Refuge de Nice -> M171 – Unforeseen difficulties with a Mobile

12. June 2025

 

 

When this view greets you when you look out the window in the morning, it’s a joy! I had a plan: I would descend and have Dad pick me up a day earlier. And I would go to the nearest lake beforehand, so I could see a bit more of the scenery. The option of pushing myself to my limits again on my own, or taking a strenuous route down, back up, and back down the same route the next day, somehow didn’t seem that appealing to me. And in retrospect, it was actually a good idea to arrive back a day early, as there was still plenty to do with Dad in Menton.

 

However, the plan didn’t work out as planned…

 

It started off great; I had breakfast and then climbed up from the hut with just my camera. It’s in a really great location.

 

 

 

It was a totally beautiful landscape with rocks, rivers, flowers, mini lakes, more chamois, etc.

 

 

 

Behind a small hill by a river, I spotted a tent. Camping is allowed here in the national park—and there are plenty of opportunities to do so. It was a father with his small child, and it seemed absolutely beautiful. I would have loved to have had that as a child!

 

 

 

However, I quickly reached my limits. I find river crossings even worse than climbing sections. With poles and shoes off (and river shoes on), I usually manage somehow – or even better: someone holds my hand while I jump. But nothing was there. Or rather, the hand support was there, but I would have had to go back anyway. I looked for another option but couldn’t find one. I thought to myself: maybe I’ll come back here again. But then with someone else!

 

 

 

Instead, I used the time to sit on a rock and enjoyed being there.

 

 

 

 

 

Then I picked up my backpack from the hut and started down. It took a while until I got mobile connection, but then I was able to call Dad. He doesn’t have a smartphone (just an old cell phone), so he doesn’t have super navigation, messenger, or anything like that. I was able to name a place he found on the map, and when he got there, we’d talk on the phone again to find out exactly where I was. He doesn’t speak French, nor does he speak great English, and he’s also already little deaf—so he often doesn’t understand place names on the phone. And I didn’t know what his road map looked like. Well, it would work out. He wanted to leave at 2:00 PM; it takes about an hour and a half to get there.

 

The lake is a dam, and there I saw some funny animals licking the damp walls again.

 

 

 

From here on, I didn’t take any more photos, but I do have something to tell. It wasn’t as easy as I thought. I arrived back at the parking lot and hiked down the road. It was hot, but for a change, it wasn’t so bad to walk on gently descending asphalt. When I found two or three shady spots, I considered just waiting, but that was too boring. I think this dead-end road is 15 km long – and it was long past lunchtime. However, at some point, I started to get restless. The 1.5 hours had already passed, but there was no call. So I called: his mobile wasn’t reachable. That made me very uneasy! There was good network everywhere here, and I was imagining things. Because Dad is a super reliable person. But an accident was actually unlikely, mobiles often work anyway.

 

I hiked on and on – because I had to go down anyway. Sometimes I wondered if I should hitchhike, but I was afraid I’d miss something. I tried twice more: still no call. Scenarios and alternative plans formed in my head. And then my phone rang with a French number. It was Dad! His phone had somehow died, and it took a while for him to find a place to make a call. Luckily, he knows my number by heart!

 

He was at the tourist information office, and I was supposed to tell the lady where I was. She didn’t really get it. Every kilometer along the road, there was a large sign identifying it as the M171. The lady didn’t seem to know. I didn’t get anywhere with her. Dad wanted to drive to a closer place (he’d actually been there before) and ask people there.

 

I hiked on and on, and my socks were burning! And Dad never came. What was it now? I felt like I was almost at the bottom—and at the end of my strength. Then his car appeared, and we fell into each other’s arms, relieved and happy!

 

 

Nobody knew the M171! Not even the people from where it started! But a hunch guided him in the right direction, and then, after 1 km, those signs that I kept seeing, appeared. It was almost 6:00 PM, and we were both completely exhausted from all the excitement! And then we drove back through the beautiful landscape.

 

Conclusion about the tour: The Mercantour is a truly fantastic hiking area so close to the Mediterranean, with plenty of huts with delicious food, wild rocks—and then all those chamois and ibex! It’s probably quite crowded in July/August. And I’d only hike there with someone else. In any case, I’m very happy I did it—even if it didn’t turn out as planned.