Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Le Reculet (No 2)

Le Reculet, the second highest peak in the Jura, has been calling me ever since I started this "Seven Summits" project at the start of the year. It's now late July,  mid-summer, with the longest days of the year and lots of beautiful sunny weather. Surely this all adds up to another day's hiking in the Jura with nowhere better to go than to the top of le Reculet - number two on my list. Lis and I had been within easy reach of this summit just a couple of months ago (in May), when we climbed to the top of Crêt de la Neige (about a kilometre to the north), but had decided to "save" le Reculet for a dedicated hike of its own.

As we did for Crêt de la Neige, we drove from our home in St George to Geneva, then up to and through the little village of Thoiry. From there, we finished the motorized portion of our journey along a badly-weathered, pot-holed and crumbling, old bitumen road that ran through les Hauts de Thoiry to Tiocan, where (at 11.15) we left the car and commenced our latest Jura walking adventure. Tiocan, which only comprises a single restaurant/dwelling, is at 860 metres, which meant we had about 1,000 metres to gain in altitude and thus some steep climbing to do today (le Reculet is 1718m).

Tiocan's only building - the restaurant.

While we'd taken the steep, but shady forest trail (which starts just to the left of the restaurant) for our trek to Crêt de la Neige, this time we walked up the road to the right of the restaurant for about a hundred metres before turning left onto a dirt forestry road that zig-zagged its way up the mountainside.

 Heading up the forest road towards the first breakaway.

After about half an hour of very steep walking we arrived at le Croisée, where there are two options for getting to le Reculet. We'd gone to the right last time, so this time decided to take the more rugged path to the left, via the Narderan refuge. (Strangely, it was labelled "Narderans" on the trail signs, and "Narderant" on our maps. Yet, at the refuge itself, which we reached about half an hour later, it has an old sign calling itself Narderan. I'm going with the sign on the refuge.)

Lis checking the map at le Croisée.

The trail from le Croisée up to Narderan was just lovely, with some good rugged scrambling at places and lots of ledges where one could stop and catch their breath and take in the amazing views over the plains of Geneva, the city and the mountains beyond. There was some cloud blocking-out parts of the Alps, but occasionally we got good views of Mont Blanc, which for much of the day was sporting a quiff of cloud blowing from its summit towards the north.

Heading up the trail between le Croisée and Narderan.

Trail stop near Narderan to take photos of Geneva and Alps.

Mont Blanc and its cloudy quiff.

We took a short break at the Narderan trail-sign (at 1330m) - to catch our breath and prepare for the second hour of slogging our way up the mountainside towards the summit.

 Lis at the Narderan trail sign.

The next section of the trail was up the right hand side of the beautiful valley that encircles Narderan, with alpine meadows spreading across its floor up the bare rock cliff-faces that circled the valley. We stopped for awhile to watch a couple of chamois lazing in the shade at the foot of one of the cliff-faces, then headed-on up the steep and rocky path that wound its way through boulder fields towards a huge breakaway and its characteristic lower scree slope.

 On the trail above Narderan.

The path eventually took us right under the cliffs, where once again we had magnificent views over the valley below us, and the plains of Geneva and the Alps beyond.

Lis looking down towards the Narderan refuge and Geneva.

Heading-up towards the ridgeline near le Reculet.

A few minutes later we crested the ridgeline, and got our first glimpse of le Reculet with its distinctive landmark iron cross at its summit. Fifteen minutes later (at about 1.30) we were sitting right alongside the crucifix, taking-in one of the best views either of us have ever seen. We dropped-down on some grass among the rocks and enjoyed our well-earned trail lunch, which we washed down with a couple of cups of nice hot tea.

Lis under the iron cross on le Reculet.

Le Reculet (1717.7 metres) is the second highest peak in the Jura. For many years it was thought to be the highest summit, until, as part of a re-survey by IGN France in 2003 and 2004, it was found to be just a couple of metres lower than its northerly neighbour Crêt de la Neige (1720.4m). (You can read all about that controversy on the Cret de la Neige blog - No 1.)

The summit of le Reculet with its distinctive iron cross.

The word "reculet" means a remote or isolated area, so the mountain name refers to it being a secluded, isolated mountain top, far from anywhere else. It's located in the Haute Chaine, the easternmost and highest chain of the French Jura. In the human landscape, it is situated in the Pays de Gex (Département de l'Ain), about 18 kilometres west northwest of Geneva.

 Looking over the Valserine valley towards the western French Jura.

The views from the summit are brilliant. To the west, the ridgeline drops away sharply to the Pays des Gex and Geneva. To the west is the deep, dark and intriguing valley of Valserine and the smaller ridgelines of the French Jura diminishing and disappearing into the distance. To the north rules le Crêt de la Neige, while looking south reveals a string of peaks that stretch all the way to the Grand Crêt d'Eau and its beckoning five summits.

Looking north over the col of Sur Thoiry (1680m) towards Crêt de la Neige.

Looking south towards Roche Franche and Crêt de la Grotte,
and (in the far distance) Grand Crêt d'Eau.

If you're interested in the geology, according to our friends at Wikipedia:

"In terms of geological structure it is an anticline of the Jura folds, where the rock layers at the time of Jura folding in the late Miocene and Pliocene were pushed further west on the underlying sediments. The anticline is broad at the root of some 5km and is oriented in the strike direction of the Jura mountain chains in this section in the direction SSW-NNE. The bedrock of the material comes from Reculet marine sediments of the upper Jurassic period (in the combe area occur mainly dolomitic limestones of the Port Landien, the limestone beds of Kimmeridgien and Sequanien) and the Cretaceous (mainly at the foot of the slope)."

The anticline of le Reculet.

The other really interesting thing about le Reculet is its distinctive iron cross. This piece of art was forged/sculpted by a blacksmith from Thoiry, named Francois Nallet, and subsequently carried up to the summit on the backs of four men: Louis Girod, Aimé Fusier, Auguste Girod and Faustin Antonioli - in 1892. In 1992, on the 16oth anniversary of this amazing effort, a plaque was mounted on the side of the cross to commemorate their heroic mission, with a quote saying "History is a great present, and not just a past."

The plaque on the iron cross of Let Reculet.

I'm not sure which piece of history the quote is referring to: the Herculean effort of the four bearers, or the battle between Catholicism and Protestantism - for which the cross was built and erected. Apparently (or so the story goes), the cross was built and brought up here by local Catholics as a sign of defiance against Protestants and to strengthen Catholicism in the Pays de Gex where the local population had for too many years been suffering from the religious wars which raged Europe in the Middle Ages.

 It's got me beat how four men carried this up the mountainside.
They must have been made of tough stuff.

Folks have been around here "forever", although one of the earliest records of settlement dates back to "just" 1340 - when the Count of Savoy granted land in the mountains above Thoiry for cattle pasturage. In 1410, a farmer named Narderan took-up the pastures of Thoiry, Thoiry Devant and Thoiry Derrière, with the latter two still functioning as established mountain farms - providing a base for summer pasturage.

We finished our lunch, then pulled-out our binoculars and watched chamois cavort in the pine trees below us. After sharing a celebratory nip of French brandy, we lay back in the sunshine and thought "life is good" kinda thoughts.

Feeling on top of the world at le Reculet.

At about 2.30pm, three hours after we'd left Tiocan, we re-shouldered our packs and got ready for the rest of our adventure - heading south along the Jura's highest ridgeline towards our next destination - Roche Franche (one of three peaks that I'd planned to knock-off today). We stopped for one last look at le Reculet, then hit the trail.

Our last close-up look at the summit of le Reculet.

Within half an hour, we were standing on the edge of the world, looking-out over a huge rock-strewn breakaway called Roche Franche. It gets its name from the Medieval Latin and Gallic word rocca, which (not surprisingly) means "rock".

 Lis looking out over the Roche Franche breakaway.

This amazing gouge in the landscape lies to the west of the main ridgeline and, although where we were standing is not marked on the maps as such, it is known by many to be the summit of Roche Franche, which at 1692 metres, is the fourth highest point in the entire Jura. I pulled-out the Swiss flag (as I do) to commemorate the occasion, then took lots of photos in every direction, spell-bound by this amazing landscape.

Waving the flag at Roche Franche, with le Reculet in the background.

 Lis looking out over Roche Franche and the Val de Valserine.

 Looking southwest over the Val de Valserine towards the western Jura.

 Looking south, with Crêt de la Grotte on the left and Grand Crêt d'Eau on the horizon.

 Lis enjoying the views from the top of Roche Franche.

 A final view from Roche Franche before heading 
to Crêt de la Grotte (in the centre of this picture).

 Although we could have spent hours enjoying the magnificent views from Roche Franche, time was getting on, and we still had a few K's to kill before our day was over. So we headed further south along the ridgeline towards Crêt de la Grotte, stopping only occasionally to admire the views and take photographs (of just about everything).

A bumblebee in pollen heaven on a thistle flower.

It didn't take long to reach the summit of our final peak for the day: la Crêt de la Grotte. We scrambled over the rocks and up a small cliff to the top, and once again were spellbound by the views. What a place! La Crêt de la Grotte is also called "la Grotte" or "la Marie du Jura". It's full name is actually "la Crêt de la Grotte de la Marie du Jura", and at 1644 metres, is the ninth highest peak in the entire mountain range. The name is derived from old Latin crestum, old French creste, and modern French crête, meaning crest, summit or ridge-top; grotte, meaning a cave, and Marie, from Mary - the Madonna, the virgin, the mother of Jesus - about whom much has been attributed.

Lis at the top of Crêt de la Grotte, with la Pierre de la Lune (1505m) 
and Grand Crêt d'Eau in the background.

 Looking back towards the summit of Roche Franche (top right).

Lis snapped the obligatory "Richard being silly at the summit" photo, then we scrambled back down the outcrop to check-out the "Grotte" after which this mountain-top was named.

Super-Rich on top of the Jura.

Most people who come up here never actually climb to the summit. They only come here to see the fabled cave below the cliffs called the "la Grotte de la Marie du Jura". It's about 100 metres further along the trail that we'd left to climb the summit - on the western side of the mountain crest. We carefully made our way along this skinny, at times precarious trail, with our eyes glued to the path. Once again, and only when we were able to stop and look up, the views were to die for (if you'll excuse the pun).

Lis on the trail below la Crêt de la Grotte summit cliff-face, 
heading towards "la Grotte de la Marie du Jura".

The cave is only about three metres deep, wide and high, but is distinctive due a small statue of the Madonna, cemented into a cavity above a small cross at the back of the cave. Elsewhere around the walls is a scattering of candles and flowers left here by visitors. Apparently there is also a small plaque somewhere inside the cave commemorating the life of a small child who fell from the rocks nearby.

 Outside the entrance to la Grotte de la Marie du Jura.

 The statue of the virgin mother inside the cave.

There's an ancient inscription on a rock at the entrance which says that the cave was occupied by a hermit named "la Marie du Jura" in the early 13th century, hence its fame. Unfortunately the story of the hermit was a hoax - perpetrated by local farmers in the 18th century "to mock the church". We admired the view for awhile, then, with our mission accomplished (three of the highest 10 Jura summits bagged in one day), we started on our way back down the mountain.

 Looking back at Crêt de la Grotte. 
The cave is just at the foot of the cliff-face below the summit.

 Our last view of the ridgeline, looking south towards la Pierre de la Lune (1505m).

Now if had been mid-winter, and we were on snow shoes, this would have been easy, as there is no direct trail back down the mountain from Crêt de la Grotte and we could have simply walked straight towards our next landmark - the mountain farm of la Chaz (la Chax on some maps). We could see it below us, but across some pretty rough and rugged rocky terrain. So we followed the ridgeline trail a little further to the south, before leaving it and heading east - cross-country along the contour - hoping to intersect a trail somewhere down below us that we could see marked on the map. It took a long time for the track to materialize, and even then it wasn't much of a track. Obviously, other than the local cattle and the occasional chamois (one of which we disturbed in the shade under a cliff face), not too many living creatures come along this way. We saw a mob of cows with some amazing horses at la Chaz, but that was about all. Certainly no other walkers.

 La Chaz farmhouse.

Eventually we reached la Chaz, following which a little more cross-country "bush bashing" got us onto a more definite trail that dropped down below the treeline and led to the Narderan refuge. Boy, were we glad to reach there. By now, we'd  been walking for about six hours, were low on water, and worn-out from our recent hilly and hummocky cross-country excursion.

Heading down towards Narderan.

 Lis approaching the Narderan refuge (1337m).

We collapsed on the grass in the shade of the cabine, and re-fuelled with a sip of water and a handful of fruit and nut trail mix. I wandered around and took a few photographs, and then we headed-off down the mountainside towards Tiocan.

Plaque on the wall of Narderan recounting how the "Friends of the Mountain" 
renovated the refuge in 1977.

One last look at the beautiful valley above Narderan.

Lis in a narrow gorge with the end - Tiocan 
(and Thoiry, in the background) not far below us.

Less than an hour after leaving Narderan, we arrived back at Tiocan and a welcome stash of fresh water that we'd left in the car. It was about 6pm, almost seven hours after we'd set-out that morning. But, once again, it had been a great day's trekking in the Jura; with three peaks bagged, about seven hours blissfully consumed, about 16 kilometres walked, about a thousand "oohs" ahhed, and a million memories made. You've got to love the Jura. Cue smile.

Trail sign at Tiocan.

Jura peaks bagged:
  • Le Reculet (No. 2) 1718m
  • Roche Franche (No. 4) 1692m
  • Crêt de la Grotte (No. 9) 1644m

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Crêt de Mondisé (No 39)

 Standing on the top of Crêt de Mondisé.

Crêt de Mondisé is another "collectors' peak" ... only for the truly compulsive obsessives who are out to climb to the top of every obscure, seldom-summited mountaintop in the Jura. It's well off the beaten track, unmarked, and usually only climbed by people chasing a snowshoe outing from adjacent roads, by lost people, or by cows. There is no giant cross at the top, in fact no landmark to recognize its "lofty" 1525 metre summit, although there is an impressive old dry stone wall ... and a lovely patch of grass where the compulsive obsessives can lie back in the sun, bask on the glory of scaling mountaintops, and enjoy a flask of tea and a handful of trail mix.

The word "crêt" originates from the Latin word crestum and old French word creste, meaning "crest", but is usually applied to the tops of hills and ridges, and even small plateaux. Crêt de Mondisé is all three of these. Luckily the stone wall that ran up and over the mountaintop added some kind of feature to its rather nondescript summit.

Lis alongside the stone wall we followed to the crest of Mondisé.

Breath-taking or not, it was a fantastic day for a walk in the Jura, so we had a good time tramping through the forest to and from today's destination.

The day had started with one of those magnificent Jura thunderstorms, with thunder and lightning and torrential rain hammering on the roof of our house in St George. I thought "there is no way we'll be going hiking today". The early-morning tempest reminded me of the graphic descriptions of storms over the Jura written by Lord Byron and other writers. In his epic 1812 poem Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, in which he devoted six verses to a storm that raged over Lac Léman between the Jura and the Alps, he wrote:

"The sky is changed! ... and such a change! Oh night,
And storm, and Darkness, ye are wonderous strong,
Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light
Of a dark eye in Woman! Far along,
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among
Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud,
But every mountain now hath found a tongue,
And Jura answers, through her misty shroud,
Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!

Inspired by both Lord Byron and the Jura, Mary Shelley also weaved a Jura storm into her epic tale "Frankenstein", which was largely set in Geneva:

"... we witnessed a most violent and terrible thunderstorm. It advanced from behind the mountains of the Jura; and the thunder burst at once with frightful loudness from various quarters of the  heavens. I remained, while the storm lasted, watching its progress with curiosity and delight."

I had done the same from our living room this very morning, and yet by 1pm the storm had disappeared, the clouds had broken-up, the rain had stopped, and the sun promised to make this afternoon a delightful one for sofa-bound mountain trekkers.

Thus it was in glorious sunshine that we left the car parked at the lower car-park of the Col de Marchairuz (at 1447m), at the top of the mountain pass above St George, and headed off into the Jura forest on a skinny "goat-track" trail.

The auberge at the Col de Marchairuz. 
The skies wavering between grey clouds and patches of blue.

The first thing that registered strongly about this walk was the wildflowers, and, by the end of the day, it was also the last thing. They were absolutely spectacular, especially when captured in the patches of brilliant sunshine that interspersed the dark periods brought on by scudding grey clouds.

Lis in a patch of classic white-petalled, yellow-centred daisies.

We headed northwest, following the trail that (according to the signpost at Col De Marchairuz, would take us towards La Fiorausax and Bière. That sounded about right, but I wasn't too worried, being armed with two topographic maps of this region, plus a new Garmin Dakota 20 GPS. Being lost, or as I prefer to say: being "temporarily uncertain of my position", in the Jura Mountains was now a thing of the past. The trail meandered its way just south of Mont de Bière Devant (1520m), then onto a forest road that zig-zagged its way  down an escarpment through the Bois de la Sauge (which kind of means a patch of forest which is wet enough for willows to grow). The highlight of this trek down through the forest was spotting a red deer grazing in the undergrowth. That was very cool.

Never a big fan of going downhill when you know you're trying to reach somewhere uphill, I was relieved when we finally bottomed-out in the valley at crossroads near a farmhouse called La Foirausax (1337m). I photographed the signpost to record the moment, then we turned north and headed towards Crêt de Mondisé.

I love these trail signs. Maybe it's the yellow?

We soon after passed by the La Foirausax farmhouse, where I paused just long enough to get a photograph of the mountain home with Mont de Bière Devant (which I climbed on a wild, snowy, winter's day in January) in the background.

La Foirausax, with Mont de Bière Devant in the background.

Another view of La Foirausax and Mont de Bière Devant.

A little further down the road, which was by now heading back uphill onto the small La Correntine ridgeline, we turned off the regular walking trail, and headed into the alpine pasturage of La Correntine, another Jura Mountain farm. Soon after we had passed through the front gate, we sought-out an ancient stone wall just to our west - which the topographic map showed would lead us all the way to the top of Crêt de Mondisé - which is exactly what it did.

We followed the wall, weaving our way through the lovely firs and non-lovely cowpats, up hill and down dale, until we'd passed the La Correntine homestead (1439m), and a small ski chalet which was right up against our stone wall path. We waved, and bid our "bonjours" to the surprised family who were enjoying its solitude (until we turned-up of course), and then pushed-on towards the crest of the hill in front of us. At about 3pm, two hours after we'd left the car-park at Col de Marchairuz, we stood at the previously mentioned inauspicious summit. The origins of the name of the summit is uncertain, but is believed to have been derived from the Celtic words des, das, desi - which means a hill or hillock.

Nondescript it might be, but it was our destination, our summit, and it called for a celebratory photograph, cup of tea and lying-back-in-the-grass-sense-of-satisfaction. The sun streamed over the countryside and life was good. Surrounded by huge fir trees, the views of the surrounding countryside were glimpses at best. The town of Bière lay somewhere just to our south-southeast, and Mont Tendre to our north.

Ricardo, un wannabe nouveau homme de Suisse, 
in the Crêt de Mondisé summit herbfield.

We sat back for awhile, drank some tea, chewed some trail mix, enjoyed the scenery, and checked the maps for our route back to the car. It wasn't obvious. We left the summit at about 1.30pm, headed north for just a hundred metres or thereabouts, until we intersected another old dry stone wall (heading west) which we followed. We plunged into some rugged, stony undergrowth adjacent to this wall, but it took us where we wanted to go - down the west side of the Crêt into the combe of Pre de St Livres and its "Petit Pre".

 Getting directions from one of the locals.

From there we "took the road less travelled", and plunged into the forest on an absolute goat track that led into Creux d'Enfer de Petit Cunay. "Creux" means a hollow, and "enfer" means a narrow and deep valley, a mountain gully. It comes from the Latin word infernus which means "from below". It also means "Hell", which was probably more apt, given the number of sinkholes, rugged karst formations, and the general tough-going the trail provided, as we made our way back up the main escarpment towards the trail that would take us back to the Col du Marchairuz. This part of the Jura is well-known for its numerous caves, including the largest in Switzerland, most of which are hidden behind the Jura's veils of forest, mist, clouds and snow. There are two of these in this area - the Glacier de Creux d'Enfer and the Glacière de St-Livres - both of which are sinkholes with permanent ice. There are a few of these underground glaciers in the Jura, surrounded by a landscape of jumbled limestone, moss-covered rocks, fissures and sinkholes. The caves are very popular with cavers. Not surprisingly, we were careful to watch where you're putting your feet as we scrambled through the dark and dank grottos and hollows. Somewhat "hellish" it might have been in a couple of places, it was also spectacularly fully decked with summer wildflowers wherever the forest canopy was sufficiently peeled-back to let the sunlight penetrate and the herbfields predominate.

Lis in a wildflower bed adjacent to the trail 
just above Creux d'Enfer du Petit Cunay.

The "Petit Cunay" part of this story pertains to the nearby farm of the same name. Confusingly, there's a nearby peak called Grand Cunay (which we climbed on the Mont Tendre hike in January), but there is no actual "Petit Cunay" summit. The Petit Cunay farmhouse is located at 1522m, directly east of Grand Cunay and west of Crêt de Mondisé, (i.e., right between the two). Just to the east of the farmhouse is a small hilltop (1548m), but it's not called the "Petit Cunay", it's unnamed. Similarly, the location on the trail between Col du Marchairuz and Mont Tendre where the Cabane du Cunay is located is also called "Petit Cunay" ... but there's no summit there either.

Despite my best efforts to find something that might resemble this phantom, "missing" peak; right on cue, at about 1550 metres, we came across the forest trail that would take us to the top of the ridgeline near the Cabane du Cunay. The cabane is a Club Alpine Suisse refuge hut - located at 1588 metres, on the main Col du Marchairuz to Mont Tendre Jura Crest Trail. We've passed by here a few times now - on previous Mont Tendre treks - but I still dropped-in to take a couple of photographs from its magnificent front deck vantage point.

The Cabane du Cunay mountain hut (1588m).

A view through the forest towards the crest of Crêt de Mondisé.

The Petit Cunay farmhouse (on the right, through the trees), 
with the adjacent unnamed 1548m summit to its east (on the left).

Out the front of the Cabane du Canay mountain refuge.

The hilltop behind the cabane was looking a bit like a construction site - which it was - as the federal government had recently commenced work on the new telecommunications tower they're building on the peak behind the cabane (following the widespread rejection of their previous idea to build it at the top of Mont Tendre). There's already an aerial at the top of this peak, so another, bigger one, won't be such a problem as a totally new eye-sore on Mont Tendre.

For the first time today, we began to encounter other hikers, most of whom appeared to be outbound - heading northwest towards Mont Tendre. We were going in the opposite direction - "inbound" - southeast towards the Col du Marchairuz.

 Lis on the trail home with the summit of Grand Cunay (1603m) in the background.

 Approaching the Cabane du Grand Cunay.

We passed through familiar country - past the Cabane du Grand Cunay (behind which, the highest point - just above the cabane which is at 1567m - was occupied by a mob of obviously scenery-appreciative mountain cows). Our next landmark was the Mont de Bière Derrière homestead (1520m) - where the resident family teased us with a smoky fire and its accompanying delicious aroma of barbecued boeuf, and the clink-clinking sound of beer bottles.

The Monts de Bière Derrière homestead and some unbarbecued boeuf.

A short stretch of undulating, sometimes "squidgy" underfoot, forest trail through the Bois du Marchairuz (fittingly, Marchairuz means a place where there are marshes or swampy ground) soon delivered us to the end of the trail, and we emerged from the forest at the hotel and restaurant at the top of the Col du Marchairuz. The huge puddles we'd been negotiating our way around on the trail were the legacy of last night's thunderstorm.

 The end of the trail. The Col du Marchairuz.

It was now 5.30pm, four-and-a-half hours after we'd set out. It hadn't been a long walk, maybe 15 kilometres, but it had quite a bit of "off-road" trail-blazing - which sucked-up the minutes and left our legs feeling more weary than they should have. Despite the aches and pains, it had been another fab trek through the Jura. I'll leave the last words about the grandeur of the place to the famous English poet Percy Shelley and his poem "On the dark height of Jura":

"Ghosts of the dead! I not heard your yelling
Rise on the night-rolling breath of the blast,
When o'er the dark aether the tempest is swelling,
And on eddying whirlwind the thunder-peal passed?

For oft have I stood on the dark height of Jura,
Which frowns on the valley that opens beneath;
Oft have I braved the chill night-tempest's fury,
Whilst around me, I thought, echoed murmurs of death.

And now, whilst the winds of the mountain are howling,
O father! Thy voice seems to strike on mine ear;
In air whilst the tide of the night-storm is rolling,
It breaks on the pause of the elements' jar.

On the wing of the whirlwind which roars o'er the mountain
Perhaps rides the ghost of my sire who is dead:
On the mist of the tempest which hangs o'er the fountain,
Whilst a wreath of dark vapour encircles his head."

The logo of the Club Alpine Suisse at the Cabane du Cunay.

Jura peaks bagged:

  • Crêt de Mondisé (No. 39) 1525m.