Just a word of advice, the weather conditions at the bottom of a mountain are often the polar opposite of the conditions at the top (and "polar" is to be read in both senses). After awakening to a beautiful morning at the chalet and confidently adorning myself with a thermal long-sleeve shirt and cargo shorts, I made my way with the group to the train. Little did we know, the impending day-long hike would take us through nearly every natural phenomenon known to man.
The night before our epic journey, we discussed Ramuz's When the Mountain Fell. I'll avoid any plot synopses, but I will point out that the original title of the novel was Derborence. Incidentally, that's where we were to hike to and actually see the "mountain that fell."
From Solalex, we were to hike to Derborence, which is a bit of a haul (Google it). As fate may have it, the thickest fog I've ever witnessed rolled in. As we trudged up the mountain, we readily snapped photos of the beautiful surroundings within a 20-yard radius of our path. The fog would lift momentarily throughout the hike and display the hidden grandeur that was actually surrounding us, but for the majority of our march, it remained a virtually unseen looming presence.
The turning point of our hike arrived with fury. As we all rested to enjoy our sandwiches and fruit, the Alps decided to dump a mixture of hail and freezing rain on us. Several hours away from the base and now battling the forces of nature, we began our trip back. Our pace back down the mountain ultimately turned into a slight trot. Within minutes, the hail stopped, the fog lifted, and the sun came out (again, with fury). My shirt, once drenched in freezing rain, now became deeply moistened with sweat. I must relate that we did make it back safe and sound with many stories to tell.
No comments:
Post a Comment