Tag: mountains

Parapete, failure to launch

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The weather has been toying with us all the morning, the earlier trip to the Aiguille du Midi had been delayed and now storms were forecast for the afternoon. Of course the weather earlier in the week had been perfect as we watched paragliders climb on thermals, caressing the sides of mountains. It was starting to feel like a case of “should have been here yesterday”

My dream was to paraglide over Les Bossons Glacier, look down on this magnificent beast, its seracs rising like spikes on a spine. Gaze deeply into it’s blue heart and be in awe of it bottomless crevasses. This was the last day we would to do that. The area is off limits once the season switches to summer. It’s a safety precaution to make sure rescue helicopters have a clear path to the peaks should someone get in trouble and this pretty much happens every year.

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Aiguille du Midi and the Vallee Blanche

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Thing are very different up high and with tickets in hand we prayed they would be good. This was our one and only chance to peer into the secret life of Mont Blanc and go higher than we had ever been before. 3800m in fact, nearly twice as high as our highest peak in Australia.

It’s a rest day, which for us means more exploring and on the agenda was the Aiguille du Midi and Paragliding, something that had evaded us until now. Wanting to beat the crowds we arrive at the telepherique early, but the signs are not good with the start delayed due to bad weather. This is common, where the weather in the valley is fine but the same cannot be said for the peaks. A squint into the sky reveals nothing the massive mountain hidden by cloud.

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Lac Blanc, the great white

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The sunrises on the last day of our guided journey and the snow angels have left a parting gift overnight, a dusting down to 2000m. The all too familiar outline of the Mont Blanc Massif yet again shows another aspect of itself, the Aiguille Du Gouter’s face shimmering in all its glory. The north balcony, a walk we did on our day off, now white like someone had painted between the high peaks and lowland forest.

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Dome du Gouter with a dusted white face

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Rifugio Bonatti, location, location, location

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Following a rest day of high drama, failure to launch and running against the storm which I’ll write about later. Today we returned to our regularly scheduled program.

With the weather closed in overnight and little hope of moving on, this was a day not to forget the foul weather gear. Switching our poor excuse for language from French to Italian we pass over the border, a solitary faded line in the Mont Blanc tunnel indicating  you’re now in Italy. Well and truly on our way to one of the most picturesque of the Mont Blanc or should I say Monte Bianco valleys, the Italian Val Ferret.

The summit edge of Mont Blanc defines the border, with France predominantly claiming it. Although their has been consternation over the years with wars and victories redefining the Italian / Franco border, in the 21st century the towns of Courmayeur in Italy and St Gervais in France jointly manage it. Even though the village of Chamonix arguably has the greatest access and amenity.

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Torrent Bionnassay, swinging over

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We’ve chosen to visit at a time where the crowds are generally less but the weather is not as predictable. This time last year many of the high passes were still snowed in and met many adventures with disappointment

This winter has been warmer and the snow in the high passes has already given way to melting but the weather this week is unsettled and as a result so is the schedule.

This morning’s breakfast announcement brings a switch and instead of mentally preparing for a tough hike up the face of the Aiguillette des Houches, we’re instead crossing the Col de Voza with today’s highlight being the swing bridge crossing of the Torrent Bionnassay and views of its Glacier.

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Aiguillette des Posettes, wind, mist and altitude

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With a meal under our belts and a chance to meet the group, the first day opens with clear weather but quickly closes in. Hearts sink as we exit the bus to drizzle. Fortunately this walk starts in the woods and amongst the Larch and Pines it’s dry. As expected we start climbing almost immediately and soon come across the sounds of cow bells and alle alle, this is not Switzerland and they don’t sound like framers. Turns out we are walking on the final day of the Mont Blanc Marathon and an estimated 2000-3000 runners are in the mountains. We breathe a sigh of relief that we won’t have to encounter them and the inherent danger that poses.

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Craig’s Hut, touching the stars

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After a chilly night made better by my MacPac down sleeping bag and ear plugs to block out the snoring camp site, the sun rays penetrate the tent, tempting us to stay cocooned and soak in its warmth.

Alas there are vistas to capture and we are not disappointed flying the drone low over the lake, as mist scurries across its surface. The sun colours the white trunked eucalypts, turning the saturation up on the reeds that line the lakes edge.

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Greeted by a perfect morning over Lake Cobbler
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Mist caught in mornings first rays

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Mt Cobbler, the sleeping Indian

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A tradition has formed over the last few years as two families of hikers, well at least Dad’s, daughter and son, come together to explore the mountains of the Victorian Alps. Together we have enjoyed the camaraderie and companionship on journeys over the Cross Cut Saw, around Lake Tali Karn and along the Moroka River. This Easter however was a little different. With both son and daughter now young adults directed by their own schedule, Johnathon and I were left to rethink how our twice yearly get together would work out. With no end of places to explore we settled on the Mt Cobbler, Mt Stirling area and I decide this would be a good trip to introduce my young son to hiking and take along a work colleague, who has a passion for movie making and dramatic scenery. Especially since we planned to visit Craig’s Hut, the set of one of Australia’s iconic movies; The Man from Snowy River.

Our adventures are strictly walking, but with no great certainty we could get the car to the trail head and with new adventurers on board we opted for a mainly driving experience with day walks. This threw me in the packing stage since we didn’t have to worry about pack weight and luxuries like chairs and coolers could be considered. Hiking is rugged but has a beautiful simplicity about it. One that causes you to have great clarity about just what you need to get on in life.

The balance struck and gear stuffing the back of the wagon for four, we were off with enough food to last into next season!

Mt Cobbler is part of the Alpine National Park, about 4.5hrs from Melbourne, via Cheshunt. The road turns to dirt shortly after the town and snakes its way up through the valleys and ridges on a road that is suitable for a two wheel drive.

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Mt Bogong, Alpine Challenge

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Well rested we wake to a crisp clear morning. The ground is dry and so is the tent, a bonus for pack up. I’m listening for the stampede of feet and surprised not to have been woken earlier. Peering outside the tent their is little activity, just a few murmurs from other campers. The runners are no where to be seen.

Today’s plan is an exploration of Howman Falls and Maddison’s hut ruins. Leaving Cleve Cole the tracks meanders down to camp creek, a beautiful clear source of water. Before crossing the creek is a little track to the right which heads down to the falls. But thinking we needed to cross to get to them, we rock hopped and started up the other side. Nothing looked like falls territory and before long we found ourselves in a beautiful little valley and three choices of trail. I’d stupidly left the GPS back at the hut, this was after all just an easy side track! Staying put another walker passed by and set us straight. Turns out we were at Maddison’s Hut ruins, but with so little of it left, we’d missed it.

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Camp Valley and the Howman Falls area, so simple on the map

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Cleve Cole, snow blocks the trail

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Bogong, indigenous for Big Fella, stands proudly as Victoria highest peak in the Alpine National Park. We’ve previously summited Mt Bogong but the opportunity to explore the high plains eluded us as the weather closed in and visibility reduced to mere 10’s of meters. The mountain seemed to simmer with the dissatisfaction of us being there. We safely descended the follow morning, you can read about it here Mt Bogong, expect the unexpected. The desire to explore the summit never went away.

Fast forward a few years and after helping Claire navigate year 12, the hiking black out was lifted and that meant Bogong was back in our sights. We wanted the perfect, cool but not cold, a bit of snow but no storms type conditions and November seemed the likely month to provide this rare confluence of season and climate.

Winding our way through Toowong Gap to Mt Beauty anticipation was rising with every corner that drew us closer to this spectacular mountain and the elation or disappointment that we had left our run too late. Cresting toward the lookout, Mt Bogong grew before us, its snow spotted dome, glistening in the sun, this was turning out to be perfect!

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