As usual we set off at 8.30. We took an attractive path through the woods above la Fouly, soon crossing a river and then continuing on a fairly level path on the west of the river valley, sometimes in the pine woods and sometimes in meadows. We spotted a waterfall coming down from the mountain.
These were attractive narrow paths, there were many flowers including the small épilobe, white campanule, yellow gentian and foxglove; even some butterflies. The flower on the right is called 'yellow gentian' although it appears to be quite different from the blue ones.
By about 11.30 we went down the hill into Praz de Fort: a very attractive village with old timber barns and houses. But some of them had gnomes in the garden.
The village street meanders between the house and then comes out on the little road running along the valley. We crossed the road and took a little path to the village of Arlaches.
Arlaches is really interesting with its very fine timber buildings - each one is a stable/barn with the hay upstairs and in the winter the anmals downstairs. They have to store enough hay to last the winter.
After leaving Arlaches we found a mound above the village where we stopped for a picnic. There were fine views back with Arlaches in the foreground and Praz de Fort further away.
One of the group told the following story: "Dans un village de France, la vieille cloche du clocher de l'église s'est fêlée (fendue) et le responsable de l'église ouvre une souscription auprès de ses paroissiens, afin de pouvoir acheter une nouvelle cloche.
Dès que la nouvelle cloche arrive elle est mise en place à côté de la vieille qui ne peut plus sonner car le son qu'elle émet est mauvais (fêlé). Arrive la semaine Sainte (avant Pâques) et comme chacun le sait les cloches ne sonnent plus du vendredi saint au dimanche de Pâques puisqu'elles partent à Rome.
La nouvelle cloche (neuve) dit à la vieille, tu ne peux pas venir à Rome tu es trop vieille et tu es cassée, ne t'en fais pas je suis encore capable de voler jusqu'à Rome, répond la vieille cloche.
Aussitôt dit aussitôt fait voilà nos deux cloches qui partent pour Rome.
Tout va bien, mais au retour la vieille cloche se sent fatiguée et veut se reposer sur les Alpes et là elle tombe et se casse en mille morceaux et depuis ce jour sur les Alpes et toutes les montagnes nous trouvons des campanules qui sont les restes de la vieille cloche tranformés en fleurs.
Voilà pourquoi nous avons toujours besoin des conseils des personnes plus agées que nous".
Translation into English:"In a village in France the old bell in the church tower was cracked and the chrchwardens made a collection from the parishioners so as to be able to buy a new bell.
When the new bell arrived, it was installed beside the old bell that could no longer ring because it sounded bad. Easter Saturday arrived and as everyone knows, the bells are not rung between Good Friday and Easter Sunday since they go to Rome.
The new bell said to the old one, you can't come to Rome because you're too old and you're broken; the old bell replied I am still capable of flying to Rome.
No sooner said than done, our two bells left for Rome.
All went well, but on the return, the old bell felt tired and decided to rest on the Alps and there it fell and broke up into thousands of pieces. Since that day, on the Alps and most other mountains, we find harebells which are the remains of the old bell transformed into flowers.
That's why we should always take advice from people who are older than us."
Soon after the picnic, we went down into yet another village - Issert. It has barns called Raccard for storing wheat.
On leaving Issert we crossed the road an took a path up the hillside over a stream - the first climb of the day. Before this we had been ambling gently down hill. The path became quite steep as it wound through the woods.
On the way we had a view over to the far away mountains. In the woods we saw a big cave and some buildings that belonged to the Swiss military - not sure whether they are still in use.
Then we reached the town of Champex and stopped for a rest and a swim in the big lake. The water round the edges was not too cold, so two of us thought a swim might be possible. But when we swam further in, well, it was quite cold....
But it was pleasant to cool off and we didn't shiver afterwards.
But our final destination was the Relais d'Arpette, so we set off on a steep path through the woods. The path followed a rushing stream carrying glacier/snow-melt water - it was a beautiful slightly green-gray colour. It rsuhed over stones and rocks and under bridges.
We later learned that it is called a bisse - meaning that it is organised (like a canal is, with paddles etc) and is formed from nay different streams coming down the hill.
Just as we arrived at Relais d'Arpette (1627 m) at about 5.30, torrential rain started. We
were the last and only just made it into the door. Libélule and Wilson (the mule accompanying the classique group) looked very happy to be in a proper field and didn't seem to mind the rain. The Relais is in a beautiful position.
We chatted with our fellow walkers until the meal was ready - a good one: vegetable soup, crudités, ham and mash, apple purée. We had a big room with a wash basin.
| Diary of fourth day |