La Montagne de la Lance

A busy summer spent moving from Tunis to Marseille meant no Munros in 2001, despite my wish to reach number 100 before my 40th birthday. The ascent of the Montagne de la Lance, while we were on holiday at Vinsobres, came therefore by way of a late consolation. Les Guilles, the farm where I set out, was at about 500m, so the climb wasn’t quite as strenuous as climbing Ben Nevis, despite its similarity in height.

I soon discovered that French mountains tend to have driveable roads and tracks most of the way up, if not right to the summit. Two days later, for example, we drove to the summit of Mont Ventoux, to enjoy the remote setting and stunning views along with several hundred other tourists. However, although several cars and (worse) three motorcyclists passed me on the lower reaches of the Montagne de la Lance, up on the crest I met only other walkers. The track was never very steep, which made for easy going, and although the sky was cloudless, it wasn’t too warm, being nearly November – ideal conditions, in fact.

I was trying to reach the crest where I hoped to join the GR9 long distance path, but got rather lost and ended up contouring along the side of the ridge until I was almost below the summit. As the track continued to contour, I struck up a dry stream bed, which provided a bit of variety, and some steep climbing for a change.

(Picture still to be scanned)

Then, after emerging from the trees and making a last pull up the crest of a spur, I reached the summit, with its inevitable cross, of course. I sat down to eat a well earned lunch and survey the slightly hazy view eastwards to the Alps, being only slightly bothered by the flies which didn’t seem to mind the altitude.

Finally I set off again along the edge of the cliffs, on nice, short, springy grass, keeping an eye out for the red and white painted marker stones of the GR9. These led me gradually away from the crest, and I knew that further down I would leave them altogether to double back towards Les Guilles. But where exactly? Somehow I couldn’t seem to get away from them, and, after a long descent through thick woods on mostly rough, narrow paths, which was rather painful on my knee, I ended up emerging at valley level a bit further north than I had intended. Of more concern was the fact that I didn’t really know where I was.

I wandered for some time along tracks and roads that seemed to lead in the right general direction, until I came across a farm that was named on the map and got my bearings at last. From there it was a relatively short hike over a low col, then down to Les Guilles and the car. I had set out around 9.50am and I got back at about 3.30pm. It had been a satisfying day, but certainly not a killer, such as the Black Mount or Cairn Toul and Braeriach the previous year. I was also beginning to appreciate the mountains of Provence – if only Scotland could have this climate!