Snow Blind

Mont Blanc-Chamonix, France

Wanderlust: as the term implies is an impassioned & insatiable desire to travel or in my case … drift.  Much of the travel I have experienced has come from a place of wanderlust but with no specific destination.  It seems that the power of suggestion is the determining factor as to where this desire will take you.  So often it’s a fellow traveler speaking of a place they’ve enjoyed or even a new friend speaking of their home that sets the course.

We had been living, working & sailing around the Caribbean Islands when a case of this wanderlust struck.  Looking for an escape from island life we began to consider destinations that were land locked & well above sea level.

Girlfriend/Partner: (excited) “How about Tibet or Nepal ?”

Me: (nodding in agreement) “That be cool …there’s some crazy mountains around there ?!”

Me: (lost in thought) “Whataya think about Africa ? … jungles, deserts, savannahs like Lion King kinda sh**”

GF/partner: (amusement gives to pragmatism) “so let me get this straight … you think Africa is like a Disney cartoon ? it’s not like we can just rent a car & drive around Africa ?”

Me: (resigned to further indecision) “Spoze not … it’s a pretty big & rough place”

Then, within a matter of months, we worked with a few ladies from the French Alps (Chamonix) & met a couple of French sailors from France’s northern coast (Honfluer).  Tipping the scales was a close friend & Francophile speaking of Mont Saint-Michel on the Normandy coast.

So, the decision was (voyage sur la route) “French road trip !” Maybe not as exotic as Asia or Africa … but you just can’t ignore the signs … & besides isn’t anything “new” also exotic just by the nature of being new ? My previous foray into France was as a backpacking motorcyclist … adventurous for sure but at 100mph & only 50EU $ in my pocket not conducive to experiencing French culture as it should be enjoyed.  This improved, mindful & better funded road-trip had potential to be and became far more rewarding ! 

After a quick jump across the pond we found ourselves navigating the narrow & harrowing streets of Paris’s Bastille district #11 in a rented Ford compact (go figure).  For a handful of days we played around all the familiar Parisian places & like so many before we became nocturnal as “La Ville-Lumiere” (the city of lights) is enchanting in the dark hours.  However, it wasn’t long before the familiar sites & streets of Paris again gave to wanderlust … so began the “road trip”

We settled into familiar roles … myself (driver) & she (navigator).  We careened through the French motorways & back roads with some inexplicable level of confidence … often choosing different destinations over breakfast hoping to arrive by dinner.  One by one we put these predestined yet often spontaneous destinations in the rearview mirror.  The historic beaches & military cemeteries’ of Normandy were haunting & sobering … The grandeur of the cathedral at Mont Saint Michael was awe inspiring … The fishing fleet/boats of Honfluer were touristy yet quaint … The cliffs of Rocamadour were frightfully thrilling … The roar of formula one racecars, through the streets of Monte Carlo, were deafening … just to name a few stops but the big prize towered above & was as far from our Caribbean beaches as we could imagine … the French Alps.

My navigator found a charming B&B in the foothills of the mastiff … just outside of Chamonix wherein we could sleep off the many kilometers of French roadways … & so we did.  Early mornings were now our routine so after the obligatory but always delicious coffee & croissants we began exploring the village born of the mountain above & the exceptional skiing it provides.  One late morning we found ourselves on the gondola ascending toward Aiguille du Midi (Needle of the Mid-day) the closest point (by lift) to the summit of Mont Blanc.  The gondola, which curiously we only shared with a few others, left us dizzy as it accelerated rapidly over the foothills, where we had slept the night before, then turned skyward in what felt like a nearly vertical climb.  We passed countless signs, on the journey toward the mountain top, all in French which we translated poorly but for one: (3,482 meters which we roughly calculated to be nearly 13,000 feet) an altitude that neither of us had ever visited without wings. 

As you may imagine the views of the Alps & Mont Blanc, in the distance, were spectacular & beckoned us out on the visitor center’s terrace so to satiate as many of our senses as possible.  I should mention that we … two Caribbean sailors were by all accounts & almost literally “fish out of water.” Our winter weather clothing amounted to fouly pants & jackets, sandals & fingerless gloves.   However, underdressed & exposed we were the temptation to be out, on the mountain, immersed in the elements was undeniable.   From our sheltered precipice & prior to exiting we noted a small chalet at the end of a ridge line that we seemingly could navigate if done so quickly.  Signs & staff told us that we could enjoy a more intimate view of the surrounding mountain range at this chalet/café/bar … that’s how I translated it of course ?! Signs & staff also tried to tell us to be mindful of “Avalanche” & “Vent Fort” due to “Tempete de Neige” “Attention un blizzard arrive bientot”

So to put this moment in perspective … 2 overly eager sailors on a snow covered ridge line about a  football field long (100m) & a sidewalk’s width (1m) near the summit of Europe’s tallest mountain (4,800m).  The words of warning which we understood (avalanche & blizzard) seemed overly dramatic as it appeared only partly cloudy & moderately breezy … & besides we would only be exposed for the 5 minutes it took to cross the snow bridge ?!

Me: (hesitating briefly) “Did you see that sign … I think it said something about a blizzard”?

GF/partner: (nonchalant) “Yeah … like a caution sign I guess”?! 

Me: (self righteous) “Seriously ?  I’m from Chicago & you grew up in Wisconsin … if any two people can handle a little winter weather it’s us … right?” 

GF/partner: (cautiously optimistic) “Sure ?!  I’d heard you can see three different countries as well as the summit from there & we can relax with a warm adult drink”! 

So, without translating (vent fort = strong wind) (tempete de niege = snow storm) or most important (bientot = coming soon) we stepped down from the terrace & began what should have been a quick trek across to our awaiting hot toddy de francais.

Now, in my many years of watching NatGeo, Discovery/Travel Channel & many other nature related programs … I have seen (via small screen) mountaineers in “white out” situations.  I have also been lucky to speak with & befriend a few mountain climbers who have summited many of the world’s tallest.  However, not any of that prepared me for the next 10-12 minutes of my life !  It didn’t happened gradually … no … it was like an EXPLOSION of wind, snow & ice ! In seconds, we went from gazing out over the French & Italian Alps to not being able to see our next step in the snow.  It felt like that moment when a camera flash or a close lightning strike catches you face first  … but for one difference …  COLD ! & no not “gee … I should have brought a warmer jacket” COLD but slice thru your body & dip it in liquid nitrogen COLD !   So I froze … not literally just yet … but in my place as I no longer knew where the next step should go because we only had a few feet to either side before we would tumble from the ridge & be the catalyst for an avalanche downward ! Now stationary … I heard a faint voice, in the roaring wind & blinding white before me, that said: “Are you OK ?… are you still behind me ? … what should we do ?” to wit my answer was “Hold Fast !”  because, in that moment, I couldn’t understand or imagine a way forward or back ?  So for what seemed like minutes but I’m certain was seconds … the world inverted & all my senses felt my feet on the ridge below yet all the elements coming from below ?   F**k Sir Isaac Newton … it was snowing upward and this was confirmed by the few moments I was able to open my eyes to verify, that in fact, the snow, ice & wind were falling UPWARD!

The next few minutes were … incomprehensible … as the assault on our bodies & mind were numbing both literally & figuratively.  Then like the lifting of a heavy fog layer, I began to see dark shapes & figures at the end of the blinding tunnel … without speaking & now able to keep our eyes open we instinctively backtracked knowing that we hadn’t even made it halfway across.  I recall her brushing past me as we approached exactly where we had left just 10 minutes ago … this time not looking forward to a picturesque warm libation but aching for a climate controlled space out of the elements to bring our body temps away from that of frosty the snowman !

Huddled in a corner of the visitors/cafeteria area the mountain gave us 1 last message that we should get closer to sea level & not waste any time getting there.  As the stages of defrost melted away … we shared the common symptoms of ?? what ?? dizziness … headaches … nausea ??  Then as if Saint Bernard (no not the dog … the Patron Saint) was watching over us … we found yet another sign but this one was English translated & cited the symptoms of altitude sickness & its remedy.

GF/partner:  “Do you see that sign by the door ?”

Me: (delirious) “Yup”

GF/partner: “Are you feeling it ?”

Me: (defeated) “Yup”

GF/partner: (staggering to her feet) “We need to get the f**k off this mountain !”

Me: (determined) “Yup … I’ll race you to the gondola !”

Back in Chamonix we were informed that we had arrived & departed on the last tram of the day due to … “vent fort” & “tempete de niege”  Ironically, the mountain top blizzard made for a beautiful backdrop during our evening hot-tub, at the B&B closer to sea level.  In a moment of warm reflection, it occurred to me that in the clouds above were mountaineers, much like those I spoke of earlier, that continued to move forward in those extreme conditions hoping for whatever spiritual warmth arriving at the summit would offer ?! (that’s fortitude) We were grateful to & assumed our quick retreat/decent pleased Saint Bernard immensely (no not the dog)?!

 

A NOT SO SUBTLE REMINDER:

Years have passed but the  mantra of this day was:  Respect nature … from the summit of Everest to the depths of the Mariana Trench & all in between because we (humans) are merely a part of nature & governed by its laws … not vice versa ! … Thank you 2020 for driving that message home !