It took the mechanics in
Montpellier a full day to replace Gerty's rim so we amused ourselves absorbing
the atmosphere of the beautiful city. The cathedral is an imposing sight with huge stone
pillars soaring at the entrance. It was a pleasure to stroll the winding
streets of the old town, soaking up the atmosphere and stopping in the shade of
the church of Saint Roch for a picnic lunch of taramasalata on crisp breads. I
wondered why I had not heard more about Montpellier and made a mental note to
return.
Hoping for the best
Richard and I collected Gerty
from the garage on the outskirts of the city. She was looking lopsided with one
rusty steel rim, the replacement, and the three remaining alloys. The boss of
the garage told me the aluminium was poor quality and that the rims must be
copies. Unless the rim had been sent of for a quick lab test in the previous 24
hours, which it hadn't, I was inclined to trust the remaining rims and the AA engineer
from whom I bought the van.
Europe's tallest peak
We set off at 4pm and put in 4
good hours of driving, heading north east towards the Alps and Mont Blanc,
Europe's highest mountain. Our plan was to visit areas we have only known in
winter. Great walking awaited in the wilds. Once the sun started to dip, we
stopped for the night at Lake Aiguebelette, near Chambery.
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| Sunset at Lake Aiguebelette, France |
The name of the lake
means 'beautiful little waters' and it lived up to its moniker. The smooth
emerald surface was fringed with woods and fields, and nestled in the strong
arms of the surrounding mountains. I breathed a relaxed sigh. It was good to be
moving again. The birds swooped over the lake in the twilight, like a silent
dogfight, before nesting for the night.
A potent pick-me-up
Our early rise was greeted by
mist gently wafting over the lake. We wolfed the leftovers of the previous
night's meal; a spicy salad made with sardines, garlic, onions and chilli
sauce. In the absence of coffee, the potent concoction acted as a powerful pick
me up. I filed the recipe away for future use on a romantic occasion or before
a job interview.
Before heading into the
mountains we needed supplies. We stopped in Cluses, a shabby town with a
beautiful mountain backdrop. Carrefour, the French supermarket chain, came good
for us and we loaded up with tinned lentils, boxed wine, diesel and cooking
gas.
Subterranean border crossing
The trip kitty had taken a
battering on the expensive French toll roads so we took the slower and more
scenic road for the final stretch to the tunnel that runs 10.5km under Mont
Blanc and into Italy. So much for our economising, we were charged 40 euros for
the privilege of passing through the rocky giant and crossing an invisible
border unceremoniously somewhere in the middle. When we burst out of the tunnel
into the sun, we were greeted by a gelato seller on a wheeled gondola, poling
himself across the car park to the sound of the Three Tenors bellowing from
tinny speakers. Welcome to Italy.
Bonza bonanza
Arriving in a new country was
accompanied by a flurry of success for Richard in our ongoing game of Bonza. If
you haven't played, I urge you to on your next long drive or walk. Bonza adds
an air of competition, smugness and rage to any long journey. The rules are
simple; devise a list of twenty or so things you might see along the way. Some
can be obvious, like a police car, and some can be obscure. A gondolier selling
ice cream, for example. Each time you spot something on the list, shout
'Bonza!', and keep a running score. As an old veteran sharing Bonza with the
young padawan Richard, I took the hammer blows of his eagle-eyed spotting
(police car, Italian flag and cable car fell in quick succession) with grace
and dignity and didn't swear or sulk at all.
Gran Paradiso National Park
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| Braving the chilly waters of the River Savara, Italy |
We left the tunnel behind and
began the Italian leg of our journey. Near the town of Aosta, a place that was
to take an unexpected significance later that day, we turned off the main road
and began to climb into the Gran Paradiso national park. The road wound upwards
like a piece of spaghetti draped artfully along the side of the steep valley.
The river Savara foamed along beside us, heading in the opposite direction, a
torrent of meltwater from the snow covered mountains, drawn inexorably towards
the sea.
We climbed up to 2,000 meters
and passed through the town of Valsavarenche, which slumbered beside blankets
of blooming wildflower meadows. I felt like we had stumbled onto the set of a
Ricola advert. A short way further and we
arrived at Camping Gran Paradiso. This was to be our home for the next two
nights. We were looking forward to a non-driving day, packing a rucksack and
heading out on the trails. The sun beat down, the birds chattered overhead and
the rugged peaks beckoned. We had chosen a great spot.
Gerty does it again
I walked infront of the van,
following the receptionist to our pitch. Gerty was making an unusual squeaking
noise that I hadn’t noticed before. I let Richard catch up so I could walk next
to the van and locate the source of the noise. It was coming from the front
left wheel. I looked down. I held up my hand for Richard to stop. I looked
closer and ran my hands across the rim. My heart skipped a beat and then sank. It
was cracked.
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| Gerty being rescued, again. |
For the second time in a week,
Gerty was going to travel on a recovery truck and Richard and I were going to
stay in a hotel. It was goodbye to Gran Paradiso hello to the town ofAosta.
Would we be able to fix Gerty’s rim trouble? Would we be able to continue the
trip? Tune in next week to find out…
