From Grand-Saint-Bernard to Echevennoz

7/13/2008 - Grand-Saint-Bernard - Saint Rheims - Saint Oyen - Etroubles - Echevennoz
12.04 miles on trail, 14.90 total

No matter how hard I try, I just can't manage to wake up when I should. It has been a problem ever since my mom stopped forcing me awake prematurely (yes, I still lament all those lost Saturday hours of sleep). On the all-important first day of the walk, nothing changed. Two alarms at 6:30 and 6:45 meant a wake-up at 7:15, whereupon I showered, packed up, had another homemade meal, this time of bread, butter, strawberry jam, milk (all homemade), and coffee, and started on a pre-walk to the "big town" up the road, Etroubles.

Etroubles cannot have more than 750-1000 inhabitants, and has all the charm one might expect of a small Alpine town. It was there that I caught that fateful 10:21 bus to Grand-Saint-Bernard, where it was in the low 50s and raining.

Reluctant to turn around and walk away when such a beautiful Swiss border town beckoned, I crossed the border into Switzerland and had a cup of hot chocolate, which was perfect considering the weather outside. In the café I met a nice couple from Geneva at the next table. The wife was half-American half-German, and the husband, originally from Pakistan, had come down for the month to see if he could get a "vacation-job" picking apricots, which apparently grow bigger than peaches in August. I really enjoyed the idea of what he was planning to do: take a break from the office to be outside, breathing fresh air with the farmers and sampling the local produce. Anyways, we exchanged information, they graciously offered their home to me should I decide to travel to Geneva, and I left the cafe, but not before buying two Lindt chocolate bars.

Grand-Saint-Bernard, as it turns out, is where Saint Bernards come from (obvious to you, maybe, but it had gone right over my head). I found out that they are no longer used for rescue, since today's rescues are performed with helicopters sending German Shepherds down on a line to the victim. The Saint Bernards were simply too big.

I wanted to see some, and found out that they had puppies on display, but after excitedly scampering up the hill, I found out that entry was 5€, and the puppies were only at the end of a larger museum. Envying my time and money, I elected not to go, and don't regret it. I love dogs, but not enough to pay to see them.

Having explored the little border town, there was now nothing left to do but take that fateful step.

I was on my way!

The first 30 minutes were what one might expect. I didn't walk far enough to find the sign, and took a wrong turn up the side of a mountain, through some ice patches and very difficult terrain. I finally realized when the trail stopped that I had started on the wrong path, and I had a good laugh to myself. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, I took a beautiful panorama shot, and returned the way I had come.

Once I was on the right path, it proved pretty easy to follow. There is a walking path called the TAM that goes from Aosta to Rome. Since it curves too far inland, I will not take it the whole way, but it proved very walker-friendly all the way to Aosta, where it and I would finally part ways.

In order to describe the path in detail, I need only refer to that time honored cliché: a picture is worth a thousand words. Since I have more than a hundred photos in two days, that would be a hundred thousand words, more than anyone would be willing to read for only two days of travel.

In general, I will say that the path from Grand-Saint-Bernard to Echevennoz contained the elements of everything that I was seeking in the first place: pastoral landscapes, the outdoors, exercise, fresh air, waterfalls, various types of interesting plants and flowers, and most importantly, the feeling of ecstatic accomplishment that comes from seeing a mountain in the distance, walking past it, and looking at it again from the other side. Neither words nor pictures could express this feeling properly, but only one word I can think of comes close: sublime.

I was definitely weary after the long day's walk, so when I got back to Echevennoz around 6PM, I was somewhat perturbed to find that nobody was to be found in or near the hostel. I knocked on about 5 or 6 doors, and after receiving no response, I did what any other tired walker would do on a Sunday afternoon: laid down on a large piece of wood and fell asleep.

When I woke up an hour later and there was still nobody there, I resolved to sit under an overhang and wait. There was no way I was going to walk the 30 minutes back to Etroubles to find a hotel. So I waited.

Around 7:30, Sylvana, the hostel owner, pulled up in her car, and was very surprised to see me again. She asked that I give her until 8:30 for dinner, and I was so thankful that she came back, that I would have waited far longer.

Thankful to be back in the same room, alone again in this hostel, I dozed for awhile, only to repeat the same wonderful feasting experience, this time with prosciutto and melon, minestra, and some fresh cheese, all of it (sounding like a broken record now) homegrown and homemade.

I must say that I was a bit sad as I left dinner that evening, thinking that this would be the last time on this trip that I would dine at Echevennoz. The entire family, husband, wife, grandmother, and son, had been extremely friendly and generous in my two evenings there. However, the road lay ahead, and it was probably better to leave why the gettin' was good rather than to stay and have the experience grow stale. *sigh*