The Search for Mont Iseran

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Above Val d’Isère, at the intersection of the Tarentaise and Maurieene regions, is the Iseran Pass. Separately, the river Isère flows from the head of the valley, through Val d’Isère and on to Bourg-Saint-Maurice. In the middle of the 19th century it seems that there was, furthermore, a Mont Iseran shown on maps and surveys at an altitude of 4045m, just where the Vanoise national park boundary meets the chain of mountains forming the frontier between France and Italy. It was the determination of the British mountaineer William Mathews which exposed this geographical untruth.

William Mathews, mountaineer, surveyor and a founder of the Alpine Club of London in 1857, arrived in Tignes on 1 September 1859 with his brother and climbing companion, and made straight for the Auberge Saint Roch, run by Florentin Revial and his wife. Between the two world wars this little hotel was modernised and changed its name to the Hotel de l'Aiguille Percée and there is still a hotel at Tignes le Lac of the same name run by the great-granddaughter of Florentin.

Even though the Auberge Saint Roch was something of a centre for climbing at the time, Mathews found the place uncomfortable and the food deplorable. It is well known that the British have never appreciated the charms of a tiny room panelled with hewn larch, or the solemn creaking of the ancient roof timbers, but Mathews also considered the facilities to be sorely lacking, though the little wooden shed at the bottom of every Tignard's homestead had always been considered perfectly luxurious, especially in the summer.

Nor did the Englishmen appreciate the local speciality of milk soup, and even less the dried salted meat, which was often, it must be admitted, quite ‘high’!

However, immediately after their arrival they turned their attention to the question of Mont-Iseran. They were keen to walk to Bonneval-sur-Arc on the other side of the Iseran pass, to make an ascent from there, and they asked Madame Florentin to find them a mountain guide for their expedition.

William Mathews wrote in his diary: "We asked our hostess to find us a guide, offering remuneration of 5 francs. After an absence of 5 minutes she reappeared with a stocky man with a wily look about him. He confirmed that the walk to Bonneval-sur-Arc would take 8 hours, and stated that his price was 20 francs, on the pretext that mountain guides risked their lives in these expeditions and were paid accordingly. Knowing that the route was a mule path in places, we were opposed to paying him such an extortionate rate. Finally, after lengthy negotiation, and tired of arguing, we agreed to pay him 12 francs. I discovered the following year that this rascal whom our hostess had taken such pains to find was none other than her husband, the innkeeper himself."

From this account it is plain to see how a good Tignard will always use his wit and guile in negotiations. This is the reputation they still enjoy to this day.

And so the travellers set out on their expedition, admiring the beauty of the narrow gorge leading to Val d’Isère. Soon they came to Val d’Isère itself, which Mathews described as "a collection of huts - a dismal spread of bare rock and grassland". This unkind remark would not have pleased the citizens of Val d'Isere, who are very sensitive about the beauty and the quality of their land.

They reached the Iseran pass. All the way Mathews had searched in vain for the famous Mont-Iseran at 4045m which was marked on his map, and he called to his guide:

"This is the pass, but where is the Mont-Iseran?"

"This is it, Monsieur"

"I'm not talking about the pass, I'm talking about the mountain"

"As I said, this is it, Monsieur"

"But where is the snowy, craggy peak which is called the Mont-Iseran?"

"There is no peak, Monsieur, it's a pass for mules and travellers"

Tired of this obstinacy, and choking back his fury, the Englishman realised that the people of Tarentaise and Maurienne did not designate a pass with the word "Pass" but with the word "Mountain". So Mont-Iseran and Mont-Cenis were both mountain passages, not peaks, and he had wasted his time.

After a pause at the pass, our three travellers continued to Bonneval where the guide Florentin had the pleasure of eating a helping of polenta, disdained by the noble subjects of his most Gracious Majesty!


Translated from a story by Jose Reymond, in ‘J’ai plus de souvenirs que si j’avais mille ans”.