Maritime Alps – Day 3: Wildflowers & Wilder Drama
MARITIME ALPS
Day 3: Wildflowers & Wilder Drama
August 25, 2024
PART I
I didn’t exactly have the best start to my third day, realising that my water bottle had spilled and that my bag, along with most of my belongings, was soaked. I had also left behind my black bandana, the very same one I’d been wearing since my trek in the Ciudad Perdida, Colombia.
Perhaps most annoying of all was the fact that Alessia didn’t seem to give a crap about any of it. There was also the fact that she’d constantly complain about everything and, when I’d try to come up with a solution to all her problems, she’d just shut me out. At one point, I even decided to give her the silent treatment like we were just kids, only she kept rambling on about her own problems throughout and didn’t quite get the hint.
When she eventually noticed that I was sulking, I confronted her about it and, pretty much like always, it ended up with her becoming defensive and me having to apologise – a vicious cycle that kinda made my blood boil. Back home, when that happened, we’d give each other space until we both cooled off and realised how much our friendship meant to us. But up here in the mountains? Oh boy.
The Trail Heals Everything
That said, the third day made it quite easy for us to forget all about our drama, with the views leaving us bereft of words for entirely different reasons.
Following a well-marked trail, we gradually ascended the mountainside, passing through boulder fields and alpine pastures full of cows with whom we shared the trail. The valley beneath us echoed with the ringing of cowbells and the whistling of marmots, though the tiny critters continued their no-show, despite usually being very friendly.
Along the way, we spotted more herds of chamois in the distance, as well as more remnants of the Alpine Wall. Not to mention the wildflowers: brown knapweeds, Nootka lupines, Scheuchzer’s bellflowers, common daisies, red campions and so, so many others.
A couple of hours into our hike, we found ourselves before a vibrant wildflower carpet, with a sweeping panorama stretched out in front of us. This took me right back to my childhood, watching the cartoon series Heidi, Girl of the Alps.
Growing up in a country with no mountains whatsoever, I used to live vicariously through Heidi as she made the Alps her home. I still remember how envious I used to be, thinking I’d never get to sleep on a pile of straw in a barn, churn butter with a grumpy old man or roll down a grassy mountainside. Well, the last one was something I could easily check off my bucket list. And so I did. And lemme tell ya, it is so friggin’ fun. Also liberating. And itch-inducing.
Colle di Fenestrelle
After another incline, we reached one of the highlights of the day: Colle di Fenestrelle. Standing at around 2,460 metres, this part of the trail forms a natural saddle in the ridge.
Here, we set eyes on a marvel of nature: two small alpine lakes fed by snowmelt from glacial cirques. These lakes, shimmering in striking shades of blue, made for the most fantastic reflective contrast to the rugged landscape surrounding them.
Needless to say, this made for the perfect break spot. We sat down by the two tiny pools of water, each of us contemplating in silence as we enjoyed our apples and the company of Fabio, our new butterfly friend who couldn’t seem to let go of us. I could also finally relax a bit, knowing my bag and most of my belongings, which I had been airing out during the hike, had dried up by this point. Oh, and we also found a geocache hidden behind a direction post!
The Descent Towards Chiotas
Directly below our vantage point, we could see a huge, brilliant turquoise lake: Lago del Chiotas. This would be our destination for the day, and though it looked close from way up there, we were still only halfway through, with some six kilometres to go.
As we made our way down the Valle di San Giacomo, we were kept in awe throughout, with towering, jagged peaks made of alpine gneiss, schist and granite surrounding us. These cliffs had been sharply eroded by ice and weather over millennia, making for the most dramatic of landscapes.
The switchbacking path over the rocky terrain allowed us to take it all in and memorise as many details of the scenery as possible. Pretty soon, we could also see a second lake in the distance: Lago Brocan. The next refuge was meant to be nestled somewhere between the two.
That said, getting there was the last thing on my mind. My new goal was something else entirely: to reach a patch of violet-pink wildflowers I had spotted during the descent. Seriously, it became a monomaniacal obsession.
And, luckily, it was worth the effort. There, right in front of us, was a carpet of gorgeous fireweed creating a stunning contrast with the sapphire blue of the mineral-rich glacial water behind it.Directly below our vantage point, we could see a huge, brilliant turquoise lake: Lago del Chiotas. This would be our destination for the day, and though it looked close from way up there, we were still only halfway through, with some six kilometres to go.
PART II
Rifugio Genova-Figari
The last stretch of the trek took us over bridges and past gorgeous waterfalls, leading us to the beautifully located Rifugio Genova-Figari, a lodge overlooking both Lago del Chiotas and Lago Brocan, and surrounded by larch forests and rock spires.
With it being the weekend, the lodge was crowded, to say the least, with many Italians flocking to the area as part of a day or weekend trip. As soon as we checked in and left our stuff in the dorm, we sat down to have some lunch: a plate of fusilli with red sauce, which was underwhelming; insalata russa, a salad usually made with chopped vegetables and mayonnaise, which was whelming; and vitello tonnato, sliced veal covered with a creamy tuna sauce, which was overwhelming.
Then we finally got to rest on a deckchair, enjoying some sun and air as we played a game of Scopa, a traditional Italian card game. We used a Sicilian 40-card deck, which features different suits: swords, cups, coins and clubs. I suck with the standard set of playing cards – imagine me with a completely different one!
Storm Clouds and Different Plans
With the following day dedicated to touring the lakes around the refuge, Alessia’s grandpa had suggested we spend the afternoon just chilling at the lodge. In fact, we decided to take it easy and just go for a short walk by the lake.
The dark clouds looming above us had other plans. The possibility of an impending storm became a reality. With alpine weather being unpredictable, we knew this was a real risk and, thanks to her grandpa, we were prepared for everything. Worst-case scenario, we’d have to stay at the lodge an extra day or two until the whole thing blew over. Best-case scenario, we’d continue the trek as planned. The staff at the lodge told us it could go either way.
It was at this point that things escalated between Alessia and me. Seeing how things were unfolding, she suggested we leave a day earlier if the weather permitted it, in order to spare ourselves the trouble of being trapped on the mountain. Having grown up in the area – something she must’ve mentioned some seventy-five times along the way – she knew how dangerous mountain weather could be. As she repeatedly pointed out, I was born and raised on a flat island – meaning I had no idea how these things worked, despite how many treks I’d done.
My idea was that if the weather was too gnarly to trek, it would probably not be an option to head back either, meaning we would have been better off following the original plan in the first place. This suggestion pretty much flipped a switch. Suddenly, she was more than adamant about finishing the trek on day four instead of day five. It was one excuse after the other. First, she said that the rest of the trek isn’t that worthwhile anyways – even though she had told me I must see the lakes the day before. When I pointed that out, she said she wanted to go back to Marene to spend more time with her mum, whom she missed more than anything else in the world. While that’s fair, this wasn’t quite the point of this trip either.
For some reason I couldn’t quite identify, she had already made up her mind, and nothing I could say or do would sway her. We decided to table the conversation until the following morning. We’d wake up, see how the weather was, ask the staff for any forecasts we could base our decision on and go from there. We’d either start heading back to Entracque and close the loop one day earlier, or we’d spend the extra day touring the lakes as planned.
An Influencer Appears
I spent a few hours reading in the dorm. She spent a few hours chilling downstairs. And just like that, it was as if nothing had ever happened.
Dinner was the best thing ever, with the most delicious purple sweet potato soup and a beef steak with red sauce having us drooling, and a couple of glasses of red wine tying everything together. We also got to chat with a few people who were staying the night at the lodge, including a German couple who were there on their honeymoon.
Turns out, we were also in the company of an influencer: Marika Ciaccia, an Italian trekker, hiking guide and content creator known for her blog My Life in Trek. After an illness that threatened her life, she found refuge in nature and, today, she shares her journey to inspire those who need to find themselves. At that point, she was just about to finish her solo trek of the Grande Traversata delle Alpi, or GTA, a challenging route of roughly 1,000 kilometres across the Italian Alps. After around two months on the road, you can imagine how emotional she was now that it was coming to an end.
I, for one, was so completely inspired and in awe of her that I couldn’t stop barraging her with questions.
The One and Only Marmot
I suppose Marika can thank another guest for putting a stop to my journalistic frenzy, as his yelling drew everyone outside the lodge. Much to the indifference of the other Italians, he called us out to come and see a marmot in the distance.
I, on the other hand, shared his elation, as I had finally managed to see one in its entirety, and not just a butt. Despite how common they’re supposed to be, and how many of their cries I’d heard over the past few days, this would be the one and only marmot I’d see during the trek.
Our venture outside the lodge also made us realise a couple of things: the weather had cleared up, and, right in front of us, was a glorious sunset, a veil of pink and orange now draping over the stunning lake. What a day.
