A WINDOW TO THE HEAVENS
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| a window on the heavens |
For the past four weeks we have been walking going up and down in the Alps, from one valley to the next through mountain passes. This going up and down has been very efficient to strengthen our legs and improve our sense of balance. From a psychological point of view, I found that it always felt strange to go from a pass above 2500 meters down to a valley village at less than 1500 meters elevation. It is like leaving behind a world of purity, "nearly" untouched by humanity (no road, no agriculture with fertilizers and pesticides which means that the endemic flora and fauna still has room to survive, especially because they are protected by regulations). There is also the fact that rather human-unfriendly weather conditions and relative inaccessibility of access allow the peaks to enjoy their untainted isolation (but for how long now that e-bikes can take you nearly everywhere?). That forceful peace of the peaks reminds me of Olympia the mountain where ancient Greeks believed their gods were living.
Coming down to the valley is taking one back to the familiar human-driven world, full of cars, pollution, etc... and good things too like good food, entertainment, comfort, decent phone coverage. Somehow I always feel a subtle sadness deep inside me when going down back to civilization. On the contrary, moving up from the valley is physically challenging but also elating because of the prospect of grandiosity one expects to find up there and the sense of achievement. This is precisely what I felt on our way to Monte Viso.
A narrow forest track took us up to a private rifugio called Grongios Martre, about half an hour from Castello. It is rather a boutique hotel. The owners live there all year round but welcome guests only in summer. The house was built by one man, the father of Laila Chapel, who is running the place. It took him over ten years but the result is a great mountain chalet knowing that there is no proper access road, only a track that can be used in summer for a mini tractor. The other man running the show is Luca, the partner of Laila, in charge, among other things, of cooking, a passion for him and a delight of his guests. We had a solid plate of home-made antipasti, al-dente spaghetti alla melanzane (aubergine and olives) with an amazing taste, far from the strong bittery taste aubergine sometimes has. Then came my favourite, a pork roast with apple and carrots which served as my dessert. At breakfast, the buffet was larger than the table for ten guests! Laila was saying that life at Grongios Martre required to be used to solitude particularly in the winter when the only way to get out is to walk on the steep path covered in snow to reach Castello. But at the same time they have a beautiful house, abundantly stocked with books and well connected to the internet.
To get closer to Monte Viso, we walked up the Vallanta valley following the torrent through a magnificent landscape of green grass, occasional spruce trees and cows grazing well above the elevation of 2000 meters. We arrived at the refuge of Vallanta by noon. It was still sunny though the clouds rapidly gained momentum in the mysterious way they are able to form out of thin air. I had a polenta sausage lunch to settle down my thoughts about the weather. The peaks were progressively surrounded by a thick layer of white clouds which occasionally let parts of the rocks appear and disappear just as quickly. We went out for a walk towards the old refuge building, located a little higher up against a cliff and overlooking a water stream that fed the artificial lake next to which the new refuge has been built. Clouds had now engulfed the whole place in fog and this lasted until the end of the afternoon. The refuge was full. A 6.30 PM, a little bit of military discipline was used for the restaurant to be readied for dinner. All tables were busy with people having drinks and playing games because of the unpleasant weather outside. The staff of the refuge expertly told everyone to move away from the tables for a quarter of an hour beyond a line so that the tables could be set. People obeyed and waited behind the line drawn but one could feel a certain eagerness to be allowed to dinner as food is always very dear to the mountaineer. Soup was served, everything was well again! Around 8PM, the top of the peaks appeared above the fog bathed in a golden light, it was magical. We slept in the top floor dormitory that looked like a sleep-cathedral with bunk beds of two of three levels each spread on two levels. Somehow science fiction addicts might have been at ease with projecting themselves as being on a long flight to a distant planet which involves sleeping for a long time, but somehow they would, as we all were, have been brought back on Earth by the farting of a group of "va fan culo" exclaiming Italian men who elected to sleep on the communal section of the dormitory (matresses one next to the other, but no bunk beds). We had picked a bunk bed next to a giant window made of blurred glass bricks.
I was impressed by the efficiency of squat toilets. Five of them for a nearly a hundred people, but no one reads the newspapers there!
I was impressed by the efficiency of squat toilets. Five of them for a nearly a hundred people, but no one reads the newspapers there!
The Vallanta pass is offering a sensational view of the Monte Viso, the highest peak in this part of the Italian Alps, by fair weather. It is The Landmark that enthuses all the minds of travellers coming to its vicinity. First, it stands at 3805 meters above sea level and is therefore often trapped in the clouds.
In our case, despite leaving the refuge before 8 AM, we were soon confronted with clouds that brought a combination of rain and fog over our heads while we were descending on the other side of the Vallanta pass towards the refuge of Mont Viso in France. We decided against stopping at that refuge and made our way up the Seillère pass, that was not yet in the clouds. At some point, we could nearly see the full shape of Monte Viso only hidden by a cloud halo. It had been a long time since we had had a day in the rain. After the pass we descended towards the Granero refuge which looked very sad and deserted under the rain, despite the lively yellow and red paint of its window panes. The only living thing out there was a lonely horse, called Zoe, I later learned, that was standing motionless facing a small pond, bearing what I assumed to be a depressed look on its face. Fortunately, inside the hut, it was warm and rather cheerful. The rain made us forget our usual picnic and instead we had gnocchi al ragu for lunch after which we showered and then the sun appeared. We went out to watch the emerald color of the lake next to the refuge and walked to see a large sheep herd grazing towards the beginning of the lake. One always has to be careful when approaching a herd for the dogs in charge can be ferocious. I sat on a large stone at a fair distance and waited. It happened that the herd was moving in my direction. After a little while I saw a white dog walking slowly and smoothly through the grazing stock towards me. He was very close and looked at me in a puzzled way from the depth of his caramel eyes which seem to mean:
- Hello, the dog said vaguely wagging his tail, what are you doing here?
- I am seating on this stone, I replied.
- Well I came here to find out what your intents are because I look after this herd, added the dog. Let me check out your odour ID, he continued while carefully sniffing at my shoes.
I did not move and he too kept standing next to me, as if to keep me respectfully under control because I was of the same kind as his master. After a while, I decided to move on, away from the herd. Danger was no more, so the dog went in the opposite direction, just as silently as he had come. By the time we returned to the rifugio, clouds started making a comeback, especially from the valley deep down below. A couple of determined young boys were setting their tent for the night. They would have to enjoy the strong wind that eventually cleared the sky for a bright morning the next day. At any rate, they would be best placed to enjoy a starry night.
In our case, despite leaving the refuge before 8 AM, we were soon confronted with clouds that brought a combination of rain and fog over our heads while we were descending on the other side of the Vallanta pass towards the refuge of Mont Viso in France. We decided against stopping at that refuge and made our way up the Seillère pass, that was not yet in the clouds. At some point, we could nearly see the full shape of Monte Viso only hidden by a cloud halo. It had been a long time since we had had a day in the rain. After the pass we descended towards the Granero refuge which looked very sad and deserted under the rain, despite the lively yellow and red paint of its window panes. The only living thing out there was a lonely horse, called Zoe, I later learned, that was standing motionless facing a small pond, bearing what I assumed to be a depressed look on its face. Fortunately, inside the hut, it was warm and rather cheerful. The rain made us forget our usual picnic and instead we had gnocchi al ragu for lunch after which we showered and then the sun appeared. We went out to watch the emerald color of the lake next to the refuge and walked to see a large sheep herd grazing towards the beginning of the lake. One always has to be careful when approaching a herd for the dogs in charge can be ferocious. I sat on a large stone at a fair distance and waited. It happened that the herd was moving in my direction. After a little while I saw a white dog walking slowly and smoothly through the grazing stock towards me. He was very close and looked at me in a puzzled way from the depth of his caramel eyes which seem to mean:
- Hello, the dog said vaguely wagging his tail, what are you doing here?
- I am seating on this stone, I replied.
- Well I came here to find out what your intents are because I look after this herd, added the dog. Let me check out your odour ID, he continued while carefully sniffing at my shoes.
I did not move and he too kept standing next to me, as if to keep me respectfully under control because I was of the same kind as his master. After a while, I decided to move on, away from the herd. Danger was no more, so the dog went in the opposite direction, just as silently as he had come. By the time we returned to the rifugio, clouds started making a comeback, especially from the valley deep down below. A couple of determined young boys were setting their tent for the night. They would have to enjoy the strong wind that eventually cleared the sky for a bright morning the next day. At any rate, they would be best placed to enjoy a starry night.
In the meantime we engaged in a dice game with a bottle of Barolo, as dinner was nearing, but also to celebrate our proximity with Mount Viso.
Our next halt was in a hamlet deep down in the valley called Villanova. It is composed of a tiny group of sturdy stone houses in the Pellice valley. It takes about one minute to walk from one end to the other. The largest it has is a parking lot on its outskirt for visitors to park their cars. They usually come for a day hike in the mountains. There is also a small trattoria serving meals. It has a couple of rooms for wanderers with metal bunk beds. Our room looked like a mixture of a fifteen square meters studio and a hospital ward. It was furnished with metal chairs padded with either formica or skye, a single bed long enough for 10 year old and two more recent bunk beds each having its own wooden bedside table covered with lace and decorated with a small bundle of cloth flowers in a cloth-padded vase. The mattresses were antiquated spring models. The one half of the room with the kid bed had beige tiles with floral designs on the wall, a square wooden table, a cupboard and a sink next to the window masked by a lace curtain. A plastic orchid pot was placed between the window and the curtain so that one saw there was one but could not identify it was fake. It all seemed very old fashioned, just like the hip bath (baignoire sabot) in the separate bathroom, the same model than the one my grandmother used to have and a favorite of tiny bathrooms because they are only long enough for one to sit. Again, it was old-fashioned but not uncomfortable. It was rather practical and focused on basic needs. After a few weeks in the mountains, but also several months on the road, we had come to appreciate this down-to-earth pragmatism, for instance having a rope to dry clothes.
Our next halt was in a hamlet deep down in the valley called Villanova. It is composed of a tiny group of sturdy stone houses in the Pellice valley. It takes about one minute to walk from one end to the other. The largest it has is a parking lot on its outskirt for visitors to park their cars. They usually come for a day hike in the mountains. There is also a small trattoria serving meals. It has a couple of rooms for wanderers with metal bunk beds. Our room looked like a mixture of a fifteen square meters studio and a hospital ward. It was furnished with metal chairs padded with either formica or skye, a single bed long enough for 10 year old and two more recent bunk beds each having its own wooden bedside table covered with lace and decorated with a small bundle of cloth flowers in a cloth-padded vase. The mattresses were antiquated spring models. The one half of the room with the kid bed had beige tiles with floral designs on the wall, a square wooden table, a cupboard and a sink next to the window masked by a lace curtain. A plastic orchid pot was placed between the window and the curtain so that one saw there was one but could not identify it was fake. It all seemed very old fashioned, just like the hip bath (baignoire sabot) in the separate bathroom, the same model than the one my grandmother used to have and a favorite of tiny bathrooms because they are only long enough for one to sit. Again, it was old-fashioned but not uncomfortable. It was rather practical and focused on basic needs. After a few weeks in the mountains, but also several months on the road, we had come to appreciate this down-to-earth pragmatism, for instance having a rope to dry clothes.
The trattoria itself had that same cosy old-fashioned feeling. The whole family was at work either to serve or prepare the food in the kitchen. They offered a no-thrill hospitality, adjusted to their prices. But it was also the way they lived, for they would have their meals in the restaurant room. In front of the restaurant they were breeding chickens and growing vegetables. Bright orange zucchini flowers were giving the small garden the air of a giant one because of their size.
We left Villanova under the sun and thought it would be a bright day for our day long climb to the pass of Gran Gugglia on the way to the Lago Verde rifugio. We first took a forestry path and came across a few dry-stone houses next to steep pastures. Cows will always amaze me with their ability to navigate these slopes given the size of their body. But the fact is that having two pair of legs is very helpful for stability, as we experienced with our walking sticks. We frequently saw bathtubs along the way, repurposed as drinking trough. Quite a few of them were hip bath, perhaps revealing the local appeal for that model, though it might just be that the bathtub turnover is low in these mountainous areas and therefore those repurposed are very old, from the first half of the 20th century.
We were close to the 2000 meters elevation when clouds started to quickly pop-up, moving up from the valley and burgeoning like cauliflowers. Soon we were completely immersed in them, to the point that we had to carefully make sure we stayed on our path. There was a point when I felt stressed, so I stopped for a few deep breaths and restarted slowly. After a while we could sense more light and progressively furtive shades of blue sky increased into windows on the landscape. It was as if cruising on an airplane at low altitude. A fantastic experience. We emerged above the clouds and found a pristine landscape of peaks with deep colours. Cow bells were tinkling and the shape of a shepherd on the phone profiled itself on top of the hill. He knew where to get phone coverage. We passed a mountain hut, which was gearing up for polenta on this Assumption day, and walked our way up to the Giulian pass which opened onto the valley of Ghigo di Prali. We followed a narrow hilltop path towards another valley and were caught once again in the clouds. As we got to another rocky pass, we met a few other wanderers who appeared and went like polite zombies for greetings are always de rigueur.
In a way, it was good not to see too well how deep the ravine, along which we were walking, actually was. We could only guess that the path was meant to cross the mountain ridge through a sharp crack. We left the clouds behind us as we crossed into the other valley and discovered an undulating landscape in various shades of green in front of us as a result of the pastures and fir woods that were made to mingle. Behind us, we heard bells again, this time from a sheep herd moving resolutely on the grassy crest of the previous pass, undeterred by the gradient of the terrain. We enjoyed the return of the sun for the time of our picnic and proceeded with our ascent to the Giulian pass looking at colorful flowers along the way. We progressively left the grassy area and move into a mineral world of stones, sharp and dark frozen waves. Firns highlighted vertical wrinkles on the rock. A bell rang in a distance. This time it came from a bell tower, only made of metal like a scaffolding, near the Guilian pass. We rang it in turn as we got there half buried in the fog. We saw for a split second the double human-faced profile of the Gran Giulian through an opening in the fog. It was high time to end the day as we walked down to the Rifugio Lago Verde, two hundred elevation meters lower. The atmosphere there was quite relaxed as people enjoyed the sun and the quiet of the surrounding peaks. We sat inside for more warmth next to a party of four who had come especially for a polenta meal. At the next table sat two young and trendy Italian couples, obviously recovering from a long night without too much sleep as one lady slept on the table and the other one leaned against her neighbour's shoulder. But soon enough came the time of returning to the valley. They were not the only ones to leave. The rifugio was soon very quiet although a small party was brewing in the kitchen. The managers' family had come to visit. The children took the dogs out for a walk, the grand mother helped clean some zucchini at the ice cold fountain under the last rays of sun before the clouds return.
As we sat in front of a pot of hot soup, we heard the pop of a Prosecco bottle in the kitchen where
We left Villanova under the sun and thought it would be a bright day for our day long climb to the pass of Gran Gugglia on the way to the Lago Verde rifugio. We first took a forestry path and came across a few dry-stone houses next to steep pastures. Cows will always amaze me with their ability to navigate these slopes given the size of their body. But the fact is that having two pair of legs is very helpful for stability, as we experienced with our walking sticks. We frequently saw bathtubs along the way, repurposed as drinking trough. Quite a few of them were hip bath, perhaps revealing the local appeal for that model, though it might just be that the bathtub turnover is low in these mountainous areas and therefore those repurposed are very old, from the first half of the 20th century.
We were close to the 2000 meters elevation when clouds started to quickly pop-up, moving up from the valley and burgeoning like cauliflowers. Soon we were completely immersed in them, to the point that we had to carefully make sure we stayed on our path. There was a point when I felt stressed, so I stopped for a few deep breaths and restarted slowly. After a while we could sense more light and progressively furtive shades of blue sky increased into windows on the landscape. It was as if cruising on an airplane at low altitude. A fantastic experience. We emerged above the clouds and found a pristine landscape of peaks with deep colours. Cow bells were tinkling and the shape of a shepherd on the phone profiled itself on top of the hill. He knew where to get phone coverage. We passed a mountain hut, which was gearing up for polenta on this Assumption day, and walked our way up to the Giulian pass which opened onto the valley of Ghigo di Prali. We followed a narrow hilltop path towards another valley and were caught once again in the clouds. As we got to another rocky pass, we met a few other wanderers who appeared and went like polite zombies for greetings are always de rigueur.
In a way, it was good not to see too well how deep the ravine, along which we were walking, actually was. We could only guess that the path was meant to cross the mountain ridge through a sharp crack. We left the clouds behind us as we crossed into the other valley and discovered an undulating landscape in various shades of green in front of us as a result of the pastures and fir woods that were made to mingle. Behind us, we heard bells again, this time from a sheep herd moving resolutely on the grassy crest of the previous pass, undeterred by the gradient of the terrain. We enjoyed the return of the sun for the time of our picnic and proceeded with our ascent to the Giulian pass looking at colorful flowers along the way. We progressively left the grassy area and move into a mineral world of stones, sharp and dark frozen waves. Firns highlighted vertical wrinkles on the rock. A bell rang in a distance. This time it came from a bell tower, only made of metal like a scaffolding, near the Guilian pass. We rang it in turn as we got there half buried in the fog. We saw for a split second the double human-faced profile of the Gran Giulian through an opening in the fog. It was high time to end the day as we walked down to the Rifugio Lago Verde, two hundred elevation meters lower. The atmosphere there was quite relaxed as people enjoyed the sun and the quiet of the surrounding peaks. We sat inside for more warmth next to a party of four who had come especially for a polenta meal. At the next table sat two young and trendy Italian couples, obviously recovering from a long night without too much sleep as one lady slept on the table and the other one leaned against her neighbour's shoulder. But soon enough came the time of returning to the valley. They were not the only ones to leave. The rifugio was soon very quiet although a small party was brewing in the kitchen. The managers' family had come to visit. The children took the dogs out for a walk, the grand mother helped clean some zucchini at the ice cold fountain under the last rays of sun before the clouds return.
As we sat in front of a pot of hot soup, we heard the pop of a Prosecco bottle in the kitchen where
the family reunion was being celebrated. One man advised us on an alternate way to Ghigo di Prali for the next day, using the Frappier pass to go down in the Longia valley. The path was steep and once again we soon found ourselves swallowed in the clouds on and off. We came close to a firn that was feeding a small lake. And there, like a reward to our efforts, coming out of the fog appeared an ibex family. Most of them slowly moved down to graze at a safe distance while the male stayed put looking at us. Finally he followed the others.
One side of the Frappier pass was in the clouds, the other side was free and sunny opening on the valley of Argentera dotted with a couple of altitude lakes. A long descent awaited us to Ghigo de Prali which we only reached late that afternoon with tired legs. Ghigo is home to one of the Waldensian temples. In the twelfth century, three neighbouring valleys decided, under the impulse of Peter Valdo to believe in an evangelical version of Christianity. When they heard about the Lutheran reform, they realized that it was similar to their faith. A particular episode is remembered in the region, called The Glorious Return from forty Waldesians in exile in Geneva to their home valleys in August 1689. This had a strong political aim as the returnees were led by Henri Arnaud, a protestant pastor, and supported financially by the King of England William III to put together an armed troop of a thousand men necessary to fight the opposition of the armies of the King of France, Louis XIV, and the Duke of Savoy. The return involved walking two hundred fifty kilometres in 14 days through the Alps.
Today the Waldensians are remembered in a small museum in the village of Rodoretto which we traversed on our way to Didiero, another Waldesian hamlet with a nice Posto Tappa containing two small rooms with a wooden floor and a small terrace covered by two umbrellas one the ground floor and a couple of bedrooms opening on the long balcony of the first floor. The owner had invited his cousin Renata for the summer in order to cook and help out with the upkeep of the rooms. Renata did a very good job with the cooking. She prepared for our neighbours the Waldesian soup, a sort of eggy bread au gratin. And for us, delicious gnocchi al ragu.
One side of the Frappier pass was in the clouds, the other side was free and sunny opening on the valley of Argentera dotted with a couple of altitude lakes. A long descent awaited us to Ghigo de Prali which we only reached late that afternoon with tired legs. Ghigo is home to one of the Waldensian temples. In the twelfth century, three neighbouring valleys decided, under the impulse of Peter Valdo to believe in an evangelical version of Christianity. When they heard about the Lutheran reform, they realized that it was similar to their faith. A particular episode is remembered in the region, called The Glorious Return from forty Waldesians in exile in Geneva to their home valleys in August 1689. This had a strong political aim as the returnees were led by Henri Arnaud, a protestant pastor, and supported financially by the King of England William III to put together an armed troop of a thousand men necessary to fight the opposition of the armies of the King of France, Louis XIV, and the Duke of Savoy. The return involved walking two hundred fifty kilometres in 14 days through the Alps.
Today the Waldensians are remembered in a small museum in the village of Rodoretto which we traversed on our way to Didiero, another Waldesian hamlet with a nice Posto Tappa containing two small rooms with a wooden floor and a small terrace covered by two umbrellas one the ground floor and a couple of bedrooms opening on the long balcony of the first floor. The owner had invited his cousin Renata for the summer in order to cook and help out with the upkeep of the rooms. Renata did a very good job with the cooking. She prepared for our neighbours the Waldesian soup, a sort of eggy bread au gratin. And for us, delicious gnocchi al ragu.
From Didiero, we proceeded to Usseaux having to go through the pass of l'Albergian at a 2704 meters elevation. The sky was cloudy and the rain met us shortly before the pass as we walked through altitude pastures where abandoned military buildings overlooked the area. We left the clouds temporarily behind us, and the rain, to enjoy a picnic on a stone in the sun surrounded by cows, some of which seemed curious about our presence. As we descended, nearer to Usseaux, we could see the large fortification of Fenestrelle on the other side of the valley. The sky darkened again, this time with a few rolls of thunder, prompting us to walk faster than the clouds progressed. Somehow we arrived in Usseaux shortly before a nice rain that we were glad to have missed.
A pair of light-blue eyes were peering into nothingness, the smoke of a half-consumed cigarette was slowly moving up towards the face of a man who was sitting with open legs, a nearly empty glass of sparkling red wine in his hand next to the cigarette. The face was a bit wrinkled as if it had been exposed to harsh weather conditions for long time.
Claudio was enjoying this quiet moment before his dinner serving duty. He sat cosily on a small stool in front of a large table littered with various tools under the light of a neon tube. This room, with its vaulted ceiling, is dating back to the 16th century. It is Claudio's wood crafting workshop. It is where, during the winter, when no guests are coming to Usseaux anymore, he finds time to carve and cut wood into small toys and other souvenir shapes. One can also see Claudio's face carvings on tree trunks along the walking paths leading to Usseaux. His house, called Pzit Rei, has been extended over the centuries with two storeys being added on top of the 16th century part. The upper part is more like a wooden chalet. Claudio's family occupies the second floor while guests can use the first floor opening on a large terrace with a lovely view on the valley. The living room is large with stone walls and old wooden furniture. A long dinner table is used for the guests, with classical music in the background. There was an upright piano, a rare thing for a guesthouse.
As we entered the house through the basement, we found Claudio enjoying the peace of his workshop. He explained that he had taken over this family house with his wife forty years ago, when he was twenty five. They had been living in the city but decided to make an attempt to live in the village. Forty years on, they still enjoyed it there and did not want to move anywhere else. For a good reason, perhaps, because it may not be easy to sell this house and buy something else elsewhere. Usseaux is a tourist destination, with its stone houses whose 16th century core structure is still visible. We saw many villages being restored and houses taken over, but these are usually inhabited only during the summer and rarely during the winter. All year round, Usseaux has only twenty three inhabitants, said Claudio, down from twenty four the year before because one of them has passed away. There are most probably more people living in the neighbouring Fenestrelle famous for its giant fortification built on the slope of the mountain. Since the 18th century, forts have been built one above the other and connected by an inner staircase of four thousand steps covering a 535 meters difference in height over three thousand meters length. It was erected over the span of a century as a defence mechanism against the French and Spanish armies. This forced the latter armies to stay on the nearby peaks instead. There is a trace of that presence at the top of the Assiette peak with a stone column topped by a large bronze eagle in memory of a battle that took place in 1747.
In Fenestrelle we stopped for coffee on the main street. It was market day. That is to say a holiday market with all sorts of crafts and souvenirs for sale, many of which one might wish never to have bought once back at home because there is nowhere to put them and perhaps no one to give them away to. The street was full nonetheless and terraces were busy with coffee drinkers. A good way to meet neighbours or relations, read the newspapers and most importantly talk about the latest news. Dogs were also part of the merriment, though not drinking coffee. Tequila, a short-legged two-coloured dog, was our neighbour, barking on and off as per its own assessment of the criticality of its warning duty. There was also a ginger-haired lanky one with a bell at its collar that was trotting with ease through the streets, unrestrained by any leash. Only the sound of its bell, and a few well-targeted urine streams were materialising the presence of its indefatigable motion.
We left Usseaux early to enjoy the morning light, having packed a bit of bread from breakfast for our picnic. Claudio told us he had stopped providing packed lunches so we should take whatever we needed from breakfast. He gave us though a dry sausage and some chocolate.
We reached the Assiette pass surrounded by round meadows where we had been advised by an Austrian traveller that we would see some mountain apollos, a rare butterfly, black and yellow with fake red eyes on the lower wings. We indeed saw a few. Their heavy bodies seem to affect their ability to fly very well, perhaps explaining their vulnerability.
We passed without stopping by a rifugio advertising polenta for lunch not far from the battle monument. The polenta must have been good because a group of G-class Mercedes Benz had stopped there to have their lunch, obviously half-way through a day outing of their club. Down the road we were barked at by a Patou, responsible for a large herd of sheep parked in a field. We then descended through a fir forest towards the hamlet of Seü where we intended to spend the night at the rifugio Arlaud. A nice cosy place, privately run by three women. Candle-lit dinner was served on the ground floor room of a tiny house. This was our last night in the Italian Alps. The next day, we walked to Salbertrand, down in the valley, where the train line is running to Turin. This concluded our journey over the Grande Traversata delli Alpi. It was time for us to move to another part of Alps on the Austrian side.
A pair of light-blue eyes were peering into nothingness, the smoke of a half-consumed cigarette was slowly moving up towards the face of a man who was sitting with open legs, a nearly empty glass of sparkling red wine in his hand next to the cigarette. The face was a bit wrinkled as if it had been exposed to harsh weather conditions for long time.
Claudio was enjoying this quiet moment before his dinner serving duty. He sat cosily on a small stool in front of a large table littered with various tools under the light of a neon tube. This room, with its vaulted ceiling, is dating back to the 16th century. It is Claudio's wood crafting workshop. It is where, during the winter, when no guests are coming to Usseaux anymore, he finds time to carve and cut wood into small toys and other souvenir shapes. One can also see Claudio's face carvings on tree trunks along the walking paths leading to Usseaux. His house, called Pzit Rei, has been extended over the centuries with two storeys being added on top of the 16th century part. The upper part is more like a wooden chalet. Claudio's family occupies the second floor while guests can use the first floor opening on a large terrace with a lovely view on the valley. The living room is large with stone walls and old wooden furniture. A long dinner table is used for the guests, with classical music in the background. There was an upright piano, a rare thing for a guesthouse.
As we entered the house through the basement, we found Claudio enjoying the peace of his workshop. He explained that he had taken over this family house with his wife forty years ago, when he was twenty five. They had been living in the city but decided to make an attempt to live in the village. Forty years on, they still enjoyed it there and did not want to move anywhere else. For a good reason, perhaps, because it may not be easy to sell this house and buy something else elsewhere. Usseaux is a tourist destination, with its stone houses whose 16th century core structure is still visible. We saw many villages being restored and houses taken over, but these are usually inhabited only during the summer and rarely during the winter. All year round, Usseaux has only twenty three inhabitants, said Claudio, down from twenty four the year before because one of them has passed away. There are most probably more people living in the neighbouring Fenestrelle famous for its giant fortification built on the slope of the mountain. Since the 18th century, forts have been built one above the other and connected by an inner staircase of four thousand steps covering a 535 meters difference in height over three thousand meters length. It was erected over the span of a century as a defence mechanism against the French and Spanish armies. This forced the latter armies to stay on the nearby peaks instead. There is a trace of that presence at the top of the Assiette peak with a stone column topped by a large bronze eagle in memory of a battle that took place in 1747.
In Fenestrelle we stopped for coffee on the main street. It was market day. That is to say a holiday market with all sorts of crafts and souvenirs for sale, many of which one might wish never to have bought once back at home because there is nowhere to put them and perhaps no one to give them away to. The street was full nonetheless and terraces were busy with coffee drinkers. A good way to meet neighbours or relations, read the newspapers and most importantly talk about the latest news. Dogs were also part of the merriment, though not drinking coffee. Tequila, a short-legged two-coloured dog, was our neighbour, barking on and off as per its own assessment of the criticality of its warning duty. There was also a ginger-haired lanky one with a bell at its collar that was trotting with ease through the streets, unrestrained by any leash. Only the sound of its bell, and a few well-targeted urine streams were materialising the presence of its indefatigable motion.
We left Usseaux early to enjoy the morning light, having packed a bit of bread from breakfast for our picnic. Claudio told us he had stopped providing packed lunches so we should take whatever we needed from breakfast. He gave us though a dry sausage and some chocolate.
We reached the Assiette pass surrounded by round meadows where we had been advised by an Austrian traveller that we would see some mountain apollos, a rare butterfly, black and yellow with fake red eyes on the lower wings. We indeed saw a few. Their heavy bodies seem to affect their ability to fly very well, perhaps explaining their vulnerability.
We passed without stopping by a rifugio advertising polenta for lunch not far from the battle monument. The polenta must have been good because a group of G-class Mercedes Benz had stopped there to have their lunch, obviously half-way through a day outing of their club. Down the road we were barked at by a Patou, responsible for a large herd of sheep parked in a field. We then descended through a fir forest towards the hamlet of Seü where we intended to spend the night at the rifugio Arlaud. A nice cosy place, privately run by three women. Candle-lit dinner was served on the ground floor room of a tiny house. This was our last night in the Italian Alps. The next day, we walked to Salbertrand, down in the valley, where the train line is running to Turin. This concluded our journey over the Grande Traversata delli Alpi. It was time for us to move to another part of Alps on the Austrian side.
images:
1/ a window on the heavens
2/ the valley of Vallanta
3/ Monte Viso
4/ Lago Verde
5/ Claudio's masks
6/ Mountain Apollo
1/ a window on the heavens
2/ the valley of Vallanta
3/ Monte Viso
4/ Lago Verde
5/ Claudio's masks
6/ Mountain Apollo
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| the Vallanta valley |
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| Monte Viso |
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| Lago Verde |
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| Claudio's masks |
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| mountain Appolo |
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