A Guide to the French and Italian Alps

Do you ever find yourself in the off predicament where you have a good two weeks off work coming up, you've been saving up for years and suddenly everything aligns itself so that you can go traveling out of the country, so you end up some mountains in Europe on a really short notice?

Hi, my name is Dan and I'm one of the honorary wanderers showcased this month. I'm here to tell you the story of a trip I put together and went on in the span of three weeks. (Warning, this article contains a serious amount of great puns, so if you can't handle it, take a hike).

GEARING ALP FOR THE TRIP

So, earlier this summer, I was given two weeks off in early August, but only got the confirmation in mid-July. I had been putting money aside for traveling, but rarely had the chance to actually do so; so when the opportunity arose, and on such short notice, I had to plan and plan fast. While there was a butt load of places I had always dreamed of visiting, I felt like I wanted a trip away from bustling places, and I wanted to be outdoors. From there, I narrowed it down until I got to the perfect destination: the French and Italian alps.

I got up to researching the best places to stay; whether I should book my hostels in advance; and before I knew it, I had an itinerary all planned out.

• Arrive in Geneva,
• Take the bus to cross over to Chamonix, France,
• Spend a few days walking the trails,
• Take the tunnel to Aosta, Italy,
• Spend a full two days conquering the hills,
• Make my way to Torino in order to eventually get to Brussels (flights were much cheaper)
• Make my way back home after getting some Belgian chocolate. 

One could ask: What does one do for travel prep on such short-notice? Well, thankfully, there’s a few helpful (and well-written might I add) blog posts about some handy travel hacks that gave me some good ideas for small and handy supplies to bring with you (toothpaste tablets were a stroke of genius and I was really glad to have those band-aids by the end of the trip!).

I endeavored to pack light, seeing as I was going to be moving from place to place frequently, and lugging a suitcase wasn’t an option. So these two guides on packing light helped a whole bunch while planning out what I needed to bring. I also didn’t need to look too far for an excellent guide for fashionable and practical clothes planning, and seeing as I was headed for heights of well over 4000 meters in altitude, it felt like a good idea to invest in some Merino Wool; and it did not disappoint (thanks again to the majestic wander woman Kyla for all her great advice!).

GENEVA THOUGHT I’D MAKE IT TO SWITZERLAND

Connecting through majestic Iceland (which might be my next destination to be quite honest; it looked beautiful and the airport hot dogs make it worth passing through again), I got to Geneva around mid-day, where I mostly just stumbled around the streets, looking for a cafe near the lake to relax.

Funny story: Someone on the street called me "Big Mac" moments after this picture was taken.

For the most part, I didn’t really worry too much about hitting up all of the places, since I knew I had until the next morning where I'd be off to France. The goal of my trip was to enjoy time away from big cities; so I stopped at a small cafe to have some tea, walked along the shore of Lake Leman and found the Botanical Gardens of Geneva (which is right near where the UN is based, so that was cool). I had some rösti before calling it a day, anticipating getting to the mountains in the morning.

I gazed across the turquoise hued Leman Lake on this beautiful day and thought: "Oh gosh, O'm hiking up stuff like those!?"

SHOW ME CHAMONIX

I thought I was set to travel from Geneva to Chamonix in the morning, only to find out that I had made a grave mistake. I woke up in my hostel to find the one and only thing I had not planned for: rain. Long story short, I found a raincoat in a gift shop and bought a book in case the rain kept me from going on my mountain treks.

Funny story: those aren't the peaks. They're the pre-peaks.

Lo and behold, my impromptu and last minute preparedness was justified, as it rained the three days where I was at the foot of the Mont Blanc; despite staying dry in the youth hostels during the evenings, I still braved the rain during the day to find some of that famed French cuisine I had always dreamed of. I even scored an entire morning where the rain let up and the sun started to poke through a bit. I told myself: This is my chance, let’s conquer that mountain.

Update: THOSE are the peaks. You can even see a little glacier PEAK-ing out there too!

Being the careful person I am, I thought it best to leave the hiking for a dryer day, since the rocks would still be wet and the paths unsafe. So, I took the gondola up to the Aiguille du Midi (Needle of Noon in English)! After a few hours of waiting, we got on the first of two gondolas going up. At the midway point, we transfer over to the second one that’ll get us to the top. Now, normally, it’s a pretty scenic view from there, but I have no idea because we were directly at cloud-level! I hadn’t been used to something this thick since I left the foggy Canadian Maritimes!

Some people went to grab a snack at this casse-croute (or snack shack), but I had hankering for adventure!

The moment we emerged from the dense clouds, we were met with a rock wall that nestled us into the terminal at the peak. I quickly realized that being over 4000 meters above ground level is... well, breathtaking. And I mean that in a quite literal sense. The air was thin and I could see my breath swirling in front of my face as I crossed the wooden, icy bridge that connected the gondola’s terminal to the main observatory. But the view, that was something else. Never mind that I suddenly realized I had a fear of heights, this is what made the trip worth it.

Ears popped. Jaw dropped. 

It’s hard to explain how humbled you feel next to the sheer majesty of the mountain, how tiny you realize you are in that moment. While I realized I was standing on a man-made structure built in the 1950s, it’s a sobering moment when you realize how amazing nature can be. I wandered about the observatory, which while they had tunnels built inside the mountain, had a great many walkways hugging the side of the mountain, a few of which one could only reach by a narrow flight of icy stairs. It really gets your adrenaline pumping when you’re out of breath and scared of slipping over the railing.

Funny story: I almost dropped my phone here. 

I ended my adventure atop the mountain by having a tartiflette in the observatory’s restaurant, where I sat overlooking the panoramic view of the smaller mountains, the valley and the clouds below, as I chatted up a retired Australian couple enjoying their anniversary vacation.

A/N: See those five tiny dots in the center-right? Those are hikers crossing to Italy; just so you can have an idea of the scale you're working with.

IT’S HARD TO MAKE A PUNNY TITLE FOR AOSTA

The next day, I took the bus in the early morning across the border to Italy, and by across the border, I of course mean directly under the Mont Blanc, in a creepy tunnel that takes about 30 minutes to emerge to the other side. Once we cleared the border, we winded down a narrow highway, perched high up off the ground until we got to the larger village in the valley, Aosta. I spend the day in town, which had been an important settlement in the Holy Roman Empire since 25 BC. I also enjoyed some of the best pasta and pizza I’ve ever had in my life.

I learned some Valley-uble lessons about the virtues of walking. 

While in Aosta, I stayed in a lovely and charming little bed and breakfast, B&B La Tornettaz, which I cannot recommend enough. Sandro and Valeria, the owners, are an absolutely delightful couple and do an amazing job making you feel right at home. This isn’t a sponsorship, I just really loved staying there. It’s about a 45 minute walk up a winding road outside of town, but the view alone was worth it, and the hospitality was heartwarming.

Update: I have nothing witty to day here. The view from my bedroom was just...sublime.

In the morning, I walked back into town, to then take an individual gondola to go up to Pila, which is more so a ski resort on top of the mountain, 2500 meters above ground level. During the summers, they open the trails for both hikers and extreme sport bikers (that barrel down the mountain at speeds I was impressed and terrified with). I had done a little bit of research on the trails up there, and decided on a trail for the morning in the woods, doubling back to the resort for lunch and heading further up the mountain in the afternoon to make my way back down by sundown.

This path hugs the hills up the Saint Grat Hermitage, which felt appropriate as a morning hike in solitude.

If you’ll indulge me and my thoughts for a second, there’s a specific reason why I took this trip, and it was to be alone with myself for a while. I felt I needed to disconnect from the world, from social media, from friends, just to clear my head and be with my thoughts. While a very expensive way to achieve this (and kind of drastic altogether to attain solitude), it also felt liberating.

I’m not attempting to equate traveling as a fix for mental health, but I have to admit that it helped me. Walking through the woods in the early morning, where the air was thin and the sun’s glow was just enough to counterbalance the soft, refreshing chill of the morning dew, I was alone, I was at peace and I wouldn’t have changed a thing about that day.

Lago Chamolé will leave you saying "Holy Chamolé!"

Okay, maybe one thing. Sunscreen is important, kids. I spent the entire day walking the trails, stumbled on some pastures and woods that garnished the mountaintop, and near sundown, took the last gondola back into town, and rewarded myself with some well-deserved pizza before walking back up to the B&B.

MY SPROUTING LOVE FOR BRUSSELS

Making my way from Aosta to Brussels was a tumultuous journey. I first took two trains out of the small northern Italian town to make my way to Torino. Mussolini might not have been my favourite Italian head of state, but he was however right about the punctuality of the trains.

Update: Apparently, northern Italian castles are known to wander off into the mountains...they might have the right idea.

Once I arrived in Torino, I then walked two hours (it should have taken me 45 minutes, but band-aids can only do so much for blisters) to the hostel I had booked. I’ll skim over some details, but it was an unfortunate low-point of my journey when I had been told that there were no restaurants around the hostel, so I resorted to eating from a vending machine. Italian snacks are a lot saltier than I thought they’d be, or perhaps they were stale.

But I didn’t mind too much, because the next morning, bright and early, I was off to catch a train to the airport, to get to Charleroi in Belgium. The day flew by thanks to my quick but meticulous research on the schedules for all the transportation I’d take that day. I still had 100 kilometers to go until I reach my final destination, Brussels. Once the plane landed in Charleroi ahead of schedule (thanks tailwinds, you’re a pal!), I hopped onto a city bus and made my way to the train station across town. While I initially thought I’d have to wait for another few hours until the train I had booked for arrived, I realized my ticket only had a date, but no time, meaning, I could get onto a train headed in the right direction at any hour of the day! And wouldn’t you know it, the next train to Brussels was leaving just a few minutes after I got onto the platform. From the moment I touched down I boarded the plane in Torino, I don’t think I even ever stopped moving at all.

By the end of the afternoon, I was getting off the train at the Grand Place in the heart of Brussels. Thankfully, Past-Daniel had the foresight to think that after almost 10 days, I’d be a little exhausted, and booked a cozy hotel (at a discount) right off the Grand Place. Now, at this point, I hadn’t properly eaten since I left Aosta (a few snacks while waiting at train stations and airports), and if you take anything from my strange ramblings about chilling in Europe, it’s EAT REGULARLY. Get some granola bars on the go, buy some fruits at a market, literally anything of sustenance. While I did ravenously enjoy all the more my Belgian specialty burger at the Hard Rock Café Brussels (and get obliterated by Belgian beer), I can’t stress enough the importance of being well-fed while you’re travelling.

The Grand Place is all the more grand as the sunset reflects the golden trimmings of its historical buildings.

I spent my last day before heading home to do come chill activities while giving my feet the rest they deserved. A few comic book shops here and there, the Museum of Musical Instruments, the tiny stoned kid with the bladder problem, a tiny cafe to snag myself a delicious waffle, and to my great surprise, I even found out about a showing later that night of one of my favourite movies, Spirited Away, in the theater in the Galeries Royales Saint-Hubert, subtitled both in French and Dutch! The movie nerd and language nerd got the best of me that night, but boy, it was a fantastic and relaxing end to a fantastic and relaxing trip!

Oh, and chocolate. I got chocolates before leaving Belgium.

Daniel is a graduate student at the University of Ottawa in sociology and is a big fan of vinyls and languages. He likes Dungeons and Dragons, flannel shirts, clever word play and enthusiastically liking other weird and interesting things. He may not always have the means to travel, but when he does, he goes big (and seeks the small treasures people don’t often see). Hailing from Atlantic Canada, his heart will always belong to the sea.