Chamonix

Holidays in France are not evenly distributed throughout the year, and the month of May is lumpy with holidays. The 1st is Labor Day (Fête du Travail), the 8th is Victory in Europe Day (Fête de la Victoire 1945), and the 21st is Ascension Day (Ascension Catholique). These follow closely the Easter Monday (Lundi de Pâques) and the extra day we were given off for Good Friday in April. I will have worked 4 day weeks for over a month by the end of May. The additional time allows us to expand our travel range. For the 3-day Labor Day weekend we visited Chamonix, at the foot of Mont Blanc in the French Alps.

We arrived late in the evening, receiving help on how to get to the hotel from some street walkers who saw us looking at our map in the car, and happened to pass the hotel receptionist who was leaving for the night. She was nice enough to direct us inside where we grabbed our key from the counter and found our room. This being the slow season, we had landed a room with a view of Mont Blanc. Chamonix is one of the towns in the valley below Mont Blanc, surrounded by towering white peaks on all sides. Houses stretch along the valley in the only instance of suburban sprawl I have seen in France: houses scramble up the slopes with large grass lawns.

If we were more than rudimentary skiers, we would have strapped on a pair, but we decided the Alps were too intimidating for us to learn the basics. Our activities would be confined to gawking at the scenery in our more familiar sneakers. We were fortunate to have perfect weather on Friday, with nary a cloud obscuring the brilliant blue sky. Walking across town we bought passes for the spectacular cable lift, Aiguille de Midi, which lifted us smoothly out of the green valley, hundreds of feet over the tall firs, then above glaring white snow, and finally steeply to the final destination over 12,600 feet above sea level, seemingly within reach of the peak of Mont Blanc. The views were jaw dropping. We could see for miles across seemingly endless white peaks. Exiting the car we brushed by the skiers prepping to for their long descent. Below us the skiers were hiking along a ridge of snow towards a more open snow bank where they would begin the several hour descent that would spit them out on Mer de Glace, the larges glacier in France. We spotted a few paragliders taking off from here also, there red sail nothing more than a spec against the looming peaks. We ascended the elevator to the top of the rocky outcrop and were within spitting distance of Mont Blanc. The air was thin and we moved a bit more slowly than normal to adjust. If we were visiting in the summer, the snow would have receded enough to allow hiking from a point about halfway down the mountain, but in May the snow is too deep to allow safe hiking. After eating a mile high lunch we took the cable car back, soaking in the dramatic views up and down the valley.

Once back in Chamonix, a short walk brought us to the cogwheel train to Mer de Glace. The train huffed us up the steep slopes through the forest, spitting us out high above the glacier. Then there were many steps down the side of the cliff to reach the glacier. The glacier has been studied for almost 200 years and has been rapidly melting recently. I’m sure Gore would be happy to use the glacier in his warming presentation, but it was interesting to read the comments on the displays describing the warming and cooling as long-term cycles; the current melting of the glacier began in the 1830’s. Skiers finishing their run passed us on the steps lugging skis and sweating profusely. At the base of the steps we entered the ice cave in the side of the glacier. Since the glacier is moving at a fairly rapid pace, almost an inch every 2 hours, the cave is remade on a daily basis. Inside there were rooms carved and an opportunistic photographer snapping photos with a St. Bernard dog for a few Euros.

Later in the afternoon we hiked to the grassy landing area for the paragliders. We saw multiple gliders soaring next to the peaks, gradually getting larger, and then quickly swooping in for a gentle landing. We closed the day with a nice dinner at a charming restaurant of cheese fondue for myself and tasty and fries for Shereen.

The weather was not quite so nice the next day; small clouds were already beginning to snuggle the peaks as we walked through town. We were planning to take another cable lift that extended up the opposite mountain from the day before, but it was closed for the season. Instead we walked steeply up to reach a trail down the valley. The trail was moderately challenging as it undulated along the mountain face through dense forest, occasionally popping out in a clearing with gorgeous views of the peaks opposite. We spent a couple of hours walking before descending a zigzag path to the valley floor, through a golf course, then to another cable lift that was running. We hopped aboard and enjoyed another soaring ride with the skiers. There wasn’t as much for non-skiers to do at the top, since the snow was blocking the hiking trails, so we did not spend too much time before returning. It was then a long walk back to Chamonix through the neighboring towns. Arriving late in the afternoon, we collapsed in the hotel for a few hours before dinner. We visited a more upscale restaurant, with friendly staff, plenty of mountain décor and stuffed animals on the walls, and excellent food. I enjoyed a cheesy veal dish with a unique, tasty side of cheese and small, square macaroni and Shereen got her salmon fix with vegetables (I think the salmon she makes herself was actually better than the one she was served!).