A chance to reflect on our experiences, the people we had met and the places we had visited.
A chance to remember the good times (BBQs when the forecast was for snow, partying on rooftops, 3:30am rickshaw rides, midnight snowball fights, sunday sessions, the football, sunset over a moonscape and sunrises over the city) and the challenging times.
We leave richer people, richer in experiences and richer in friendships. I will miss London and many of its people (especially those I didn't take the opportunity to tell).
Upon arriving in Chamonix, and many a time during the days following, we sported a goofy look of wonderment and happineVvss. Being surrounded by stunning 3000m + mountains, it was hard not to.
We opted for an apartment, rather than a hotel room, and were glad for the extra space when soon after arriving I heard the familiar, though thankfully uncommon, rumbling of illness approaching. As it edged closer, and the particular nature of the attack became apparent, I became more and more confident. My loyal, proud and experienced immune system had repelled many a like attack in the past. With the attack imminent, I thought it only proper to check in on my troops and to wish them well. Where the battalions should have been massing, was simply a note. Due to poor working conditions, and a failure to satisfy even the most basic of their needs, my immune system had gone on strike. The assault was brutal and as a result, my time in Chamonix was not as active as I had hoped. We still climbed, walked, and flew, just not as much as I had hoped for.
One morning, after the attack had began to fade, we set off for a walk into the Alps. Near the foot of the mountain, and while we were having a brief rest, we were passed by a couple of guys who considered our geared up state a source of amusement. One expressed that "It's not that far, as if you need water". Two paths, of a similar level of difficulty reach the top. We opted for one and they the other. After climbing for three and a half hours, and after a little explore around the top, we reached our lunch destination and stopped for a rest before the walk back down to the bottom. As we were finishing up, and feeling quite relaxed, the two guys reached the top, the confidence and bravado had been replaced with exhaustion. They both looked worse than I do after a heavy training session, and I have been described as a sweaty corpse at such a time. When a man of about 75 jogged up to the top, looking like he ran up from town every other day, we were quickly put back in our place.
Chamonix is something of an adventure travel hub. As a result, it is quite common to see people walking through town with all manner of sporting equipment, from ice axes to climbing kit, from paragliders to mountain bikes. Feeling inspired by the location, we decided to go paragliding. We checked the weather for the next day, chose a company and a launch site and booked it in. Not to celebrate, but rather because we were hungry, we had pizza for dinner.
The next morning I had left over pizza, which like the night before didn't taste great. Thinking nothing of it, we went to the launch site, on the edge of the mountain side some 1,000m from the valley floor. Bren launched first, misunderstanding the direction of run towards the edge as meaning run on the spot, then backwards, then jump. Not making the same mistake, I ran us off the edge and up into the air. It was amazing.
After circling over what in the winter would be an incredible ski run, the pilot asked if I was scared or felt sick. I didn't, so I said no. We picked up some thermals and circled up, past 2,000m, and past 2,500m. Again the pilot asked and again I said no, albeit with less confidence on the later question. At 3,000m, I remembered that the pizza had not tasted right. At 3,500m, there was no doubt.
We maneuvered out away from the top of the cable car (some 1,000m below) and, with the pilot confident the worst was over, out over the town to start our descent. Unfortunately not. Sorry Chamonix.
Another day we took a walk up into the mountains, with the goal of reaching some lakes beyond a mountain shrouded in cloud. Like most days walking in the Alps, our walk involved alot of up and then alot of down. After lunch overlooking the lake, we meandered on across some snow towards another lake. Around one bend, I was met by a mountain goat standing square across the path. With dark, focused eyes, it watched me reach for my camera only to bolt upwards and out of shot before I got the lens cap off.
Later in the day, as I had a rest on some rocks, and David (who had come to visit) and Bren continued to another lake, I saw a lady appear clinging to some rocks a few meters below the chain path. As she realised she had run out of room, and had to backtrack, she lost her balance. As she started to fall, with a life ending drop below her, the five or so of us who were watching launched forward, even though we were each at least 10 meters away. Somehow, with time having slowed, basic principles of physics were suspended and she got back to the face and spread herself across it. From eyes that were all panic and dread a moment earlier, shone relief.
After a final night of watching the sunset over Mont Blanc, and a pleasant walk along the valley floor, we left Chamonix for Paris.
Due to an issue with our camera, I won't be posting any photos from Chamonix.
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