By the 5th day, we were halfway done. We made our way down the ski slopes through the towns of Dolone and Courmayeur to the correct Hotel Funivia in la Palud, a suburb of Courmayeur. Along the way, we stopped for lunch in Courmayeur’s older part of town. Our plan was to have pizza as we were in Italy, but we passed by a quaint hole-in-the-wall crepe place in a side alley, and we couldn’t pass up on the opportunity. Thus, we had Crepes in Italy and Pizzas in France (lunch for day 3).
For many fellow hikers, their tour ended here in Courmayeur. They tend to hop onto a bus line that takes passengers through a tunnel right under the Mont Blanc massif and across the border to Les Houches/Chamonix, France. A far more expensive route, but a treat for the eyes, is to go over the peaks using a series of cable cars. Yeah, cable cars. After our tour, we took part of these gondolas to the peak of Aiguille di Midi. But that is a story for another post.
Around this time, we had gotten the hang of most of the things. The long days, dorm etiquette, packing and unpacking every day, wearing the same clothes, and so forth. However, I found some of the bunk beds a bit tricky. Given a choice, I like the top bunk. But after a long hiking day, if for some reason I need to get down in the middle of the night, it means rappelling down the ladder in a drowsy state and barely lit room. In the Maison Vielle Refugio, I got the unlucky bed, where the ladder was not part of the bunk bed frame. It was just leaning on the side. Let’s just say I tripped a few too many times on that ladder.
We (my parents and I) also had gotten closer with our fellow hikers. The tour du mont blanc is not only an experience of alpine views and food. It is a shared experience of hardship with others along the journey. The ibuprofens, knee sleeves, and blister plasters bind the hikers into a family. Our core family consisted of 10 hikers that had booked all the refuges through the same hiking travel agency. We slept in the same dorm room and ate at the same dinner table day in and day out. We were the “bookatreking 10.” – that’s how we introduced ourselves at the reception of the refugees every day.
The first member that we met in the group was Tímea, a Hungarian working in Denmark . We had actually seen her when we landed at the airport, and based on her hiking bag with clothes pins hanging on the outside, we rightly guessed she was on tour. She was always the first to reach the refuges and the last to be exhausted. A real powerhouse.
While Tímea brought physical energy, Harry brought social energy. This retired gentleman from Florida seemed to know every hiker on tour, and everyone seemed to know him. He was even once invited to a campsite with a jacuzzi by other hikers he met that day. He was also well-read. From fashion to international politics, he could connect with anyone from any background.
Our group was rounded by the Brits: Elena, George, and Tim. These trekkers completed the tour using a map, compass, and ruler. While most of us relied on pre-downloaded GPS maps, these college friends went old school. They did not get lost, even once. We bonded over our trans-Atlantic differences, such as measuring weight in stones versus pounds or the SAT versus the A-levels.
There was also a father-son duo from the Netherlands originally in our group. However, the trek to Croix du Bonhomme (Day 2) had forced them off the tour early on.
Outside of our bookatreking family, there were many more hikers that we got to know along the way. Our conversations ranged from a quick chat with a Moroccan hiker while washing our clothes or an in-depth discussion with a Johnson&Johnson scientist. Meeting people from around the world with diverse backgrounds and interests was the most memorable and eye opening part of the trip.
Conscience of Aniket 