The wind is blowing, the air is icy, it's somewhere around -20 celsius... It's freezing! I slip on my sweater, but it does little to fight off the chill creeping through my poorly layered clothing. For awhile, the views distract me.
I can honestly say it is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my entire life. The horizon appears endless with the peaks of the Alps bobbing along it for as far as the eye can see. In the valley between two mountains, Chamonix gazes up at us, and I'm amazed by how tiny the city looks like Lincoln Logs. We wander around the peak, walking through tunnels to see all the various angles and posing again and again for pictures. Though admittedly, the background is so amazing we look as though we're posing in front of a screen.
Eventually I can't ignore the chill. It seems my curse to forever be unprepared and to forever be freezing. My teeth are chattering, and Andres notices. He offers me his spare sweater, and I throw all sense of fashion to the wind. After adding his sweater to the milieu, I'm now up to a T-shirt, denim shirt, two sweaters, jeans, socks, and sneakers... and I'm still freezing.
I am the Abominable Snowman... But you only live once! After over an hour at the top, we take the tram back down the intermediary level where the full sun actually has some effect. We all strip down to our T-shirts and decide to hike toward Le Lac Bleu. According to the sign, it will only be 15 minutes on foot, give or take a few. Naturally, we're not fully thinking through hiking across a mountain in our civilian garb, but we're dizzy with the view from above and happy to explore -so we hike.
Through the snow in our tennis shoes and in our jeans. We're slow as snails and as graceful. The number of slips, slides, and falls are innumerable. BUT there's always time for a photo op.
I guess my victory pose was a little premature since 30-40 minutes later we actually reached Le Lac Bleu. The good thing about France is that every destination is worth the grumbling, stumbles, and mishaps it takes to get there. Le Lac Bleu looks surreal like something out of a fantasy novel. The deep, rich shade of blue is the color of the ocean at night with dazzling white glaciers peeking out. The contrast is stunning. Dark, mismatched rocks climb up toward the mountain while thick, untouched snow settles near the base. Grass, rock, ice, sun, water, mountains... It doesn't seem possible for it all to exist in one place. There is no sound. Without discussion, we shuck off our backpacks and take in the view.
Half an hour passes by, and a few of us gather of the courage to climb down the steep edge and touch the water. Andres throws a rock, and everyone jointly chastises him. Oddly, it seems disrespectful to disrupt something so beautiful... or maybe we're all on the fantasy train of thought and expect some lake monster to emerge! Luckily none do, and this sanctuary remains calm and soothing.
We hike back to the lift station, and the group separates. Some decide to hike to La Mer de Glace. The sign promises at 3 hour hike, but Tara, Stephanie, Anne, and I aren't buying it. We bid them good luck and decide to descend back to Chamonix to find a place for lunch before we continue exploring. Chamonix -much like Annecy- seems like a town caught in some alternate universe. The sense of peacefulness, calm, relaxation, and ease permeate everything. Maybe it's the fresh mountain air or the warm sun or the people circulating about on foot, but things are slower. There's time to appreciate, time to crane your neck and gaze, time to let it all seep in. I'm not accustomed to that after my month in big cities, and even our pace seems to slow. We stroll through the narrow streets with no rush to find a restaurant to serve us. At every turn, a new view is waiting to remind you how big the world can be and how small you can feel in it. It's a bit humbling and awe-inspiring at once.
For lunch, we find something cheap and end up ordering pasta. It's delicious, and the waitress is overtly friendly. With our bellies full, we hike toward the train which will take us to La Mer de Glace. Our directions are hazy, but somehow we end up at the train. The tracks were built in the early 20th century after the discovery of the glacier, and we're able to gaze at black and white pictures of the assembly while we circulate among other tourists and wait for the train to arrive. It's red, shiny, and adorable. We slide into a wooden seat and peer out the windows as we chug along the tracks and up the mountain. It's a slow ride, but we'd much prefer it with our bums comfortably seated than hiking through the woods like the others.
I'm not sure what I was expecting. When someone mentions glacier, I have vivid images of the Antarctic Sea... This looks like a construction site.
We assume once we slide into the lift and take it down, we'll see the glacier. The lifts are unlike the ones which carried us gently up Mont-Blanc. They're tiny and rock with the slightest shift of your weight. There is some sort of weight distribution necessary so that halfway done the descent, you pause, suspended for a minute of two, wondering if the lift has broken, before you can continue on your way. Later, we realized it was simply so that the cars could be filled at the stations and keep the distribution of weight along the lines, but admittedly when you're mid-air hanging above a perilous fall... engineering is not really what you're thinking about -or not in a logical sense (Mom, Aunt Kim, you would have died). At the base, we can finally see the glacier, and the 480+ stairs we have to descend to reach it. The Arc de Triumph, Notre Dame, Eiffle Tower were all training for this!
Signs along the way remind you of the global crisis and effectively guilt trip you... 1990, 2000, 2005... I'm sorry, Mother Nature.
We finally reach the glacier where they've drilled holes allowing you to step inside. I figure it will be a few feet, a small cavern, something to let you see the inside of the glacier... It is a small hotel or bar or club! There are intricate ice sculpture lining the way carved out of the actual glacier. Lights reflect off the ice, eerie music plays over hidden speakers. I feel as though I'm an evil witch in a Disney film retreating to my lair.
I walked inside a glacier!! Inside there's a gigantic St. Bernard named Alaska. I have my picture taken with him by the owner and can't give him enough pets. When we finally leave the glacier and hike up the 480+ stairs to the rickety lift, back to the train and make our way to Chamonix. It's almost time for dinner. We rest a bit, shower, and change. Dinner is beef stew and a pear tart for dessert. Afterwards, we retreat to our rooms and pull out bottles of champagne and wine to cap off the night. Several people invade me, Tara, and Stephanie's room, and we end up on the having drinks and playing random games in our exhausted stupor. We laugh so much my stomach hurts. When the bottles are empty, we part ways, and I collapse into bed to sleep. There's still one more day left in Chamoix, and I've saved the best for last... Tomorrow, I fly.
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