Day 2: Argentiere – Le Tour – Col de Balme – Trient - Col de La Forclaz
It was another beautiful morning! We started out of Argentiere around 7am and the path quickly started climbing the mountainside. I soon learned that our daily trekking would maintain some semblance of a pattern – the path out of town climbs up the mountainside to the pass (or “col”), we rest at the top, and then the path descends down into a village, we rest in town, then head out of the village again and up the mountainside, and you get the picture. Sometimes we made it to two villages in one day, sometimes three or four villages. It just depended on how long it took us to get up and down the mountain and into the village, and how much time we had to begin up the mountain again to get over to the next village. Quite amazing it was.
We got to the top of the first pass in just over an hour, which was more of a hillside and not an official pass really. But when we reached the top we could see the town of Le Tour below us. We passed buy several cows on the way into town – which would prove to be no strangers to us on our 10 days on the trail – and they certainly could not be bothered by us either, and several times the herds were spread across the trail and we had to maneuver around them.
Le Tour was gorgeous. Many of the smaller villages such as Le Tour were so quaint you could count the number of homes as your passed through. 20 homes, maybe 30? My neighborhood has 300 homes! Everytime I sauntered into one of these villages I always felt like I was imposing – like I was there just to gawk at their way of life and how they lived. Which, let's be honest, was true for the most part. But the villagers never seemed to mind, and if they were out hanging their laundry to dry, for example, they'd simply give me a pleasant wave with seemingly no cares in the world. It was quite surreal.
On the North side of town we started heading up the mountainside again, this time to the Col de Balme. Le Tour actually had a small ski slope with a couple lifts (as we found that many of the towns in the Alps did), and there was the option to take the ski lift up to Col de Balme. We considered this for a second, but then decided against it. It was a gorgeous day and we were here to hike! However, ask me about our decision when faced with this option on day 7, as that was a different story...
So we started up the mountain once again and and reached Col de Balme around 1pm or so. At the top of the pass was the Chalet – Refuge Col de Balme. Apparently this refuge stands directly on the French/Swiss border and has been burned down and rebuilt several times because of controversy over which side it is on. It has finally been decided that since the refuge is entered from the Swiss side it's reckoned to be in Swiss territory, but it's telephone number is French. If that was enough to keep it from being burned down again, I'd relinquish the French phone number too.
I was very happy to reach the pass and took the liberty to sit down on a bench by the refuge, but was chased away by the witch of a woman who owns the chalet as I would not buy her $10 water. So I sat down in the grass next to the building, enjoying the amazing views while Brian snapped picture after picture, and pulled out my Walker's Haute Route book.
“Are you hiking the Haute Route? I have that same book.”
Meet Jeremy.
Jeremy is a wiry, middle aged tax accountant from England, married with four kids who loves to hike. Or walk, as he would say. Little did we know that Jeremy would be our hiking companion, bunkmate, and dinner date for the next 10 days on the trail! I must say though, that having Jeremy along really made the trip. And as he would graciously point out later in the trip, he was serving as our trekking guide, life coach, and marriage counselor, for 10 days, all free of charge! What more could a couple ask for?
But I'll get to that. We talked to Jeremy briefly about our trip thus far, and where we planned on hiking to that day and were we would be staying. We both agreed that since it was still early in the day, we would probably be able to get to Trient and then hike up to the Col de la Forclaz, where there was a single hostel/hotel we could stay at for the night. So that seemed to be the plan. There were actually a couple options on routes to get there, however, and Jeremy decided on a different route than we did. So we separated and figured we might see each other at the hotel on the Col de la Forclaz.
So Brian and I continued on over the mountainside and winded our way down into the town of Trient. I can't say enough about Trient – the village was picture perfect. It was one of my favorite towns. We took off our packs and explored the town church. Every one of these villages had a big, beautiful church in the center of town, and we took the liberty of going inside every one of them – and they were quite something. There was just an air of happiness, community, and simplicity in all of these church villages - it was just a feeling I don’t think any church in the States could quite exhume. After wandering around the quiet town, and greeting a couple of the locals, we decided to get lunch at one of the two cafes. We were the only customers there, and the sweet lady who owned the cafe took our order – but the only problem was we didn't speak a lick of French, and she didn't speak a lick of English.
At one point I almost couldn't contain my laughter, because communication attempts between the sweet lady and Brian and myself seemed futile – I just gave up and humored myself in watching Brian speak English, and the lady speak French, with no understanding between the two people whatsoever. And there wasn't even a menu we could point too. I think the problem was it was too late for lunch, but too early for dinner, but she was willing to help us out with a limited menu she was patiently trying to communicate to us. Finally Brian seemingly ordered something and the woman wisked away into the kitchen. Thank goodness. I was relieved that she was going to make something for our lunch.
“What did you order?” I asked Brian.
“Uh, I don't know.”
While we both waited for the woman to come back with our mystery lunch, we decided that we thought Brian ordered a cheese sandwich. Astonishingly, we were right, and let me tell you a cheese sandwich never tasted so good in our lives. This wasn't your over-processed American cheese sandwich. This was thick slices of Brie cheese, with some other soft cheese, and then some spicy mustard. An American grill cheese is dog food compared to this.
After lunch, we headed up the hillside to the Col de La Forclaz. It took us about an hour to get to the top of the hill, when we saw the restaurant/hotel we’d be staying at that evening. It was about 4pm and after 9 hours of hiking with very little breaks, we were ready to call it a day.
We checked in and were shown where to take off our boots (backpackers are no strangers in this country) and lead to our dorm room of about 20 bunk beds. It was all I could do not to hit my head as I collapsed on the bottom bunk, I was so beat! So we layed down and took a short rest, and about 30 minutes later Jeremy had arrived. We talked a bit about our day, and then Brian and I took showers and walked across the street to buy some sausage, bread, and chocolate for dinner, and sat in the grass, enjoying the view and amazing weather as we ate. After we ate, we explored an old WWII bunker in the side of the hill next to our hotel. It seemed quite out of place, but I’m not sure if could ever seem “in place” I suppose. It still had a huge gun barrel in it, and was quite interesting to say the least.
Back in the room, I talked a bit with two English girls who had three days left on the Tour de Mont Blanc. Turns out one of them had done part of the Walker’s Haute Route before and was hoping to do the other half one day. They left for the restaurant to have a late dinner, and I called it an early night. Day 3 tomorrow!
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