A British person can be drowned out by the sound of a train moving.
The views were very nice. I got a good look at the road through the mountains that had to be constructed on massive pylons way above the valley floor. It even curves around. I was too slow to get a picture. I remember being on it coming in to the valley, but then it was to cloudy and rainy to see anything.
My train arrived in St Gervais on schedule. And I saw what I thought was my next train, so I rushed over to get on board. I only had eight minutes to get there, and all the stations invariably have lots of stairs that are inconvenient when hauling luggage.
The sign implied it was my train, so I got on board, but it was completely empty. Doubts started creeping in. After pondering for awhile, I checked my train ticket to confirm everything. Yes, this was my train, but I had an hour and eight minutes to get on board.
So, plenty of time. But not enough time to tour St Gervais. I shouldn’t worry about that though. It took me half an hour to realize that I have already been in this town when I ran the UTMB. Mind you, it was Roth dark then. I just sat outside the state for awhile, mulling buying a sandwich. I was too lazy to actually get one, so I won’t be eating until I get to Lyon at about three in the afternoon.
2012-9-6 12:09