of Di making room for Tammy to join us …

 Finished our climb, we decided it was good timing to head down to Saint Crépin for some lunch. It’s a charming little town where I could happily live, at least for part of the year. It’s got two restaurants and a good bakery and is right in the middle of excellent climbing, cycling and hiking country (and of course skiing, if you want to be here in winter).

With lunch done and dusted, we strolled around the ancient part of town and I took a few photos. Here is a stone house that is enjoying a new lease on life …

… a study of a pot of flowers in a basement niche …

In the small square by the 15^th century church a huge chestnut tree makes its home. As we have moved into autumn the chestnuts are ripening up nicely, as you can see in this photo …

Finding our way to Lac du Combeynot

It's a bit tricky, this working backwards. After consulting with Di, I was able to confirm that it was the day before we climbed at Le Ponteil that she took us in search of Lac du Combeynot. Sorry, but there won't be a lot of pictures for this part of the post.

One big reason for choosing this walk was the likelihood of seeing chamois  high in the valley up towards the lake. Directions for finding the start of the walk in Di's guide weren't crystal clear so when we came to a parking spot in what seemed to be about the right place and a couple of people who were clearly hikers set off on an obvious path we followed them, somewhat intrigued that the route didn't seem to be marked as a randonnée. The people we were following turned back but we optimistically - or is that blindly? - continued. Next we came to a tree with an X on it, showing that the path we were on wasn't going to take us wanted to go. There was, however, a faint footpad heading up the valley towards the lake, so we thought we'd pick up the main trail as we climbed higher. Well, up and up we went. It was steep, loose and slippery. The footpad became fainter and fainter. We probably would have turned back, but we knew we were headed in the right general direction and the gradient looked like it was easing. An offsetting factor for the strenuosity of the route we'd chosen was that we passed through a spot where there was an abundance of ripe framboises (raspberries) to linger over.

After more than an hour of hard, uphill walking on no definite track we decided to angle across the broad gully towards where we thought the track must be. On the way we came across a fantastic patch of myrtilles (mountain blueberries) and munched on them for a while. Back on the move, we arrived at a nice spot in the trees on the other side of the gully and paused for a rest, a bite to eat and to decide whether we wanted to continue or not. While Tammy, Di and I sat down, HJ - ever curious as he is - wandered a little farther across the gully and, sure enough, found the wonderful track we should have been on the whole time. Both chagrined and heartened we decided to continue onwards. 

Eventually we did arrive at Lac du Combeynot in its stark setting up near the very top of the valley ...

There not being a lot to linger over and nary a chamois in sight we started back. Without putting too fine a point on it, the return journey was a dream compared to the uphill, off-track slog we experienced for a good part of the way up. And, when we got to the bottom we were greeted by the typical information set-up that seems to at the start of any significant track in this part of the world ...

Another little learning experience

and one that we will employ in future

when walking in the Alps:

if you aren't sure

you're at the start of the track 

you're looking for,

you probably aren't!

Et On Tuera Tous Les Affreux (And they will kill all the ugliness)

This climb was one of the ones on my to-do list before we left home. It’s 11 pitches long, graded 5c+ (about 17 in the Ewbank grading system or 5.9 in the YDS) and is another climb at Ailefroide, the home of granite climbing in the southern French Alps.

We made an early start and were the first on any of the routes in the immediate proximity. Here’s an overview photo of the climb …

There are a few steep moves on the first three or four metres of the route to get started ...

… after which the route kicks back to reasonably low-angled slabs for the next couple of pitches. Here’s Di nearing the top of pitch one …

The route gradually steepens through its length. Here’s a photo that HJ took of Di leading on the fourth pitch. The red ellipses should make it easier to pick her out in front and me on belay lower down …

… and a couple of her following the 40 metre fifth pitch …

The sixth pitch starts up through a low angle groove (the rope you can see is to provide security when scrambling down from above to get to the fourth rappel station) but then returns to some neat climbing…

There is a bit of a bulge at the end of the seventh pitch. Below, you can see the broad ledge at the start of the sixth pitch; the ground itself is starting to look a long way away …

In the next photo you can see Ailefroide in the middle distance, with the main camping area to the right of the photo …

The ninth pitch finishes with another small bulge …

The last pitch had a bit of steeper rock near the middle but finished with lower angle rambling. Di is about one-quarter of the way into the pitch in this photo …

And here she is at the top: tired - but happy to have her photo taken against such a great backdrop …

Not bad for a sixty-four years young granny, eh!

About halfway down I had to pause to take this photo of a collection of climbers across the way on La Cocarde (5c+, six pitches) which we’d done a couple of weeks earlier …

We didn't know it at the time, but this was to be our last long, multi-pitch climb in the mountains for this trip: unfortunately, although we still had a week left, the weather was about to become a bit dodgy for the remainder of our Alps sojourn. Hopefully we will be back to do some more "plaisir" routes in the future.

Rocher Baron & Mont-Dauphin Fort

We visited these two areas on two consecutive days and, although we visited Rocher Baron first, I’m going to describe it last because it holds the fondest memories.

Mont-Dauphin Fort

There are many sectors to choose from at this area, depending on how hard one is climbing and what orientation towards or away from the sun is required. We climbed on two sectors with routes mostly in the 5b – 6b range. Our friend Carol joined us for the last part of our visit and showed us how to climb on this steep conglomerate.

Before I go any further, here is a snapshot of what the rock is like, which Di described simply as “vertical gravel” (luckily, it is rather more consolidated than that!) …

This next shot shows Di leading a 5c route that varies from just on to just off vertical ...

Here’s another random shot with Di on a longer 6a and Carol in the foreground starting up a 6b+ ...

… and Carol again, making a big move over a slightly bulging section …

While we were at the crag a guy arrived who seemed to be having problems with one foot or leg, as he was using walking poles and moved with a bit of a shuffle when on the ground. However, he knew what he was about on the end of a rope. He’d arrived alone and promptly began rope-soloing with an auto-block (a system which provides protection in case of a fall). In this photo you can see him anchored to the first bolt of the route he’s climbing; he has clipped the second bolt and is pulling through the rope to clip into the third bolt …

He casually climbed four routes ranging from 6a – 6b+ in this fashion.

Although the rock at Mont-Dauphin Fort wasn’t at all aesthetic – downright ugly, in fact! – the climbing was pretty neat and we thought we could easily start to enjoy it. However, the number of pitches you could do in a day would have to be somewhat limited as the rock is very hard on the fingertips. One thing was very good though, and that was the view back up the Vallée Durance …

Rocher Baron

We were delighted that Philippe, the friend we made on the GR54, was able to come up on a Friday night to come climbing with us the next day. Philippe hadn’t climbed for 20 years, and when we suggested he come up from Avignon to climb with us he jumped at the chance. (The original plan was to have the whole weekend, but work unfortunately intervened.) Carol arranged for us all to meet and go to Rocher Baron, a quartzite crag just south of our apartment. It was a really fun day out, and I hoped to go back to that crag as we couldn’t get on as many routes as we’d have liked because it was the weekend and the place was full of Italians. (Unfortunately, that's another thing that didn't quite pan out, with the last few days being pretty wet.) There aren’t many photos for you to look at as were busy climbing as much as we could, but I hope that the ones you’ll see below will impart the great fun we had.

Firstly, the rock was fantastic: vertical to overhanging, bullet hard quartzite with good edges and lots of small bulges to make thing interesting. Routes are single-pitch but generally nice and long, mostly ranging from about 25 to 35 metres. There’s something for everyone here: while we were at the crag quite young kids were developing their skills on routes in the grade 4 range and some sharp sticks were poking about on routes in the 8a range.

Here’s a shot of Philippe and Carol together at the bottom of the crag …

And here’s a sequence of three shots of Carol styling up a 6b …

HJ took this amusing shot, which I think of as “headless vertical ballet” …

… and this photo of a bunch of climbers hanging around trying to work out what to do with themselves …

Phillipe got to do a couple of leads at the end of the day, which was great. He’s got keen as mustard and has joined his local chapter of the Club Alpin Français and is off climbing with them this weekend. (I guess you’d call that “mission successful”). Just as we were leaving the crag, I saw a small boy of about four and his father (again, from Italy) working out what needed to be done to get up a section of rock. Here the lad is checking out the moves …

… and putting what he’s learned into practice …

We finished fairly early because it was so busy, heading back to the apartment to cap off our terrific day out with a meal together: an Alaskan, a Montanan, a Canadian transplanted to Tasmanian, the Tasmanian that transplanted him, a Kiwi living in the Haute Alpes and a Frenchman from Provence …

How’s that for an eclectic bunch, eh!

As I alluded earlier, we didn't get to climb for the last few days of our stay here in the Alpes du Sud so we missed out on doing a few things that were high on the agenda. However, we are pleased to say that we had a good look around, climbed on five different types of rock at seven different crags, did a couple of day hikes on top of the fantastic time we had on the GR54 (Di came out ahead for the trip on the hiking days vs the climbing days 13:12) and had some great cultural experiences. The next post will be about visits to Fort Queyras and Abbey de Boscodon, both built in the 12th century. But to finish off this post, I would conclusively say that it's a great place for hiking and climbing and we'd love to come back some day and do some of the things we missed out on this trip.