Day 19: Lazy day in Plampinet

In one week, I fly to Cuba for my first non-hiking vacation in over five years. It isn’t hiking I need a break from, but from the meticulous planning necessary for an enjoyable and safe thru-hike. Only time will tell if the ants in my pants will scream at me and tell me I’ve made a big mistake. In the meantime, let’s talk about day nineteen on the GR5…

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Day 19 – July 21 – 14 KMS – 5 HRS – 357 KMS TOTAL

Start: 7:35 AM, Les Granges de la Vallée Étroite, End: 12:25 PM, Plampinet

Ascent: 525 m (19 865 m total), Descent: 1545 m (18 615 m total)

It had rained through the night and fat, globular raindrops clung to my tent’s exterior. More rain was expected, so I was thankful that I had a short day planned; only 14 kilometres to Plampinet. Berend is a young Belgian man I have been running into regularly since day fifteen when I met him in Plan du Lac, at the refuge we were both camping behind. He recognized me from Ike’s Instagram page. Ike is a fellow hiker I had met on day three of my hike (check out my previous posts!). Berend arrived last night and camped here in the same field, here in Les Granges de la Vallée Étroite, where myself and a handful of others were also camped out. He had not stirred from his tent by the time I left. Nice to have seen you, Berend!

By the time the sun peeked over the jagged tops, I was already high up the mountainside, with yet higher to go. The blurry sun barely penetrated the layers of clouds, giving a lovely, hazy glow to the fog and mist. Boas of cloud snaked along the shoulders of the distant peaks. Not a sound was to be heard. No rain yet, but it sure was getting dark. Finally, just after nine, light but steady raindrops began to fall. I resisted donning my rain gear, not wanting to deal with the hassle of removing my boots to put the rain pants on. Finally, though, under a patch of pine tree cover, I pulled on my rain pants and rain jacket before continuing along the meandering trail which gave gaping views of the valley far, far below. Thick patches of fog and mist sauntered along beside me, billowing forward quickly. It was almost like I was chasing them, but could not catch up. 

By eleven, the rain had ceased and the birds came out to sing their many different songs. A vibrantly green meadow, home to various stone ruins, hosted the avian symphony. In Nevache, I came across a building whose placard read, “Notre Dame de Bonrencontre, priez pour nous.” Our lady of good encounters, pray for us! The door was unlocked! Inside, surrounding an altar, were all sorts of hiker supplies; water bottles, canned food, even a pair of brand new hiking boots. The offering was impressive! Needing nothing, I took nothing, and closed the door behind me. 

Following alongside La Clarée Rivière, the path saddled steep slopes of scree which looked more like a man-made construction site rather than natural geography. Even from this vast rock garden, life sprung forth in the form of grassy patches and pine trees. The sharp sounds of the fist-sized boulders grinding under my step, the scraping of my hiking poles across their surfaces, the tapping of the metal spike of my poles on the stones all created a cool cadence of cacophony like shaking pennies in a tin can, which I found rhythmic and satisfying.

At only half past twelve, I had arrived at Plampinet. At Auberge la Cleida, I sat and enjoyed a beer and a lentil salad while using their relatively-good wifi to edit and upload videos to my YouTube channel (@Woman in the Woods 13). Soon, Yves and Brigitte arrived! I first met them on day seventeen in Modane at Camping Les Combes. Yesterday, I had crossed paths with them again. How lovely it was to see them here! We sat together and chatted until the four o’clock check-in.

The lazy afternoon saw hikers arrive, have lunch, then carry on. Should I, too, have carried on? I wondered. But the thought left me quickly. Why? What’s the rush? What difference would it make? Instead, I ordered another beer and a plate of fries. Sitting, sipping, eating and editing, the hours passed, calm and easy.

At just about eight in the evening, the skies opened up, unleashing a fury of wind and rain. Feeling happy and justified in my decision to have a short day ending in the warm and dry shelter of an auberge, I climbed the stairs to the six-bed dortoir that I shared with only one other hiker. 

On this day, I passed the halfway point of this trek. Three hundred fifty-seven kilometres hiked, and only about three hundred forty to go. Very prematurely but nevertheless intensely, I was already dreading the end!