Cheap Wine and a 3 Day Growth

By the time we'd packed up this morning we'd convinced ourselves that a cup of hot chocolate from Refugio Elizabetta would help us set off plus it had started to rain so there were no arguments. (As if there would be anyway with hot chocolate!)

We met an English couple who also stopped off for a Hot Choc. They were walking the opposite way to us so we each provided the other with tips and tricks from the paths we'd just taken.

We finally decided to leave the refugio when I noticed a picture of Pope John Paul II standing in snow in the mountains with a mountaineers next to him. It looked rather old but a simply white down jacket was the only addition to his regular Pope garment. I thought it was nice but random but took a picture of the photo anyway.

There was still a bit of drizzle when we left but it wasn't long before we reached the old customs house on the Italian side of the border. It was used up until the 1980's but has since been refurbished and has a modern look to it. Unfortunately it was locked.

We were joined soon after by some French people also doing the TMB. Funnily enough these were the first people we'd met doing the TMB clock-wise. I knew that most people did the route anti-clockwise (counter-clockwise to the American readers) so I picked clockwise to avoid the crowds considering it was the peak period. (get it? haha!) There honestly wasn't that many people doing it the other way. I was expecting it to be similar to the Overland Track in Tas but it was far from it.

We got the French people to take a photo and discovered that they were aiming for the same campsite as us that night. As they were heading off before us, I jokingly told them to have a cup of coffee ready for me when I arrive. Something got lost in translation and before I knew it, I regretted opening my mouth. One of the guys understood me and explained the humour to the rest. A delayed laughter followed.

Making our way to the Col de la Seigne, we met the same French people again at the border. I asked where my coffee was and failing to produce any, I fired them. However we re-hired them as photographers again as we crossed into France.

The Col has been fought over ever since the Romans walked over it and was fought over during WWII as well. There are still remains of barbed wire along the top.

The French side was another steep drop that was tackled with hairpin turns snaking down the hillside. However unlike most of the descents on this trip, this one wasn't too hard on the knees. We had lunch at the old dairy farm that has converted its cattle sheds into accommodation dorms and continued down the path to Les Chapieux - the most southern point of the Tour de Mont Blanc and also out halfway point for the walk.

The 'village' had a large grassy area for people to camp for free next to the tourist office. Our French friends who we last saw on the Col de la Seigne, arrived soon after. This 'village' really consisted of the tourist office, 2 alburges, about 5 houses and 2 shops. One a craft shop, which we didn't go into, and the other, well it was different.

It had a selection of local wines and spirits available and the largest collection of stuffed toys I'd ever seen. Even though the campground was fairly full, I could quite easily say that they was enough stuffed marmots, goats and cows for everyone in the 'village' to have at least 10each. But I was puzzled as to why this place needed this tourist information center and this unusual shop. At the end of the main street was a road winding through the mountains. This road had so little traffic that a local herdsman walked his 50+ goats along it without causing any roadrage. The other people in the campsite were in campervans or camping out for a day or two. It wasn't really a tourist mecca by any stretch of the imagination. I presume the place still exists because of the Tour de Mont Blanc.

Still we had arrived earlier than expected and so having walked all through the 'village', Jim got his 3Euro wine out and we sat in the sun and reminisced about old times.