After getting to Les Houches we found a supermarket open. Supermarkets in France don't obey the usual afternoon hours of closure. We bought fresh baguettes, cheese and some fruit and we headed off again on the trail. Since it was 2:00PM, we expected to hike about 5.5 hours to arrive in Les Contamines-Montjoie which had a campground and supplies. Again, the trail was lovely and enjoyable.
We arrived tired and thought we were home but it turned out that the campsite was still another 45 minutes away at "Camping du Pontet". We pushed on. It's a bit harder to keep hiking when you thought you were done, but we followed a trail, still on the GR5, that followed a river and it was worth it. We saw a couple who were also backpacking cooking their dinner by the river.
We hadn't eaten and I was hoping that the campground would have pizza nearby when we arrived. That sounded great. Was it too much to hope for? Apparently not. We arrived at the campground around 8:30PM and it was beautiful. Opposite the entrance was a portable pizza van that was only there on Wednesdays and Fridays. Unbelievable bit of luck-- it was Friday.
This was such a nice place and will always be my favorite campground on the trip. We camped near a picnic table and called it home.
By 9:00PM we were eating our pizza and the couple we had seen by the river arrived.
I met a guy there that reminded me of the French guy we met our first day on the trail when we were taking our last look at Lac Leman and told him about the cow incident. For some reason I didn't think it was the same guy. Later on, much later on, we found out it was the same guy.
We ordered 6 chocolate croissants for the morning and trail. In French campgrounds you always order your bread the night before. It doesn't get any better than this!!
We began our 9th day.
At this point we hope you have a sense of our daily routine and what it might be like for you if you decide to take this trip. Around this point we settled in and were feeling strong. We were having a wonderful time with amazing views each day and we knew generally what kinds of things to expect from a day. We would hike over passes, meet interesting people, sometimes get lost and have unexpected adventures. That would all be part of the trip.
Let us show you this day:
We passed a site where travelers were suppose to leave a rock for an "English lady" and her companion who were killed by a violent storm. In memory of the tragedy and to ward off evil, we should leave a stone of our own. As a stranger in a strange land, who am I to disagree?
On the trail we met the couple from Holland who had arrived at the "Pontet" campsite late the night before. We wondered what it must be like for people from such a flat land to see and walk these trails.
In the afternoon we wandered off the trail inadvertently. For some reason the red and white stripes are now heading towards Les Chapeaux. This seemed to be part of an alternate GR trail around Mont Blanc but not the GR5. Apparently red and white markers can refer to any GR trail, not just the GR 5. We did not question our trail mostly because we could see a campsite in the distance. It was inviting. We had the surprise and delight of seeing Maelyse and Laurent there. They had planned to stop in Les Chapeaux which has historic significance in the Alps.
The campground was free and even had a bathroom. Apparently in future years a more formal campground will be created but for now there was not host. A group of 15+ Irish teenagers we had seen in Pontet were hiking the Tour of Mont Blanc trail (TMP). We asked them "Parlez vous Anglais? What? They replied? Do you speak English?" They were Irish so I guess they did. Apparently they knew even less French than us. They were hiking for 4 days as part of a club activity to get a badge.
We speak little French. In fact English is the only language that we speak fluently. But it doesn't really matter much. It's nice to be able to say 'thanks' in your host country and "please" but most things can be communicated with motions and a good attitude. You're dressed a certain way, you're in a certain place "intentionally" and so from the native's perspective there are a limited number of things you could be asking about. Put your hands together in the shape of a tent and say something like "campingplatz?" (German) and everyone knows what you want. Pointing does the rest. There seem to be enough words in common (unless you are in China) that if you talk long enough or they talk long enough, communication happens. Sometimes people just talk at each other, as if the other can really understand and you talk back your language, and most of the time it works. Of course you can't talk about anything abstract, like philosophy, but you can wait until you get home to do that.
On the tenth day, we awoke to find French friends had already packed and headed off on the trail. We often get a later start than others but often catch up with them later in the day. While getting coffee for the morning at the bed & breakfast near the campground we met some Americans who were taking the Tour of Mont Blanc. Their guided tour cost about $5000 apiece for 10 days, plus airfare of course. We enjoy not being on a tour and not having a guide. The down side of not having a guide is that we discovered that we needed to hike 7 miles up the D902 road to get back on the GR 5 trail. We knew that the GR 5 would cross the road at Col du Rosseland but didn't know that we could find the correct route if we retraced our steps.
On the road we were passed by many bicyclists and motorcyclists--this is a popular touring route. At the top there were several concession stands selling various things--including one selling some lovely stones. Although they were pretty, we resisted buying rocks that we would have to carry for the rest of the trip.
The views were again quite stunning. Luckily we weren't going to have to cross the mountain in the next picture.
The ranch people milk their cows with a roving cow milker. They store it in containers and someone else comes buy to pick them up and leaves empties.
We ran into our Dutch friends again but we were moving at a faster pace since our backpacks were lighter. We wanted to make it to Chalet de La Balme, enjoy a meal and camp nearby. When we arrived we ordered a carafe of wine and a potato cheese omelet (montagne). The chalet was on a lovely spot with a nearby creek and fields of flowers about 4 feet high, that reminded me of cornstalks. Our Dutch friends arrived shortly and sat down to talk with us.
Across the trail there was a small hill. I suspected that behind it there might be a nice flat field for camping. We would be out of sight there. We asked the Chalet guardians if it would be okay with them if we pitched our tent over there. They didn't speak English and we didn't speak French, but through sign language we got the question across. They said it would be okay
A bit later, the guardian came out to tell me of another place to camp. She led me to a helicopter pad 80 feet away and wanted to know when we would be leaving in the morning. I said before 8. Apparently she didn't want helicopters landing on us and we didn't need to worry about helicopters. I showed the spot to our Dutch friends and after dinner the four of us pitched our tents there.
We went to sleep and slept soundly for about 45 minutes. That's when we woke up to something scratching near our heads at the front of our tent. This happened to be near where we were storing our extra cheese and bread. It was a crazy sound. We smacked the side of our tent hoping whatever it was would go away. It didn't go away so I got out of the tent to see two brown foxes scratching and circling our tent. I asked Debra to hand me a trek pole.
I didn't want to injure the foxes but I wanted them to leave. I swung a measured stroke hitting the fox near the front of the tent on the face. He left into the "cornfield" which provided perfect cover. The other fox was not deterred so I did the same to him and he also left. Our Dutch friends must have heard all the noise but they didn't peek out of their tent to see what was happening. I figured they must think we were nuts and regularly yelled in the middle of the night.
We didn't get a picture of the foxes but below is a picture that looks like the foxes we saw. We put our food in a plastic bag and placed it between us in the zip-together sleeping bags. We slept the rest of the night undisturbed.
At 6:30 a.m. the morning of the 11th day we awoke to a fox scratching away in the same spot as the night before. Again I got out of the tent, with a trekking pole in hand. The fox went near the back of the tent close to the flower field. He stood still and looked at me, as if sizing up the situation. I wasn't showing fear and gave no sign of backing down. I smacked the pole twice on the ground. He thought about the situation for a few more seconds and then disappeared into the "cornfield". We figured it was a fox from the night before, since he was scratching where the food used to be.
We assessed the tent. It had a bunch of tears and a hole about 4 inches across and 7 inches long. We would have to find a way to fix it, either by sewing or taping, to keep the rain out. The fox also punctured Debra's platypus water bottle. We left before our friends awoke and before anyone was stirring in the Chalet.
We got a light breakfast, bread and jam and a couple cups of coffee about 2 hours later in Valezan and then headed back on the trail for Landry, the town marking the end of the second stage of the hike.
We came to highway N90. This was the first time we had seen large trucks since Les Houches. Cars and trucks were speeding by at 70 mph. By crossing the highway we seemed to have lost our trail. I had Landry's coordinates in my GPS, so we took the most direct path toward it. We saw the red and white, so we thought it was right. Walking a bit further we found the red and white on a tunnel going under the highway. Were we going the wrong way on this road? Probably, but instead of retracing our steps in the opposite direction of Landry, we continued on what seemed the more direct route. The path got narrower and narrower until we found ourselves in brush. We could tell by car sounds that we were near N90 and so we scrambled up through thorny brush to get back to the highway.
I got up to the highway first. Debra was having troubles on a nearby slope, sliding back with each step. I came near her and extend my pole to her for her to grab. She came up but was pretty bloody and scratched. We were near the exit road from the highway to Landry and so we walked on the road. We got to Landry, but the town was a 2 horse town and both horses had left. Debra cleaned up her scratches at a water trough. These troughs with running water are common to these villages. When they are inside a village or near a refuge the water is usually safe to drink. We got a beer at a local bar and pressed on to the next stop.
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