From here it is just Bernard is our final destination on the Via Francigena. All roads might lead to and from Rome. But across the mountain range, paths are few and far between. Some experts say that this pass has been used by people since the Bronze Age, well before the city of Rome was founded, and several millenia before the birth of Christianity.
Other than a brief descent to cross the River Dranse, the road sweeps inexorably upwards. I feel as if the thousand kilometres walked in the last two months were just the preparation for this climb, to that mountain pass just ahead: there to marvel at the grandeur of the snow-capped hills, to reach the sanctuary that Bernard of Menthon built circa as a respite for tired and hungry walkers.
And just 5 days ago, a walker reported icy slopes in the final stretch to the top. But I am bursting with so much anticipation that I hardly feel the ascent as we climb past the pine trees, and beyond the Alpine timberline. Then: Difficulty strikes⦠in the shape of three young bulls. Yes, no bull!
I mean yes, definitely bulls. They are standing right on the path, indeed right in front of the stone marked with the Swiss yellow track sign. And there are hundreds of other similar looking creatures as far as the eye can see! As I am trying to recall what the brave Pandava heroes of the Indian epic did while facing various impediments on their post-retirement final walk up into the heavenly mountains too long a story to tell, but you can read it here if you are really keen , I notice my courageous companion is silently slinking away.
To cut a long story short, after discounting many absurd options proposed by you-know-who, I walk back to the tiny cottage we had passed just a few minutes back and knock. Half hour later, having repeated his assurances in many languages and tones and realising that we are settling in for the night unless he walks us off his property, he sighs, pulls on his boots and proceeds to escort us through the slough of the bovine mire.
