Assisi Diary Post 8: 09/07/2008, Grand St Bernard Pass

Assisi Post 8 - 09/07/2008, Grand St Bernard Pass.
1202 kms to go

The power of Prayer is not to be underestimated!

Well this has been a roller-coaster of a stage, both emotionally and in terms of terrain.

My last few days in France passed pleasantly enough. I camped at an actual campsite for a change! Had wonderful views of a gorge as I climbed from quite low down to an altitude of 800 metres in a matter of hours. The weather was on a change and when I arrived at Pontarlier (my last night in France) it was raining on and off. I collected maps and guide for Italy that were posted to me (Thanks Jill and Joe).

The following day I packed my rucksack and my heart sank! It was so much heavier now with the maps and guide. But there was nothing I could do about it. Today was another milestone - I was to cross the border into Switzerland. Despite the thousands of kilometres I have walked, and the challenges I have faced previously, it was still with some trepidation that I walked passed the Customs Post. My plan that day was to walk beyond Ste Croix, the 1st large town one encounters and find somewhere to camp wild. I had been warned already by Vanda that the hotels were very expensive and the Priest had not been able to help.

Sitting here in the sunshine at the Pass it is hard to remember quite how difficult that day was, but suffice to say I found myself in the Catholic Church (which was open, otherwise I would not have been inside!) with tears running down my cheeks. But God was listening to your prayers for me and he sent an Angel to feed and shelter me and more. Not only did she give me a bed for the night, but also found me accommodation for the next 2 nights, and showed me a lovely route for the following day. So thank you all for your prayers (I include in the word 'prayer' the good wishes and positive thoughts people are sending me), be assured they are not in vain! I felt truly protected and blessed.

The following day saw me walking down through a wooded gorge which was littered with (that is not the correct expression to use with what follows!) works of Art and beautiful, touching spiritual phrases and was a perfect follow on from the previous day.

Switzerland is very much better suited to the wandering traveller than the earlier parts of France in that most small towns have a shop and/or a bar/cafe or restaurant. Thus I was able to savour lovely cold beer, my just reward after several hours walking! And while we're on the subject, I have walked all the way (except for maybe 1/2 km) through Switzerland and not encountered a Guinness. I probably could have got one in Lausanne but I was staying in a pilgrim refuge (a lovely place, part of one of the Catholic Churches) and alas the key to the outer door did not work so I couldn't go out. Luckily I had shopped for food en route to the refuge. By the way I have started to use the expression 'Catholic Church' where appropriate as Switzerland, unlike France and Italy is not a Catholic country. They are Christian but the main religion is Evangelical Reform Church. In the best traditions of ecumenism though I have been given accommodation by the very kind Pastor of a Reform Church parish as well as in a Catholic parish. (Re-reading that last paragraph, I seem to have gone from alcohol to religion!)

Having mentioned Lausanne, I bet you are all wondering whether I took the boat or not (or perhaps you've forgotten). Yes I did. From Lausanne I took the ferry to Villeneuve. The weather had changed yet again. It had been pleasant walking weather, sunny, blue skies but not unbearable hot. Now it was cloudy and ominous. It made for some dramatic pictures as I crossed lake Leman. The Alps rose dramatically from its shores and they were shrouded in clouds which were nonetheless moving quite fast, so now a peak would be revealed, then hidden again. As I approached Villeneuve I wondered what pilgrims of old would have felt, seeing those mountains close up for the first time, and knowing they had to be crossed. In those days there would not have been the accurate weather forecasts or mountain rescue helicopters.

So I saved another day to be used as an emergency rest day if the need arose I then walked 20kms to St Maurice. It was nice flat walking but alas it rained relentlessly for the first 3 hours. Luckily it stopped by the time I had to stop to eat and I picniced under a road bridge alongside the Rhone river. And what did I have to drink with my picnic? Cotes de Rhone of course!

All this was leading to my next major challenge - getting to the Grand St Bernard Pass. It is 2400+ metres high (8000+ feet), and I am afraid of heights! Minor alarm bells rang when I told the Priest in Orsieres I was going to the Pass the following day and he remarked I must be a strong walker. I do not consider myself to be so. Anyway there was no point in letting it dwell on my mind. Vanda had already txt'd me to say there were no precipitous drops, just some steep sections. In fact the walk from Martigny to Orsieres had presented me with a very unwelcome section where I was scrambling over rocks and tree roots.

I set off the following day with a walk of at the most 25kms if I stayed off the road. What I had not really taken into consideration (nor indeed even calculated) was that I had to ascend some 1400 metres. The walk started with a brutal, steep climb up a hill. I had to stop about every 100 metres or so to catch my breath and thought it will take me about 16 hrs at this rate! I think in fact I had already gone wrong and although ended up in the same place as one of the guide's waypoints, I had travelled a different route. Alas about 15 minutes later I took a wrong turn and spent about 1.5hrs rising in altitude about 200 metres up the wrong mountain! There was nothing for it but descend (by the road, not footpath) and then regain the 200 metres, but up the right mountain this time. The weather was beautiful though. My feet were great (sorry I know I keep going on about it but I still cannot believe it, I managed to walk 4 hrs without stopping.). I stopped to picnic by a stream and a fish came by to shelter behind a rock. Then later I saw a fox but alas he saw or smelled me before I could get the camera out.

However by the time I arrived at Bourg St Pierre, the halfway point in terms of distance and altitude I was pretty tired. I considered stopping there for the night. But I told myself I could get to the Pass so after a beer and sandwich off I went again. The scenery was of course magnificent. There were some steep bits but were followed by level bits so one could recover. I had been considering taking the road after St Pierre but decided on the walkers route. The sign at St Pierre indicated the Pass was 4 hrs away and it was now only 13:30. I needed to arrive by 19:00 as that was the time of the meal at the Hospice where I had reserved a dorm bed.

On and on I went. Up and up. I was in good spirits, there were no dramatic sheer drops! But the ascent was starting to take its toll. It was becoming harder and harder. I found myself in an area (can't quite describe it as a field) where there was a herd of cows. Again they seemed to find me fascinating and one started down the path towards me. It came right up to me, am not sure what it was expecting. However in order not to frighten it, and to get past it I had to leave the path which I them promptly lost! I continued in the direction parallel to the road and eventually spied a signpost in the distance and made for it. By now I was really flagging. Managed to find an escape route out onto the road and followed it for a km or so. Then took the walkers route to cut of a few bends. I could see the road winding up and up ahead so took the walkers route again hoping it would cut off more bends despite being steep. Normally I don't mind steep stuff - since doing the Camino del Norte I have developed quite good muscles for that sort of terrain.

It went on and on. I could not see any sign of habitation, nor did I have any idea how much further I had to go. I could see a cross high up on a rock. I hoped I did not have to go that high. The path levelled out and then would climb. I crossed streams presumably caused by melting snow. On and on and still no sign of anything. Then I came to a signpost but it was not much help as it gave no distances. I continued, then came across a sign. ' Hospice', it said. I must be close now. It was 18:15. I had been on the road since just after 08:00. I decided to ring to say I was on my way but not sure how far away I was. I had a sort of idea to ask them to keep me some cold food as I was convinced I still had quite a way to go. I described where I was, having the sign for the hospice as a guide, and they said ¨Oh you are only 20 minutes away.¨ Mind you I would have preferred if it was 5! I explained I was tired and walking slowly. They said it was no problem.

I continued. By now all I could feel was the incredible weight of the rucksack. I considered ringing again to say I would miss the meal as I felt I really had to stop and rest for about an hour. Again I think it must have been your prayers that kept me going. Something dragged me along! I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, stopping every 50 metres or so to lean on my staff and catch my breath. Eventually I rounded a corner and saw a building. It was higher than I was by more than I would have liked, but at least it was there.

As I proceeded, the path turned into something that looked like a very old road which I suspect it was. I wondered if this was what had been used by pilgrims in ages gone. At long last I saw the road again and the final track up, a steep path with scree on it. I arrived at the road right beside the sign that told me I was at the Col de St Bernard, 2469 metres. I had to stop and photo it. It was now just after 19:00. The 20 min walk had actually taken me 45 mins. Passing the cafe I saw a building with a door with a cross on it. Was this the Hospice? Breathless and with tears of relief I went towards it. Two men were just going up the steps to it and I asked was this the Hospice. ¨Yes¨ was the answer. I explained I was staying there and they accompanied me in and said I must hurry as the meal was starting. At this stage I think my body went into very mild shock. They were trying to help me off with my rucksack but I didn't seem to be able to remember which bits to undo! Perhaps it was because they were telling me to hurry - I don't know. Anyway we got the rucksack off and they were showing me where to go. I asked where the Church was (I am in an Augustian Friary so I have not used the word Catholic!). I felt compelled to just go for a minute to give thanks for my arrival. Then, still breathless & a bit tearful I was escorted to the dining room. One of the guys gave me a bowl of what I thought was soup, and a jug of the same, saying it was for me. I drank. It was warm, weak very sweet tea. A place had been laid for me which co-incidentally was opposite a very friendly Swiss man who could speak very good English. He was there with his daughter and another young guy for a week to do some walking in the Alps. We had a convivial meal in English and French. The two who had helped me on my arrival came back to check I was OK.

Afterwards I was sent yet another Angel to take care of me. She also offered to wash my clothes! And so ended the Swiss part of my pilgrimage. It started with a challenge for which I was sent an Angel and it ended with a challenge, for which I was sent three Angels.

Again thank you all for your prayers. You will have noticed there are no pictures with this posting. The next posting will be just pictures.

And I nearly forgot - the day I walked into Switzerland, I had a text from Vanda asking if I would like company. I replied in the affirmative. A few days later it emerged that Fred had decided to stop walking and return to England. Vanda wanted to continue so we will meet soon and walk together. So I am about to enter another phase of this pilgrimage.