Grande Randonnée 54

Col du Vallon, last day - view back on Lac de la Muzelle 

This day after coming home from our hiking the GR54 (i.e., most of it), my mind is engrossed by the reflections of the many and varied experiences on the trail. After a false start (missed the bus to the trailhead in Villar d'Arène), Merijn and I headed into the Écrins from the camping municipal at Pied du Col one day late. After seven gorgeous days we finished in Bourg d'Oisans. It is almost unimaginable how favorable the weather conditions we experienced. Not a single drop of rain, and even the worst day required sunscreen. Days generally consisted of climbing up to a col (2200-2700 m) in the morning, then descending down to the next crossing of valleys (1100-1800 m) in the afternoon. Up and down, rarely flat. Close to the cols we encountered narrow trails winding their way up through steep slopes of loose slate where error tolerance seemed very small. We thanked heaven for not treating us to rain and fog on those delicate sections. Regardless of the ascent, magnificent new views awaited at the top, which never cease to take one's sparse breath away. According to my beautiful, analogous altimeter, we climbed a stable 450-500 m/h, making the ~1000 m ascents very manageable.

Made it, safely! Col de l'Aup-Martin

A bit of a blister

When we started our hike, our backpacks felt heavy on our hips. Fortunately, over the days, we grew more and more at ease with the weight on our backs and adapted to the challenges the trail poses to the body. Descending never really got comfortable, though, putting a strain on the knees and foot soles.
More problematic, right on the first day Merijn contracted huge blisters on both heels. We tried to treat and package them carefully. However, when we took the bandage off after four days, we found the one blister had grown into a complex cluster of multiple blisters. With a bigger bandage and new tape my tough wife managed to sustain the discomfort during the second half of the trek.

Most days, we camped at the camp sites in the stage village, or on a flat patch close to the refuge (La Muzelle) or gîte d'étape (Le Désert). The gîte communale in Le Désert deserves big thumbs-up, for the hospitable host, tasty cuisine, its Leffe on tap, and excellent facilities.

Col de Vaurze, view on Le Desert

At the Refuge Pré de la Chaumette, we met a few other couples who were on the same trail. It was fun to meet some of them again after or during the next few stages. One elder couple we already met twice the days before was close to finishing. The woman seemed to carry quite a big bag and, unlike many others, did not use sticks. They didn't walk fast but progressed steadily and were sure to complete the 174 km loop. The woman, with her brown eyes magnified by her slim-rim glasses and shrugging her shoulders about navigating the steep slate passages, reminded me of my mother a bit.

At our first camp site in Le Monêtier we crossed paths with John from the UK for the first time, who at that time I still held for an Italian because of his compact physique and tanned face. It wasn't until we really met on the trail just below the Col de l'Aup-Martin two days later that we learned he was actually from England.

Bivouac at Lac de la Muzelle, view on glacier

Over the next days we would meet again and again, and also get to know Tim and Pam, who were from the UK as well and happened to know John. It was obvious that John was a strong hiker, carrying a big, retro, army-green backpack which held everything he needed to survive without any support on the trail. The explanation came when we learned that Tim and John knew each other from the ultra running scene. John was preparing for the Tour des Géants, a 200-mile foot race in the Dolomites, and Tim is a front-end competitor in 100-milers like the UTMB (ultra trail du Mont Blanc) and the Leadville Trail 100. They happened to know some of the characters featuring in "Born to Run," the book on ultra running I devoured a couple years ago. Pam does not do such extreme things, but she looks like she could win these events if she'd decide to participate. So we were in good company. Tim was hiking in preparation of La Petite Trotte à Léon, a 300 km team endurance event in Chamonix. It blew our mind when we realized that these events cover about twice the distance of the entire GR54. The last night we camped together at Lac de la Muzelle, looked over by what remains of the magnificent Glacier de la Muzelle. I was sad having to part ways with our new friends the next day and hope to meet them again.

Fat marmotte

Over seven days, apart from fuzzy marmottes, we saw few game. A few chamois, but that's about it. No wolves or bouquetins (alpine ibex). We did see eagles (short-toed snake eagle), one close to Entre-les-Aygues and several enjoying the upwind above the Col de Vaurze, and butterflies, countless crickets, ants, tadpoles in mountain lakes, flies, and sheep, many sheep, high up on most slopes, eating whatever grass is left to turn it into local cheese and scat. At La Muzelle, in the early morning, our campsite got checked out by big guardian dogs, which looked like a cross-over between a golden retriever and a wolf, before a huge flock of sheep came to graze the meadow. Fortunately, they took little interest in our morning routines and let us leave in peace. With the return of the wolf to the French Alps, guardian dogs are becoming more and more popular with shepherds to protect their flocks.

Very loyal butterfly

Another interesting encounter we had at Entre-les-Aygues. We were drying our tent and having breakfast between the trees next to one of the streams crossing the plain when suddenly two horses (no humans) came walking down the trail. They looked heavy, light brown with blond hair. It was surreal. To our astonishment, the front horse left the trail and came up to us through the bushes. The other followed but soon stopped. The front one continued until we could easily touch it. It stopped, sniffed, then hit his chin against its breast. We kept our calm. Then the horse turned away and together with its pal continued its march up the trail. Merijn and I cross-checked if we had just both seen the same thing. I regret but have reconciled myself with the fact that I'm not much of a plant guy. I cannot identify many varieties and where I'm faster at spotting moving life forms, Merijn is always first at spotting blackberries, raspberries, strawberries and the like. Let's say I enjoy the flowers on a higher level, as "flora" instead of at the level of the individual species.

When we walked the final kilometers to Bourg d'Oisans, although I was looking forward to a shower and a comfortable bed I was sad it was over. Over seven days I got used to life on the trail more and more, and where at the beginning I had felt some nervousness for what lay ahead, and which absorbed quite some energy, I finally felt ready to more fully enjoy it when in fact it was over. We had the easiest conditions, of course, with no rain, let alone snow, clear trails, no need to cross snow fields or use an ice axe. It doesn't mean there's no danger. In Le Desert we learned that two days before our passage a British hiker (female teacher of 52) was found dead on the trail to Col de Vaurze closeby. She had fallen 100 m, probably after tripping or sliding off the trail. And a few days before that, the lives of two frenchmen ended in a 20 m deep crevasse of the Glacier de la Muzelle. That's why I don't do mountaineering. The danger-reward balance doesn't work for me; I don't see the point of climbing to summits and don't get a kick out of adrenaline. I think I'll stick to hiking and venture into extremes if there are short exit routes. Make endorfine, not adrenaline.

Lastly, and counterintuitively I think, the trekking does get less boring over time (up to our seven days at least). No trail is the same. No stretch can be said to be typical for the Ecrins; there are many resolutions to choose from, and the trail and slopes, the conditions, and the views never cease to surprise.

View on sea of clouds in the valley of the Drac de Champoléon