When my friend Meredith saw my Facebook photos of Juan's and my night out on the mountain, recently, she wanted a taste of the same "adventure". So yesterday evening the two of us walked up to Lac Fourchu.
As we walked up onto the plateau at around 8.30pm the sun was going down. So we had to schlep it fast.
As we got near to where Juan and I had slept previously the strap broke on my sandals (the most comfortable option since my toe fracture). Damn. What now. I managed to gnaw a piece of cord off my rucksack and tied the shoes onto my feet. This was getting ridiculous.
After lying out our sleeping gear rather nearer to a bog than we would have liked, we were briefly plunged into darkness. Then there was a glimmer on the horizon - a UFO, perhaps? Or the nearby refuge partying? No. The moon... huge and yellow and almost full. The stars dimmed as the landscape was lit up. Meredith barely needed the head torch to read the book I'd lent her. (We were around 4 hours from her usual bed time and I'd banned her from making any more phone calls. Unfortunately there was reception!)
The wind blew on and off all night and the bivvy bag rustled like crazy. It felt as though sleep would never come. But then the next thing I know is Meredith waking me up at 8.45am and telling me she has a meeting and can we be down at Vaulnaveys by 12.30. Shoot. Luckily (?) I find I've forgotten the matches so we short-circuit the luxury coffee breakfast I'd planned and head down, via the little lake next to Lac Fourchu, and then Fourchu itself.
How I would have loved to linger! I've been here an unprecedented four times this summer. It remains, for me, one of the most beautiful areas in the region. But at least we made it back to base on Meredith's schedule. And the string on my sandal held.
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