Day 4 - Rifugio Sogno di Berdze to Rifugio Vittorio Sella, 14.2 miles.

Total ascent, 1074m.
Total descent, 1020m.
Thursday, 23rd July.

Down down down down along along up up up up.

As Gene Pitney nearly once sang, "Something's gotten hold of my ........" (almost rhymes with heart, but lower down). Yes I've been got. Had a terrible night's sleep last night with a high temperature, then failed to get up at 6:15 and when I did (at 7) I started getting stomach cramps. It's almost certainly from dodgy water or masses of unwashed fruit. I've had worse (Madeira springs to mind) but it was hard work getting up and I couldn't eat any breakfast. What I could do though was drink coffee, lots of it (possibly a litre) with masses of sugar. I was very aware that I needed sugar at the very least to get me to the town of Cogne, then a chemist and some carbs.

Oddly enough when I started walking I felt much better, and today was an odd day; an upside down day. A descent followed by a flat section followed by an ascent, with no cols at all. The weather was overcast but not at all threatening, and the temperature was a perfect 20 degrees. The scenery was as wonderful as ever and had a bit of a Scottish feel to it.

The furry creatures I saw and now keep seeing are marmots. They're much furrier than those I've seen previously (ie. at Chester Zoo) so I didn't recognise them. They are the masters of running away, though a small grey creature I bumped into today wasn't. It just stood and looked at me while I stopped and took its photo.

I realised today that my perception of myself very often depends entirely on context. What I mean is that at the hut I was surrounded entirely by lithe Italians who probably live on pasta and chicken and felt positively flobby, however when I got to the valley floor at lunchtime I was surrounded by unlithe (litheless?) Italians who probably live on pizza and cornettos and felt positively slender. This second context was the pretty town of Cogne. After finding a cash machine and a closed chemist (aaaargh!) I bought a slice of pizza, ate it with no difficulty, contemplated spending the rest of the holiday eating lots more pizza (and cornettos) and had to chase myself out of town.

Entering Cogne. I only put this in because the white thing at the back that looks like a cloud is actually Mont Blanc.

I was now (at last) about to enter the Gran Paradiso national park. One of the biggest tourist attractions is apparently the botanical gardens at Valnontey. Now much as I love gardening, botanical gardens (with the notable exception of Bodnant Garden near Conwy) have always left me cold. Anyway I got a sneak preview over the fence as I walked past, so you can decide...

No wonder he's scratching his head.

I'm now at the next high level refuge and contemplating altitude. I'm obsessed with altitude. I never cease to be fascinated in places like this that I'm 'x' number of Snowdons or Ben Nevises above sea level, and still looking up at these snow capped monsters. The Italians don't appear to give a toss about altitude. This afternoon's ascent was a Snowdonish 1050m, but I passed loads of people on their way down as if they were ending a short stroll.

A beautiful evening, looking south towards the bar.

Rifugio Vittorio Sella is up at 2584m (8478ft), and the walls are covered with pictures of ceremonies, gatherings and dances which have taken place here over the years. Why? Surely it would be easier to have them in the village hall at the bottom. But nobody in the photos looks knackered or sunburnt. I need to put my own photo up so they can get a bit of perspective.

The girl behind the counter appeared somehow to understand my predicament when I arrived, as I stood there rolling my hand around in front of my stomach and doing rumbling impressions. She had no medication but waved her hands at some tea jars behind her. I'm all for natural medicine whether it works or not, so she made me a camomile and something turquoise tea. I'll reserve judgement till morning, on both the tea and the toilets.


-- Posted from Kev's iPhone