I wanted to follow the east flank of the valley at a high enough altitude to see what lies behind Monte Rosa, and the most straightforward way seemed to take the funicular from Champoluc up to La Crest, and from there follow a path that apparently went north through a series of ancient hamlets, following the contours.
It has been getting warm around here so it was of course best to start early in the morning, when only a couple more hikers were on the way. I was pleasantly surprised that the funicular was only 11 euros for both going up to La Crest and for going down at the other end of the walk at Charchérioz. Prices seem to be twice as much in the Dolomites, which also receive a lot of Japanese and German tourism. In contrast here most of the tourism seems to be Italians escaping the heat.
I do not have a hammer with me so I have not been looking at the rocks in detail, but I am surrounded by metamorphic rocks that include lots of mica schists, the odd amphibolite and gneiss, the even scarcer blue schist, and one block of serpentinite I saw at a parking lot. The mica schists are widely used for roof construction. They cut them in diamond-shaped slabs, maybe 50 cm on edge and about 2 or 3 cm thick, which makes them tremendously heavy and requires hefty timber to form the roof support (to which you have to add the weight of the snow during winter). Apparently this type of construction is favored because gusty winds would tear flimsier tiles (and probably also for esthetic reasons because they give towns and hamlets a charming aspect).
Once at La Crest I found that the path was well marked by the Italian Alpine Club as Trail 1, but it did not follow the contour lines. There were the standard number of ups and downs so I alternated between huffing and puffing on the upslope, to groan and moan on the downslope. A couple of old timers put me to shame as they happily went up and down close to me, dismissing the upslopes as "just a little climb and that is all".
One of the prettiest hamlets, Sousson, had the feeling of being abandoned, but may have just been closed as the inhabitants took a vacation. A sign at the crossroads explained that this was part of the open-air museum of the zone, and encouraged the passerby to explore the houses and barns, without forgetting the 15th century grain mill. This small mill took advantage of the flow of a creek that passed under the mill, which rotated the axis using a series of "wooden scoops" arranged on a horizontal plane. Not unlike the Pelton wheel of a hydroelectric plant but with a vertical rotation axis. The modern Pelton wheel was invented in the 1800's, and this insignificant mill was already using something similar in 1673!
I was huffing up a particularly vexatious slope when, through an opening in the trees, I saw the unique slender horn of Monte Cervino. Wow! It felt like I could almost touch it. Monte Cervino straddles the political border of Italy and Switzerland. The Swiss call it Matterhorn. This was the mountain of my dreams when I was young, and I devoured the books of Gaston Rebuffat about epic expeditions to its crest, glacier trekking, rock climbing impossible chimneys and aiguilles, and facing gusty winds and lightening storms in the high country. It was a glorious memory.
The way back was a piece of cake, because rather than trying another brutal descent I calmly walked into the cog-wheel train that uses a rack rail and pinions to control the descent of a rail car on very steep slopes. To optimize the use of energy, one car ascends as its counterpart descends, and they cross at a double track midway.
From there on a little devil whispered on my ear that I should go back to Villy, the forest of the wood sculptures, to take a few photographs. My recollection was that the Villy forest was on the west side of the Torrent Evançon, so I crossed on the first opportunity and walked and walked until I found myself in the middle of Champoluc! What kind of deviltry had hidden the forest from view? Magic is still very much in the mind of the locals here, and maybe clueless foreigners were particularly susceptible to its effects. Nothing of the sort: The Villy forest is on the east bank of the Evançon, so I had to trudge up valley again to take my photographs.
Speaking of magic, the locals have a legend that very much resembles the story of Asterix Le Gaulois. The valley was occupied by the fierce Salassi, who took advantage of a magic potion that gave indomitable courage and superhuman strength and allowed them to repel the attacks of the Romans and other hostile tribes. They drank this potion as a cure, and to succeed in war, the chase, and in love. The mysterious potion brewed from bitter herbs and saffron is still to be had, but the trick to invoke its magic power is to drink it in three gulps, each time saying aloud and with conviction its name "Ebo Lebo, Ebo Lebo, Ebo Lebo".
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