Day 1 - Les Houches - Bionnassy - Les Contamines

I woke up at 6:00 AM ready to start. The sun was out, the day looked clear and relatively warm. Our alarm was set for 6:30 AM, so I read as Jennifer slept. At 6:30 she got up and we quickly packed up the room, went down for a quick breakfast, stored our extra luggage, and then hit the toad. We hiked through town to what was supposed to be the start of the TMB. We saw the tram that many people took to avoid the beginning incline, but this seemed like cheating. (In hindsight it would have been better to take the tram and walk the alternate route that was longer, but supposedly more scenic.)

Sadly, like in many towns along the way, our directions were confusing. Although the path we were on would have merged with the TMB, nothing was marked. So we pulled out our trusty guide book, for what would not be the last time, and it directed us to the proper start. We turned off the road and onto a trail. Then SLAP. The trail slapped us hard. From the very first step we struggled. The trail inclined steeply, with no relentlessly it wound upwards, giving us no hint it would ease. Didn’t the Swiss ever hear of switchbacks? While I know that neither of us are in our best shape (weddings, house repairs, and illness had taken their toll), but this was really obnoxious. This may have been the hardest start of any multiday trek I had ever hiked. It was demoralizing how tired we felt, still we plodded along. After a little over two hours we reached the small town at the pass of Col de Vosa, but more importantly we found a friendly restaurant open that was more than happy to charge us 3 euros ($4.50) for a very tiny refreshing bottle of apricot nectar. The restaurant was situated by a train station that shuttled the less adventurous visitors up and down. We relaxed as hang gliders soared overhead.

With the mountains surrounding us we got an answer to an important question. Would being too early rob us of the wild flower fest that occurs early in the season? As the palette of colors displayed by the flowers indicated, our timing was perfect. So we marched on with new confidence, after all most of the up was behind us. Sadly, the down proved punishing in a whole different manner. The down was steep enough that it became difficult to take in the breathtaking wildflowers blanketing the meadows. Our path was literally carved out of the flowers. The flowers became walls on both sides of the trail. While the flowers in Patagonia stretched farther, they were mostly of one or two varieties. Here there were whites, purples, yellows, blues, not to mention the variegated ones. It all made the effort worth the pain emminating from our legs. Of course, I say this as I am writing, not so sure we would have said that at the time on the trail. We continued along, passing one small town after another. We stopped for our packed lunch of bread and savory French cheese. The nice thing about carrying cheese for lunch is you can blame the heat for your reason to stop early in the day. After all we can not let the cheese melt.

Things mellowed out in the elevation gain department only to be presented with confusing and contradicting directional markers. This is where having a wife that speaks fluent French comes in handy. Good thing I didn’t leave her home on this trip! She was great. Just about everyone was friendly to her. Well that’s not quite true. There was a curmudgeony old man who barked out his window at the other trekkers who thoughtlessly decided his lawn was a good resting place. I do have to admit it looked comfy, but we marched on without commiting the same transgression.

A kilometer down the road we were faced with another sign that pointed one way to the TMB and our destination, Les Contamines. We backtracked and met up with more confused trekkers. There were lots of us milling about. They spoke Spanish, with some broken French. We spoke English, French, and I added some broken Spanish of my own.  Together we spoke in Franspanlish, a unique mixture of the three languages and determined the right way to go. About 30 meters past where we were confused a sign appeared. For some strange reason the signs always seemed to be 30 or so meters past where you needed them.

“Have faith young grasshopper,” popped into my head as we marched into the forest. The forest was quite pleasant until an unexpected last rise sapped the last of our strength. We arrived in Les Contamines and to our sorrow discovered that the cheap close place was full. The other cheap place was far from town, which created logistic problems. We gave in and stayed in an inexpensive hotel. It was horrible. After a sweaty day on the trail we had hot showers, a real bed, a clean private room, and our dinner and breakfast cooked for us. Top it off the place had a great view. A church surrounded by chalets that one would expect from an Alpine village. We resupplied, took a nap, and had a magnificent meal – potato soup, salad, beef manicotti, a cheese course, a sweet dessert of chocolate covered cream filled pastries. I have to admit, this did beat Raman noodles and a power bar. We met an interesting gentleman, who clearly was well off and loved trekking. While he traveled to places like Nepal, he spent a month a year in the Alps. After dinner we went to bed, yes a nice warm clean bed. One could get used to this.

The story continues...