mountaineering, AKA if the von trapp children could do this, i can do it too
So guess what? Yesterday, I climbed the Alps. Halfway. I love to throw that sentence around. I climbed the Alps. You can just lump me along with those crazy adventurers who simply fly up the face of the mountain, their poles a black blur behind them. That's me!
Except...it's not really me.
If you know me at all, then you know that I'm one of those people who wish they were fun and adventurous and throw-all-caution-to-the-wind-y, but at that crucial moment, when they stare at the face of danger, they to-tal-ly freeze up.
Like last summer, when I decided to jump off of that big rock and into the Sacramento River. I thought, hey, when will I get the chance to do this again? I climbed out of the raft and up the boulders excitedly, completely forgetting the fact that I am scared out of my wits of heights. And then, too soon, I was looking at the dark green water way, way below me. That was my "oh crap" moment.
I've had a lot of "oh crap" moments.
Hiking halfway up Mont Blanc yesterday was definitely one of them.
Mont Blanc is the highest peak in the Alps. It's 4,810 meters high. Our plan was to rent two cars out of Geneva, drive an hour and a half into Chamonix, France, and purchase aller-retour (round trip) Aiguille du Midi cable car tickets for 50 euros apiece. We would hike up to the halfway point, then take the gondola up to the tippy top and ride to the bottom.
None of us were in any condition to hike the entire mountain, of course. Not even our token Canadian, who volunteers to lug 50-lb trees up mountains each summer. Plus, you need an ice pick, because it's all snow from the midway up. As a matter of fact, this is what you'd need to look like by the end of the hike:
Anyway. I had to jump in on this. Hiking in the Alps? Yeah. If I didn't do it then, I would deeply regret it. (By the way, this is how I justify most decisions, including signing up for a half marathon in October. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you just can't pass up, I tell myself.)
I knew I was in way over my head when the Canadian blew ahead of us and disappeared for the rest of the hike. Then the rest of the guys (none of the other girls signed up for this hike, by the way) went on ahead, leaving me behind with one poor bloke who never hikes. We were pretty evenly paced...
I only had one goal on this hike, let alone making it to the end: don't pass out. This wasn't even a figure of speech. I have a history of fainting or feeling an urge to faint on hikes. (Case in point: at the end of Mt. Tallac and on the cables of Half Dome. My two most epic "oh crap" moments.)
I told my hiking buddy about my goal. I don't think he took it very seriously. Even so, I took plenty of "water breaks" and "ooh these wildflowers are so pretty, I need to take a photo breaks."
Swarms of flies and wasps gathered around my sweaty clothes every time I stopped moving. There were a lot of stone steps on this hike, almost reminiscent of the hellish Half Dome switchbacks. Then there were the wonderful rainy bits. And a couple of times, I had to clamber over mounds of slippery rocks. Three hours into the hike, I hit the snowy patches. And thirty minutes later, there was the low whir of the gondola and snow all around me. I greeted two donkeys searching for grass in the snow. And then we were all at the (midway) top, shivering in the icy wind.
And I didn't faint once!
The boys all ordered beer. I bought a postcard. And ate handfuls of potato chips.
We took the gondola the rest of the way up. Did you know that the gondola was built before the invention of helicopters? So far back, in fact, that they had to pause construction to, you know, let WWI take precedence.
When we stepped out, we were stunned by the frigid air. All I had was a denim jacket and scarf. Needless to say, I was cold. We couldn't see anything past three feet of us. Just white and wind and breath.
The altitude sickness didn't wear off until my feet touched the ground in Chamonix. (By the way, Chamonix happens to be the location of the very first Winter Olympics, which was held in 1924.)
We finished the trip off with dinner (crepes!) at a Chino-French restaurant. I know, weird, right?
In sum, the trip was worth every groaning muscle. To be quite frank, I don't think I've regretted any of my "oh crap" moments. I climbed the Alps! Next up, Everest? (Just kidding.)
So guess what? Yesterday, I climbed the Alps. Halfway. I love to throw that sentence around. I climbed the Alps. You can just lump me along with those crazy adventurers who simply fly up the face of the mountain, their poles a black blur behind them. That's me!
Except...it's not really me.
If you know me at all, then you know that I'm one of those people who wish they were fun and adventurous and throw-all-caution-to-the-wind-y, but at that crucial moment, when they stare at the face of danger, they to-tal-ly freeze up.
Like last summer, when I decided to jump off of that big rock and into the Sacramento River. I thought, hey, when will I get the chance to do this again? I climbed out of the raft and up the boulders excitedly, completely forgetting the fact that I am scared out of my wits of heights. And then, too soon, I was looking at the dark green water way, way below me. That was my "oh crap" moment.
I've had a lot of "oh crap" moments.
Hiking halfway up Mont Blanc yesterday was definitely one of them.
Mont Blanc is the highest peak in the Alps. It's 4,810 meters high. Our plan was to rent two cars out of Geneva, drive an hour and a half into Chamonix, France, and purchase aller-retour (round trip) Aiguille du Midi cable car tickets for 50 euros apiece. We would hike up to the halfway point, then take the gondola up to the tippy top and ride to the bottom.
None of us were in any condition to hike the entire mountain, of course. Not even our token Canadian, who volunteers to lug 50-lb trees up mountains each summer. Plus, you need an ice pick, because it's all snow from the midway up. As a matter of fact, this is what you'd need to look like by the end of the hike:
Anyway. I had to jump in on this. Hiking in the Alps? Yeah. If I didn't do it then, I would deeply regret it. (By the way, this is how I justify most decisions, including signing up for a half marathon in October. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you just can't pass up, I tell myself.)
I knew I was in way over my head when the Canadian blew ahead of us and disappeared for the rest of the hike. Then the rest of the guys (none of the other girls signed up for this hike, by the way) went on ahead, leaving me behind with one poor bloke who never hikes. We were pretty evenly paced...
I only had one goal on this hike, let alone making it to the end: don't pass out. This wasn't even a figure of speech. I have a history of fainting or feeling an urge to faint on hikes. (Case in point: at the end of Mt. Tallac and on the cables of Half Dome. My two most epic "oh crap" moments.)
I told my hiking buddy about my goal. I don't think he took it very seriously. Even so, I took plenty of "water breaks" and "ooh these wildflowers are so pretty, I need to take a photo breaks."
Swarms of flies and wasps gathered around my sweaty clothes every time I stopped moving. There were a lot of stone steps on this hike, almost reminiscent of the hellish Half Dome switchbacks. Then there were the wonderful rainy bits. And a couple of times, I had to clamber over mounds of slippery rocks. Three hours into the hike, I hit the snowy patches. And thirty minutes later, there was the low whir of the gondola and snow all around me. I greeted two donkeys searching for grass in the snow. And then we were all at the (midway) top, shivering in the icy wind.
And I didn't faint once!
The boys all ordered beer. I bought a postcard. And ate handfuls of potato chips.
We took the gondola the rest of the way up. Did you know that the gondola was built before the invention of helicopters? So far back, in fact, that they had to pause construction to, you know, let WWI take precedence.
When we stepped out, we were stunned by the frigid air. All I had was a denim jacket and scarf. Needless to say, I was cold. We couldn't see anything past three feet of us. Just white and wind and breath.
There was a tunnel leading around the mountain. A restaurant, a museum,
an elevator to a platform at the very top, where you could see rock
climbers slowly ascending. And a gift shop. I don't remember any of it.
Only dizziness and weariness and a lot of labored breathing.
The altitude sickness didn't wear off until my feet touched the ground in Chamonix. (By the way, Chamonix happens to be the location of the very first Winter Olympics, which was held in 1924.)
We finished the trip off with dinner (crepes!) at a Chino-French restaurant. I know, weird, right?
In sum, the trip was worth every groaning muscle. To be quite frank, I don't think I've regretted any of my "oh crap" moments. I climbed the Alps! Next up, Everest? (Just kidding.)
I'm glad you didn't die. 3 hours doesn't sound so bad, though switchbacks ... meh, not a fan either. At any rate, yay for ADVENTURE! Next time, hopefully Chris will be with you to keep you more sane. Loving the evocative story-telling and photos. :)
ReplyDeleteBAHA you are SO the type of person to get in on stuff spontaneously which is awesome because then you're forced to follow-through with your choices and then you are able to conquer stuff like this that you can tell stories about. Whereas I probably would've chickened out at the thought of climbing the alps! So much weather change! But such an experience!! :)
ReplyDelete