The Route du Parpaillon begins

Progress now becomes slower and the pulse rate faster on a steep hairpin climb through the tree-cover, from which I finally emerge to confront a cheerful cabin equipped with a gently-humming generator. Unlike the small group of walkers following the GR 6 footpath, I resist the temptations of the Buvette Grill le Petit Clausis and instead press on over a rugged stone and timber bridge spanning the Ruisseau du Parpaillon, which must take a lot of spring meltwater but in summer is little more than a small stream. From here things really open out, the rough track ahead laid out like a dull grey ribbon following the contours of the steep valley sides past the grandly-named Cabane du Grand Parpaillon (2031m), the only obvious man-made feature. The colours of this now-remote landscape are almost surreal, with areas dull, bleached-out shale showing through grass struggling to thrive beneath the burning sun hanging in a deep blue sky.

The relentless, steady climb makes progress painfully slow, the combination of hot sun and high altitude compounding the effort required. The scenery, though, becomes ever more amazing, with few obvious clues as to the route’s former importance until I ride over a short section surfaced with intricately aligned stonework. It’s hard to imagine the whole Route having been constructed so painstakingly, or that this would be the only sections to have survived. For now it must remain a mystery.