There was no way I was doing any more hiking or climbing after the Grand Pilaster. I was so happy to lay my head on the Rosetta Hut’s pillow; all I could think of was sleep. We all awoke the next day to explosions. I barely heard them actually; eventually I did stir and Michael announced that the explosions were from a construction project. A team was laying some pipe between the hut and the lift. I stirred slowly, but contentedly. Completely refreshed, but with a desire to just relax and hang out. Carlos and I planned to take the lift down, sparing our knees a 3000 foot descent. Michael, soldier that he is, elected to take a hike back to the area for some views of the route and to play on a via ferrata and then hike down. He did get some good pictures, notice the various shots of the route one the Grand Pilaster post.

Carlos and I gladly volunteered to look for a comfortable hotel. We’d leave a message for Michael at the tourist office or pick him up at 4:30pm. After arriving at the base of the lift, we hopped in the car, only to be stopped at the entrance for 30-45 minutes while the cyclers of the Tour of the Alps zipped by. Not being in a hurry for once, it was a delight to just sit there and watch the cyclers.

We later found a sweet apartment for the day that was well-priced, roomy (a separate suite for Michael), with a pool and all that stuff. Oh yeah, a kitchen too – we ended up cooking tons of spaghetti that night. Top notch relaxation. Carlos and I went by the local church to attend Mass and give thanks for our safe passage over the Pala.

(above) The Tour of the Alps. I reckon the big dogs were at the Tour d’ France.