Book review: Where Angels Fear to Tread

By E. M. "Howard" Forster. His first book. Has vague echoes (errm, or presentiments) of "A Room With a View" in that it is about the English in Italy; but unlike that, where the respectable English abroad meet the English lower classes - the horror - here the respectable but silly Lilia meets a charming young Italian of no family.

For reasons unclear to me the respectable folk inhabit Sawston, an unremarkable town on the railway line from Cambridge to London; closer to Cambridge than Stevenage; which may perhaps explain the connection. The book is probably better if you know none of that.

The book contrasts the suffocatingly dull but respectable life of Sawston with the beauty freedom and dirt of Italy. I would interpret it as another novel about the English, as Howard's End is, and A Passage to India arguably is. Except my edition contains an afterword, an exchange of letters between Forster and Trevelyan, which tells me it is really about the growth of Philip. Oh well; I really think my interpretation is better.

English society does not come off well from the book. The Herritons are by construction unlovely; Philip's Italiophilia appears shallow; no-one gets to lead a natural life.

But considered as a novel, the book is interesting and enjoyable to read, and well constructed. The "reception" section on wiki is worth reading. I wonder if the "charitable" comment influced India, which does look kindly on its characters.

Aside: to me, the most remarkable element of the story is that the folk of Sawston can afford to send Lilia off on a year-long tour of Italy with a companion, and Harriet on a whim for six weeks in the Tirol. But perhaps that is how it was in the days of the Empire.

Book review: Massif

By Garth "Sabriel" Nix; which I enjoyed. Though I see I would consider my standards of a review in the old days to be intolerably brief now.

I enjoyed this book; it is a fun easy read. There is the odd "bad" person in it, but they don't get in the way and are quickly resolved out, thereby removing digressions that in other works would distract us for hundreds of pages. This one is relatively brief and to the point, and indeed at the end it does have a point, or at least a conclusion, again beating many another book. The lightness of tone, the lack of depth, gives it a YA-ish flavour; as does the humdrum language. But this is the best actual scifi I've read for a while.

I think I won't trouble you with the plot or the reveal; suffice to say that everything moves along nicely. I can raise a few quibbles though without spoiling things: the most obvious is the DB doesn't need to give Our Heroes a spacehip and has no motive for doing so (except as a backup? And yet, why be so rushed, in a species nominally trillions of years old. Although "trillions" is careless, being older than the universe, and unnecessary; billions would have been harmless); and had he not done so, his dastardly plot would have come to fruition.

I noticed a thing at the end, which in retrospect I guess is often used, but I haven't consciously remarked it before: the "reveal" is intertwined with "rescuing a comrade who needs urgent medical or might die", so that in getting carried away with how the rescue goes, we get dragged rapidly over the reveal part, and are less likely to trouble ourselves with its sanity.

Book review: The Odyssey

Or, The Odyssey by Homer, rendered into English prose for the use of those who cannot read the original, by Samuel Butler. Although in fact SB's brilliant theory is that it was written by a young woman. But as far as I can tell - not very far - that theory doesn't affect his translation, beyond the addition of a few snarky footnotes that keep pointing out the author(ess)'s interest in womens' matters.

I read the text from Gutenberg on my Kindle whilst wandering in the mountains, since it was all de rage then; a month later all interest has naturally faded, since we are goldfish. Speaking of goldfish, I read it a month ago, so the details have naturally faded.

Odysseus lies shamelessly to everyone he meets, including his wife and father, frequently for no obvious reason, and generally after saying "I will tell you true". This is one of the ways to tell he is not a modern hero. Is he even the Hero? He is definitely the protagonist; I naturally assume he is the hero, because that's what I was told as a child, but maybe he isn't.

He also keeps losing his men, who routinely die horribly in one way or another; they even do this in the lies he tells, when it wasn't even necessary for made-up strangers to die. But he has clearly got so used to the pattern that it even appears in his fantasies. And so after a while one begins to wonder if their deaths are really all their own fault, as his stories alwys make out, or is it perhaps possible he was just a crap leader of men?

The bit about shooting through the axes at the end really doesn't make sense and has "obviously" been hopelessly garbled; or perhaps it is the kind of weird thing a young woman might invent as an archerly feat, who had no knowledge of archery? I also think that a wooden bow that had been left in a storeroom for twenty years would be useless. It is also a bit odd that only he is strong enough to bend the bow; his super power is wiliness, not crude raw strength.

Speaking of wiliness: although - perhaps mostly towards the end - we see Odysseus racking his mind, sleepless, trying to think up stratagems, he fails totally and has to be spoodfed by Minerva, repeatedly.

But enough carping, what of the good bits? The multi-layered-ness of the story is kinda fun, and not at all what I would expect from the rustic simplicity of the antients compared to our modern sophistication; yet another reminder that people have been intelligent for quite a while now (there is another possible explanation, that the text started as scattered myths and fragments of stories and was woven together into a whole with the funny shape that comes down to us). The various components of the story are interesting, but suffer from me having known them since childhood, so they lack novelty. The bit at the end - when Big O is slowly oh so slowly winding himself up to finally do something about the suitors - reminds me of the scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail where Cleese the knight is attacking the castle with the wedding celebrations, and we see him running towards the gate - then cut away to the guards squinting into the distance - then back to Cleese, who is no closer; and so repeat a few times before he turns up and slaughters a pile of people, pointlessly.

Book review: The Nine Tailors

The Nine Tailors is a 1934 mystery novel by the British writer Dorothy L. Sayers, her ninth featuring Lord Peter Wimsey. The story is set in the Lincolnshire Fens, and revolves around a group of bell-ringers at the local parish church. The book has been described as Sayers' finest literary achievement, although not all critics were convinced by the mode of death, nor by the amount of technical campanology detail included says wiki.

As for the literary style, that does seem to be present, to some detriment of the detective aspects, but I'm happy with that.

We live in Cambridge, on the edge of the fens, and have visited places named in the text, and have seen the landscape; so that helps with sympathy to the novel.

The "mode of death" is frankly a disappointment. I think you can make a case for it fitting the gloomy flooded bell-ringing style, but denouement-wise it is a distinct let-down; after all the excitment the book is suddenly over, with no release. Unless you like the idea of Deacon being effectively tortured to death, which some might; he was a bad person, after all.

I guessed the Deacon-is-not-dead twist; that was not hard and really the evidence for his death so weak that you wonder he was considered dead at all. DLS doesn't even throw in a "it was wartime; people were busy" type excuse, because I think she is aware of how weak it is and doesn't want to draw attention.

But I failed to think through the implications of DinD, even though they are - in retrospect - obvious, so that's deffo a score for her.

Some things seem too convenient: recalling sailor Jim from the far side of the world; the French police tracking down a woman with laughably inadequate information. But other things are rather nice: the two brothers unshakeably protecting as they think each other for example. I don't think that killing Will at the end was necessary or nice, though.

The cipher is strange though: it is not really decodable (though Our Hero of course does) so how is it distinguishable from random text? If it is intended as proof that there is a secret, I don't see how it can be. You can't prove it until you decode it, at which point it might just as well be plaintext. But the link to the emeralds placement up in the rafters with the high-church rector's renovations, is lovely; the character of the church is well told.

Book review: The Philosopher's Pupil

The Philosopher's Pupil is a 1983 novel by the British writer and philosopher Iris Murdoch. It is set in a small English spa town called Ennistone; but I cannot speak to the truth of that as I DNF'd this; indeed I barely started it, abandoning it in the prologue, wherein some uninteresting and unlovely characters argue with each other about uninteresting things.

I notice that wiki barely cares about the book: the list of characters is longer than the plot description, which is entirely unreferenced.

Modane to St Gervais: France again

Part three: France and Home.

Tuesday 18th: sleep well despite the best efforts of the All-Stars Snoring Team. 

 

B’fast 7 and not a moment earlier. Elisabetta is old inside (wood floors and walls) but with modern extension: wide windows overlooking the plain towards Courmayeur. Which is the plain I liked so much, seeing it from the other side. I'll walk it one of these days. It looks like Rivendell.

Off 8:15. 9: Casemetta al col de la Seigne, 2365; some kind of mountain expo thing. But it has a nice bench in the sun out of the wind from the col with views down valley (and a little charging station, v thoughtful). The big black pointy thing is the Aiguille Noire de Peutery. 9:40: col de la Seigne 2512. Just in cloud. 10: 2315, a flock of sheep and a shepherd tugging a donkey, and a zillion people heading up. Somewhere opposite is the ref Robert Blanc but I am skipping that. 10:50: ref des Mottets 1864. Several new-looking buildings; apparently the krauts burnt the place down in ‘44. Half hour for cafe. 11:49: Ville des Glaciers so called, 1789. Farm shop offers cheese, get a lovely Tomme de Chevre with the best crust I’ve seen. And superb taste too. This is the roadhead; and a navette payant will take you lower. Clouds have cleared the col in favour of the Aiguilles. I'm waiting out the noonday sun with Marcel mooning over Gilberte. 1: off. 1:45: 2050. 3: 2412. Just above the highest cows and ready for the final push to the col. 3:40: col du Fours 2661. It is ugly: first thing is a giant electricity pylon, then the slopes of rubble. 4: ref du col de la Croix du Bonhomme, 2443. Ferme, for works it appears. Has the world's most fly-infested dry toilets. 4:50: col du Bonhomme, 2329. The little hut is still there! That M and I sheltered in, it was all cloudy then. Ponder descending to Bourg St Maurice for the lulz but go for St G. 6:10: ref de la Balme 1706. Buy a biere can I sneak a shower? Nearby aire du bivouac is my plan: one last night under the stars. Get a coffee but decide taking a shower would be off. Wash feet at nearby trough (and loos), find spot in bivvy area at front. I am the only tarp, though there are micro-tents. Finish off this lunchtime’s yummy Tomme. Settle down. 

Wednesday 19th: up before 6:30 (it was cold without down jacket; but, bonus, I have mastered the art of pissing out of my s’bag without getting up at night; this only works with a tarp, obvs) off 6:40. Les Hoches 8:40 first sun. 10:10: down in St Gervais. Buy juice etc then stop in the good old cafe by the church. For the last few km through Bionnay I forsook the beautiful river path for the convenience of the road and the hope of a cafe but nothing - except one that for some reason I took against - until St G. The path down does a good job of staying off road by the rushy river but the cost is avoiding ville: we were past Les Contanimes where I had intended to stop before I realised I had gone beneath it. Initially there were lots of TMBers grinding up, but none past Les C; I think we're off TMB after there. Book train to Paris for 12:49; there was a 10:49 too but I didn't want to rush. Look at hotels - many - look at Louvre - rats all booked up tomorrow. Get an Orsay ticket for 16:30 before they go too. Funicular down then walk out of park to the gare (at gare: there seems to be a cable car directly from station to St G). The funny ticket office for the tramway is still there. And so… most of the adventure is over. Cafe. And catch the 12:49. It has ac, it has comfy seats, not crowded, and so far it has great views. Change at Bellegarde for Lyria 3:02 to Paris bang on time; I am in the upper tii; it is about full. Book hotel Paris (de Mont Blanc). Ponder Eurostar. We pass the lovely lake of Nantua, there is one obvious way to go through by road or rail.

Thursday 20th: today I have little to do before Orsay late pm. So slow b’fast and lie in room, before heading out to San Fran books to see what they have. Which turns out to be quite a lot of scifi, most junk, but get three Edmund Coopers which will enable me to pass the day quietly. Then the Abbey bookshop. Which is also tiny with cramped aisles I can barely weave through. After two elongated allonges, decide to have the linguine, with I think sea bream tartare. Hopefully not too much of that. It turns out that I don't really like raw fish, but I knew that already and ordered it for the good of my soul. It went nicely with the bread. This part of Paris is good to walk around. Visit St Severin. Based on last night and b’fast I think I have underspent on my hotel. It isn't quite a flophouse, but is a small faded place. Small is ok, and I guess faded is ok too, but the ac gurgling in the night even when turned off is bad; and the toilet is so small you can't shut the door; and the b’fast is a tray of stuff no buffet. But the location is good. To Jardin de Luxembourg which I remember. The pond where you can hire toy boats to sail is there. Cafe. I have a slight sore throat which makes coffee less pleasant. To Orsay and am let in early. Wander around, they are rebuilding it bigger? The collection seems bigger, but not better. Or am I feeling grumpy? When I start not caring about the Redons that I enjoyed last time, stop.

Friday 21st: home day, assuming all goes well. B’fast at 7, or rather a little later as Mme is busy making noises off. Leave 8, wander slowly, pix of Sainte Chapelle tower and angel. Cafe. Sit on bridge enjoying river for a bit; go via Tuilleries but it isn't exciting tbh.and so, slowly, to Gare du Nord. Go through control, even though I am early; it is irritating but not painful. Onboard 12:50. And we're off. Northern France isn't that exciting especially under rain but the rain is good.

What I brought back with me. The usual picture for future reference:

Underneath, a scrap - perhaps 2/3 length - of thin carrymay. Big blue exped rucksac; 2 x BBlaxk Diamond Z-fold carbon fibre poles; trail shoes; faithful black hat; bivvy stuff: grey bag, tarp, thermarest, tent pegs.

S2S thin sleeping bag; silk inner; reading and sun glasses; Kindle. Buff; "evening wear" clean T: OAV; clothes bag (thermal leggings; thermal top; evening socks; thin and fleece gloves.

Food bag; Black bag of misc inc head torch, plasters, toothbrush, tissues; yellow bag of cables and charging including small charge block; money-passport with attached compass, key, penknife, whistle; tea towel; working socks inner and outer; 2 x underpants; shorts; thin long-sleeved top.

Not shown: orange Rab raincoat, small blue Exped daysac, water bottle.

Total weight: 6.8 kg.

Not shown, because sent back separately: boots, axe, crampons, helmet, down mitts and outers, down jacket, gaiters, w'proof trous.

See-also: What I took to Austria.

Modane to St Gervais: Italy

Part two: Italy.

Sunday 9th: up 6:45 b’fast off 8:10 col Basac Dere 10:30 3083. Whew. There's a widespread ocean of glacier up the side I came, good scenery, the “plateau” around 2900 is fun to walk over. Far side: distantly , Gran Paradiso and maybe to its L Monte Rosa? Off 10:50. Down to big lago di Golettaz 11;30. Peak behind is Granta Parei. No swim but do paddle: it's cold and I am not sweaty. Ref Benevolo 12:40. It is a very popular hut on a sunny Sunday lunchtime, crowded in and out. Put sac down get a biere and tarte di mele v nice (but €12 combined) and sit quietly. Wash socks and feet in trough and put feet up, so to speak, enjoy not using any muscles. This is probably the first extensive piece of time I have had to do nothing in. No great thunks emerge but I persist in turning things over. When walking I am looking ahead or at my feet, or allowing songs to precess, but not really thinking. Ref is private. It has a CAI sign so I got out my OAV card but the woman who speaks English and so was deputed to deal with me says it became priv about 15 years ago. It is an old building - dark wood, creaking floorboards - with a modern extension. I am in an absurdly high bunk, the last place available. Later arrivals get to camp, just over the rise. I think the official rule in Italy is “above 2500 and 7-to-7”. Also a party of scouts, also out of sight. Clouding over pm. With luck we get some rain. Wind earlier threw up small tornado of dust. This place is a bit thin on sockets but I find one. Also shower, from warm w’bottle, thereby saving €3. 8: at last the threatened rain, with lightning, though not heavy. I have elected for 6 am b’fast in an effort to get up before the sun. In response to rain children run around gleefully but it strengthens and all retreat inside. This would deffo be tarp-testing; I am glad to be indoors.

Monday 10th: my place up high could be stuffy but isn't quite. Plenty of folk getting up in the night but that's ok. First up and first to b’fast at 6. There's light in the sky. 7:15: off. Few clouds, fading; sun on the higher peaks. FFS: I didn't pay the refuge! Must send somehow. 8:45 sun. I was beginning to doubt my path - I am not on my intended track which is lower - since the trace is faint. But there are cairns and some paint marks and then an unmistakable “13B” mark. So I have hope. I'm at about 2800 so 350 to go. All about: ex glacial landscape, with some remaining glaciers. 8:50: 15 mins rest. 9:45 to “col” but which one? The far side is uninviting. 3130 says compass. Also, clouded earlier and now light rain: put on coat + trous. Nivoletta? Most likely. 10:15: over slightly dodgy “paths” to the True Col 3195, with signs, and two bods just trudging up the far side. It is possible to walk up Punta Basei 3338; I get to 3280 at 10:40 but don't feel like the rest. There's a nice snow-col stretching out towards a little peak with a cross on facing the valley, with a 45 degree ice slope below it; I had hoped to get onto this from above but it was non trivial so I backed off. Back to col, rain has stopped, some sun, off 11. Brief stop :20 to de-trous and coat; bumble down, stop 12 by lakes by junction of “two cols” (the other and easier being Colle Rosset) for lunch: the last of the once mighty Les Arcs Beaufort and the last of the just about eatable Pralognan bread. Off :20. Down to ref Savoie and the roadhead (of the made road; down towards Pont is unmade). 12:40. No signal, no wifi. Carpark, cars, bikers, a coach, a lake… not desperately appealing. But! I get a cafe, and they would have sold me a Mars or similar, or sandwich etc. From above, looking across to the GP, it looked a bit crevassy, so caution will be called for. It is ~7 km down to Pont, mostly trail. Post cafe, to shady side of ref to rest out of sun. 1:40 off. 2:40: stop for rest by lovely stream that gently ambles down this wide slow grassy valley. About 2k left to Pont. 2:55 off, 3:20: to the cross, Pont waay below… I have underestimated. Arrive around 4. The giant car park, giant campsite, and tiny shop are as I remember. Get two zitrone yog (no plain except multipacks) and an orange. Good. Indulge in Internet. Go back in and get a few prunes, some bread+cheese, and a slice of spinach tart and a Mars bar and I am set for a few days. Also email Benevolo. 5:45: off along the river, then up. 7:45: arrive Vittorio Emanuele. 2735. Another whew. I'm in the “cabins” again (M. finds me a place and tells me to phone not email at last hour), #5 this time. But it is locked; probably at dinner. Have a shower (cold but very welcome) and a biere while waiting. There's no signal and very wobbly wifi and the usual fight for power points. I was racing the sun coming up; sadly I won despite a couple of pauses to let the shadow catch up. And so to bed at 9. No sign of my dorm-mates. Sort out kit for tomorrow’s attempt on the Gran Paradiso.

Tuesday 11th: up 4 (my roommates earlier) finish b’fast:30 off :45. Most already gone I think. So… where to go. I didn't recce last night on the ridiculous grounds that I would remember. So head off, lights a way ahead. Stop after 10 mins to take off down, then in thin top, black stripe top, thermals and w’proof trous. After a while lights behind - and the crappy bouldery ground - says I am too high so correct (on way back realise: you need to go level across the boulders, then you'll come to a decent path which then climbs). Some Poles burn by so I tail them and this works well as they slow and I follow. All rest 5:45 put on raincoat. O’take them later, rest again 6:20 now light. 6:35: 3350 (by the compass app). Following a trail of slow folk happy for the rest. 6:55: 3440: still on rock. I think we're avoiding the initial snow slope. Path is cairned. 7:40: rest and food break; 3640. You can tell from all the waypoints that I am noticing the effort: perhaps I am suffering from Bellevue syndrome. 8: 3690. Finally hit the ice (a few came up it from lower). It is hard frozen snow, and ice chips on the trace. Crampons, axe, off 8:15. 8:55: 3900. 9:20 off snow onto Rock ridge into sun 4015. Views! Summit 9:45 after walking the “true summit” ridge. GPS says “true” is 4058 and “Madonna” 4057. 10:10: back to crampons and off. Snow has softened below the first 50m down to the slightly iffy bergschrund. 10:40: off ice, rm w’proof trous and gaiters switch to orange coat. And have some yummy prunes. I considered going the more interesting and likely nicer snow descent (ah: is it the way down to the Federico Chabod?) but it was unjustifiable. Most people are going my way. Btw I had to re-seat the crampons (Leopards, remember) once on ascent. Not to bad on fairly hard ground. 12:15: 3022. There are hundreds and hundreds of meters of rock to descend, guarded by undescendable bluffs, dotted with hundreds of cairns delineating hundreds of branching paths. Perhaps it is part of the fun. Or maybe they should invest in a tube of spray paint. I end up yo-yo-ing with others: I follow them for a bit, they go astray, I go another way, and so on. Off 12:35, down around 1. 2: have had a cold shower, odd gnocchi (more like potato cakes; but good) and biere, now have cafe and strudel. On a card, it is all free! All of a sudden it starts to rain. They turn on a heater/blower to dry wet arrivals kit, so I wash socks and thin top. Meal: bread+cheese, all of it. This evening the same sun that yesterday I was hoping would set is pleasantly warming me in and out as I sit out with a glass of red. 8:08: the sun has dipped below the yardarm.

Wednesday 12th: the luxury of getting up just before 7 and a slow b’fast. Weird dream: the world had been taken over by aliens, who then left, and (I cohere this strongly, it was much less and I can't recall) we were all going to die cos civ would collapse; plus I couldn't get my rope. Pay: 2 x (night+recip, b’fast) was €76. The summits are in cloud. Staff are in full “roll up the mats and sweep the floors” mode. Off 8:30. A bit more than an hour to the Tetras Lyre for coffee (Mme cannot quite bring herself to defile her cafe so gives me espresso and a jug of hot water) and sit in the fresh morning shade watching the keen folk head on up. Then to Pont (which is actually Breuil, Pont is a fraction down), inquire re hotel but no, so get camping place, and some food from store Inc nice saussison sec. And so a quiet day. FB reports to me that due to stone fall in the grand couloir Tete Rousse and Gouter are ferme which is a bit of a blow. Spend time rethinking including e.g. go to the beach at Genoa for a few days, since I’m in Italy. Around 2 some light rain and I wonder if it's the afternoon storm but it fades. Later stroll upriver a bit then perhaps unwisely manage to cross and get lost in the woods for a bit. It is surprisingly hard to get through pathless alders/hazelnut. Cafe Tetras and back. The broken rock face on the E side looks quite climbable and I can see some bolts. Also, boulderers. Go watch the 6:09 bus - the thrills - so I'm sure where it goes from. Family texts: I missed the eclipse.

Thursday 13th: up 7 and have a lovely hot shower since there is one, indeed many. Quiet. My neighbour has been sitting quietly at his table for a bit; I woke up around 6 to see the first light on the peaks up valley. Sit in “tent” bit - their shelter for folk for poor weather - to eat yesterday’s apple tart. Then to cafe, indoors, for coffee and Cornetto, ie croissant. Cancel my Gouter stays. It costs €15 each which I suppose I could ask for but FFCAM are going to be losing a lot on this so meh. 9: light nearly down into the valley. Plan is to relax here today, and go on this eve. I washed my good T-shirt and (tea)towel. Relax and read, toddle up to Tetras at 22, snooze off by the river as they're doing lunch, get a cafe at 2:30 and so on. 4:30: back at Pont, power bank charging, afternoon rainstorm unusually vigorous. Afternoon tea is ein gross stuck sachertorte. 6: rain over I hope time to go; actually 6:10. 7:55: to Meyes-Damon, a few stone huts but would provide shelter if desperate (actually one room has decent wooden floor and dustpan hanging up, see pic). Route here starts up odd road, possibly intended to come here, but abandoned mid construction? Some effort, including a spooky 2-300 m tunnel, just starting to fall in a bit. Wx: grey. I can see opposite the glacier that has descent towards Chabod, and a small building - lower than me, I’m at 2510 - that might be it. 8:20: to a plateau. Can see the VE. 8:30: to pathsign, at the three-ways I am expecting. ~2600. Stop here, nice soft ground. Over on GP there's a band of pink-red light, the light from the sunset gap between the ridge and cloud.

Friday 14th: up 7:30 once rosy-fingered Dawn has dragged herself as far as me. A herd of ibex winds slowly o’er the lea. And an officious marmot warns everything about me. No dew up here; yesterday down near the river was “wet”. Off 8:30, because I had to wait for my watch to charge. Wx: blue. 9: b’fast break. Opposite, the VE gleams in the sun. And last night I could see a light which must have been the Chabod. 9:20: col Manteau 2789. And perhaps my last view of the GP. Path down v nicely made. Herd of chamois. 10, to the lac and another sign post: next col 1:30. Sit on a little prominence and enjoy the day and the gleaming lac. 11:50: col Entrelor 3002. Lunch. Off 12:20 steeply to start, cables and rungs. 1:05: rest 2500. 2: ref delle Marmottes 2142. Coke. Rain: after some indecision, inside; 3:15 trapped by my watch recharging and a pile of bags brought in in a hurry and an Italian lady. End up talking (at their instigation, obvs) to two Dutch guys also camping out. Interesting to think about in a way: I learnt nothing useful and I doubt they did. It passed half an hour or an hour during the rain quite pleasantly; and we might have said something useful about camping out. Actually I did learn from them that the forecast was for heavy rain at 8 and that did influence me looking for a hotel. Anyway off down 5:30 perhaps it's only half an hour through nice forest. Rhemes is also nice; compact village with two hotels (neither on Booking); I’m in the first I saw, Galisia, perfectly decent. Mme speaks no Eng but offers Fr and we have a perfectly intelligible chat. Walk around village after shower (aaahh… a warm shower, I feel clean). Indoors because pm is grey, rain looks likely, and my route up is steep and doesn't look bivvi friendly on the map. But as it happens the threatened rain doesn't come.

Saturday 15th: up 7 b’fast all fine except I sit at #23’s special table and she doesn't like that; fortunately she is a late riser. Overnight my phone put on charge to top up has gone mad and lost most charge; I think that might be because the hotel is on 110v? Wx: looks good. Reports of flooding/storms elsewhere in Italy. Hotel is €53 remarkably cheap. 8:30: off up. There's a fair motorhome park just down of the village so I suppose one could camp there. 9:45 to tiny hut and tiny plateau (where I could have camped) and tiny stream at 2175. Col looks steep above. 10:30: 2425. 10:55: 2600. Brief cable/rung section. Can see GP over the ridgeline. 11:30: col Fenetre 2840 unremittingly steep. Ahead, down valley looks nicer than the way up, then in the distance the good old Archeboc col. But I will turn R at the end of this valley. 11:50: off, with last farewell to GP pic. 12:15: stop for last of bread+cheese by tiny laclet with bog-cotton. 12:40: off. Down past wide bog / meadow / meandering stream bed. 1:20: to Ref Chalet de l’Epee, 2370; cafe. This is quite the “tourist” ref. Off 2, traverse across with the great blue grey lake filling the valley below for an hour, then down through the piney woods and many rivulets to Valgrisenche, at 4. There's a little supermarket, and there would be a post office (I want to mail home stuff I am not going to use) except it is Saturday pm so it's shut. Drink juice, eat yoghurt, and a little blue d’Aosta. Cafe. Off 5 by the nice river route out of the sun but of course pericoloso. Planaval 6:30 has a hotel but… it is full. Ah well. Onwards! Would like some power but the church does not provide. Upwards! Sweaty. Hope for water but the hillside is dry… until we get higher then there's a nice stream. Stop at 8 in a meadow, wash, try to decide where to sleep. Nature just doesn't make straight level ground.

Sunday 16th: up 7 off :30 still lake 8:20. Notes will be thin today, or infilled, as I am conserving battery. I will be navigating purely on path markers; fortunately the Alta Via Due is well signed. Little lost valley below lovely. Col de la Crosatie 2838 9:35. 11:45: bivacco Cosimo Zappelli 2275. Small, 10 beds, water non controlled, little kitchen; toilet. Annoyingly it has a lovely solar panel to power it's lights but no USB sockets. Also I could have cooked something but couldn't work out how to turn the gas on. 12:45: off, risking the sun but it goes ok, some clouds. I'm stopping every 15 mins but making decent progress. 14:40: col “Haut Pas” 2860. More of the nice meandering stream type terrain below. 4: to Rifugio Deffeyes (as I was getting here the wx started looking rainy and I wondered if I would make it. But the rain held off), and many of the delights of civilization: a drink, some chocolate, a bed for the night and charging. I try asking him about my socket problems but it means nothing to him. I got here with 40% remaining, having started the day at 55; I was surprised to do so well. Follow up with nice big bowl of Americano and large brownie. Ha! Maybe I could have come over the Pas de Planaval from the bivvy. Higher, but only one col. Still, I’m here now. Was a hard day. Weak signal outside; text M. Also: should I go look at the glaciers opposite? After dinner talk to some Fr who have been up and say: not solo. I think I will take this advice. It does look very crevassy. Dinner in refuge: fine. The table speaks Eng. Next to me are some Americans, other side Austrians, further Dutch.

Monday 17th: up 6:30 b’fast. I set that time when I thought I was visiting the glacier. 7:30 off; 9:30 down to la Joux, which has a bar and looks to be the roadhead. All charmingly in shade so far. La Thuile, 10:30 (but forget to stop watch till 12). Unprepossessing place, kinda a ribbon. But! It has a post office, so I can put in place my cunning plan to send boots, axe, crampons back home. Also put in (with a twinge) down jacket, as padding. But! Post doesn't have any boxes. But! The supermarket does. Bu! I need an address in Italy… fortunately, Esther exists. Otherwise I suppose I could have made her up :-). Weight: 4.2kg inc box, cost €44. Mail M re plans (Elizabetta, Cham, Paris) and sit in Angela’s for a second coffee and a lemon pastry. E is 5:40 away say the signs so it is not impossible I make it today. Petit St B is only 2h away. ARGH FFS dox does it again. Another copy. This is bad enough that I ought to give up using it. Now I have to reconstruct my rapturous thoughts of y’day… off 1, initially greenway then quiet road. Stop 2 at agriturismo Le Lapin to shelter from rain. It is shut but has nice wide overhang. After a bit a big heavy dog comes over, sniffs around, pisses, and flops down in the doorway. We sit in companionable silence. 3: rain over, up we go. Wx gradually clears. I do notice my sac being lighter The valley is hypnotically long and the road just heads steadily up, it is all rather lovely though rarely travelled (I see no one, and Strava heatmaps are pale). Slowly we go up, the peaks emerge, the road turns to grass. Col Chavannes 2592, great views all around, slanting sun, white peaks wrapped in cloud ahead, but also chill wind so head down steeply quickly. Where was I? Ref Elisabetta ~2180 at 6:35, but they are doing kitchen prep so have to wait to see if I can get a place. Thnx to late cancellation I can. Is half board only, which turns out to be €65, so fine. Entranceway has a wood stove and scattered before it like offerings is a huge array of wet boots ‘n stuff. Talk with Norge-Fr folk over dinner (and b’fast) who are working remotely in Annecy. Dinner good plain risotto then grilled veg, cheese, pots, peas; and a choc thing. We’re on a bluff over a plain with a windy river with an intruding moraine at the far end. This is the view I looked up to when trying Gonella last year, and thought it would be good to walk up.

Here ends Italy; the next part returns us to France, and indeed jolly old Blighty.