Autumn Hiking & the First Snow of the Season!

The morning was a little overcast but the sun was trying to come through and the Le Tour end of the valley looked like it was clearing up, so off we headed, Cookie and I. We rode the gondola up to Charamillon and, although the Autannes chairlift is still running, we decided to start our hike from the lowest point - Cookie being a slightly feisty Jack Russell and me not wanting to wrestle with him several metres above the ground.

The signposts for the Refuge Albert 1er are easy to follow, the first one is beside the cattle grid just past the bottom of the chairlift and then there is very little possibility of getting lost after that. The narrow but well trodden footpath takes you up alongside the chairlift and across to the Charamillon side of the Le Tour area.

This path is one of the lesser frequented and takes you well away from the lifts, restaurants and mountain bike trails to a more remote and rugged part of the valley, where the bright greens of summer are now deepening into the coppery colours of autumn. Within minutes we had seen a couple of marmots bumbling over the rocks. This is one of the reasons why even well-behaved dogs must be kept on a lead in this area; any interference with the wildlife can affect their breeding and hibernation habits.

As the path twisted higher and higher up the mountainside we could see down into untouched gullies, no hiking paths or lift pylons scarring their dense vegetation, just lots of hiding places for nests and burrows. Even on the lead Cookie found plenty to stick his nose into, there’s so much temptation for a curious little terrier in the mountains and no rock or hole was left uninvestigated. At one point he had little blue splodges on his head from where he’d been snuffling in a myrtille bush…

It hadn’t been a particularly crisp day to start with but, being from the North-West of England, I’m not deterred by a bit of drizzle. However, as we trotted on it escalated from drizzle to a fine but persistent shower until we reached a turn in the path where we were greeted by horizontal rain being blown straight into our faces by a bitter wind. As this point Cookie did a sharp about-turn and set off back down the path as far as his extendable lead would let him. After a brief debate we decided that we should press on and enjoy a hot cup of tea and a piece of cake at the refuge, I even persuaded him that I could probably convince the kitchen to make him a little dish of meat scraps.

The further you go along this path, the more dramatic the scenery gets; steep menacing rocks to one side of you and a sheer drop into oblivion on the other, with the ground getting more and more challenging underfoot. There are a few sections where there is a metal handrail screwed into the wall to help you shimmy down the trickier parts. It was also at around this point that my camera took one soaking too many and gave up the ghost, so you'll just have to use your imagination from here on.

Once you get to the moraine you’re on the last leg, but it is also the most challenging; a narrow ridge littered with loose shale and lots of boulders, leading fairly steeply up to a rocky outcrop where the path disappears and you must look out for blobs of red paint marking the final scramble to the refuge. If you’ve got decent shoes and a good head for heights then it’s quite an adventure with extremely close-up views of the glacier beside you; you’re even close enough to hear it shifting and groaning as the ice moves like slow-motion waves. Be aware that unless it has been dry for a few days, many of the higher paths will have turned into very cold streams, making sturdy waterproof boots essential. Unfortunately I was wearing running shoes.

The refuge is at just over 2700m, a gloomy gray stone block perched on a windblown precipice. I remember the inside as being a bit worn but cosy and authentically Alpine; the new interior is disappointingly modern and feels more like a shopping mall cafeteria. Not that I got to see much of it as we were sternly told at the door that dogs are not allowed in, which seemed a bit harsh considering they only had two customers and he’s so little that he was very unlikely to cause a ruckus. Apparently it’s because they have a kitchen, but considering you can take a dog into the finest restaurants in Chamonix without anyone blinking an eye, this seemed a poor reason to me.

Anyway, we huddled up in the boot room and shared some biscuits in the hope that the rain would ease off soon. It did not. The rain turned to snow. So we waited a little longer and the snow kept on coming, so eventually we decided that there was only one way to get home and that was to march forth. So much for tea and cake, not to mention Cookie’s “assiette de charcuterie”.

Coming up the moraine in rain was one matter, going back down it in snow was quite another. I was already so wet that getting wetter just didn’t seem like a concern anymore, not so much as breaking an ankle did anyway, so some sections I just had to bum-shuffle my way down. Cookie perfected an impressive commando-crawl technique, with his front paws splayed out in front of him.

Once we got to the bottom of the moraine we decided to take the steeper but more direct route, so instead of turning right to retrace our steps along the original path we continued onwards along a narrow ridge that headed straight down to Le Tour. As we left the wilderness of snow and rock behind us, we came into a more overgrown area that is obviously even less frequented than the first path we took. We saw a chamois at quite close quarters; it obviously felt a bit protected by the stream that was between us, as instead of running for cover it just stood and watched us until we were out of sight. Beautiful autumn flowers in burnt orange and dusky pink were tangled up amongst the myrtille bushes that crowded every patch of ground and we could see the cows in the meadow at La Vormaine beneath us. The path continued to be steep and extremely rocky but now that we no longer had snow to contend with, we found the going a bit easier. Eventually, after many knee-pounding switchbacks, we found ourselves approaching the cows and crossing by their field to reach the bottom of Le Tour gondola. Our little ramble had taken us 6 hours, a fair bit longer than expected!

Despite our tribulations, this is a very beautiful hike with wild and rugged scenery. It gives you some of the closest views of the glaciers in the valley and the chances of spotting wildlife are better than in more well-trodden areas. Under normal circumstances this hike would take about 2.5 hours up and about 2 back down, covering about 11km. Be sure to take suitable clothing and to check the weather forecast before you head out.