There was no sign of our Jagged Globe leader, so we nipped into Chamonix for some group bonding over 'wonderful cold lagers'. By the time we got back, Dave had come - and gone back home for dinner with his wife. Fair enough. He had left Mara, the JG Chamonix 'Alpine Coordinator' to look after us. And she did. We got a good meal, after which the jet-lagged members of the party disappeared and Andy and I rummaged through our bags, looking for stuff to discard.
This morning Andy and I enjoyed a lie in until 8 o'clock before enjoying what can only really be described as a sumptuous breakfast at Hotel La Chaumiere. Dave was waiting for us after that, and whilst the overnight rain persisted outside we sorted technical kit - boots, crampons, ice axes, climbing harnesses, etc in the basement. I have all that kit, as does Andy, but the others needed to borrow/rent/buy some items, so it was a while before we emerged to a dry world. Luckily the rain had stopped, Mara gave us a lift into Chamonix and then on to Argentière. After hectic shopping (gear/lunches) for the others and a jog up to Balcon du Savoy for me, as I'd forgotten to turn the water off at J+J's apartment yesterday, it was good to jump on the cablecar for the 2000 metre ascent to Grand Montets.
Just below the top station, at a literally breathtaking 3300 metres, a steep patch of snow beckoned. This would be our home for the next 2-3 hours, whilst Dave - who is highly experienced and will be a great guide - put us through our paces by way of an introduction to ice axe, crampon and ropework techniques in a glacial environment. Lunch (pictured) was taken in a relatively sheltered spot by some rocks, with the Dru as a backdrop. It wasn't as cold as I'd expected; for example my Sealskinz gloves were more than adequate, despite a cool wind, so my kit for the trek will be refined later.
Then, after a welcome hot chocolate at the top café, we descended to Argentière for a beer before returning to La Chaumiere by train, with Dave going home and the other five stopping in Chamonix for more shopping.
Tomorrow morning our packed rucksacks will be emptied in front of Dave, and items deemed unnecessary will fail to make the 'cut' for our trek. That session could be quite entertaining, and I'm sure my gear won't be exempt from the discard pile!
Then we go to le Tour, for a 'Telesiege' to near Col de Balme, from where we start the trek. All very leisurely. So far!
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I’m off on my travels again. This time without Sue – she’d love to come but unfortunately her neck problem prevents her from doing so.
She’s a keener climber than me, so would be less out of her comfort zone than me on this trip. ‘La Haute Route’, or ‘High Level Route’ was conceived in the 19th century by some of the pioneers of mountaineering. It traces a line from Chamonix to Zermatt, across the Pennine Alps, by linking a number of glacier passes, with the opportunity to visit a few summits on the way.
Early in the 20th century the concept was hijacked as a springtime skiing expedition, and in that form its popularity has grown over the years.
There’s also an easy low level walking route that has become established as one of the classic Alpine ‘hut to hut’ treks. I’ve done that a couple of times, but have always hankered after following a higher line.
So, courtesy of a Jagged Globe alpine course, I’m getting my wish, albeit not quite in a purist manner (we get a taxi from Champex to the Mauvoisin dam).
The itinerary sounds fairly energetic and sociable, so I won’t want to spend all my free time squinting over my ‘phone, but I’ll try to provide a flavour of the trip as it progresses.
I’m just off to catch the 18.25 to Geneva, so I should reach Chamonix later tonight. Tomorrow, weather permitting (it’s bad over there at present) I may go up to la Flegere for views across to Mont Blanc and (pictured above) the Mer de Glace, where the following day (subject to an atrocious weather forecast that may result in significant adjustments to the planned trip) we’ll be honing our ice axe, crampon and glacier travel skills before embarking on the high level trek.
Can’t say I’m looking forward to the ‘Alpine starts’!
Bye for now.
This was a walk for ‘Plodders’ – those folk in the East Lancs LDWA group who are not intent on rushing about like the more ‘hard core’ members. Accordingly, a leisurely start is appropriate, and it being my turn to drive, Rick and his neighbour, Pete, called round at 9.30 for the slow pootle up to Barnoldswick, where 11 relaxed souls and a Maude assembled at Letcliffe Park in plenty of time for the 11 o’clock start.
But Stuart was still missing. He is hampered by having to care for an elderly mother, and as his Jeep clattered over the speed bumps the rest of us scattered to avoid the debris. ‘Dakar’ had been reached; Stuart slewed to a halt and joined the party. I think Rick and I were probably pleased not to have been chauffeured by him today!
However, it was to be a short walk, so there was no particular rush, and Reg had inserted a number of jinks and stiles into the route, so anyone venturing to depose him as leader soon got their comeuppance by either taking the wrong path or having to wait at a stile for all twelve of us and Maude to negotiate the obstacle. Younger readers may not appreciate the time it takes 12 old codgers and a lumpy dog to get over a stile, or even through a gate!
The jinks in the path and the waiting at stiles allowed most of us to retain our breath despite the gradient, which we hadn’t really noticed until we looked back down to Barnoldswick (pronounced ‘Barlick’) from this row of cottages off Folly Lane.
An ordinary row of cottages, perhaps, but one appeared to be the residence of an ex-VW Beetle owner, and another is clearly home to a sculptor.
The sculptures were really quite impressive when viewed from our onward path.
After wandering from Star Hall, along the Pendle Way, to Weets House, Reg, our indefatiguable leader, declared that due to a plague of flies on the summit of Weets Hill, we would stop for lunch here. After all, it was 12.15….
I wouldn’t say there were ‘no flies’ just here, but there weren’t many small flies, and the big hovery ones didn’t seem to like Reg’s aftershave, so we enjoyed a very pleasant and well earned break. (I’ve meticulously eliminated all the flies from the above picture, by the way, pixel by pixel – it took ages!)
Plodding on up to the summit, we found several bundles of writhing wasps. In the middle of each bundle was a big wasp, a queen. That’s probably enough of a clue as to what was going on…
Just below the trig point, the view towards Ingleborough and the Lake District required imagination through the haze, so Rick and Terry studied something closer.
The plaque reads:
‘In memory. Mabel Emsley. 1907 – 1994. Died aged 87 years. If love could of kept us all together. You’d of been with us forever and ever. Godbless.’
The flowers of Lancashire are blooming well at present. Hereabouts the ling is coming into flower, tormentil is going strong, and there’s lots of St John’s wort, white clover, thistles, foxgloves, harebells, buttercups, brambles, campions, and many more, including this striking Yellow Loosestrife.
Down the Pennine Bridleway track from Jenny Wren’s bench (who was she?), and across the road from the Loosestrife, Lane Side Farm, clearly lovingly renovated, gained John’s attention. Or was he doing something else?
Across the road from a verge of betony, bales littered a field that had recently been mown, their black dots seemingly stretching towards the horizon on this humid day.
Here’s the betony – the haze didn’t get in the way of that.
As we neared the conclusion of the walk back at Letcliffe Park, we wandered gently through pleasant lanes, but it was a struggle to keep up with all these badges that were tearing up the metres and landing me with double vision and a breathless limp.
Well! Perhaps not! It was all Reg’s fault. He had decreed that everyone should proceed in military style along the lane. Most do actually appear to be in time!
Before the turn into the park past mansions presumably built for the local mill owners, Bancroft Shed*, an old engine house, was encountered. It was shut today but seems to be open on Sundays. Worth a visit, perhaps.
The walk took a little over three hours – a very leisurely affair, in good company and over interesting terrain. Weets Hill, though modest in stature, would be a fine viewpoint on a clear day.
Here’s our route, but you don’t really have to stick to it – there are lots of options around here, and for a slightly longer outing you could head to the north of Barnoldswick and return to the Park via the canal. Our route was about 10 km in length, with around 300 metres ascent.
Thanks to Reg and the other ‘Plodders’ who contrived to make this stroll so pleasurable, and to Pendle Heritage Centre’s excellent café in Barrowford for the splendid cake and tea that many of us enjoyed on the way home.
Click this line for a short slide show.
*Stanley Graham’s story about the steam engine is here. I’m sure there’s a lot more available from here, but just reading this one fascinating story took me ages; here’s a short extract:
‘The engine fascinated me. If ever there was an example of pure, concentrated engineering, a working steam engine has to come somewhere near it. It embodied all the laws of thermodynamics, gas theory and mechanics. It was, on the surface, so simple and yet the more you studied it the more complicated it became. Imagine peeling an onion and on each succeeding skin you find writing, by layer three you are the stage of ‘Gone With the Wind’, a couple of layers later you are on a complete copy of the Bible and shortly after that you are expecting the complete ‘Encyclopaedia Britannica’! I remember reading a report once of the retirement speech of one of the great railway Chief Engineers, he said it was a pity he was retiring because after 50 years in the job he felt he was on the verge of understanding the simple slide valve! I think I know what he meant. I’m sure this applies to many more situations in life, if not all, but the steam engine brings it home to you very forcibly.’
“Hey, look outside” shouted Sue from the garden.
Whilst not an unusual sight, it was worth the glance, making a welcome break from trying to catch up with Google Reader on this rejuvenated computer that has returned from its holidays with an extra 1TB of storage space for all those photos we need to sort through.
It has been mostly local stuff during the last few days; a brief pause for breath before the next onslaught of activity, albeit worth a couple of postings if I can find the time.
The next image was taken earlier today by my 86 year old mum, during a family gathering of four generations. It’s one of the best pictures we’ve seen of young Jacob, who is growing up by the day. Well done, Dot.
