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Journal: |
I over-ate for breakfast, demolishing half a breadstick with
copious amounts of jam washed down by two very big mugs of black
coffee from the thermos left for me by the hotel proprietor the
previous evening. Leaving via an ATM at about 7:45am, I
climbed out of the very quiet town via a cobbled lane and then a
back road. The sky was clear but, in the shadow of the
mountains, it was cold in my T-shirt and my hands would have enjoyed
gloves.
Soon, however, I crossed to the other side of the valley and
began the long climb up to Col St-Martin (1503m). Possibly
fuelled by an overdose of caffeine, the moderate grade wasn't too
tough, the trail wended its way back and forth up through the pine
forest, and I was surrounded by wildflowers and birdsong.
Magic! I savoured the whole 550m ascent and was somewhat
dismayed to finally emerge at the Col and find it was a fully-blown
outdoor sports centre complete with all manner of cafes. The
place was just waking up, but some day hikers were already arriving
and heading off on various trails. Canyoning, mountain biking
and para-gliding were also on offer (skiing in winter).
Once through the Col, the trail descended pleasantly through a
rural valley with many holiday homes, a caravan park and holiday
camp to the picturesque village of St-Dalmas. Along the way, I
met a school group (of possibly Year 7's) climbing towards the Col
accompanied by some dour teachers, and saw some more day hikers and
a few mountain bikers climbing towards the Col along the road.
One girl, struggling up a hill in granny gear, managed to give me a
wry grin as I descended comfortably down the Via Alpina which
crossed the road at that point. Further along a country lane I
passed a farmer hoeing his plot by hand and, after my usual
"bonjour", he asked me a question and we ended up having quite a
long conversation despite him speaking no English. I seemed to
string together enough French verbs and nouns, with little regard to
grammar, gender or tense, for him to understand where I was going,
etc.
After some more wooded trail, the Via Alpina climbed to another
perched village, Rimplas, where I found a little cafe (the only one
in town) managed by a feisty rotund couple who were keen for me to
try one of the local specialities. The prices were a bit high,
but I settled for a burger and chips using local meat and cheese and
sat outside in the sun in the tiny village square, and all was right
with the world. The food was good and I left with their best
wishes for my onward journey. Rimplas was at about 1000m and
my destination for the day, Roure, which was visible in the
distance, was at 1100m. Sadly, between the two, I had to
descend to cross the River Tine at St-Saveur-sur-Tinee at 500m.
By now the sun was quite high and the initial descent along a track
which crossed the bare red slate face of a mountain was quite
exposed. Tremendous views down to the river and ahead to
Roure, but I was glad to get back into the woods near the bottom.
After a short break in the village for a couple of biscuits and some
water and to rest my feet, which don't enjoy the downhills, I began
the formidable ascent to the precariously perched Roure. I had
plenty of time, though I was aware that there was only one small
hotel in Roure, and resolved just to take it steadily upwards.
The trail was steep and switch-backed, but the views were good.
There was some excitement and much yelling when I encountered a
couple of downhill mountain-bikers flying down the trail round a
blind bend. I jumped to the side and the later ones stopped
and asked me to pass. It was windy single track with a
substantial drop off on one side, so there wasn't much margin for
error. It turned out to be quite a large group, probably a
commercial trip, and further back a puncture was being repaired.
I continued on upwards and nearly collided with another couple of
bikers, but we all survived in the end.
Roure is a special place, perched as it is on a kind of balcony,
with quaint old houses separated by narrow twisting cobbled walkways
and steps. After wandering around for a while, I spotted the
top of the hotel (it had "Hotel" written on the chimney) but finding
my way to it was another matter. Eventually I got there and
the girl said that the only room left was their grand suite for 77E.
However, she said they also looked after the keys for the town's
Gite d'Etape (hostel) and that it was clean and cheap 15E.
Knowing that I would possibly have it to myself, I accepted the
offer. She told me the hotel is the only place with food in
the village and I should come back for dinner at 7:30pm. The
Gite d'Etape turned out to be clean, spacious and modern, with no
one else in residence for the night. I showered, went for
another short wander around the interesting town, updated my diary
and read my book before dinner.
The three-course dinner at the hotel was recognised by even me as
being excellent, and the girl I had met earlier gave me a prime spot
in the dining room overlooking the valley back towards Rimplas where
I had lunch.
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