Into the Italian Alps

Chamonix is a town that has two distinct seasons of increased activity: summer and winter. What falls in between the two is just considered inter-season. 

Although the obvious activities and tourist attractions might be closed or less accessible now, there are still many ways to make the most of this time "in-between". There's plenty of hiking, running, sight-seeing, mountaineering, and climbing to do—weather permitting (and lately, it has). And even if it isn't, a little run in the rain can be fun, right? No snow so far, though I imagine it isn't too far off given the steadily declining temperature.

In the last few weeks, I've been able to enjoy some of these daytime activities: I've climbed on the nearby rock wall, done some beautiful hikes, and even ran a few trails here and there! I'm nowhere near being able to run long distances (see my post where I talk about UTMR), but it's a good feeling to push my body beyond what it is used to. 

Speaking of, I was lucky enough to be able to complete a little multi-day backpacking in the Italian Alps. Three days of hiking with a backpack full of food, water, and gear. Roughly 20 kilometers, or 12.4 miles, of hiking a day. But not just on flat terrain—anything but!—the route took us up and over numerous mountain passes ranging from about 2200m to 2800m high, or over 9000ft! At one pass, Col de Vessonaz, we found ourselves in the snow, which meant a somewhat treacherous descent into the next valley, slipping and sliding in hiking shoes, using poles for balance. But the views: oof! Truly unbeatable.

We were a group of four when we set off on the first day from a little mountain town above Aosta, Italy, but after the first day we would split off into two groups: two of us completing a loop to return to the parked car and drive back to Chamonix, and two of us continuing along a route that would take us back to Aosta over the course of two more days, bringing the total to three days and two nights in the mountains. I was in the latter group. 

Day 1.

The first day of hiking was challenging but lovely. We started with a steep climb which quickly had us breathing hard and stopping to take off extraneous layers of clothing. We each adapted to the group's rhythm in our own ways—for me, it seemed like I had to concentrate and work harder than the others to keep up, so I was quiet and let myself get lost in the moment. The two sets of hiking poles between us were swiftly divided so that each had one pole to lean on for the climbing. The pole would become my best friend over the next few days. 

We stopped for lunch at Rifugio Oratorio di Cuney. It was closed—like most alpine refuges during the inter-season—but we sat on the stoop to eat a picnic lunch. We then left our bags to briefly explore a nearby lake. As a natural water-baby, I had to resist the urge to go for a swim, knowing that the water of the lake, and indeed of all the lakes we would pass, was probably near freezing. I'm no Wim Hof, unfortunately, so no swim for me.

We pushed on through the day, stopping at another Refuge for a quick snack and for the small chance that they might be open for coffee (no luck there), and after one more big climb we reached the bivvy hut where we would spend the night: Bivacco Luca Reboulaz. Instead of a tent, a bivvy hut (or bivacco in Italian and bivouac in French) is an unstaffed mountain hut where hikers and mountaineers can rest and sleep, year-round. They might not seem the most hygienic, but they provide a little more space and shelter than a tent, and they are cozy. This bivvy hut, for example, had a wood stove which provided a little extra warmth once I got it going (with much effort). The night would still prove to be a cold and restless one, but at least for me the first night of camping always seems to be that way. 

Day 2.

After faffing around in the morning, we snapped a quick picture and split off in two directions. Now it was just two of us. In fact, it would just be the two of us all day: we did not see another soul. Instead, we saw some deer (and maybe ibex in the distance?), autumn foliage, and lots and lots of beautiful mountains. The elevation gain that day seemed like a lot, although it turned out to be a little less even than the previous day's. Still, it was about 1300m of elevation as we climbed and went over at least three mountain passes (called a col in Italian). 

I mentioned Col de Vessonaz earlier, because it was one of the highest we had to go over (2794m), and also one of the most beautiful: covered in snow and ice while most of the mountains were still awaiting their first snow of the season. Although tiring, the day passed by quickly as we ascended and descended into multiple valleys, each one so different from the last.

We spent that night at Bivacco La Lliée without having seen another soul all day.

Day 3.

How did the time fly so quickly? Three days seems like so little time, not quite enough time to really get into the swing of backpacking, I think, but enough time to be tired and have a few blisters (despite thinking—no, hoping—that I wouldn't get any).

Whereas with the first two days there was more elevation gain than loss, the last part of the route had us descending into Aosta at roughly 500m above sea level. Still, we had to climb two separate mountain passes before the descent could begin. The climb to the second pass Col de Viou was long and steep, but we were rewarded with some crazy scenery—like something out of Lord of the Rings!

We nearly did not see anyone else in the mountains that day, but as we reached the top of the pass, and another bivvy hut, we could hear the sound of singing coming down off the mountain through the fog. It would have been eery, had it not been the sound of many voices! As it turned out, it was a group of about 20 Italian military veterans who were enjoying a little reunion by climbing a 2800m peak together! We chatted for a bit in a mix of English and Italian before heading down and leaving them to enjoy their wine, cheese, and whatever else they brought with them.

That was when it began: roughly 2200m of descent! The hiking pole saved me multiple times from falling on my face, but all in all it was pretty amazing to go from one kind of scenery into another... The final scenery being the beautiful mountain town of Aosta.

Despite having looked forward to some good Italian pasta all day, we were disappointed to find out that most restaurants did not serve food until 7pm, and we had a bus to catch. 

In the end, it was an amazing experience, and one I hope to repeat before long.

With love,

Helena