Finally while packing for my next adventure I am making time
to post on my latest adventure over to the birthplace of Alpinism, the Alps. I
have been psyched to go to Chamonix, France ever since my ginger friend flew
over several years ago and returned with pictures of the world class climbing
to be had.
When the same ginger (AKA Joey) called me up one day while I
was busy at work and told me he was thinking of buying a ticket, I made up my
mind that this was the opportunity I was waiting for. Within 12 hours I had
booked my ticket (many thanks to my understanding boss for letting me disappear
during a busy time and to my beautiful girlfriend for not driving one of my
tent poles thru my temple while I slept for going to France without her…still
trying to crawl out of the doghouse!) and two weeks later found myself on the
long flight across the pond. It wasn’t too bad actually; there were enough
movies and wine (managed to choke some of the stuff down, Maark would be proud)
to make it bearable.
We landed in Geneva, Switzerland and from there took a
shuttle to Chamonix where we settled into our little flat we had rented for
copious amount of money (American money is some cheap stuff!). Next on the
agenda was to buy ski passes and check out the area. Here came my biggest
oversight. Somehow I booked a flight to Chamonix and decided it would be an
excellent place for me to do alpine climbing although I had no idea how to ski.
Terror, frustration, embarrassment, absurdly sore muscles and a change in our
strategy dominated our first week there. Renting a snowboard for a day helped
replenish my spirits that had gotten severely batter both literally and
figuratively.
Finally I learned the motions of skiing and we managed to
climb partway up several mountains, which was fitting. I haven’t been to the
top of a mountain for two years.
The crux of the routes (for me at least) was the decent from
the base of the route. The lifts close at 4pm so the only alternative was for
me to ragdoll down Vallee Blanche, a 10,000’, 20km ski run while carrying 40lbs
of climbing gear and dodging crevasses; by headlamp. Luckily the ginger was
more often than not sympathetic to my cause, while he constantly waited for me
at the bottom of all steep areas.
Surprisingly there is a strong British presence in Cham and
it is quite easy to manage without knowing any French. There are as many
British bars as French! Not surprisingly it is somewhat embarrassing to be
thrown into the “American” lot. Luckily we had the Alaska card to play.
Just as I was getting acquainted with the area the dreaded
Foehn wind came in and disrupted our last plans. Didn’t much matter though as
the ginger had become enthralled with the Finnish subculture present in the
area.
My time in Chamonix was wonderful; the mountains are
brimming with world-class alpine faces, huge ski runs, exceptional bakeries, a
fun town atmosphere and the underlying mentality to push the boundaries. The mountain culture felt like home and on
the plane ride home I was busy hatching plans of returning with my woman to
live for a few years with the French, like the French.
Check out the video, hopefully you find it somewhat entertaining.
https://vimeo.com/62583147
