who saw themselves as ‘centrists’ and those who claimed to be ‘ex-centrists’. The first class of mountaineer based himself in Grindelwald, Chamonix or Zermatt, say, and from there struck out to climb the local peaks, after which he would always return to the same valley hotel. The ‘ex-centrist’ on the other hand (and first-rate examples of this class were F. F. Tuckett and Martin Conway), would travel from one region to the other across passes and glaciers on their way to climb. The same could be said today of the mountain walker. One walker chooses a particular valley base and goes out day by day to wander the local trails, the other fills his rucksack and sets out from hut to hut or camp to camp on a tour lasting anything from a few days to a month or more. There’s much to be said in favour of both methods of approach, and lucky the man who has the opportunity to enjoy each one! In this book I’ve taken account of both the ‘centrist’ and ‘ex-centrist’ point of view, for the Alps are big enough to encompass both, and to reward in generous fashion.
An attempt has been made to define the topography of each Alpine group in turn, for in order to work out a tour of any region it is first necessary to understand what features will confuse the onward route. Major valleys and their feeder glens are looked at with an eye to spending a day or so enjoying their tarns, ridges, meadows and distant views. Where huts exist these are often mentioned as an overnight base or as the goal for a walk which returns to the valley at the end of the day. Later, when multi-day tours are considered, these huts will often form the only lodgings. Mostly I have avoided routes that stray onto crevassed glaciers, the assumption being made here that equipment such as ice-axe, rope and crampons will not automatically be carried on a walking holiday. Some of the summits visited by Walker are similarly dismissed from this present book for much the same reason, although I have included certain peaks that demand little more technical skill than would be required to gain modest summits in lesser ranges. I have also outlined one glacier tour in the Bernese Alps as a sample illustration of the delights to be had in such travel – once the necessary skills have been acquired and equipment carried.
As suggested at the beginning of this Introduction, the mountaineer’s library is a rich one, and following Walker’s lead I have chosen to quote here and there passages that to me sum up the essence of most districts under review. The reason for this is twofold. Firstly we can hold a mirror to the Alps known by those who preceded us, and learn from their experience. And secondly by so doing I hope to introduce newcomers to the Alps to writers of the past, for they have much to offer. At the end of each chapter I’ve given a list of books from which further enjoyment may be gained.
The Alps of course is a vast subject, and the more we walk and the more we read, so the chain seems to grow in extent; but as was once pointed out by R. L. G. Irving, its very size increases the possibility of my having added something new to those whose experience of the range is greater than my own. With each valley traversed and each successive pass gained, so I become more aware of how much there is yet to see – such are human limitations in a world so full of scenic goodness. I cannot claim to have explored every corner of these mountains whilst undertaking research for this book; nor is one lifetime sufficient to do more than scratch the surface. But it has been an immensely satisfying project, built on the back of dozens of active seasons stretching back to the mid-sixties. What a marvellous excuse to revisit mountains and valleys first wandered decades ago! And what an opportunity to explore other parts of the Alps that I’d never managed to see before! Yet still there remain enough tours untrod to last another three lifetimes ...
In this book I make no claim to match Walker’s erudition, only his enthusiasm for these peaks, passes and valleys. His was the initial inspiration. May this present volume serve to inspire you to dream, and then lead you among the mountains where I fervently hope you will harvest as much pleasure as I have gained whilst walking in the Alps.
The Lötschental, near Eisen in the Bernese Alps (Chapter 6)
Chapter 1
THE MARITIME ALPS
There is a wild sense of remoteness about the southernmost group of the Alpine chain that belies its proximity to the Mediterranean. In little more than an hour’s drive from the hotels and palm trees of Nice, for example, it is possible to be wandering through uninhabited valleys as rough and rocky as any in Europe, where the skyline is stark and uncompromising and where trails can so easily vanish in a low drifting mist.
Moulded against the grain the Maritime Alps spread across the general alignment later developed by the South-West Alps, their configuration here running from north-west to south-east and with the Franco-Italian border being such as to tilt the French side toward the south, thus providing Riviera resorts with a protective wall. Hot air drifts up from the Mediterranean to be confronted now and then by cooler airstreams flowing south from snow peaks of Dauphiné. Where the two meet frequent thunderstorms occur, and as the first of the loftier mountains, Mont Bégo (2872m) in the Merveilles attracts more than its fair share. Being a ferritic peak lightning strikes are commonplace, and it is this high incidence of lightning activity that is put forward as one possible theory to explain the huge number of Bronze Age rock engravings discovered nearby – the engravers being intent on placating the mountain gods.
By comparison with ranges farther north, the Maritime are not high mountains, for none of the summits reaches 3500 metres – the highest being Punta (or Cima) dell’Argentera at 3297 metres. The lower valleys are sub-tropical, the upper regions a wilderness of stone. There are no glaciers of any extent, snowfields are relatively insignificant and many of the more notable peaks are accessible to walkers with some mountain experience, without calling on technical climbing skills. Yet the Maritime Alps are truly Alpine for all that, with numerous jade-green tarns, great screes and boulder-choked corries, and spiky, rugged little rock peaks that not only provide sport for the climber drawn by the promise of a favourable climate and the odd day spent festering by the sea, but also create a backcloth of considerable charm to a wilderness camp adopted by the walker seeking somewhere a little different, a rarely-publicised region (outside of France, that is) that is not without its challenge.
The Vallée des Merveilles is a wonderland of rock and water
The group is a geological hotch-potch. In places limestone dominates. Elsewhere gneiss, sandstone, metamorphic schist and outcrops of granite form the base materials of which the mountains are composed. Of wildlife chamois are the most numerous and on the Italian flank alone there are estimated to be somewhere in the region of 3500 individuals. The Italian Alpi Marittime also claims some 650 ibex, thanks to a programme of reintroduction from the Gran Paradiso area that began in 1920. Alpine marmots abound, and under the protection of the Mercantour National Park, mouflons – a form of wild mountain sheep – have been introduced from Corsica. Wild boar and wolf, now rare in most other regions of the Alps, are said still to inhabit some of the lower valleys on the Italian side of the border, while the birdlife is also rich and varied. But it is the flora of the region that is so outstanding. The three small reserves of Argentera, Palanfré and Alta Valle Pèsio claim more than 3000 species of plants, many of which are extremely rare, while the Mercantour heartland contains half the native flowers of France, and around 40 that are unique to the area.
The official designation of the range gives Col de Tende as its south-eastern limit and Col de Larche forming the northern link with the Cottian Alps. In truth, however, the mountains extend eastward from Col de Tende as the Ligurian Alps, a definition not always recognised on maps of the area, and dismissed by Coolidge (whose classification of the Alpine chain in the 19th century largely stands today) for their lack of Alpine characteristics. The heart of the range contains the highest summits and probably the best walking opportunities, and is neatly concentrated on the adjoining Parco Naturale
