Training for the Elements (Swiss Alps - Part 4)
Day 4: Cabane de Mont Fort to Cabane de Parafleuri (Map)
It started out innocently enough. The day’s agenda was expected to be one of the most spectacular days of the entire trek. Three mountain pass crossings, dramatic views. A long but stunning day through the remote wilderness.
First, an early morning race against the clouds billowing through the pass. Once clear, the look back to the mountains looked like a watercolor painting.
Up ahead, the first pass was uphill through a sea of rubble. Slow going, as the trail was mostly still buried under snow. The tenacity of these stubborn snow patches amazed me. How dare they, snow in (almost) July?
Once through the pass, the reward was the expansive Mont Blanc panorama. A little cloudy, adding a bit of a wispy ominous vibe. I kept hoping those dark emo clouds would stay over on that side of the fence.
Pass #2 - though its far darker than 10am should be, the weather is holding up so far. I try in vain to be faster, but that's like trying to increase the speed of counting rice, one grain at a time.
I feel the first drops of rain. Ominous clouds and thundering skies make me thankful that I made some new friends yesterday, so I’m not all on my own today.
We trek in the drizzle. I slide down my butt on the unavoidable heavily inclined snow patch, because a new knee is not in my budget at this time. Drizzle turns into rain. Accompanied by thunder.
By pass #3, all hail breaks loose. That’s right. HAIL.
Literal ice bullets pelt us as we scramble over slippery fields of rocks, jump over temporary glacier rivers, and tiptoe over patches of snow. I am wet, cold, achy. I start wondering why I can't just sit at home.
What beautiful misery.
At some point I start fantasizing about a warm bed. Speaking of, how far exactly is said bed? It doesn’t long to figure out I made yet another boo-boo in my last minute late night bookings. I’ve already missed the last bus to get into town. Whoops. Am I stranded technically?
However, it’s Switzerland after all. And the Swiss, being civilized and otherwordly, maintain winter cabins for stranded idiots. So that’s what happened - wet, miserable, and hungry, we tried the door to the mountain hut.
It was open.
Not just open, but equipped with bunks, blankets, and mattresses. A machine that took coins for electricity. We didn’t have coins, because who carries coins in Europe? Luckily (yet again), the coin jar next to the machine had plenty. A kitchen stocked with beer, powdered soup, macaroni, coffee, milk.
And that’s how me, an Israeli couple, and a duo of South African backpackers dined and slept in the emergency hut.
We tried to dry our clothes near the heat source - meaning the oven. For as long as I live, I will never forget the smell of burning socks worn by three dudes after an all-day trek in the rain.
It’s…flavored.
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