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Travel Logs May 2012

Next Stop — Top of the World

By Jim Brennan

Mont Blanc is so stunning, that to describe it as majestic would be like calling Michelangelo’s masterpiece on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel a really good painting.

v_brennanpicts05We were miles from Chamonix (shah-moh-nee) on route N-205, yet it was already apparent why adventurers from around the world have flocked to the small Alpine village for centuries. Nestled in the French Alps, Chamonix is surrounded by the highest mountains in Western Europe, accentuated by the imposing Mont Blanc, its highest peak. Mont Blanc is so stunning, that to describe it as majestic would be like calling Michelangelo’s masterpiece on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel a really good painting.

Chamonix was once a peaceful market town that thrived in the summer months, until a modern railway provided easier access. By the start of the 20th century, tourism flourished and Sherpas, or mountain guides, felt their livelihood threatened when the first cog wheel railway was constructed to Mer de Glace, an eight-mile glacier. My wife and I took the cog wheel train to the Hotel du Montenvers, built in 1880 when tourists arrived on foot and by mule.

Only a few minutes’ walk from the railway station, the impressive granite façade of the hotel and its rich paneled walls inside the dining room and bar looked no different today than in pictures of its early days that hang on its walls. The valley became so popular with skiers that the first Winter Olympics were held there in 1924, and Chamonix never looked back.

Chamonix is as unpretentious as it is spectacular. No signs or directions clutter the pleasant half-mile walk from the cog railway terminal to the Place de l’Aiguille du Midi cable car terminal, yet it is the liftoff point that carries passengers to observation terraces to view the highest mountain in Western Europe. We walked the crushed-stone path until it transitioned onto a small street and an alleyway before a large stone building suddenly stood before us at a dead end. Steel cables extended from the rear of the building and cable cars shot up into sky. There lie the intrigue and romance of Chamonix — unadulterated nature so powerful it is its own promotion.

We hopped the lift up the mountainside to Aiguille du Midi, or Needle of the South, the most spectacular of the high-altitude destinations. There are few places in the world where ordinary tourists stand shoulder-to-shoulder with mountain climbers, and seniors rub elbows with paragliders. We were crammed like sardines into a metal box with hard-core Alpinists who were armed with ice picks and ropes, and wore seven-day growth upon their faces, while curious travelers had only cameras in hand and wore anxious looks. The town disappeared as the highest vertical ascent cable car in the world shot up the face of the mountain.

At the end of the line, the doors opened at 12,600 feet and we were greeted by Mont Blanc. Mountaineers, skiers and paragliders walked down a passage through a tunnel on the left to the departure point onto the Vallee Blanche, an ungroomed 20-kilometer run of snow and ice that was neither marked nor patrolled. Danger warnings were posted that recommend a guide and mountaineering equipment; ARVA (device for finding victims of an avalanche), shovel, probe, harness, crampons and rope to those who venture onto the mountain.

Tourists wandered to the five terraces that look out over the Alpine Range with spectacular views across France and into Switzerland and Italy. The highest platform, Summit Terrace, is accessed by yet another lift that carried us up two hundred feet before opening to a spectacular 360 degree panoramic view. Looking across the mountaintop at Mont Blanc, Helbronner peak in Italy and the entire Alpine Chain was a rare spectacle for us, and anyone who is more acclimated to elevations closer to sea level.

The paragliders, skiers, and Alpinists soaring high above and down the mountainside were just as captivating as the scenery. Peering down into the Chamonix Valley from the terraces is a sight no different than looking down from an aircraft. Buildings are unrecognizable and the roads look like lines on a map.

The allure of Mont Blanc and the surrounding peaks is not unlike that of a holy shrine to a pilgrim. We noticed unmistakable expressions of reverence and respect on the faces of both natives and visitors, whether walking through town or inside a cable car on a ride to the top of the world.

Chamonix coexists in its magnificent surroundings, like a denizen sharing a room with a deity. The ambience of the town — its architecture and people, its way of life — breaths homage to the natural wonder that watches over it. Chamonix’s embrace is instantly contagious and difficult to let go, like saying goodbye at an airport terminal to a child who is going overseas for the first time. Driving in silence from town and looking into the rearview mirror, we were convinced we’d just departed hallowed land.

 

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