Mont Blanc and Chamonix—the French Alps in all their Summer Glory

Crossing the Glacier--No, that's not Steve.

Chers amis et chères amies,

         On the spur of the moment, after suffering through a spate of HOT (for Grenoble) temperatures that rose into the equivalent of the 90s in our non-air-conditioned fourth-floor apartment, we rented a car and headed to the highest and coolest region in France to the town of Chamonix to check out Mont Blanc, the eighth wonder of the world.

       Renting the car was an adventure in itself; we had never driven in Europe, and it’s been quite a few years since either Steve or I have driven a stick-shift car (the only type available here). But, like riding a bike, we found you never really forget how. When we tentatively pulled away from the car rental station at the gare, we realized how much we had missed the freedom a car provides for picking up and going on an adventure.

       As Steve drove the late-model Citroën, I fiddled with the GPS system, choosing a no-nonsense female British persona, whom we named “Cindy*,” to guide us. Soon, we were passing farms and des cyclistes while negotiating one roundabout after another with Cindy’s nonstop guidance of “At the roundabout, take the second exit.” 

Mont Blanc—August 4, 2013

      A little over two hours later, we had our first glimpse of the majestic peaks of the region. We’re accustomed to a daily dose of Alpine mountains with snowcapped peaks, but the Graian Alps between France and Italy have the distinction of laying claim to Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in both the Alps and the European Union at 4,810 meters (15,782 ft) above sea level. My camera was in overdrive as I tried to capture pictures of the glacier and the peaks as we curved the twisting roads ascending to Chamonix.

      The commune of Chamonix is in the Haute-Savoie department of southeastern France, and during the summer, it becomes a tourist mecca. We strolled around the town, noting the banner for the Cosmo Jazz Festival, just one of the many scheduled events to keep sightseers flowing into this Alpine foothill in the off season. Across from the Office of Tourism, a jazz band was warming up, and a crowd was beginning to gather. We caught a bit of their act before heading further along for dinner.

Chamonix Cosmo Jazz Festival

      The altitude in the High Alps blesses vacationers with a late-hour sunset. Well past 9 pm, the light was just starting to fade, and the restaurants were beginning to fill with relaxed travelers enjoying an apéro before dinner. The church tower of Saint-Michel was alight against the backdrop of snow and mountain peaks.

Saint-Michel Bell Tower

      Our plan was to travel the next morning by téléphérique (cable car) to Aiguille du Midi (the Needle of the Noon) at 3842 meters (m). We thought we could save time by buying our tickets the day before. No such luck. Because of the capricious nature of the weather, tickets are sold only on the day of the ascent. If there is rain or fog, no rides go up to the needle. The forecast was for bad weather for the morrow, but we kept the faith and were rewarded the next day with sun and high clouds.

       From the center of Chamonix, we caught Europe’s highest cable car the next day at 8 am for the 20 minute two-stage ride. The first stop let us off at the Plan de l’Aiguille (2310 m), where we saw many parka-clad hikers with backpacks beginning a trek.

Crazy August Backpackers

The temperature at that point was a “balmy” 50° F. The next stop brought us as far as we could go—the Aiguille du Midi with its panoramic view of Mont Blanc, which we enjoyed at 28°F in 70 mph winds on August 4th.

Steve et moi at l'Aiguille du Midi

      The cable car from that point returned us to the Plan de l’Aiguille and gave us the chance to hike down to the longest glacier in France, la Mer du Glace (the Sea of Ice), situated on the northern slopes of the Mont Blanc massif. Along the trail, we passed ânes (donkeys) sunning themselves in the grass and elegant cairns marking the trail. We contributed to the delicately balanced stacks, as so many before us had done. 

Ânes en Route

Cairn near la Mer de Glace

      After our two-hour hike, we were amazingly unprepared for what lay before us when we reached la Mer du Glace. From its original elevation of 7,900 ft, it has descended to 4,600 ft. Global warming is having its impact, and the trail down to the base of the glacier tells this story with dated plaques starting at 1980 that mark the levels of the glacier over the years. It is calculated that the glacier has lost over 70 meters (230 ft) of its thickness in just the last 20+ years. At the bottom of the 398-step stairway is an ice grotto that has been cut into the glacier. It was a welcome but chilly respite from the temperatures that had reached about 80 sunny and dry degrees outside.  

The Glacier Descends

Glacier Level in 1990

Steve in the Grotto at la Mer de Glace

     

      The Mont Blanc summer Multipass let us use all the transport for an entire day, including the cable cars and the little Montenvers red train that wound its way from Mer de Glace and brought us back to the Chamonix town center.

Mer de Glace Train

    

     We were just in time to quench our thirst with a leisurely glass of wine before heading to Église Saint-Michel for the Festival des Heures d’Orgue Chamonix–2013. Stabat Mater—a Woman’s Affair was to be performed by a female organist and a soprano and mezzo-soprano.The church became crowded as passers-by entered when they heard the lilting voices flowing from the church out to the Place de l’Église. We enjoyed wonderful selections from Vivaldi, Haydn, Mozart, and Bach along with Pergolesi's Stabat Mater all for a donation.        The next day, as we packed up to leave Chamonix, we took a good look at the mountains, still wearing a mantle of snow. The summer is a fantastic time to visit Chamonix—but the winter must be truly incredible!

 

The Lay of the Land/Mountains

*For Cindy the Citroën. She sounded nothing like our dear friend, Cindy W. ;-)   

des cyclistes: bicyclists

commune: an administrative division in the French Republic

apéro: drink before dinner

Grenoble's Pompiers are Jacks-of-all-Trades!

Les Pompiers arrivent!

CRASH! Early Tuesday morning at 5 am, I vaulted out of bed at the sound of a heavy UFO hitting the bedroom balcony as it hurtled past la porte-fenêtre. The smashing sounds in the street below echoed with the thud of wood and the shattering of pottery. We’ve become accustomed (well, not really) to the sounds of bottles breaking, loud laughing, and rowdy drunks singing in the early hours of the morning. But this clatter was during the usually quiet twinkling before the 5:30 am appearance of the garbage trucks that noisily empty les poubelles several times a week.

When I looked below, I could make out chunks of broken clay and pieces of rotted wood in the street, and the roof of a late-model parked car was covered in debris. From above, I was imagining not only the fresh pockmarks that must lay hidden under the rubble but also the ire of the owner who knew it would be time for a new auto paint job. Then I noticed the same bits and pieces on the balcony at my bare feet. I turned and leaned back on the railing and craned my neck to see above. Overhead, I spied a 5-foot-wide section of missing fascia in an area that now revealed what appeared to be a hotspot for bird nests. This 18th century building is disintegrating, and pedestrians had better look out below! 

Birds' nests revealed

I returned to bed, but not for long. At 6:45, the hubbub dans la rue again demanded another step out onto the balcony for a peek. There below was what looked like un camion des pompiers, an  Agde Renault Aerial. (I looked this up.) Owing to the driver’s incredibly masterful handling, the truck negotiated the tight left turn from 1 one-way street to the next. Le chauffeur de camion de pompiers stopped at our building, and the brigade (same in English) got out of the truck. They looked up at the hole in the building, and one lucky fellow was assigned to the bucket. 

 The pompier ascends

From below, a second firefighter maneuvered the bucket close to the building, and the “bucketeer” assessed the damage. He signaled for the controller to raise him closer to the roof, and he started clearing the remaining debris. As he did this, I surreptitiously snapped photos of him. It wasn’t long before he spied me and motioned to the pompier below to move him closer to my window. He said, “Madame, pouvez-vous appeler le syndic et leur dire ce qui s'est passé ?” I told him I would, and I wondered if he knew he had picked one of the only two non-native French speakers living in the entire building for that assignment. 

 

Helping hands above our apartment

 

Lord Vader outside the window

After about an hour, the pompiers deemed it safe to leave the ancien bâtiment. The bucket was lowered, and I incredulously watched as one of the firefighters swept up the flotsam in the street and loaded it into one of the green recycling bins. (Even the revered defenders of our safety don’t always pick the right bin.) Then, the unfortunate car owner's voiture was rinsed off by one of the street cleaners who had been called.  To keep pedestrians off the sidewalk below, security tape was put in place, but it predictably disappeared by the next morning. 

 

They do it ALL!

The firefighters in France wear many hats besides the shiny Darth Vader helmets that protect them from the perils of fire. The official name for these brave servants is sapeurs-pompiers, coming from sapeur, the first official firefighting unit that Napoleon I created, and pompier, originating from the manual pumps that were first used to fight flames. Twenty-one percent of their time is taken up with non-fire-related incidents, such as investigating gas leaks, unsticking stuck elevators, securing the multitude of crumbling French buildings, and retrieving des petits chatons from trees. (I made that last one up.)

 

Grenoble's Team

To my sleepy surprise, the sapeurs-pompiers had arrived surprisingly vite (quickly), but now that August (read vacances [vacation]) is here, I don’t hold out much hope for a speedy repair of the danger overhead. I’ll just don my helmet from my old football-playing days and take my chances strolling down the street.

la porte-fenêtre: French door

les poubelles: trash cans

dans la rue: in the street

le camion des pompiers: the fire truck

le chauffeur de camion de pompiers: the fire truck driver

Madame, pouvez-vous appeler le syndic et leur dire ce qui s'est passé?: Lady, can you call the management company and tell them what happened?

ancien bâtiment: old building

voiture: car

des petits chatons: kittens