Verdon Gorge --- Sentier Bastidonne and ridge walk to Moustiers-Sainte-Marie

After three days of summer, winter returned:  it was 6C in the morning when we started our fourth and last hike... and it would get much colder before we were finished.  Once again Françoise dropped us off at the edge of the gorge, this time at the start of the Sentier Bastidonne, a mid-level trail about two hours long.  The forecast was for rain showers and possibly thunderstorms later, so we arranged to meet Françoise at the end of the Sentier before deciding whether or not to continue with the climb to a plateau/ridge walk to Moustiers, our final goal for the hike.

Frankly, given yesterday's experience, and with the bad weather in the forecast, I wasn't sure how much interest there would be.  And the team's resolve hadn't exactly been strengthened by the reaction of the baker from whom we bought our lunch.  After we told him our hiking plans, he looked at us with what seemed like a tinge of disbelief and then started to laugh.  Not quite what one would call a vote of confidence.  But at least he wasn't polishing a scythe while laughing at our plans, something which happened to me once several years ago in Ticino in the Swiss Alps!

The Sentier Bastidonne is, like the other hikes in the Verdon gorge, beautiful, but unlike them, doesn't go near the water.  There were a few passages secured with cables, but overall it was much easier than the Sentiers Imbut and Vidal.  Here's one of the more difficult moments:

After lunch, which we ate in the car while a light drizzle fell outside, I asked Jean-Paul and Joseph what they wanted to do:  hike up to the plateau as planned (risking a worsening of the weather), or drive off with Françoise to the hotel.  After an ambiguous pause (possibly because each was waiting for the other to say, let's go back with Françoise), they both said they wanted to hike, thereby relieving me of all responsibility for what subsequently happened (a stance I'm prepared to defend in court if needed ;-).

About 5 minutes into the 450m climb up to the plateau (at 1250m) the drizzle turned into light hail... which continued for most of the next four hours:

At times it was more heavy than light, and it eventually got cold enough to settle on the ground without melting:

We got cold too, and when the plateau turned into a roller-coaster ridge walk, with some fairly steep ascents and descents over largely bare, and slippery, rock, the wind picked up, the hail intensified, and I got a little worried.  I had done the hike before, so I knew the trail wasn't too tough, and it is hard to get lost on a ridge, but I didn't know how far we still had to go and the conditions were pretty bad:  if anyone had injured themselves, it could have been a serious situation (although I did have a bivvy sack and other emergency gear with me).

In the midst of one of the most difficult stretches, Joseph was heard to mutter "Ça me fait chier!", which translates, more or less, as "This sucks!"  He was right, by the way:  it was pretty unpleasant.  And on top of that, his feet were killing him (blisters, Morton's), he was exhausted (from the cold and poor hiking technique due to inexperience), and he was slipping all over the place.  He said afterwards that he either thought he would die, or wanted to die... he wasn't quite clear which.  But when he saw that Jean-Paul had overheard him and was cracking up, he laughed too... so it can't have been too bad.

We finally came down to Moustiers around 5:30PM, having started hiking at 9:45AM, soaked and cold, but in good spirits, as the following photos show:

A pretty awesome four-day hike, actually.  And a pretty awesome pair of people to hike with.  Jean-Paul, an iron-man, always in good spirits, always looking out for others, and Joseph, on his first long hikes for decades, doing trails that would have made many experienced hikers blanch, and despite serious foot problems neither complaining nor quitting.  As they say in France, "Chapeau!".

Verdon Gorge --- Sentier de l'Imbut and Sentier Vidal

So, we learned something interesting overnight -- the road to the Chalet de la Maline, where Françoise had picked us up after yesterday's hike, had only opened four days ago on April 15th.  Despite my reputation for detailed research and planning of these hikes, I didn't even know it closed for the winter!  Had we started the hike a week earlier (which was an option), we would have arrived at the Chalet to find... nobody, and with 8km of road to walk along to get to our B&B.  I believe I can say with some high degree of certainty that in that event I would not have been been voted "Most Popular".

But the road was open, and so around 10:15 in the morning Françoise dropped us off once more at the north edge of the gorge at the Chalet.  Our plan was to do the continuation of the Sentier Martel, called the Sentier de l'Imbut, which goes along the river to a place at which the waters disappear under a jumble of huge boulders from some antediluvian landslide.  L'Imbut is wilder and technically more difficult then the Sentier Martel, and, if anything, even more beautiful.

Once at the landslide, we would have two options:  we could either return the way we had come, or we could climb out of the gorge on the south side via the Sentier Vidal, walk back to opposite the Chalet de la Maline, go down once more into the gorge, and then climb back up on the north side to the Chalet.  I had never hiked the Sentier Vidal before, and knew only that it was supposed to be difficult, so I wanted to see how everyone did with the Sentier Imbut before deciding which way to go.  In addition, the forecast was for showers and possibly thunderstorms in the afternoon, and in that case we would probably opt for the shorter hike.

To begin with, we walked down to a footbridge across the river (the only crossing for many miles in either direction), where I took the following photos:

The unusual emerald green colour of the Verdon River comes across particularly well here.

Then we walked along the Imbut trail, at times close to the river, scrambling over and around huge boulders, at times climbing up to walk on natural ledges underneath overhangs, or unnatural ledges cut out of the cliffs, as in the following couple of photos:

We stopped for lunch and considered our options.  Jean-Paul and Joseph had had no difficulty with the hike so far, despite Joseph having a slight fear of heights, and the weather was holding up, so we decided to give the Sentier Vidal a try.

Well, we managed it, but it was MUCH more difficult than the Sentier de l'Imbut.  The first part was a steep zig-zag climb secured with cables cut into a cliff.  There followed a steep and exhausting trail through woods, and then came the most difficult part:  a section without cables or other aids that required some climbing skills and the traverse of a narrow ledge across a vertical rock face that even I felt quite uneasy about.  Major kudos to Joseph for having crossed it without hesitation or complaint!  Then there was another steep climb through woods that left our legs quivering, and one final 10 meter rock face with cables that we just had to pull ourselves up.  Definitely one of the more difficult "hiking" trails I've done.

I took a couple of photos on the first cliff, but thereafter was too occupied with getting oxygen and watching / advising the other two, but even the first two photos make clear the difficulty of the trail:

You can tell by Joseph's face and stance that it wasn't really his favorite place to be :-).

The rest of the hike was less challenging, although because our legs had been stressed by the steep climb up, the ensuing descent was exhausting.  By the time we got back down to the river again, I think we were all a little wobbly.  However, we gathered our remaining strength and raced back up to Chalet de la Maline... doing a signposted 1 hour in 45 minutes... arriving around 6PM.  For a day that had been billed (by someone or other :-) as "an easier hike", it had turned out to be quite a challenge!

Verdon Gorge --- Sentier Martel

Joseph and I, who were sharing a room, woke up the next morning somewhat the worse for wear.  Joseph because his bed was uncomfortable, me because of Joseph.  I don't know why, but more often than not I seem to end up sharing a room on a hike with snorers.  Because of this I've taken to checking beforehand whether or not people snore... but Joseph wasn't aware that he did.  It was a close-run thing, but I didn't kill him.

After breakfast we walked down a few hundred meters to the start of the trail through the gorge.  Named after the leader of the first expedition to traverse the gorge (in 1905), the Sentier Martel was created in 1928 and is justly renowned as one of the finest hikes in France.  Here's a view of the start of the hike (you can just see stairs to the right of the river where it seems to disappear):

Thereafter the trail goes into a series of tunnels, with fairly rough floors, occasional rocks, and many deep puddles.  The longest tunnel is over 650m long and very dark... fortunately I had a headlamp with me, so we were able to avoid falls and the deepest puddles.  Here's a view of the river in the tunnelled section:

And then we were in the main body of the gorge, which is just beautiful.  Here's a typical view:

The trail went up and down, with occasional cables and ladders, of which these were the largest:

The weather was warm and sunny but not too hot, there were a fair number of other hikers, but not too many... it was a perfect day.  Or at least it would have been had Joseph not bonked.  Bonking, also known as hitting the wall, happens during sustained exercise when one has used up all of one's stored glycogen.  At that point, all stamina disappears -- regardless of how well trained you are -- and walking 50m up a moderate incline is about all one can do before one needs to stop to recover.  Joseph was in good shape, but he had never hiked on rough rocky paths, nor used hiking poles, and there's an art to that, so he didn't walk efficiently.  As a result, although all three of us ate more or less the same amount for breakfast and lunch, Joseph was the only one to bonk.  And unfortunately, his idiot guide (who shall remain nameless) hadn't thought to arrange any source of back-up energy.  Which left Joseph doing this a lot:

Fortunately soon after this photo was taken we came across a young family who gave us some biscuits... and ten minutes later Joseph's energy levels were trending upwards again.

We emerged from the gorge around 5PM, having started the day's hike at 8:45AM, tired, but happy.  And this time Françoise was waiting for us :-).  She drove us 8km to the nearby village of La Palud sur Verdon (the Refuge de la Maline, at the edge of the gorge, being closed for repairs), where we checked into our charming B&B, Le Perroquet Vert.  A shower and a good dinner later, at around 9:15PM, we were in bed and falling asleep....

The gorgeous Gorges du Verdon

So, I just got back yesterday from several days hiking in and around the gorge of the Verdon River between Castellane and Moustiers-Sainte-Marie in Southern France.  I wasn't originally planning to blog the trip, but there have been many requests for photos and a description.  And, of course, your wish is my command... <sweeping bow>.

I'll probably split it up into several posts so as not to stress the blogging application.  So, without further ado...

The raison d'être for the hike was threefold:

o   I wanted to get in hiking shape before the upcoming CMT (Coast Moor Twinhike) in England in May, having found out the hard way that it is better to give the body a few days to recover from the first couple of big hikes in a season.
o   a couple of French friends were interested in hiking the beautiful Verdon gorge,
o   as was I.

I've hiked the gorge before, on the H2H, and have since then sung its praises to anyone who would listen -- it is quite something, over 40km long and with cliff walls up to several hundred meters in height.  Here, for example, is a view of the entrance to the most spectacular stretch -- taken from the village of Rougon:

But I'm getting ahead of myself.  We arrived in Castellane Tuesday, April 16th.... we being Joseph, Jean-Paul and Françoise, and myself.  Françoise didn't hike with us, due to knee problems, and instead played the most welcome role of Sherpa Deluxe, driving our luggage from place to place and picking us up and dropping us off as needed.  Her help was hugely appreciated, sparing our backs from several extra kilos, and our legs from many extra kilometers (mostly due to the main accommodation option in the middle of the gorge being closed for renovations).

The first thing we did, after dropping off our bags, was to go for a short hike up to the chapel of Notre Dame du Roc, which is perched on a monolith 200m above Castellane, and parts of which date back to the 12th Century.  Here's a picture (not taken by me -- the day was a little hazy):

It's a stunning location with tremendous views over the town and the mountains around about.  And then it was back to our hotel, dinner, and an early bed.

The next day was a warm-up hike of around five hours, from Castellane (725m) to the village of Rougon (930m).  It was an easy trail, with nice views of the hills and mountains around, for the most part gradually ascending, up to a large bowl-shaped pasture at 1250m, and finishing with a short descent into Rougon.  The day was almost mid-summerly hot, but we had sufficient water and our legs were fresh.  Or at least, they were fresh for a while... by the end Joseph's right foot was giving him some trouble (a variant of Morton's neuroma, I think), and the tail end of a gout attack was bugging me too.  Jean-Paul, our iron man, was of course fine :-).

Upon arrival in Rougon we saw Françoise's car in the parking lot but no Françoise.  Thinking that she was probably at the gîte (a sort of basic hostel) where we would be spending the night, we walked off to find her... but she wasn't there either.  So we walked back to the car... but it was gone, and with it our bags and thus any hope of a quick refreshing shower.  Sigh.  A little mix-up as to expected arrival time.  Instead we spent the next hour sitting on the kerb waiting for her and her phone to get to a place with a functioning cellphone net so we could tell her we had arrived.  The delay made the shower even more appreciated though!

Dinner, at the local creperie, was very good, and we turned in early.

Wrap-up and final thoughts

Sorry for the delay. Saturday, the day after the last hiking day, I couldn't summon much more energy than that required to lounge in front of the television watching the Olympics. Sunday, Bea and Arnulf drove us back home to Bavaria (which took all day). Monday and Tuesday I was preparing for a presentation I gave Tuesday evening to about 50 people here (including the mayors of our village and the one next door) on why they should support a geothermal project that is about to begin in our area. And so it is only today that I have both the time and the energy to write this. <And now it is a few days later… blame the Olympics!>


So, overall, and I doubt that this will come as a surprise to anyone who has been following the blog, I'm very pleased with how the hike turned out. I walked the whole way as planned, the weather was improbably fine (we put on rain gear only three times… and it never rained hard), everybody showed up as they had said they would, everyone seemed to have a good time (within the limits of blisters, sore muscles, exhaustion, heat, long days, and snoring bunkroom mates!), the scenery was beautiful, most of the time we ate well, the accommodation was generally fine, there were no accidents or injuries (other than the aforementioned blisters), no-one got lost, no-one abandoned the hike, people got along well with one another… all in all, I think it went very well, and for my part it's an excellent sign that I finished up with the thought that I was actually already looking forward to the Part Two in two years time.

That being said, not everything was perfect, at least for me. There were the two toe "issues", and the near heatstroke on stages 2 and 3. The boot problem could have turned into a catastrophe (by the way, I don't think that I reported what happened with it -- not having good replacement possibilities (no wide-toed boots in Modane, no replacements in Provence for Lidia to bring), I decided to push on, adding glue from time to time when it looked necessary, and as it turned out the boots made it to Courmayeur… where they were unceremoniously dumped in the hotel rubbish bin!). But none of those things turned out to be major -- it may not have been perfect, but it wasn't too far off.

I was also pleased with a couple of the changes that I made from the H2H:

o Booking ahead worked well. I did have to make a couple of changes on the fly when people stayed longer or left a little earlier than expected, but my overall reservation workload while on the hike was dramatically reduced and I certainly didn't miss the ongoing uncertainty of whether or not I'd be able to find rooms at the places I wanted to hike to. Actually, given the numbers of people who came along on the hike (up to nine at one time), the time of year (summer vacation season), and the paucity of accommodation in some of the areas we hiked through, I think it would have been nigh on impossible to reserve on the fly. As it was, even when making reservations a few months before the hike there were a number of places that were already booked out, and in a couple of cases I had to change destinations as a result.

o Another thing that worked well was not having double rest days. I didn't feel like I suffered physically by only having single rest days… although having that week off after the first week of hiking was definitely helpful (and I intend to do a warmup hike of 3-4 days a couple of weeks before the start of Part Two). I also never felt bored, as I did on occasion (during the second of two rest days) on the H2H. The iPad was also excellent (even if I did stay up to 3AM one night reading Ender's Game on it, despite needing to hike the next day :-).


And now for a more controversial subject, one that came up several times in conversations with some of the other hikers: what kind of hike should the H3H be? Some people felt that some of the hikes were too long or too difficult. There were some comments made about people hiking ahead, rather than walking with the others. Some felt rushed, others commented that some hikers were slower and that as a result the days were longer and therefore more tiring than they could have / should have been. And sometimes contradictory comments were made by the same person on different days depending upon whether that day they were in front or behind! Add it all together and it seems a topic of general enough interest that some clarifications of principle are in order.


Length of hikes.

Much as I like hiking, I don't want to spend the rest of my life getting from Eygalières to Icking. That's an exaggeration, of course, but it does point to an underlying truth: at its heart, the H3H, like the H2H before it, is about getting somewhere. And so given a choice between two four hour days and one eight hour one, I'm generally going to choose to do the long day. That being said, even I don't want to spend every day hiking from dawn to dusk… my preference is to have a mixture of hike lengths: some longer ones mixed in with some shorter ones. But that isn't always possible… and in the high Alps, where it takes the whole day to go over a pass from one village to the next, it usually isn't possible.

There is another reason why sometimes the hikes are longer than they need to be: because the longer hike is more beautiful or interesting or challenging or avoids roads or is better for some other aesthetic reason. This was also a point of contention on the H2H, and I'll say the same thing now that I said then (even if it seems to contradict the previous paragraph!): the H3H is not only about getting from point A to point B. If I just wanted to do that, I'd walk along valleys! It's about enjoying the beauty of the Alps… and sometimes there is significantly more beauty if one takes the longer option. If they exist, I'll always list shorter options, and others are always welcome to take them (just as they are always welcome to take taxis or other transport, if available, at the beginning or the end of days that they find too long), and sometimes even I'll be taking the shorter option (bad weather, tiredness)… but I will continue planning and taking longer options when they are, in my very subjective opinion, "better".


Hiking together… or not.

This is a simple one: everyone should do as they wish. People have different hiking speeds and rhythms that they feel comfortable at, and of course different fitness levels. It isn't as if there isn't a lot of conversation that goes on (heck, Jorge even talks on vertical up-hill climbs :-). If someone wants to talk more, it is generally not difficult to find someone else to talk to. Most of the time an individual wasn't left to hike at the back alone… generally people watched out for one another and someone would drop back to accompany a trailer. But if someone feels like hiking out front, whether because that's what is natural for them, or because they want to push themselves, I don't see anything wrong with that. The only thing that is important is that whenever there is a possibility of error as regards the path, then those at the front should wait for those at the back to arrive to make sure that all are on the same trail. Other than that, I don't think that there should be any rules about this sort of thing… frankly, the fewer of those the better.


Rushing vs. waiting for slower hikers.

This is an interesting one, because it is so subjective, and because there was no consistency. As a general rule, those who felt that they were being rushed when they were the slowest in the group, had no qualms about hiking ahead when someone else was the slowest. And there was even a case of someone who normally hiked near or at the front having a weak day and then commenting that the one at the front that day clearly regarded hiking as a competitive sport. On the other hand, there were those who observed that they had to wait a lot for the slowest hikers, raising the risk of being caught in an end of the day thunderstorm and still being on the trails at the end of the day when they would have preferred to have been showered and putting their feet up with a beer. I'm not excluding myself here.

Long hikes can be pretty stressful, group dynamics are often difficult, and there is plenty of opportunity to stew over things while hiking and as a result to lose a sense of proportion and objectivity… it has happened to me many a time… but next time you find yourself thinking such thoughts, try and see things from the other person's or people's point of view. If you are at the back, imagine how it is for those at the front -- unless the weather is bad then generally they will just be hiking at the pace that is normal for them. They probably aren't rushing -- they actually have more time to look around because they will wait for you from time to time. And so when you arrive, they might be chilled and ready to move on, or just ready to move on because they've waited long enough… don't reproach them for it. And if you are one of those having to wait, chill out -- most of the time it will be a beautiful day and you will be in beautiful surroundings. So the day is a bit longer and you are a bit more tired at the end… big deal (not).

And that being said, there are three general principles that I believe that people should respect.

o First, not everyone is going to have the same fitness level, but every good person even if they hike somewhat slower than the rest contributes to the overall enjoyment of the hike. The social dimension of hiking is one of the nicest things about it -- both on and off the trail -- and up to a certain point, the more the merrier. So yes, if you are one of the faster hikers, you will have to wait, but the benefits of being able to talk and spend time with the one at the back should outweigh minor frustration.

o Second, if you are the slowest on any given day or at any point during a day, then I think that you have a responsibility to the rest of the group not to dawdle. Don't hike faster than you feel comfortable with, and by all means take a reasonable amount of time to look around, take pictures, and recover after hard climbs. But don't waste time unnecessarily or just decide to go slow for the hell of it -- the others are waiting for you, so respect their time too. And this counts double if the weather is unstable.

o Third, you really shouldn't show up without training or out of shape. You don't have to be able to run a marathon, but you should be fit. This is partly so that you don't get so tired or sore so that it isn't fun for you, but it is also a question of respect for others.

The last point led to an interesting conversation between Lidia and me. In the past Lidia has been remarkably fit without training much… but she has trained some. This time, for various reasons, she didn't train at all, and, let's face it, age catches up with us all… even those of us who grew up hiking every weekend in the Carpathian mountains. Astoundingly, Lidia was still remarkably fit even without training. She didn't develop incapacitating muscle aches after her first hard day, and the day we hiked by the Pierra Menta, when I sent everyone else on ahead, she was primarily slow because of a stomach upset -- when that had cleared up we actually caught up somewhat with the others on the downslope. But the fact remains that she was not as fit as she could have been with a little more training, and that as a result everyone had to wait for her more than they would have had to do otherwise.

So we talked about this, quite amicably, and Lidia decided that training isn't a high priority for her… if circumstances permit, she'll do some training hikes, but they might not permit. And so I suggested that I try to find a stretch of days, if possible, during the next part of the H3H, when the hikes will be shorter, not as difficult, and where the expectation from the beginning will be that we will walk fairly slowly. Actually I kind of like the idea, because it might make participation more attractive to some of our friends for whom the big hikes are too much. But I'm making no promises yet! I haven't plotted out the route, and since it is almost all in the high Alps, it simply might not be possible to find more than two or three short hikes in a row that nevertheless advance us towards home.


So, there you have it: that's my view of what sort of a hike the H3H should be. Not a competition, but more like an expedition than a casual stroll, strenuous and a challenge that demands a lot of effort from its participants, but is nevertheless doable by anyone who is reasonably fit and willing to do a few comparably long training hikes beforehand. Just as important, conversation and interaction with other hikers are one of the great joys of hiking, as is time to enjoy the beauty of the regions we walk through, and so those elements will never be sacrificed.


This was clearly a topic that needed clarification, but that is more than enough moralizing and high seriousness! I had a great time, those who came on the hike are great people, I really enjoyed the time we spent together, and I hope to see you all again on the next part of the H3H in a couple of years time. And now I'm going back to being an Olympic Couch Potato!

One last glacier

Somewhat thinner than a month ago!