http://www.flickr.com/search/groups/?q=h2h&m=names
>
Saturday, August 18th, 2007
The alert readers among you will have noticed in my previous post that I got the stage numbers wrong when talking about skipping the Lac de Salanfe: the correct stage numbering is in the title of this post.
In the fog of my tiredness I also neglected to mention that Ioana rejoined us in Chindonne, and we had a merry dinner near a crackling fire in the restaurant that evening. The Alpage de Chindonne is a lovely building in a beautiful location with gorgeous views out over the valley of the Rhone. We were just about alone there because the weather had been forecast to be bad (although it turned out to be fine), and the owner said that many others had called in and cancelled. It is a difficult thing to run a mountain hotel, I think: either feast or famine... as we were to see in Barme.
We set off around 8:45, and it was a beautiful hike. Sally observed with pleasure that it was her kind of country, and Ioana said it was even better than the hikes she did with us through the Berner Oberland. The views on our left up to the dramatic peaks of Les Dents du Midi, and on our right down to and across the deep Val d'Illiez were tremendous. The weather was cool enough to make hiking comfortable, but not so cold as to be unpleasant. The trail was well-laid and relatively free of mud and cowpies. Lunch at the very basic Chalet d'Anteme under towering cliffs was surprisingly good. Tea and a tart at the charming Cantine de Bonavau were excellent and came at just the right time. We were, I think, all in very good spirits at 18:45 as we came over the last shoulder and descended into the hamlet of Barme... where we found what initially appeared to be chaos.
The Cantine de Barmaz where we had booked for the night seemed, particularly in comparison with the previous night in Chindonne, to be a seething mass of humanity. Kids of all ages bouncing on a trampoline and running around everywhere, most of the tables outside and inside full, and the whole attic for all intents and purposes a single bunkroom. Saturday night after a sunny day: it was clearly a feast.
Russell came down to dinner with a handful of Benadryl and cheerfully dire predictions for all and sundry. It was going to be horrible, he said. No-one would sleep a wink. All those kids running wild, and a baby just next to us. The worst night on the H2H, he predicted, with glee. The only thing to do would be to get drunk, stay up late until the masses had somewhat settled, take sleeping pills, stuff in ear-plugs, and then hope for a couple of hours of unsettled rest. So we set about carrying out his plan :-).
Dinner was copious and excellent, beer and wine were drunk, Russell, Sally and I downed our Bennies, and nevertheless, despite our best efforts, by 21:45, while everyone else, including the baby, appeared to be still as lively as ever, we were all yawning and ready to sleep. We went upstairs as, if not the first then certainly one of the early (attempted) sleepers. Sally, queen of earplugs, professionally inserted mine, and then -- mirabile dictu -- I fell quickly asleep and had an excellent night.
In fact, I fell asleep so quickly, probably as a result of the unaccustomed medication, that I missed out on great hilarity as Russell (dubbed "Deux Douches" by the kids as a result of his interaction with them earlier in the evening) orchestrated those same kids in coordinated waves of light-switching-off. Lidia and Ioana got fits of giggles at his antics and afterwards, relaxed and in good humour, they all slept better than they had slept in Chindonne the night before!
