Hey all,
miserable night last night – found out why all the camp-sites had stone walls – it got really windy – and I had the hammock in this stupid exposed spot – so it kept making terrifying flapping noises all night and keeping me awake. On top of which the flexible trees turned out to be even more flexible than I thought – I had to get up twice and reset the rope holding it up cause I found myself touching the ground, not to mention getting up at least five times to try and do something about holding the fly to the ground (I finally figured out the secret to this – will read the instructions next time). So when the Irishman and the Brit swung past before 7 AM, I did not join them.
Apart from that though, today was enjoyable again. The Irish bloke had given me these weird silicon pad things that bond to your skin and I put them over the main blister problems – they did not exist when I last hiked – worked pretty well today, so that made life easier.
Left around 9:30 – today I did two stages, both fairly short, and people often double them up – the other two were effectively doing three stages – I assume they made it, but they would have been trashed by the time they finally arrived. It started raining just as I left – was okay with my gear – it is all inside a garbage bag in the pack, and the laptop was inside another plastic bag, plus the back-pack itself has a rain-cover – but was getting wet myself – so tried the poncho, which worked well – they are really good to hike with because they cover your pack, and they don't sweat inside like jackets do – they seem to be making a comeback – a lot of people here use them instead of big rain-coats. Anyway, the light rain turned into this astonishing downpour – I wanted to take a photo of it, but the camera is not water-proof and there was no way I could take even a quick photo of the rain without getting the camera drenched. Then it started to hail. Lightening, thunder, the whole works – at times the lightening and thunder were worryingly close, very worrying given that I now walk around with a lightening rod in each hand.
The big ascent of the first stage was held up because there was so much water – a usually dry gully that the trail crossed turned into a thundering combination of water-fall and river. When I got to it there was a crusty old Swiss guy and a Swiss girl in her 20's waiting at the edge – she was shivering badly – I was lucky because even though I only had on shorts and a t-shirt, the poncho is like a space blanket on the inside so it kept me warmish. Then another couple of crusty old Swiss blokes showed up. They had a conference – they seemed, at most, a little non-plussed by the whole situation, including the young girl with her chattering teeth. I don't know exactly what they said, but given their gestures: pointing at their watches, the river, the way they shrugged their shoulders at me, I think the gist of it was this: We'll wait. Maybe an hour, maybe more. The river should go down because the rain has just stopped. We should then be able to cross it. Or it might start raining even heavier – the river will get bigger – we will all get swept away to our deaths. Who knows? Such things happen. It is in God's hands now.
We did eventually get across after about an hour or maybe an hour and a half – even then it was a bit sketchy – if you slipped, got swept over, then it would have involved being smashed to bits on a cascading series of water-falls. Spoke, or actually shouted, to K briefly just before crossing – huddled under my poncho trying to make myself heard above the water. The sun did come out shortly after – the next hour and a half was basically clambering up a series of very steep and wet, often flowing (actually often still little water-falls) granite cliffs and ledges. I actually enjoyed it immensely. Bumped into some French dude who could speak English – he was on the way down – was wearing a knee brace – which I noticed because when we met it was just above the level of my head. We stopped, had a conversation about knee reconstructions and the pros and cons of the stupid walking sticks and how they help take the pressure off on the descents. Bizarre – a small slip for either of us would mean, at best, an air-lift and a long stay in hospital – just chatting away like we bumped into each other on the street.
Eventually got to the refuge at the end of that stage – later than I had planned because of all the water drama – did not stay long – ordered a sandwich from the villainous looking guy who ran the place – he made it, Marlboro Red hanging out of his mouth (he ashed it mid-sandwich by flicking it with his tongue so the ash fell between his arms) – was a lump of bread with a heap of slices of the sausage stuff they make here cut into it: I have a lump of this salami-like substance in my bag at the moment – is a fantastic snack – heaps of fat, salt, a little bit of protein – just what you need on a walk this strenuous. They cater for vegetarians here by offering a couple of options: you can leave the country either by plane or ferry.
Anyway, the afternoon was nice and not too strenuous – a long ambling walk beside a sequence of granite pools and waterfalls – would have stopped for an hour or two at a couple of them but the weather was still iffy and it was cold – then the day ended up with about an hour and a half through a forest – which I really enjoyed – dirt under foot for a change instead of sharp granite rocks anywhere between cricket-ball and skull sized. What remains of my guide book described this forest section with terms like “dull” and “plod” - seemed slightly ashamed that it even formed part of the route: how many times in this section would it be possible to slip and plunge to your death? None times, that's how many – it is a national embarrassment. But I enjoyed it – have had enough of wild romantic prospects for at least a couple of days...
Am at a hotel tonight, which I really can't afford, but the camp-site did not have many trees, and they were all taken with clothes lines anyway – and I needed the sleep after last night and a solid 8 hours today. The hotel I had my rest day at was fantastic – they did not rort you even a little bit, although given your lack of options and the desperation that their clients are in, they could have – the dinner you got with the room was 5 courses big – and even the gear was the right price – my boots, which are a French brand I don't know, are at least half, maybe a third, what they would cost in Australia. This place, on the other hand, borders on exploitative – but I really needed the bed.
Really enjoyed the day – my body is starting to cope with it and my mind is as well – I can enjoy the scenery and the isolated grandeur of it all now instead of thinking constantly “I am in so much pain: when will it ever stop?” – although I think I have pulled a muscle in my shoulder. That said, I am a bit lonely now that all the people I started with have passed me by – and also lonely because I still have not been able to get reception for the usb internet thing I took so much trouble to get. Got money troubles too – I am running low, and can't find an ATM and can't get online to transfer into the ATM anyway – may have to take a day off in a few days, find a town, sort that out. Hopefully will get reception sometime soon.
Photos: 1. Before it started raining. 2. What we had to cross – after it poured for a couple of hours. 3. Couple of crusty old Swiss guys and a shivering Swiss girl, waiting for Moses to show up. 4. Stunning place. 5. One way up. 6. The other way up – I guess it says something about how much five days can change you that I am not particularly bothered by these options or what the view looked like behind and beneath me... 7. If you zoom in on the spot one-third across and half-way down, you can just make out the refuge where I had lunch about half an hour before taking this shot. 8. The dull plod: these people take the colour green for granted.
Cheers, B.
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