A Walk on the Wild Side
Post date: Jun 25, 2013 4:22:59 AM
A cliff-dwelling species of wild mountain goat that seems to defy the laws of gravity
The words of the Lou Reed song have been playing in my head and inviting me to ‘Take a walk on the wild side’ and when I begin the long climb out of the low-lying city of Grenoble I know it is time.
Initially the maze of footpaths is confusing and increasingly I rely on intuition rather than the GPS technology of my smart phone, which is experiencing erratic connectivity in the mountains.
I reach the picturesque village of Lans-en-Vercors after a magnificent hike along forestry paths clinging to the side of lofty peaks. Temperatures have soared and for the first time since leaving Geneva I’m drenched in sweat and drinking water at an alarming rate. I only carry two-and-a-half litres because weight is my enemy and my two packs - worn back and front - are already punishing my feet!
It’s easy to like Lans-en-Vercors. It’s a resort area famous for both downhill and cross-country skiing, as well as everything from climbing, caving, paragliding and hot-air ballooning to kite-surfing, mountain biking, fishing and horse riding.
Breathtaking mountain views without the danger of altitude sickness characterize a traverse of the Vercors Nature Reserve
My plan, or more accurately that of my WILD10 ‘mentors’ Miquel Rafa in Barcelona and Magnus Sylven in Geneva, is to leave civilisation behind and explore the vast wildness of Vercors Nature Reserve that is the biggest in France.
I decide on the alternative route across the High Plateau, buying a large-scale map that reveals a largely uninhabited landscape with some natural water springs that are the key to survival.
The night before heading into the wilds I stay at the delightfully friendly L’Essendole guesthouse in Villard-de-Lans run by Nathalie Giraud, where I’m joined by Regis Meunier and his partner Michel Lallier, who are anxious about my plan for a solo traverse of the High Plateau.
Overnight huts are utterly rudimentary and free of charge on a first-come, first-served basis
Regis thrusts a lightweight emergency space blanket into my hands, then reappears a couple of minutes later with a bright orange whistle that incorporates a compass and matches. “You might need this,” he says worriedly.
We 21st century hikers are certainly far from the first to brave the Vercors mountains. There’s evidence of an ancient Roman presence and this natural fortress was the home of many Resistance fighters during World War 2, becoming a death trap when it was surrounded and attacked from all sides. Memorials recall the horror and heroism of those dark days.
At the village of Correncon, the northern gateway to the trail, I bid farewell to Nathalie and she makes me a present of a freshly-baked baguette bread roll. “You need some extra food,” she insists.
My biggest concern isn’t about food though. I know from experience that I can easily go up to four days without eating but have never been without water for more than a few hours. A signpost warns that I’m entering an area where it is dangerously scarce. Finding natural springs is crucial!
I have three days and three nights ahead of me in the wild heart of Vercors and feel that familiar excitement. For as long as I can remember I have been irresistibly drawn to wildness and wilderness.
France’s largest nature reserve rises to the occasion as storm clouds build threateningly. I stop at a hut where five hikers are hunkered down for the night. “Join us, there’s plenty of room,” they invite. Instead I store my belongings inside to keep them dry, but choose to be outdoors in my bivvy bag, which looks suspiciously like the body bags you see being zipped up at crime scenes in the movies. It’s waterproof but horribly claustrophobic.
In the end I get a little more wildness than is ideal. Fierce winds tug relentlessly at my bag and the heavens open at around 1am, battering me with huge icy raindrops. It is an uncomfy, sleepless night, although I can only blame myself.
Common sense prevails the next two nights which I spend under cover in basic huts, my only companions being the wild creatures that roam outside.
Whenever I take time to sit quietly animals appear. The much-loved marmot, a giant ground squirrel, is usually the easiest to spot, while there’s always a good chance of seeing chamois, ibex and mouflon that are the wild Alpine cousins of domestic goats and sheep.
Golden eagles, bearded vultures and griffon vultures are the iconic birds of prey, while the large carnivores - bear, wolf and lynx - are rare and understandably elusive. I long for a sighting but content myself with ever more dramatic landscapes.
Once I take a dramatic tumble on a slippery path, and when I briefly lose my way I realise that I’ve become so dependent on GPS technology that I’ve forgotten the basics of navigation with a compass and map. Time for an urgent refresher course!
Day Three sees me puffing and panting as I climb to the highest point on the hiking traverse, finally feeling the exhilaration of achievement and communion with nature as I sit on a rock and enjoy a 360 degree panoramic view. It is confirmation that simple pleasures are often the best and that breathtaking natural beauty can be found even in the heart of a densely populated continent like Europe.
I’m in a state of total relaxation and peace when an ibex suddenly pops her horned head over the cliff face in front of me, eyes me intently and then decides that although I have the look and shape of the planet’s deadliest predator, I pose no immediate threat.
I sit rock-still and she moves to within metres of me, grazing and regularly glancing my way, but showing no alarm. What a gift to share this precious place with such a magnificent creature!
This was the last overnight hut and a very hard one to leave
If you are in a peaceful open-hearted space the animals know and venture closer without fear
Caring newfound friends Regis, Michele and Natalie personified kindness and generosity