ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Sunday, February 4, 1996 TAG: 9602030002
SECTION: TRAVEL PAGE: G-8 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: ALAN LITTELL
WE were a group of reasonably fit and determined adventurers trekking south with our guide across a remote alpine wilderness.
For the next seven days, traveling single file and at one point roped together on dangerously steep terrain, we would seek out spectacular prospects of glaciers and valleys falling to the joint frontiers of France, Italy and Switzerland.
The late-spring outing, when snow still clogged the high passes, would cover the length of one of the world's most demanding hiking trails: the 70-mile circuit of Mont Blanc-central peak in the wall of rock that divides northern Europe from the Mediterranean Sea.
The journey would take us to elevations of up to 10,000 feet, with nights spent in clean but spartan inns and mountain refuges. And as in so many ventures that challenge body and spirit, the trek, though exhilarating, would become in the end a test of endurance, a test of self: as much a random exploration of our inner landscapes as it was of the rugged grandeur of crag and snow.
First day: We meet our guide in Chamonix, the French ski and hiking center shadowed by the white-capped dome of Mont Blanc, highest peak in Europe. He is Jean-Marie Olianti, a senior member of the team of professional mountaineers known as the Compagnie des Guides de Chamonix.
There are four in our party: a young woman from Brittany, a couple from Paris, and myself. For the span of the trip we will converse in a serviceable (but sometimes hilarious) mix of French and English.
Jumping-off point for the walk is the upland village of Les Houches, reached by a gondola lift just outside Chamonix. We begin with a deceptively easy descent on springy paths. Jean-Marie, lean and weather-beaten, strides ahead at a rhythmical pace, natural gait of the mountain man. In midmorning he gestures toward a far-off pass.
"That's where we stay tonight," he says. "Maybe another six, seven hours." In the Alps, he notes, distance is always measured in time.
As we climb onto higher ground the going gets tougher. The sun is hot, the air windless. Four hours into the walk, with calves starting to cramp, we slip our packs - they hold water bottles, lunch provisions, a change of clothes - and find respite from the trail in the shade of a wood. We snack on sausage and dark peasant bread.
Soon on the march again, we toil up a gorge with a stream plunging on our right. In late afternoon we come out onto a plateau flanked by peaks and ridges that tower above us like shattered teeth.
The path twists uphill through meadows to a 6,000-foot saddle and the first of our overnight stops. The Chalet de la Balme is fairly typical of its type, a concrete building of mixed-sex dormitories with bunk beds and flush toilets. In an adjacent dining room the evening meal is plain but simple: turkey, cheese and wine.
Second day: I don a fleece jersey against the cold, breakfast on bread and tea and am on the trail by 7. Shafts of sunlight bathe a wildly magnificent amphitheater of peaks gleaming white above green valleys.
Hiking south, we climb into snow fields. Their reflected glare reddens the skin and dazzles the eye. We doff jerseys, apply sun block, put on dark glasses. The uphill walk is punishing. But we are rewarded at every rise by stupendous views of snowy mountains and of waterfalls plummeting from the high crevasses.
By midafternoon we gain a 9,000-foot pass, the Col des Fours, and run, slide and boot-ski downhill through packed snow. On the valley floor we leap across a brook into a field of gentians. Soon afterward, as the sun dips below the ridges, we reach our scheduled refuge.
Les Mottets is a converted cow shed, short on privacy and comfort. Bedding is aligned cheek-by-jowl on a 50-foot platform; the bathroom is a quaint anachronism of squat toilets. But the food that night is hearty and delicious: beef stew washed down with pitchers of rough French red wine.
Third day: We hike northeast into the sun. Glaciers fall gray as elephant hide behind us. In four hours of grueling uphill work we reach our first objective, the 8,300-foot Seigne Pass. A brass plaque pointing to "Monte Bianco" - the peak soars above us in the north to 15,771 feet - is our sole reminder that we have crossed the frontier into Italy.
From the pass we lope downhill to the Veni Valley, then begin the inevitable afternoon ascent, this time a five-hour traverse of aprons of snow. We are surrounded by a world of snow and sun. Above us glisten icy crags. Below lie dizzying chasms.
After an 11-hour day we turn the crest of a ridge, amble down through pastures to the Maison Vielle, a handsome mountain inn with a dormitory of double bunks above a stone-flagged dining room.
The evening meal is consummately prepared: pasta and veal scallopine accompanied by a full-bodied wine, a Barbera d'Asti, from southern Italy.
Fourth day : We trek down 2,000 vertical feet to Courmayeur, a pretty little resort town of chalets and cobbled streets, and after a brief rest begin slogging up the southern slope of a 7,500-foot peak, Monte della Saxe.
Once more the climb is interminable. After a draining day, as lengthy as the one that preceded it, we reach our destination - the Bertone refuge - perched thousands of feet above the Ferret Valley of neighboring Switzerland.
In a bare dining room of trestle tables we dine sumptuously on palenta, sausage and goat cheese, washed down yet again with a robust red wine.
Fifth day: We hike into Switzerland at the 8,300-foot Ferret Pass and in a few hours veer west to the boulder-strewn and snow-filled Arpette Valley, the route back to France.
Long before sundown we reach a chalet-style inn, the Relais d'Arpette. It has the usual double bunks but also that most welcome of amenities, a sparkling modern bathroom.
Sixth day: Ascending the Arpette we run into trouble for the first time. The snow slope ahead rises at a daunting angle. But it is our only route to the next pass, a distant notch between two crags.
Jean-Marie ties us to a nylon rope. He carries the loose end a few hundred feet uphill. Cautiously we climb after him.
Part way up the slope I let my gaze wander from the path. Instantly I slip and go down. But the tether holds - without it there is a 1,000-foot slide to boulders below.
It takes us three hours of relentless effort to reach the pass, where we slump exhausted against a rock. My right knee, twisted in the fall, has begun to stiffen.
Later, as I limp toward our evening stop, an inn at the foot of the great Trient Glaciers Jean-Marie offers to carry my 20-pound pack on top of his own much heavier one. I decline.
Seventh day: We are on the home stretch. In a cooling drizzle, first of the outing, we tramp south to the French border at the 7,200-foot Balme Pass. From the heights we can make out toy-like villages and the sprawl of Chamonix under the loom of Mont Blanc.
We scramble down on loose gravel. A hiker plods uphill toward us.
"Ca, c'est dur - this is hard," he says, wiping sweat from his eyes.
"Oui, c'est dur," one of our party agrees, "but it's good."
IF YOU GO....
Package tours: I hiked the seven-day circuit of Mont blanc with Collineige, a British ski and trekking outfitter with offices in Chamonix. The cost of land arrangements is $2,550 a person, based on double occupancy, and includes all meals and accommodations as well as the services of a guide and transfers from Geneva, closest international gateway to Chamonix. The cost of a less-wearing 10-day trek is $3,320. For details, contact Collineige, Lifestyle Buildings, 30-32 High St., Frimley, Surrey, England. The toll-free telephone number from the United States
is 800 688-0378. Mountain Travel-Sobek (6420 Fairmount Ave., El Cerrito, Calif. 94530; 800-227-2384) offers similar excursions.
Travel Tips: Sturdy lug-soled boots with good ankle support are musts along with sunglasses, walking stick, sun cream, wide-brimmed hat. A conditioning regimen of daily hikes is strongly recommended for anyone planning a trek of this degree of difficulty.
Alan Littell is a free-lance travel writer based in Alfred, N.Y.
LENGTH: Long : 149 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: ALAN LITTELL. 1. In a valley south of Chamonix, a pairby CNBof hikers savors the gentle descent. Chamonix, the French ski and
hiking center, is shadowed by the white-capped dome of Mont Blanc,
highest peak in Europe. 2. A hiker, underneath blue skies and white
peaks, stops to rest. 3. The group (left) takes a break on the first
leg of the trek near Mont Blanc. 4. One of the hikers (above) and
her friend perch on a chalet roof buried in snow. color.