Category Archives: hiking

A hike – Mont Corquet

With over 2000 km of cycling clocked in the three weeks before, and a 2000 m climb the day before, I thought my legs deserved a rest. However, while they may have got a rest from cycling on Sunday there was a reasonably steep hike involved. When it was mentioned slightly after my arrival that a group was hiking up a peak on the other side of the valley the next day – I could hardly turn down the opportunity to be outside exploring new places with new friends. In fact, the whole situation reminded me of my arrival to live in the Bow Valley – a long valley surrounded by large peaks and then going to climb up one of the peaks almost immediately with many new faces.

What I initially understood to be a departure time of seven o’clock graciously turned into half past eight, so I did manage a good rest beforehand. Before long, five of us were squeezed in what can be most generously described as a classic early-nineties Fiat Panda careening around narrow Italian roads as we dropped to the valley floor, crossed it and then began the tortuous steep climb up to the trail-head through tiny hillside villages.

The walk started at around 1600 m while the morning was still misty and cool. The whole affair was pretty steep, but first followed double-track up through forest, passing small farm-holdings along the way. A cacophony of clanging cow-bells told us we were approaching a herd – accompanied by their herdsman they were slowly being driven down the hill eating as they went. While the herdsman sat mending a bell collar, it was funny to see the varying sizes of bells. The calves had tiny bells, the yearlings slightly bigger and the cows the normal full-size bells.

We stopped to snack, look across the valley and refill bottles from the mountain sourced water fountain.

As we left the double-track and then the trees heading into the alpine the trail became less well defined and quite challenging to find and then negotiate. There were plenty of small wild flowers about, at times the wild thyme filled the mountain air with its distinctive smell. We passed ruined mountain shacks, their slate roofs collapsed while the walls still stand. With two hours of walking behind us we ascended the last and were on the summit plateau – about 2500 m. While it had gotten a little warmer, a lot of the surrounding area was still covered in cloud.

Settling down to picnic lunch of grand amounts of proscuitto and fontina (a cheese of the Aosta Valley – quite famous, protected and delicious), the clouds thwarting our views at various times dispersed so that we could see quite a bit.

The Aosta Valley running centre to bottom left, and the valley I rode down off GSB Pass the day before, above that just right of centre. Mont Blanc is left most peak.

Mont Blanc

The village nearest to where I’m staying, Nus, down on the valley floor.

Admiring the view (Jose’s photo).

With an hour of eating and then lazing in the sun done, we headed down – which is never as enjoyable for me as walking up; but my legs and knees didn’t scream too much. Hiking downhill always seems anti-climatic – I don’t remember much of note of the return to the car. Oh, there were a few stops to pick flowers and leaves – which quite possibly has been what I’ve had in my tea each morning.

Over a slate roof to the Aosta Valley.

Also one of Jose’s photos.

Dinner attendance that night got a big bigger with a cousin and neighbour also around – ten in total. My distinct memory will be of the cousin, Francesco, continually pulling more and more dried meats from a bag and proceeding to cut them all up. First there a big piece of beef hind-quarters – the air-cured type that you see hanging by the dozen at various shops and bars (also Bologna Airport, if I recall correctly). And then scores of sausages of dried meat – although one variety had a fair bit of blood and potato in the mix, so wasn’t quite as dry. With another huge piece of fontina cheese also present, we didn’t lack for food that night (it must be said, the whole time I’ve been here we’ve not lacked for delicious locally-produced food). Also sampled were a couple of bottles of the vineyard’s efforts – very good. After being forced some-what, my protestations weren’t that loud, to have a third piece of walnut cake the locally made spirits came out – mostly grappa with various plants and flavours (liquorice, wild flowers etc.) infused, some liquorice & mint spirit (quite tasty) and some green concoction of horribleness. Thankfully I don’t remember much of that last one.

A family week for a Chianti wedding

The main impetus for a month of family visiting me from the Southern Hemisphere at this particular time was that my second-cousin (that is, my mother’s cousin’s daughter) Catherine and her fiancé Chris were getting married in Tuscany after a lot of planning. As well as the parents of the bride, & Mum and Adele, also along for the week in Chianti from our side of the family were two cousins, Trish (from most of my previous adventures in & around London) and Keith, and my aunt Valerie from Sydney (who’d I’d last seen on the our big west-USA roadtrip three years ago). Sorting out all the flights, accommodation, rental car etc. between such far-flung people was not particularly easy – but it all came together in the end, with different people sorting various things out.

Many of the wedding guests stayed in the same building, four separate apartments, for the week with others joining us later in the week staying closer to the castle. I was excited to be back in Italy yet again as I really enjoyed the week when my Kiwi cousin got married nearby six years ago and also since then I’ve learnt a little bit of Italian at work. Plus Tuscany is beautiful and the food and red wine excellent. At least this time, being six weeks earlier in the year, was more moderate in temperature – mid-twenties is much better than high-thirties.

With the wedding later in the week we had a few days to amuse ourselves. While I still had some enthusiasm for driving a large people-mover on windy & slow Tuscan roads we did a couple of day trips to Siena and San Gimignano. The weather wasn’t as good mid-week, but by then I was keen to explore the pretty hill-top villages that one could see from Castello di Meleto – Adele was happy to oblige and come along for some big walks exploring the local hills, tracks and restaurants.

Home for the week

Looking down to the castle

And out over the Chianti hills – much hillier and more wooded than around San Gimignano, where we stayed last time

Siena – while eating the most expensive, but not necessarily the best, gelato of the week

Siena Duomo again

Back looking at the towers in San Gimignano – where Mum, Adele & I somehow managed to bump into our fourth-cousin (we share the same great-great-great-great grandparents, I think) from NZ & her fiancé completely unexpectedly

The ground around where we were staying (that’s the villa at top-left) was so rocky only grapes or olives were any good for cultivating

I’d had my eye caught by the large walled village right across the other side of the valley – as it wasn’t on many maps, I was intrigued. To walk off lunch & the early wine-tasting Adele & I set off in that direction happy to explore small lanes. Perhaps the road we chose was steeper than we bargained for, but we were enjoying ourselves. We did get to the village and unlike the previous ones we’d been to, it was pretty much deserted with a church and single cafe seeming the only public buildings. A couple of lost bikepackers rode in, so that was encouraging (that there were bikepackers in the area, not that they were lost); we had more ice cream in the sun.

Buoyed by the success of Tuesday’s exploring we set Wednesday aside for a more ambitious route – thanks to the big map boards in Gaiole-in-Chianti central car park, we had plenty to choose from. These well defined routes went some way to explaining why there seemed to be so many people randomly walking and mountain-biking through the estate during our stay.

We’d reached our objective, Barbischio (another village we’d seen across the valley on the previous day’s walk), by lunchtime. Perhaps spurred on by the wine and the grappa/limoncello, it was decided it was a good idea to walk up another big hill to a small ruined keep that had been taunting me like a French knight. It was a good idea, but our chosen route took us to the top of the wrong hill – leaving the keep to “taunt us a second time”. Still, can’t complain about six hour walking around with great company in the sun spotting deer, wild boar, snakes and multitudes of lizards and admiring the landscape.

Half this tower had fallen down, so someone had built their house inside the shell

Like a few other complexes we’d seen around, these four or so new houses were all but finished, and completely deserted

The morning of the wedding (four o’clock service) I could stand the taunting of the keep no more, so Mum, Valerie, Adele & I drove up there (having worked out how to get there). It was pretty ruined, so we had fun pretending we were like the Famous Five, or some such, exploring it. The views back down to Gaiole & beyond were worth it too.

We popped into another small town, Radda-in-Chianti for a little wander, a quick bite and more gelato – I made the mistake, not to be repeated, of not getting lemon as one of the three scoops. With what was supposed to be plenty of time, we returned home to eat & prepare for the wedding; that is, until Adele found the first of her five flights home starting the next day had been cancelled due to strike action. So cue a couple of hours of stress trying to find a nearby flight that would get Adele to Heathrow after the wedding, but before her intercontinental journey was to start. Somehow we both managed to sort that out and still get to the wedding scrubbed up, all will be well when the travel insurance stumps up.

Earlier concerns over the weather for the outside service proved unfounded and it was good in such a beautiful setting. Now is when I find that I really did leave all photography of pretty much everything wedding-related to those with better cameras and ability – all I have is this pre-shot of the strings. Shocking. Still, I’ll have to go off my memory of a simple & elegant service, with some nice readings and a very beautiful happy couple (that was mostly Catherine, but Chris scrubbed up pretty well too).

So much food, again. Canapés & cocktails on the lawn while the photos were being taken; dinner and speeches in the castle; and finally cake-cutting out in the garden as the night drew in. Great night.

Adele managed to get all packed up the morning after the night before and we, Mum & Valerie too, were off to drop her at Pisa airport. It was supposed to be the relatively close Florence airport, but flight rearrangement meant a lot more driving – but we got to see the tower again. With goodbyes, lunch, final Italian gelati for a while & the sightseeing done we took a rather roundabout route home via Lucca as I forgot there was a difference between the autostrada and highway between Florence & Pisa. Nevermind, we got to see the huge thunderstorm pummelling Chianti as we drove towards it.

That was about the week really – a fantastic one spent with family in a stunning setting with plenty of top-notch food & red wine and just enough exercise to offset it and stop me going slightly more crazy.

Glasgow & Highlands Walking

The seven hour drive north from London to Glasgow Sunday evening was uneventful; but, considering it was mostly motorway, strangely beautiful in the evening light. Arriving just before one o’clock Monday morning, there was not much else to do apart from briefly say hi to Fi and then sleep.

The purple patch of weather of the weekend in London continued with us and after a late brunch (it’s easy to justify a full Scottish breakfast when it’s noon & it really is breakfast and lunch) Fi took us on a very nice walking tour of Glasgow. Through the university, large sun-soaked parks and down to the side of the Clyde I was impressed and after the little I’ve heard about Glasgow, pleasantly surprised to be so.

On the walk back to Fi’s (recently acquired & nice) flat it was decided by consensus that it was definitely above the threshold temperature for gelato – starting a week of high ice cream consumption. Now that I think of it, that started a fortnight of regular ice cream eating. Adele & I weren’t really sure what Fi had planned for the week, so had packed the car for many eventualities. As the forecast was best earlier in the week, we soon had a chalet booked near Fort William (I tried not to miss having a bike too much) and drove north into the highlands planning a bit of walking the next day. The town itself proved quite a frustrating one in which to find a decent place to eat in the shoulder season; the huge chicken skewers were definitely memorable, but (in an unrelated way) that night started a strange week-long run of extremely broken sleep & I still don’t know why.

Tips Fi had gleaned from others suggested we should take a less trodden and defined route around the back of Ben Nevis and along a shoulder to avoid the easy route up. Some unplanned reconnaissance (we missed the turn for the trailhead) showed a lot of snow still up that way, so I was beginning to have doubts. Even with the detour we were walking shortly after eight o’clock on a beautiful morning with good views up and down the glen and of the surrounding hills. It certainly is a big wide path up to the top of the UK’s highest peak, but there are enough big rocks and steps mixed with switchbacks and, in such weather, good views that it is definitely not boring climbing – I quite enjoyed it, but then I usually much prefer hiking up over hiking down , when I just think of bikes.

It flattened out a lot briefly before we reached the junction in our path. Still undecided about which route, we walked north to check out the more difficult one. Getting under the north face we could see that there was a substantial amounts of snow and wind up further along the route; with none of us really knowing the route or having more suitable equipment, common sense prevailed and we headed back to the main trail. At the junction we met the frontrunners of a large group of Edinburgh bus-drivers out on a charity walk before we started hauling in those walkers we’d already passed earlier on.

We steadily, actually it was pretty quick – Fi sets quite a pace – continued to climb – enjoying the switchbacks that took us away from a strong headwind. For the last few hundred metres of ascent it was a choice of hard packed snow or getting well off route and clambering over the rocks – I found the rocks an easier route for climbing. Unfortunately it clouded over pretty well as we neared the summit and the wind was fierce – we were quite glad we took this route up for our little outing. There were occasional breaks in the cloud to give views around. The most memorable part of the top of the UK was when one of the vanguard of bus-drivers (there were three about the same pace as us) pulled out a full bottle of Scotch, still in its box, and numerous shot glasses and offered us a wee dram. I’m not much of a whisky drinker, but it was pretty good – & possibly Adele’s first, which in the inclement conditions led to surprised comments of the warming qualities of such drinks.

Walking and running down on the snow was much quicker and quite good fun. We sat out of the wind and enjoyed a long lunch while we watched the rest of the (un-fitter) bus-drivers struggle on up – along with a large collection of people in all sorts of strange and, bordering on, unsuitable attire. Just as well the views were good as the trip down was the usual tedium of walking in zig-zags to try and stop my knees hurting for days afterwards – two walking poles between three doesn’t go so well, but my knees seemed to hold up better than expected.

It turned out to be only just over a six-hour outing – that’s including our half-hour detour and half-hour leisurely lunch; so plenty of time for more ice cream in the sun as we gave up on the Information Centre and headed back to the chalet for WiFi to research the next day’s outing. I say that, but after planning the rest of the three week holiday for Adele, I was more than happy to sit in the back seat – literally & figuratively. Pre-dinner drinks on the balcony overlooking Loch Linnhe were followed by a meal that is best remembered for the waitress continually apologising for the meltdown the chef was apparently having – “lucky we didn’t say anything about the dirty knife”.

Wednesday wasn’t quite as sunny in the morning, but that worked well to head to Glenfinnan to see the easily recognised viaduct.  Quite a spectacular setting and we timed it well to see the train from Fort William steam across – if that was the Hogwarts Express, we missed getting on it, so went back to do more muggle oriented activities.

The sound and smell of a steam train is very good indeed

Looking out over Loch Shiel near the Glenfinnan monument

That afternoon we went on a couple of pleasant strolls through various woods & forests that the girls had found somehow. The first was most noteworthy for my legs being destroyed by the notorious Scottish midges (after two weeks the bites have finally almost completely faded) during lunch, rickety bridges over a pond & half the intended trail being closed due to logging. The second walk was through quite pleasant woods with randomly spaced carvings made out of dead tree-stumps, a pond with ducklings, more bluebells (we’d seen many previously) and the picturesque River Spean. More ice creams.

Our drive north continued with a bit of Nessie spotting as we went up the west edge of Loch Ness to Drumnadrochit. We didn’t see Nessie, but it was still quite light and we obviously hadn’t had enough to drink. The local ale at the brew pub was pretty good – Adele even enjoyed her first real ale. The pint was substantially better than the greeting one must assume is only given to locals at the bar – “are you going to order or just sit there making the place ugly?”. Other peculiarities included novelty-onesie clad horse-riders wandering through the bar (horses left in the middle of the car park).

Adele by this stage in this trip had developed a fascination for castles, so that got a bit of a fix Thursday morning as we visited the nearby Urquhart Castle on the shores of Loch Ness. With an interesting role in the Scottish Wars of Independence, it was a good visit – although most of the signs posted gave the impression that they had no idea what different parts of the castle were used for.

Time to head back to Glasgow, we drove the short distance north to Inverness (sights seen included the castle from a distance and a fascinating multi-story car park, before we had lunch sheltering from the rain overlooking Beauly Firth) and then south on the notorious A9. It would have been rude to not break the journey up for Fi (I was still pleased to not be driving) with an ice cream – so a local dairy (in the British, not NZ, sense of the word) was found.

When I discovered Doune Castle was not much of a detour from the fastest route, I just had to go & see where so much of the Grail was filmed.

No large mammals or assorted poultry were thrown over the walls at us, which was most useful

It was almost closing time, so we had a brief wander around to satisfy my curiosity before we continued on towards Fi’s parents’ house for dinner. Looking back that was a rather surreal evening: Cally, the dog, had an injured paw & spent most of the night trying to chew off the dressing to the concern of all; people repeatedly seemed to lock themselves in the bathroom, or not; an endless parade of soft-toys; constant talk of power pylons; the story of two lost fishermen who thought it prudent to wave a red ball at a passing boat to indicate something was wrong; and somehow Jude knew that I’d been instructed to raise my BMI – she seemed determined that I should put on five pounds in the space of two hours, I have not eaten so much in a long time & that’s saying something. I ramble – it was a wonderful evening and a fitting end to a fantastic week in Scotland. I’m a little miffed that I’ve not managed to spend more time in such a beautiful part of the world. Not quite sure I’ll be able to rectify that now, but it would be nice to.

Mt Indefatigable – Fatty

More short rides around my favourite trails in town ensued for the rest of the week. Prospector with Lafarge workmates was good & I’m slowly getting used to this 29er thing – I was very pleased to clear the entire G8 the other day while out riding Megan. I’ve been able to ride everything in the past, but not string it all together – there was one particular creek exit that would always trip me up.

On Saturday, after a late start we drove up to the Kananaskis Lakes to ascend Mt Indefatigable. This appeals by just having a great naval name (too much time spent studying Nelsonian history & watching Hornblower). With many variations possible of the name – popular ones being Indefatigue-able & Indefeatable – we settled on calling it Fatty. It was supposed to be two to three hours to the southern summit (the less travelled route apparently, although it didn’t seem so on the day) & we got off to a late start just before one o’clock. After less than a few minutes walking & just about to start climbing away from the lake we came across a woman with a freshly (obviously) broken ankle being carried down the slope by her father & son. She didn’t seem in huge amounts of pain most of the time, but those carrying her were rather tired. Alex & I spent some time tag-teaming some others to carry her back to the parking lot.

We walked up through the usual variety of terrain – damp forest, exposed rocky ridges, some small meadows with nice flowers out & then a little more scrambling as the soft dirt trail gave way to rocks, rocks & some more rocks before reaching the final ridgeline & the weather station near the top. The view off the back wasn’t nearly as exciting the one we’d been looking at on the way up. Looking across Upper Kananaskis Lake we could easily see (not so) Hidden Lake, the falls & across to Aster Lake & Warrior – the site of a ski-tour a few months ago that I found particularly gruelling. The descent was one of those that we were feeling in our quads the day after, but we were quickly down & driving home via Spray Lakes (saw a moose shortly after departing).

Finn taking it easy while Megan picks a route – Lower Kananaskis Lake down below

Upper Kananaskis Lake in front of Hidden Lake & Warrior