This weekend, my friend Suzie and I ventured into the wilderness around Grenoble. Thanks to Suzie's planning with the help of the people at the Maison de la Montagne in Grenoble, we made reservations to stay at a lodge in a tiny village called Chichiliane located in the parc regional du Vercors. Friday morning we met at the train and bus station, looking for the train or bus that could take us to Clelles, the nearest village to Chichiliane where the bus goes. At the train station window, the woman told Suzie there was no train and sold her tickets for a bus to Clelles. We walked next door to the bus station to ask where the bus would be. The woman there kindly informed us that there was a grève so there was only a train, not a bus. We walked back over to the train station and the man at the welcome desk told us there was no train, only a bus. He then explained that it was a bus run by the train company, hence the reason the bus lady was in the dark about this whole situation. We made it easily onto the bus without futher issues.
After about an hour, the bus pulled into an abandoned parking lot outside an old fashioned looking train station with a sign that said "Clelles". Suzie and I hopped out here and found ourselves in what appeared to be a ghost town.
We found a map posted on the side of the closed train station, and guessed a direction to walk in. After just a minute or two of walking, we stumbled across a sign pointing to a path that said "Chichiliane". We continued to follow signs like this through fields and woods and along the road until eventually we found our selves in the little hamlet of Chichiliane. After wandering around this tiny village for a few minutes (it was impressive how lost we were considering there were really only 4 roads in the town), we came across the Maison de Mont Aiguille Welcome center, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. A frazzled looking woman told us to come in and sit down while she finished something. We were a little nervous because she seemed quite strict, actually, she seemed terrifying. After a minute or so, she looked up again and explained that she was reading some important document that no one could understand and she wanted to finish so she'd have some chance of figuring out what it was saying. Once she finished, she started talking to us and it became evident that she was, in fact, the nicest woman in the world. She asked us about the U.S., about our studies and time in Grenoble, told us all about the Vercors, the town of Chichiliane, the mountains, everything. She gave us maps and pamphlets, the student discount, led us to our room for the night and showed us how to turn on the heat. She even told us our french was pretty good. After this delightful interaction, we ate our lunch of bread, peanut butter, and nutella outside before starting our hike for the afternoon. This time equipped with a map, we consulted our map and the sign posts as we made our way up to Col de l'Aupet at the foot of Mont Aiguille.
Before starting on our way though, we had to get out of the town, which was harder than it sounds. Two guard dogs, some angry geese, a sketchy path between 2 yards, and a return to the town center to start over, we found ourselves on the path to Col de l'Aupet. As we walked along, we commented on how it was a bit odd that the mountain was called Mont Aiguille, which means Mount Needle, because it appeared to be quite broad and flat, not at all like any needle I care to imagine. We decided to let it slide and continued our hike, through forests that reminded me of my dear New England, past fields of sheep and cows, into the woods and eventually onto the side of the mountain. Periodically as we marched along, we stopped to look out at the beautiful scenery that surrounded us: the snow covered Alps to one side, the rest of the Vercors to another, the beautiful valley and land in between. As we remarked, I feel like an old romantic poet when I start to talk about it, but it really was beautiful and inspiring everytime I looked around. There were a few minutes when we stopped to look around, then looked at each other and said, "How did we get here?" It was that kind of place.
A couple hours later, we arrived at our destination, put all our sweatshirts and warm clothes back on, had a refreshing snack of some kiwis, and posed for pictures (of course!). Since the afternoon was quickly fading away and there was a chilling wind blowing on the exposed point, we didn't hang around for too long, but got back on the trail to Chichiliane. As we got back closer to the town, a farmer and his son pulled up in a truck next to us. They asked where we were going, then offered for us to hop in the back of their truck (which was filled with nordic skis). We rode the last few meters into town like this, the perfect ending for a wonderful hike. The fun didn't stop there though, as we found ourselves back in our room ready for dinner. Pasta, salad (yes, salad - you know who you are) and a wonderful dessert, followed by warm beds and lots of laughs topped off our day.
Saturday morning we rose and realized we actually had no idea when/if a bus or train was coming. We picked a scenic path back to Clelles, and stopped by the Welcome center to turn in our key, say thanks and ask if our new friend knew when the trains usually come. She showed us the usual schedule, gave us more pamphlets, showed us a video about the parc, and sent us on our way, letting us know that if there was no train we could come back and spend the night for half price (tempting). We wandered our way through the countryside on our way back to Clelles, stopping to admire a cute little church in Tresanne along the way. It was right about here that we looked up at Mont Aiguille again, this time from the other side where the mountain appeared narrow and pointy - like a needle! Mystery solved. In hindsight, it probably shouldn't have taken us that long to figure it out, but what can I say? The walking continued after lunch until our arrival in Clelles at about 2:10, where we found a note on the door telling us that the next bus back to Grenoble would be at 5:25.
With 3 hours to kill, we wandered down into the center of Clelles (a hopping place). It was here that I witnessed a "WC" at its finest. We saw the signs "WC DAME" and "WC HOMME" and made our way over, when we heard a terribly loud sound of rushing water. We opened the door to the WC, only to find a a hole in the ground, through which a Niagra-like amount of water was rushing. Conviently for us, there were footrests on the sides of said hole in the ground. Apparently the good people of Clelles have rigged their public WC's to 'automatically flush' every few minutes. Once the déluge stopped, we both used the WC without event, but we were terrified that the water would start while we were in there. I'll be honest, it was one of the more heart-racing moments of the trip. Imagine what would have happened had it flushed while I was using this toilet: the ultimate bidet nightmare! I feel like I narrowly escaped a terrible fate.
After recovering from the harrowing WC escapade and wasting some time in the town sitting on a bench, we headed back to the train station to continue sitting on benches for the remain 1.5 hours. It was then that we discovered the train station was actually open, so at least we could sit inside and be warm. Eventually, we boarded our bus (there was a total of 4 people on the bus) and headed back to Grenoble on a somewhat nauseating ride through the curvy mountain roads. All in all, it was probably one of the best weekends I've had here. It was absolutely refreshing to be breathing in crisp mountain air and feeling the sunlight and wind on my face, not to mention that the number of farm animals I saw makes me want to live in a tent surrounded by sheep for the rest of my life.
The weekend was also one of those surreal moments that I suppose everyone has as their getting older, where you feel like you're a child pretending to be a grown-up, when in fact you really just are becoming an adult (aaah can't believe I just said that, I don't want to grow up!). For example, cooking dinner for ourselves in lodge that we rented ourselves, in a town that we got to all by ourselves, without parents or teachers or coaches directing us or giving us advice, made me feel like a little kid playing house (not that I ever played house since I was too busy pretending to be an animal...), except it was real! I really did all those things all by myself! Unbelievable! I'll end my philosophy discussion here before things get too weird. I hope you're all doing well, and I'd love to hear from you, feel free to send me an email and I promise a response (kjericks@colby.edu)!
photo guide:
- Mont Aiguille
- Train station at Clelles
- Cute town of Chichiliane
- Me! At the Col de L'Aupet
- Handy signs that guided us through the mountains
- WC nightmare
- Suzie and I realize why its called Mont Aiguille
- Cute church in Tresanne with the mountains
- Another picture of me at the Col de l'Aupet
- Pretty flowers around a house we walked by
this is uncle terk.. I just signed grammy pat into your blog.. I hope that she uses it!
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