Ensō : A Walk around Mont Blanc --- Day 6 of 9

Ensō: Day 6

Feeling refreshed, the three of us gather once again on the picnic table. To my surprise and delight, Thomas went to a nearby store and brought an arrangement of cheeses and a large baguette for each of us to break the fast. We enjoyed the food, and of course, also the conversation. I believe we savored each bite and each moment, as surely enough we would soon all part ways and have only memories of our meeting. We exchanged information; Thomas headed back to his car to plan his day, Lucile headed on the path I had just came from, and I headed toward the variante toward Auberge Du Truc in the direction of Les Houches [leyz-hoosh]. 

Before I started up the steep route, I passed through the small and buzzing town of Les Contamines. Almost everywhere I looked there was a different activity taking place: golf, rock climbing, obstacle courses, basketball. This was truly an adventure getaway tucked within the mountains. Being there was so much activity here, there was also ample opportunity to refill my supplies. In fact, there was a proper grocery store. My eyes and stomach glazed over, but my mind helped my back not take too much brunt. I stocked another jar of peanut butter (I had just finished the first one), a bar of chocolate, a salami, a block of cheese, and some fruit. Upon exiting the door with a newly brimmed pack, I ate the fruit I purchased at once, and went on my way. 

As I intended to hike another variante the route was not as well marked as the normal journey would have been. I made a lucky turn which wound me upward through the towns neighborhood after looking to the simple fact that I must gain altitude. Soon enough, I saw a sign and the path. I refilled my water once more, and started on another grueling uphill climb. The homes which I walked through soon became trinket-sized souvenirs of the memories I made, and I once again walked among the tallest trees and ridge-lines. 

It felt like hours, it was hours until I reached the next checkpoint, Auberge Du Truc. The auberge stood in an open meadow with stunning views of the Dômes de Miage for the first time. Instead of stopping for a rest, the mountain-line beckoned me to come closer. The trail took me through the meadow, wild-flowers in brilliant reds and purples sprung up all around me as wind whisked sprays of snow off the tops of the mountains. 

I then came to Refuge de Miage, which sat at the base of the mountains and also gave a great view of Col du Tricot, the 600m climb which I would have to soon make. A river flowing from the mountains split sides of the area, and a bridge was made to provide access to the other side. Before doing so, I took a seat against the old stone archway and draped my feet into the river while enjoying some peanut butter, chocolate, and banana. What a creation! This was refreshing and energizing. Having already surmounted a large and gradual ascent for the day, this energy refresher was something I would no doubt need for the next extremely steep one.

—

If you squint, you can see the trail switching back to the right of the cloud's shadow

There was something about being able to see the entire ascent that formulated a plan in my mind. I wanted to take the whole thing in one go, no stopping, no water, nothing but placing one foot after another until I was at the top. I began at a slow and steady pace, several others who were coming down from this mountain gave me their earnest well-wishes. Consciously, I adopted a two-step breathing technique. I took a step with my left foot and then with my right foot on an inhalation, and then repeated such with an exhalation. Over and over I followed this pattern as slowly I gained altitude. About 100m from the top I slowed my pace to a one-step breathing technique, but never did I stop. Soon, I could see the ridge line, I was almost there.

Finally, I stopped walking and turned around to take in the new view. The Dômes de Miage looked vastly different from up here, whereas before they seemed insurmountable, now it felt as if I just kept going I could soon be standing atop them. I was greeted by mountain goats, intrigued who was roaming in their parts. I was also greeted by a new wind, and the sight of dark clouds forming out in the distance I was to walk. Though, I was sure not to rush after such an ascent. I soaked in every last drop of the scenery, of the refuge below, and then turned and set on my way. 

—

Not too long after, the Glacier de Bionnassay took all of my attention. A beautifully pristine glacier was embedded in the heart of a towering giant, the wind and the sound of the rushing river in the distance seemed to animate this frozen masterpiece as reeds of grass swayed and bent in reverence. I wandered off trail a bit in the direction of the glacier, found refuge from the wind behind a nice rock and decided to indulge in my rations of cheese, bread, and salami as I grokked in the landscape. It was beautifully serene.

Yet, I read that this now calm glacier was not always so, and in 1892 part of it had broken off, causing floods of the valley up to 25m high, obliterating the village of Bionnay and destroying most of the nearby St-Gervais-les-Bains as well, and taking over 200 lives in the process. Though I intended to continue into this very valley which laid ahead, with this sight and image to my right, along with the approaching storm, I spotted an idealistic place to set up a single tent to my left. The campsite was guarded by a crescent moon shaped rock, and raised on all sides as if it were the cap to a volcano. My tent fit like a cookie cutter over dough as I stretched my rain tarp to funnel any impending rain down the sides. After I then crawled inside and set up my camp, ecstatic about my surroundings and my “early” day. I took some time outside of my trek during sunset to grok in the area once again as the trees and bushes danced with the wind, it was truly picturesque.

The surroundings inspired a poem: 

How many breaths of mountain fresh air?

How many sounds can one hear?

How many thanks can one give?

How many moments are in 18 minutes?

Can you hear the crickets chirping?

  Or the birds goodnight song?

Can you hear the glacial ice stretching?

  Giving rise to the roar below?

Can you see the clouds slowly blushing?

  From the Sun’s last kisses for the day

Can you see the trees slowly breathing?

  Or the snore from the stones below?

Do you smell the aroma subtly wafting?

  From their 18 minutes of fun

Yes I think they’re done boiling

Yes I think my Quinoa is done.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this,
I realized I hadn't seen my face for about a week.
Nor had I been in any photographs, so here! Here is my face.

And to these surroundings, with a big pot of quinoa in my belly, as the rain started to drum on the roof of my tent, happily, I fell asleep

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This is the sixth post of a series of 10 from the Tour du Mont Blanc trek I did in August 2015.
Check back within the week for the next post! 
For more adventures, writing, photographs, and even video go to my website: www.InTentsAdventure.wix.com/Explore

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Thanks for reading,
Eric