Priceless Panoramas on the Quiet Side of the Mountains

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Fresh from a relaxing couple of days in Geneva, I headed an hour south to the Alpine Mecca of Chamonix in the shadow of Mont Blanc, where the crowds of people were even thicker than usual due to the UTMB ultra-marathon. This was all the reason I needed to avoid both the town and the mountain upon which its fame rests - for the time being at least - in favour of a night spent at a quiet little oasis of calm 7km away in the village of Les Grassonnet; followed by a four-day hike around a nearby (but much less well known) peak: the Tour du Mont Ruan. Unfortunately getting to the trailhead would prove to be a greater challenge than I could have anticipated...

Having been assured that the 8:40am train from La Joux (the nearest station to Les Grassonnet) would be continuing on to Le Chatelard - from where a funicular would take me up the mountainside to the Emosson Dam, where I planned to start the circular hike - I then discovered that the train would only be going as far as Vallorcine. From there everyone onboard had to switch to a rail replacement coach just to make it to the next stop at the Swiss border, before switching back to a train to reach the following station at Le Chatelard! Unfortunately this happened to be a 'stop on request', and though I immediately pressed the 'request stop' button, the train driver failed to take any notice until he reached the next station 4km further on at Finnhaut - which, inexplicably, was exactly what had happened to me the day before when I had tried to get off at La Joux (also a request stop)! After enduring a twenty minute wait for the next train heading BACK to Le Chatelard, I managed to get the train to stop (third time lucky, I guess) by which time it had taken an hour and fifteen minutes and required three trains and a coach travelling in two opposing directions to travel 11km!

After all of this absurdity I decided against taking the full three-stage journey all the way to the dam (which also included a panoramic 'toy train' and a 'mini-funicular' - whatever that is) in favour of simply starting my walk at the top of the first funicular railway, though this would add half-an-hour of walking to an already long day. As a result of all this messing around I didn't actually start my walk until 10:20am, which was most unfortunate given that I had to climb almost 1500m over two high passes, and needed to reach my hut for the night by 6pm (as well as finding somewhere to get lunch along the way). Needless to say, I immediately put my arse into gear and hightailed it up to the Barrage d'Emosson dam (1965m) - though I couldn't resist taking the scenic route up to a viewpoint overlooking the dam, which also featured stunning views toward the snow-capped summits of the Mont Blanc massif to the south.

From there the Tour du Ruan lost a couple of hundred metres of elevation as it contoured across the upper slopes of the Vallée du Trient, offering an endless sequence of beautiful vistas featuring a line-up of peaks on the opposite side of the valley. Eventually turning north - away from the best views - the trail then reached the farm buildings of the Alpage de Fenestral (1797m), from where a brutally steep climb led straight up the mountainside to the first pass of the route: the Col de Fenestral at 2452m. It was at this point that my good fortune in finding a replacement in Geneva for the daypack I had lost in Austria a month earlier became apparent, as with five days of non-stop sunshine forecast I had elected to leave my big backpack (including all of my warm clothes and rain gear) behind in Chamonix, in favour of my 18L daypack which could fit my essentials and nothing else... meaning that I would be carrying just 3-4kg on my back for the next four days, as opposed to the 15-18kg I'd had to carry on my most recent hike.

This was just as well given that the climb to Col de Fenestral gained over 400m of elevation in under a kilometre at one point, yet with only a featherweight on my back and an entire summer's worth of training in my legs I was able to climb the full 650m from farm to pass in exactly an hour. From the pass the trail led down across rough terrain which was tricky underfoot, before reaching the lip of the next valley to the north and plummeting downhill towards the farm buildings of Alpage d'Emmaney (1855m). Thankfully being a Sunday there were just enough hikers passing by for the farm to be serving food, and though there was only one offering, it was certainly good enough for me - the Planchette de Jour (Plate of the Day) featuring bread, sausage and four different kinds of cheese went down very nicely indeed!

But I was still only halfway through the day's walk at this point, with another 600m climb to come to the second pass of Col d'Emmaney at 2462m. Turning west, the trail followed the valley upstream towards an impenetrable wall of cliffs rising hundreds of metres high. Only when I reached the base of these cliffs did the trail turn right to start climbing the grassy slope on the northern side of the valley, weaving its way up through a herd of cows - one of which (a youngster) was so intrigued by my passing that when I turned around ten minutes up the trail it had climbed away from its companions to follow my progress! Within an hour and fifteen minutes of leaving the farm I was standing atop my second pass of the day, where a new panorama revealed the beautiful (though artificial) Lac de Salanfe backed by the soaring cliffs of the Haut Cime (3257m), with my overnight stop at the Auberge de Salanfe nestled just above its far end. Meanwhile the view back to the south encompassed the entire valley out of which I'd just climbed, with an expanded line-up of snowy peaks rising above the intervening ridge... and to top it all off, the domed summit of Mont Blanc (at 4810m, Western Europe's highest mountain) rose straight up from behind the Col de Fenestral that I had climbed over just three hours earlier.

Dropping down into the shade on the far side of the Col d'Emmaney, I encountered a small herd of chamois, who despite keeping their distance seemed far more comfortable in my presence than others that I've passed on this trip. They also tipped the scales in favour of wildlife for the day, as in six hours of walking I'd now seen eight chamois compared to just seven humans - a remarkable ratio given the beautiful weather combined with the presence of thousands of tourists (many of whom would surely be outdoor enthusiasts) down in Chamonix! Still, given the popularity of the Tour du Mont Blanc - which I hope to hike once I'm finished my current sojourn - I wasn't going to complain!

The following morning couldn't have started out any better, with Bircher muesli for breakfast and a glorious first half-hour of walking alongside the Lac de Salanfe. But with another two passes to cross it wasn't long before I was sweating my way up to the barren, rocky pass of Col du Susanfe (2494m). It was here that I caught up with a young French woman named Emiline, who I had met over dinner the night before and who was nearing the end of a three-week walk following the Chemin des Cols Alpin (Alpine Passes Route). Walking together down from the pass we encountered plenty of sheep, but thankfully none of their ill-tempered guardian dogs that multiple signs posted along the trail had warned us about. And within an hour of leaving the pass we had arrived on the sun-drenched terrace of the tiny Cabane du Susanfe, where Emiline ordered a slice of blueberry pie while I indulged my love for rosti (fried, grated potato) for the first time on the trip so far.

Eventually it was time to bid farewell to my new companion, as her onward route led down-valley towards the town of Barme, while I would be headed in the opposite direction over the Col des Ottans. This had been the reason for my growing sense of trepidation, as the trail over the pass was rated an 'Alpine Route' as opposed to the rest of the trail which was merely a 'Mountain Route', with the two-page guide I had downloaded to my phone (which accounted for my total knowledge of the Tour du Mont Ruan) mentioning an 80m climb involving fixed chains and ladders... perhaps this was the reason Emiline had skipped away with such a spring in her step!

Crossing to the other side of the valley, the trail wound haphazardly up through slopes of loose rock, before turning and climbing steeply towards a vertical wall of rock that appeared to offer no hope of an onward route. As I struggled my way up through the sea of scree at the base of the cliffs, I couldn't help wondering what on earth I was about to get myself into! It was only as I finally reached the cliff-face that I spotted the telltale blue painted spots (thus differentiating the 'Alpine Route' from regular, red-striped Mountain Routes) climbing a narrow, vertical crack in the rock to my right. Rarely have I swallowed so hard as I pondered my predicament! But with a young couple and an older lady following not far behind me, I figured now was as good a time as ever to tackle this obstacle course, so I grabbed hold of the fixed chains and started to haul myself up the crack in the rock. Soon the fixed chain was replaced with horizontal steel bars embedded in the rock... or at least MOST of them were embedded - unfortunately the third bar hung freely from one end, which didn't do my confidence much good!

Nevertheless I persevered up the almost vertical chute, which narrowed noticeably as the final challenge presented itself in the form of a pair of steel ladders. Breathing deeply, I clung tight to the rungs and pulled myself up the final ten metres or so, before squeezing through a gap barely wide enough for my shoulders and popping out through a keyhole in the rock onto a narrow (but blessedly horizontal) ledge above. Gathering my nerves, I peered back down through the hole to see the three other hikers slowly dragging themselves upwards almost directly beneath me - it was like nothing else I've ever seen! Yet one glance up the ridge revealed that my work wasn't yet done, as another hiker could be seen lowering himself down a fixed chain as he descended towards me. Thankfully this would turn out to be a mercifully short section, and within about twenty minutes I emerged on the broad saddle of the Col des Ottans (2500m), which aside from being the highest pass so far also serves as the frontier between Switzerland and France - meaning that, back in the land of the Euro, everything would be considerably cheaper from this point onwards!

The onward route would follow the crest of this high ridge (thus following the border) for the next kilometre-and-a-half, offering spectacular views over plunging valleys backed by soaring peaks on both sides - though it was the deep cleft of the Val di Giffre (and the snow-covered summit of Mont Blanc rising beyond it) to the south that stole the limelight. Eventually dropping off the ridge to the west (into France), the panoramic promenade continued as the trail contoured gently high above the cliff-lined valley. These are the sort of trails that just bring a smile to your face, offering maximum reward for minimum effort - though usually, as in this case, you need to expend maximum effort (or take an overpriced cable car, where one is available) to reach such sections of trail in the first place!

After a knee-wrecking descent I finally reached the startlingly-green, flat grassy meadow of the Refuge de la Vogealle, where the lady in charge took an instant liking to me once she discovered that I was from Australia! Being my first French mountain hut, I was also introduced to the wonders of the post-dinner 'digestif' - in this case a home-made spirit flavoured with 'genepi' (a type of flower). As a follow-up to the magnificent roast dinner and Panna Cotta dessert (my absolute favourite) that we had already enjoyed, it left me in no doubt that even in mountain refuges the French take their cuisine seriously!

After crossing four passes in the first two days, day three would feature a similar amount of altitude gain and loss (all four of my huts being located at around the 2000m level) but in a totally different format - this time the day would begin with a 1000m descent into the Giffre Valley, before climbing back up the other side. As a result, the two highest points of the day would be the huts at the start and finish, and most of my time would be spent below the treeline. Unfortunately the descent into the Giffre Valley was so steep it resembled a staircase clinging to the rocky western wall of the valley, which took a toll on my knees. Still, I had to admire the tenacity of whoever had built the trail... not to mention the imagination shown by the person who had identified the route in the first place!

Emerging within reach of a car park in the Sixt-Fer-à-Cheval nature reserve, the half-hour that I spent walking along the woody, shaded floor of the valley was the only time in four days that I would encounter walkers by the dozen; but the walking was easy and it wasn't long before I was leaving the crowds behind for the prolonged climb up the southern flank of the Giffre Valley, which would necessitate painstakingly regaining every metre of height that I had just lost. In fact I would end up climbing 1300m in all, with a heart-breaking 300m descent in the middle! But after preparing myself for what I was sure would be the worst section of the entire trail, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the initial 700m climb was not only less painful than I had foreseen, but also much more enjoyable - with a gravel road providing easy (and not unduly steep) terrain to walk on; and the north-facing, tree-covered slope ensuring that for virtually the first time on the walk I would be out of the sun, yet still have some wonderful views across the Giffre and Sixt Valleys whenever I encountered a break in the trees. Of course it helped that I was also carrying about 3-4kg on my back, rather than the 15kg+ I had become accustomed to in the Dolomites...

Unfortunately the farmhouse where I had planned to stop for lunch at the halfway point on my climb (based on the 'food' symbol on the brochure I had downloaded to my phone) turned out to be empty - if not abandoned altogether - which meant that I would have to wait until I reached the end of the day's hike before I could buy anything to eat... which made my purchase of four energy bars in Chamonix just before the trip look like an act of genius! After resting for thirty minutes at the Alpage de Commune to give my sweat-soaked singlet (and body) a chance to dry out - while replacing the fluids I'd lost - the trail contoured around the mountainside while losing height steadily, leading past more farm buildings where the only signs of life were the resident cows grazing outside. And then all too soon it was time for the second portion of the climb, gaining another 600m on a narrow walking trail that switch-backed up the crest of the ridge separating the Sixt Valley from its tributary valley to the south. But this too turned out to be a more pleasant challenge than I had expected, even if I ended up passing close to twenty people en route (which qualifies as a crowd on this side of the mountains!) while eventually rising beyond the blessed shade of the pine woods into blinding sunshine... by which time I was sweating too profusely to bother with either my sunglasses or hat.

Finally emerging from the endless switchbacks beside the Refuge de Grenairon (1974m), my hopes for a long-overdue meal were dashed for the second time that day when the guardian answered my query about 'manger' (food) with a look of utter astonishment and an exasperated glance at his wristwatch - clearly he felt that I was out of my mind to be asking for food at 3pm... despite the presence of numerous menu boards, none of which had any 'service times' listed. Even those huts that do close their kitchens to cooked food in the afternoons generally still offer some sort of cake at the very least, but clearly this guy (who looked like some sort of New Age yoga teacher) thought I was an imbecile for asking about such matters - as if I thought I was in some sort of restaurant!!! (Which, of course, is exactly what these refuges are during the daytime). I could only assume he was running the hut as some sort of not-for-profit organisation, so I dug out another energy bar and settled back to enjoy the far-reaching views.

Day four would be the opposite of day three, with the huts at the start and end of the day being my lowest points, separated by a prolonged climb up and over the Cheval Blanc. In poor weather this would have been my worst nightmare, as a reasonable portion of the trail would follow the crest of a high ridge sloping steeply downhill on both sides (much like on the second afternoon), but true to predictions there had been virtually no sign of either clouds or wind since I had started the walk. Getting the steepest part of the climb out of the way to start with, I soon emerged atop the ridge crest where the views in all directions were spectacular: from the Giffre Valley to the north, to the equally-deep Giffre des Fonts Valley to the southwest, and out to the northwest the Sixt Valley into which they both flow; while, as always, the now-familiar snow dome of Mont Blanc was unmistakable, rising clear above everything else directly to the south.

It was to the east, however, that my onward route would lead, with the trail heading straight along the very crest of the ridge wherever the terrain would allow. This I didn't mind. It was in those places where a rocky outcrop would suddenly protrude from the ridge, forcing the trail off the crest onto the upper slopes on the right-hand (southern) side of the ridge that my anxiety would quickly build, as invariably these slopes would consist of loose stones and gravel. Give me a trail leading straight up a mountainside on solid rock (with fixed chains or ladders if need be) any day; its the loose rock that gets my heart rate up every time. Even the slightest bit of vegetation to either side of the trail will allay my fears, for the root systems of even the tiniest plants will hold a slope together and thus give me the confidence to trust my grip on the surface; but time and again throughout this trip it has been the slopes of loose rock (which account for just about EVERY slope in the Dolomites) that have given me the heebie-geebies, for there is always the chance that even if I don't put a foot wrong, the slope - however gentle it may be - could potentially give way just enough for me to lose my balance.

Adding to my nervousness on loose slopes is my height (1.95m); or, more specifically, the fact that my centre of gravity is so high off the ground. With an equally-tall backpack on, this effect is exacerbated; but even with my tiny daypack I tend to find myself inching my way down steep slopes when others simply trot along normally, and I've only recently discovered that by crouching down to lower my centre of gravity it gives me much greater confidence. Besides having to walk through low doorways, tunnels or caves - the latter two of which I'm uncomfortable with anyway, due to my claustrophobia - it is probably the only time that I find myself wishing I was a foot shorter (and, potentially, 20kg lighter)! So think about that the next time you're complaining about not being able to reach something on the top shelf of the supermarket.

None of this was of any particular relevance to me as I made my way down from the ridge past the scattered, almost-dry Lacs du Plan du Buet; nor as I then plodded up the final slope to the summit of the Cheval Blanc (at 2830m, the highest point of the Tour du Ruan) to be greeted by a wonderful wraparound panorama that now included the twin artificial lakes of Vieux-Emosson and Emosson, whose turquoise waters sparkled in the sunshine far below. It was only when I left the summit half-an-hour later - after finger-feeding myself the pasta salad from my takeaway 'picnic pack' - that the old anxieties resurfaced, as the trail dropped straight down the steepest slope available, and I responded by quietly repeating the same four-letter word to myself (it wasn't 'cool') in an effort to keep calm. Each time I passed someone plodding their way slowly up the slope I would try to convince myself that I was better off going down than up, until my gaze would return to the steepness of the gradient at my feet and I would inevitably question whether this were actually true.

But eventually, as with every other nerve-wracking slope I've had to descend over the course of this summer, I did make it down safely - at which point I reenacted my little ritual of stopping, taking a few deep breaths, and letting out a huge sigh of relief knowing that the worst was behind me. It is at these moments that I know I can relax and properly enjoy the moments to come, in a way that I am never quite able to do whilst battling those 'inner demons' that appear out of nowhere whenever I encounter uncomfortable terrain (namely loose rock, wet rock and snow). At the very bottom of the descent from Cheval Blanc lay the 'sites d'empreintes de dinosaures', where a pair of adjacent rock slabs, having been folded up at a 45° angle, are littered with the tracks of (presumably quite small) dinosaurs left behind on the edge of what was then a shallow inland sea, around 240 million years ago. In fact the 'dinosaurs' in the title is a slight misnomer, as technically the reptiles that left the tracks behind pre-dated true dinosaurs - though it is highly unlikely they would have made such a distinction themselves.

Facing one final climb to the pass of Col de la Terrasse at 2645m, I stopped halfway to catch my breath and encountered a French couple who asked me a question I didn't understand. Rather than asking them to repeat the question in English, I simply responded with "Je suis fatigue'" (I am tired) - to which they nodded in agreement. I was tempted to add a second French phrase that I remembered from many years ago ("Je voudrais en glace?"), but the likelihood of their possessing ice cream seemed negligible at best. So I pressed on, and pretty soon was standing atop the final pass of the route, where once again my heart dropped as I spotted the trail dropping down an agonisingly-steep slope of - you guessed it - loose rocks and gravel. By this time I was almost too hot and tired to give a damn, so with a minimum of care and a maximum of fortitude I inched my way down the offending slope with all the delicacy of an elephant in a China shop, stopping for a rest only when the gradient had finally eased and I could be sure that my hard work for the day was done.

Thirty minutes later I claimed a prized seat under the shade of an umbrella on the outdoor terrace at the Refuge de Loriaz, where the kindly caretaker (who was most definitely not a yoga teacher) plied me with beer, muffins and the promise of a comfortable bed for the night. My only other activity for the day was trying to wrestle the stuffed orca (a miniature replica, I should point out) from the resident dog, who according to the hut's guardian was an Australian sheepdog. It looked more like a border collie crossed with a fluffed-up teddy bear - and showed no interest whatsoever in rounding up anything other than a free feed - but as is usually the way of things it wasn't about to lose a bout of 'teddy tug-of-war' to a tired hiker... much less one claiming to share the same country of origin. I didn't want the stuffed toy anyway... or so I told myself as I slunk away to pee in the dog's water bowl.

After a delicious traditional dinner of croziflette - which turned into an all-you-can-eat buffet when each of my female roommates in turn passed me their leftovers - and a peaceful night's rest, there was only the small matter of a 5km walk back to the Barrage d'Emosson to complete my circuit. Contouring high across sunlit slopes plunging into the Vallée du Trient, the walking was both easy and scenic; and after enjoying the view of the surrounding mountains reflected in Lac d'Emosson's placid waters, I was soon back at the upper funicular station waiting for my ride back down to civilization... while hoping that I would be able to get the Mont Blanc Express train to 'stop on request' so that I could board in Le Chatelard!

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Photos

A Fitting End to a Long Day
Lac de Salanfe

Clearly not following the waymarks
Chamois, on the descent from the Col d'Emmaney

Picturesque Trailhead
Lac d'Emosson and the Barrage d'Emosson - trailhead for the Tour du Ruan

Worth the Climb
Looking back to the Mont Blanc massif from the Col de Fenestral

The Long Way Down... to Lunch
Alpage d'Emmaney from above

Looming Large
View of Mont Blanc's summit rising up above the Col de Fenestral, seen from Col d'Emmaney

Mirror Image
Reflections in Lac de Salanfe on the morning of day two

Time for Lunch
Cabane du Susanfe

Dead End
Approaching the cliffs on the climb to Col des Ottans

Ever Onwards and Upwards
The culmination of the climb to Col des Ottans

The Final Frontier
Following the France-Switzerland border on day three

Shining Cliffs
Deep in the Giffre Valley

Up Into the Woods
Shaded woodland on the climb to Refuge de Grenairon

Far-reaching Views
Looking down over the Sixt Valley from above

Sunlit Shelter
Refuge de Grenairon

Prayer Flags & Shining Cliffs
Early morning sunlight on the Rochers des Fiz

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Following the high ridgeline on the way to the Cheval Blanc

High Point
On the summit of the Cheval Blanc

Twin Lakes
The Old & New Lacs d'Emosson

Slope of Stones
Looking back up the slope of the Cheval Blanc

The Long Way Down
The view from the Col de la Terrasse

Rooms with a View
The numerous huts of the Refuge de Loriaz

Winding Valley
View of the Vallée du Trient, with Mont Blanc rising up in the background

Scenes from the Trail
Early views on day one

Impenetrable Barrier
The imposing line of cliffs at the head of the Emmaney Valley

Jagged Ridgeline
The shapely Col d'Emmaney

Holding back the Tide
The Barrage de Salanfe

Grey, Green & Turquoise
Circling the Lac de Salanfe on day two

Rocky Barrier
The steep climb up to the Col du Susanfe

The Way Ahead
The view down-valley from the Cabane du Susanfe

Crack Climbing
The vertical chute leading up to the Col des Ottans

Peaceful Meadow
Looking down on the Refuge de la Vogealle

Steep-sided Valley
Looking back up the Val di Giffre

Quiet Country Lane
Farmhouses on the way down from the Alpage de Commune

Crossing Slabs of Stone
Resuming the climb to the Refuge de Grenairon

Sunlight and Shadow
Early views of Mont Blanc from the trail on day four

Lunar Landscape
Looking back over the Lac du Plan du Buet

Rock Garden
Nearing the Refuge de Loriaz at the end of a long day

Peaceful Retreat
The Refuge de Loriaz basking in early morning sunlight

Shades of Green and Blue
Heading back to the Lac d'Emosson on day five

Tranquil Waters
Atop the Barrage d'Emosson

Circuit Complete
Looking back over the Lac d'Emosson

Comments

[D MJ Binkley]

Magnificent Scenery
Thanks for taking us along.