St. Martin Vesubie -> Boréon – the small word “demanding”

8. June 2025

 

 

8,4 km

950 m up

420 m down

5 hrs.

 

That’s what Mapy told me about that day. Another description spoke of an hour less and almost 100 meters less elevation gain. In any case, it seemed quite doable to me. Despite a journey of over two hours from Menton, which in itself was absolutely spectacular. An incredible mountain landscape with countless curves carved into it. The car wound its way up via Sospel to the Col de Turini – and back down the other side. There, we encountered lots of “Tour de France” signs and, overall, almost more people pedaling than cars. Dad and I were amazed. And then we arrived in the nice-looking, larger village of St. Martin de Vesubié. We found a place to stop for me to start – and off I went!

 

 

I overtook a couple who looked like they’d just started for a day hike, never saw them again, and wound my way up in switchbacks. Luckily, it was well-wooded and shady. And yet I was sweating like crazy. That was a lot of climbing! It was sunny all day, although not entirely clear, which certainly produced even more sweat. It was nice, but it didn’t look particularly spectacular (yet). So I didn’t take many photos. Sometimes the path touched a gravel track, sometimes it was wider forest roads, but mostly it was a nice, fairly steep path with tree roots and stones, climbing ever higher. There was hardly anyone else around; I just remember a mountain runner who was hoping to find a water source soon.

 

 

 

 

And then, at some point, I was at the top! A lovely clearing, a picnic bench, a locked hut, and a bit of a view. Collet de Cotignot. Just in time for lunch. And then another person arrived: an American with French roots. He was only there for a day trip, though, and wanted to take the same route back down.

 

 

 

It remained mostly shady, and I didn’t have much more elevation to hike (except for the final descent). But—phew—I had understated the “more demandinging sections” from the description.

 

A very narrow path, often only a foot wide, led along a fairly steep slope. One misstep and you’re flying. Or tumbling. And apparently no one was taking that path. In any case, from here on, I didn’t see any more people and thought: Wow, this is more challenging than I expected (for the first day). I carefully placed one foot in front of the other, concentrating, and made slow progress. No more listening to podcasts. No more motivational music. Just tense, attentive staring at the ground. And almost no pictures.

 

 

 

And the goal just wouldn’t come any closer. Trees, clinging mountain plants, stones, and gentle ups and downs. I started to struggle. And at some point, much later than expected, the few small houses of Boréon came into view. And I was happy. It was still quite a way down, but then I was finally there. Boréon also has a lake, and I thought: how pretty. But no luck! There had been major landslides and flooding in the mountains, so it was more like a major construction site.

 

 

 

Around the corner was the Gite d’Etappe de Boréon. It seemed fairly new, was run by three people, was quite busy, and had shared rooms. And a shower! Nice with warm water! I was also drenched in sweat, so this was a real treat. I always booked dinner, and that’s always a big thing at all huts in France: starter (here, salad, others had soup), main course (here: lasagne), cheese with bread, and dessert (here: crème brûlée). I sat at a table with one group of four and one group of three people, and no one spoke English. It seemed to me that none of the other guests spoke English either. And so I felt a little lonely (no one else was traveling alone, either). My French is enough for rudimentary communication, but not for conversation, especially with several people.

 

 

Nevertheless, I was quite content and slumbered eagerly anticipating the next day. Would I remain lonely?