#6 My Travel Journal - The wrath of mother nature

A stormy tale with a cautionary warning. Plus our first introduction into off-roading in Europe!

It goes without saying that our chosen method of travel results in added exposure to the elements. We no longer have a cosy camper to retire in when the weather decides to have a bad day. The weather instead has to be endured with our sensitive souls learning to grow accustomed to everything that is thrown at them. We replaced the space and the comfort of the camper van for increased freedom and flexibility. Whereas the van would be challenged with a steep mountain pass, the 4x4 eats up every last bit. It means however that, aside from sleeping, we are pretty much living outside. And what comes with that, is ours to be dealt with.

From torrential rain, gale force winds, freezing cold nights to rising temperatures, we’ve pretty much had it all. And each one requires a different plan of attack. The wind was an unexpected event for us and one we find the hardest to shelter from. And the noise as it batters and blusters against the side of the tent makes for a sleepless night. We tend to park up high, for a number of reasons, mainly because these park ups tend to be quieter, secluded, deep within nature, and can provide a welcome respite from those rising temperatures. But it means our vulnerability to the elements is also heightened.

After leaving Chamonix behind, we headed back over the border into Italy to an area with a number of off-roading drives where you can put your vehicle to the test. We haven’t built such a rig to let it only be driven on normal roads! There were three in total which we would tackle over the course of a few days. We checked the forecast as we always do, it showing a combination of rain, sun, cloud and a thundery shower. Oh the reliability of a mountain forecast! We were pleased to arrive to blue skies and pleasant temperatures, so off we went from the village below to the path which would take us to an altitude of dizzying heights.

The tarmac road soon turned into gravel, with plenty of lumps and bumps to manoeuvre yourself over. We continued to climb, passing a lake and a stream (“Look, what a perfect place to camp out later!”) before stopping for lunch at a refuge en route. We saw a real mix of people from other 4x4 enthusiasts to drivers of camper vans testing their luck on these trying roads, alongside bikers and cyclists and walkers. It’s safe to say that onwards from the refuge we only saw the truly capable vehicles as the road narrowed, presenting you with hairpin bend after hairpin bend, the trail becoming more technical, as we passed over forges, huge rocks and a million more bumps, the twisting turns making my stomach churn. You will be proud to know though, reader, that I did have a go at driving and once I’d relaxed into it, I rather enjoyed it!

Before we knew it, we had reached our destination. At a little over 3000 metres (nearly 10,000 feet) of altitude we were in an otherworldly place, our lungs noticing the thinness of the air, our bare legs reacting to the colder temperatures. The views weren’t stretching for miles due to them being capped by the surrounding mountains, but we’d had our fair share of panoramic views during the drive. And now we had to do it all again in reverse to make it back to the stream to set up camp for the evening.

At the very top!

The camp area wasn’t short of others, with people in 4x4’s, some in tents. We chose a spot next to the stream, a waterfall behind us and a short walk away from the lake. We had no signal so we were unable to check the forecast but the skies were still blue with only a few pesky clouds which we were sure would disperse for the evening. As the evening progressed and I started to make dinner, we noticed the clouds were actually getting bigger, turning grey and slowly easing themselves over the mountains into our direction. With a quick look to my right, I saw a huge cloud had formed over the lake which was also heading our way. We were going to be submerged. But we’d had the same in Switzerland a week ago and despite the dramatic drop in temperature as a result, we had survived.

The rain started.

Spit.

Spit.

Slowly at first. Then a heavier patter started to build. We were dry under the awning, with no wind to whip it up and drive it sideways.

It will blow over.

We’ll ride it out.

We’ll be fine.

Until the rain began to pour; buckets and buckets of water were being thrown from above. We had to get into the roof tent and quick. We packed away what we could, the three of us racing from beneath the awning into the confines of the tent. The next thing we knew, the storm arrived with crashes of thunder so loud I felt it in my chest, flashes of lightning so bright the entire valley illuminated. It all felt too close, too near. And the rain continued to pour to a biblical effect. We were in the middle of a storm cloud with no way out.

I was scared.

Throughout the deafening thunder and the cracking of lightening, we heard another noise which I can only describe as a crashing, of something falling with such might, such presence. I assumed it was the waterfall behind us gushing with the additional water it would have obtained. We were of course none the wiser with neither of us rushing out to inspect. I managed to drift in and out of sleep, aware of my lack of knowing, lack of control, as to what was going on outside. At around midnight we heard voices, cars moving, we peaked out behind our cover to see what we can only describe as some kind of emergency services vehicle. They aimed their flashlight into our area. I wondered what they were looking for? We were safe, we assumed, as they drove on, presumably to check on our neighbours.

Our park up when we arrived…

…the rain clouds approaching.

Morning arrived, the sky had cleared and we were back to those beautiful blue hues. Everything however had a new layer of mud, the ground a pit of sludge and clay. We stayed a while to let everything dry out and to wash those items down we had to abandon. After little sleep, we made coffee and toast, before packing away and heading down to civilian life. As we were doing so, we heard the sounds of helicopters approaching, of those emergency vehicles returning. Had something bad happened? We couldn’t be sure. Then as we set off we were both shocked to see the path on the opposite side of the lake had been completely cut off by a huge mud slide and what struck me the most, was seeing a tent only a foot away from the edge of the mud. Had someone become trapped? Is that why the emergency services were here last night? Was everything ok? Our minds started to race to all the possibilities. And the mud slide sure gave reason to the unexplainable noises we heard in the night.

We reached the outskirts of the town, only to be greeted unexpectedly by the Italian police, asking where we were headed. I explained we were going to the town as we were in need of a supermarket.

“No,” he replied. “The town is closed.”

“Closed? How come?”

“It is closed. You must go another way.”

Not really knowing how to respond, we drove to the side of the road to figure out our next move. After a swift Google of the town, we couldn’t believe what we found.

We had been in the storm at altitude, the storm which had caused a landslide which had devastated the town below it. That explains the commotion last night and this morning. And of course, the noise. I wasn’t quite sure what to think. The emergency services had to rescue people who were trapped in a campervan that had been swept up. People were missing. People had to move out of their homes. My mind brought back the image of the tent we had seen, such a near miss from the slide of mud. You get caught in that, you’re dead.

It made me think how vulnerable we are to the wrath of mother nature. How we put ourselves in these situations, unaware of the real-life consequences that can occur. How one little decision could change your life. We could have made a different decision. We could have parked by the lake. Every little decision we make has an impact on the rest of our lives. Some of us choose to live more precariously, to make riskier decisions. I’m aware that anything can happen in the mountains, that conditions can change in an instant. But I would never expect to be a part of what happened that night. I’ve never felt at risk whilst travelling but this has been a wake up call to what can happen.

The pass was closed that day as more thunderstorms were forecast and we were relieved to find out later that the missing people had been found and there were no fatalities reported. We spoke about whether they should allow people to camp up there at all, whether it should just be open for the drive. I don’t think you can stop people living freely, to take away such liberties. But then it begs the question as to whether by doing so you are putting the strain, and the risk, on the emergency services who had to come to the rescue. I don’t envy the people who have to make such decisions.

For us, it will definitely make us think in the future about where we park, with the attempt to assess all possible risks. You don’t want to take the fun out of the adventure but mother nature has to be respected as the costs are too high if not.

To not end on a low, because we did have the best time experiencing the off-roading, here is a little video of our endeavours!