A Day in the Juras: Givrine au Vaud [Part 4]

continued from earlier

With our snowshoes on, we tramped along on our new, fairly fresh trail. We saw a lot of tracks for deer, wild pigs, hares, and elk-like creatures on this path. Trails frequently paired off this main corridor, but we stayed a toute droite because the side trails all had markings advising us against using them.


We came to what we thought was a road, which is perhaps the case in the warmer months, and continued downhill. We came to a major four-way fork and had to make a critical decision. Neither of us wanted to spend much time walking in the dark, so we made a lot of consultations with the map and compass. We picked the center path, which led us past a military compound from WWII. Still slightly intimidated by it, we did not venture to explore it. There was something in our minds that said, “You may walk past, but don’t you dare try to go inside or explore too much.” Besides, we were tired and hungry and it was getting dark.

We finally arrived at a road, took off the snowshoes, and thought we were in the clear. We sat for five minutes and then pressed on. Less than 500 meters later, we were again sinking deep in the snow. In defiance of this deep snow, we trudged along for a good 15 minutes without our snowshoes. We then came to a real, plowed, road. It was now misty and cold as we descended through the clouds.



We reached a consensus and continued downhill on this road, figuring we must be close to civilization. Yes, we were, but not what we had expected. A little trailer park presented itself, and we awkwardly tiptoed by. It just didn’t look like the place we wanted to be. And the road continued downhill and we plodded along. It was about quarter to five and we both half-joked about walking in the dark. We were both thinking about how much we didn’t want to be out here in the dark, but this was silently understood and nothing serious was said. Sometimes, it’s best to leave these thoughts in one’s mind.

My feet were burning on the bottom. I felt like I was bruising them every step I took. While walking downhill sounds easy, it gets old quickly. You feel your knees creak and your toes jam against your boots. I envied Aaron’s sneakers at this point, which was strange because I felt bad for him earlier in the day. I’ve been in this situation before, but things are intensified by being in a completely unfamiliar place, not having the best of ideas of where you are, and knowing full well most people you run into up here don’t speak English. We were fine, just tired and famished.

Finally, we reached a little map by the side of the road explaining where exactly we were. We were on the outskirts of Bassions, and we deciphered the road we needed to return to Le Vaud, la rue du Vaud. How charmingly appropriate, we smirked. It was 5 pm and the clock was ticking. We assured ourselves with our own map, consulted the compass one last time, and then plodded into town.

The road was easy enough to find, and our spirits were surprisingly still intact, though fragile at best. La rue du Vaud did not have a sidewalk, and we were forced to trudge the one to two kilometers uphill while facing traffic. Aaron’s house was looming in the distance, slowly approaching. When we entered the town limits, we began to laugh a little more and discuss our evening plans. We walked into his house at 5:40 pm.

Aaron’s parents wanted to hear about our trip, and we briefly explained the day and hurried to get ready to return to Nyon. By just straight lines, we walked over 15 km. Not too shabby, considering a majority of it was on snow. The father graciously offered us some snacks which we ravenously accepted. We ate fresh sausage, cured wild boar, and dried beef with bread. Also present was a lot of peppercinees (sp?) and olives. All of this came from the Sunday market in Le Vaud. We learned a bit more about the area and the trail from the father, and he said he would take us to Nyon, since he was headed in that direction. We accepted his proposal and avoided taking the bus into town.

When we arrived, I realized I had missed the one train for the hour. I called home and left a message on the machine in broken French that I would be late. The regional trains, the only ones that stop in Mies, have abbreviated weekend schedules. So, I was stuck for the second time this week sitting on the platform for an hour. Luckily, Aaron had a similar dilemma, so we were able to chat and discuss the day’s activities, laughing about our sunburned faces. It had been a fairly remarkable Valentine’s day, but not at all in the traditional sense. We were content with our adventure and agreed wholeheartedly this had been the best experience we had had to this point while in Switzerland. Although I began the weekend with an admittedly pessimistic view, I will gladly admit our hike pulled me out of the doldrums I had fabricated for myself. Often the best things come when least expected. He and I were both satisfied with our epic day and it put a better perspective on the weekend for both of us.

I arrived in Mies at 8 pm and walked the dark path home alone. No one was home, which I to some extent expected, and I took a leisurely and much needed shower. I ate dinner while listening to the dryer beep every minute and a half (I don’t know how to make it stop making noise) and decided it was best if I recount my day while it was still fresh in my mind. Nicole and my “mother,” Marcela, are out for dinner and I have free roam of the kitchen. It’s been silent for the last three hours, and I admit I look forward to when someone will return.

Finished at 11:43 pm, February 14, 2004