Day 7 – La Fouly to Champex

After a good sleep and a bread and jam hut breakfast I head down to the boot room.    There they are just sitting there my beloved boots that have seen me through every walk for the past 5 years.     Before I came away I was a little tentative about these boots – I hadn’t trained in them I had used my trail shoes instead . When I came to put them on they did feel tight across my toes.   I didn’t want to bring new boots on a walk like this without wearing them in so my old faithfuls came .   I knew the sole and the grip was worn down badly but I thought they would do me one last hurrah.    It was a mistake – my toes were suffering and yesterday made me see that if I was walking each step in pain I would cease to enjoy the walking and the next few days were big days of ascent and toe slamming descents to follow.  
Right next door to my refuge was an outdoor shop so I took this as a sign and just popped my head in . The most lovely woman with long floating hair and that ‘I’ve just come down from a mountain’ aura asked if I needed help .   I explained my situation and she said come let’s take a look in a lilting soft french accent.   We took off my boots and she took one look at my feet and said  calmly ‘you are in the wrong size boot ‘. This was by sight alone and not a measure machine .  ‘You need at least one full size bigger and it needs to be wider for you . I know the best shoe for this foot.’  She was like the shoe whisperer .   She brings out a trail shoe and I edge my tender foot in .    I melted . It was like putting on a slipper .  The sides barely pressed and my toes were spaced out as nature intended them to be in there.    The shoe whisperer told me that although not a boot these shoes would take me anywhere up any terrain and she reeled  off the mountains I was aiming for in the next few days.   The brand was German and she said they were what she wears ‘in my mountains’.   I was transfixed .   I put both on and headed out for a walk up the hill she directed me to .   I can’t honestly even begin to describe the difference they made to my feet.   I was walking on air and floated back in dancing a jig . She clapped her hands with joy and she gave me her best price then took another 20 % off .  They were a bargain . I didn’t know what to do with my others there was no room in my pack and I wasn’t ready to throw them out – nostalgia for these boots winning out over sensible boot chucking.  She took one look at my pack found some straps at the bottom I didn’t even know existed and had them secured in under 10 seconds.    I loved this woman . I paid her and left my pack there while I danced to the shop for some fruit and nuts and when I returned she pressed a beautiful crystal into my hand and told me it was to protect me on my journey .  The shoe whisperer’s name was Elena and I thanked her for being so helpful and beautiful to deal with she told me that beauty we see is just a mirror of ourselves .   I don’t know if it was her aura, her protective crystal in my pocket or the slipperette feeling of my new shoes but I floated out that shop on a cloud as she stood at the door and waved me off .
It was a good start . This day was a 15 km day and I was counting it as my rest day walk .  No high variants or passes to cross or remote country to traverse rather a winding valley walk until one final steep climb into the ski village of Champex.   I set off through woodland and it took me in out and out following a river and into gorgeous little Swiss villages of timber houses and old creaking timber barns .  Wood piles stacked so perfectly they were almost art.    It was a beautiful walk in the sunshine.   My feet felt amazing and I walked thanking Elena on the hour , every hour.  The day ended with a 437 metre ascent to Champex through stunning woodland and after a day of mainly even trails I enjoyed the climb up .   My brand new soles gripping even the most slippery parts .   I rounded a corner and my lovely American dorm family were sat by the path filming something . I stopped for a quick hello and it was then they told me they were filming a Netflix documentary as they go.  Before I knew it they asked if they could interview me and the camera was up and questions were flying at me.   I spoke for a while and I did my best to subtly pull my knotted hut hair straight.    They filmed my permission to use it and off I went .  
I arrived in Champex and walked straight into my lovely stay for the night . My own room in a small alpine timber hotel on the hillside . It was gorgeous!  The owners were so friendly and welcoming . I reserved a table for dinner in the little cosy dining room for a meal my guide book said I would not regret.   I took a long long shower and washed my hair – where was the damn documentary lot now!?
It was a clear summers night so I walked into to the  town , walked by the stunning lake and popped into the supermarket ( yep ..  more fruit and nuts) as I was leaving i bumped into Jeff one of the three climbers  I had met last night.  He steered me straight into the pub they were at – faces glowing behind pints of lager.  We discussed the next day . It was the highest  variant of the walk up to the Fenetre d’ Arpette at 2665 m . only advisable in very good weather.   The weather forecast was bleak for the next day.   I was not to be put off though I really wanted to go .  They looked slightly concerned as the descent down would be dangerous in bad weather.   We agreed to meet at 8am to reassess weather conditions and if ok we would go up together for safety .  I felt happier about this. After a pint  and a bag of crisps I scuttled back up the hill to my gorgeous cosy dinner … Oh special mention here!    I savoured every delicious mouthful as it was making a good run at nudging that omelette out for top honours .    Off to bed for a quiet sleep , clean and content.    My grateful feet, one more grateful  thought to Elena,  and gratefully falling asleep in sheets and not twisted like a chrysalis in my sleeping bag liner.    A lovely way to end this day .