Adventures Abroad: Chamonix

We started and ended our trek in Chamonix.  We arrived under a blue sky smattered with paragliders and fluffy clouds.  Our surroundings seemed out of a dream--blue-gray mountains jutting up, white-grey glaciers thrusting down and buildings that transported me to mountain cabins and old french villages all at once.  Admittedly, I was also practically delirious from lack of sleep . . . But that sense of wonder over Chamonix didn't dull with time (or a good night's rest). 

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It was 10:30am, but luckily we were able to check in at our hotel, L'Oustalet. Our room was small but charming.  I felt like going straight to bed but C was firm about getting our internal clocks set on local time . . .  So we freshened up and then ventured into a town still teeming with summer tourists and outdoor enthusiasts.

Out of all the places we visited on our trip to Europe, I think Chamonix was my favorite.  The city was small enough that you could walk most anywhere but large enough that you could find what you needed.  While we were there, we got sandwiches and pain au chocolats from a boulangerie-patisserie, ate too many macarons to count, enjoyed burgers cooked by Scandinavians, indulged in an incredible three course meal at Le Petite Kitchen, shared an Asian influenced picnic lunch prepared by Brits and warmed ourselves on a cold, rainy night with entirely too much Indian food.  It was all delicious.

Everywhere you looked in Chamonix there were flowers--hanging in pots, under windows, in parks--so that even under gray skies, the streets and buildings popped with color and cheer.  The city was home to several museums (we went to: Musée Alpin) and a river (L'Arve) with a recreational path that ran right through the center of town (and beyond!).  On our second morning, we put on our running shoes and ran out of town along the Arve.  Its waters were green with sediment and all around us were enormous mountains and little pines that looked like trees out of a model train set.  It was all a bit magical . . .

. . . Even in the rain.  I say this because upon our return from the TMB, things were a bit, well, wetter.  When we went out, we wore rain jackets and when the rain got too heavy, we ducked into cafes and tabacs to escape--ordering Belgian beers or cappuccinos and browsing postcards.  But by that time, I didn't mind--Chamonix felt familiar.  We had our favorite cafe; we knew where to find several Petit Casinos (for those not familiar, it's a grocery store chain, not a gambling establishment), and we could recall what streets took us to what places . . .  I  guess I was starting to feel at home there. 

I hope we return to Chamonix someday.  I'd like to see it in the winter.  Or maybe see it from above.  At the Musée Alpin, I learned that a woman made the first successful winter ascent of Mont Blanc.  Pretty cool.  I don't think I'd attempt it in the winter, but the mountaineer in me would love to stand on that summit. 

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Two weeks after our return stateside, C and I found ourselves watching Charade on Netflix.  And suddenly, I wanted so badly to be back in south-eastern France. With all the exhaustion that came with traveling abroad (and a week of hiking 15 to 30 km a day), I don't think I realized all that I would miss when I left. Chamonix, you stole a little piece of my heart. I look forward to the day I can be reunited with that piece of myself--under those astounding mountains, in that green valley, next to that milky river.  Rain or shine.  I don't care.

Summer Camping Trip #3: VanDamme State Park, Mendecino

The last weekend of July, we drove up the coast to Mendicno for our third camping trip of the summer.  Although it felt a little like we were camping in the fall . . . We wore hats and jackets and built big, roaring fires.  In the mornings we savored coffee and in the evening we roasted pork sausages and sweet corn over leaping flames.

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We drove into Mendocino in the mist and the dark . . . After miles and miles of rolling hills and hairpin turns, the road finally emerged from the trees and suddenly we were hugging the coast.  We could smell the ocean air and see its blackness spread out to the driver's side.  Sometimes we were plunged into white belts of low hanging mist and for a couple moments it felt like we were under water . . . And then we'd come out and see beach and cliffs and ocean through the vagueness of night. 

It was a relief to arrive at the campground.  We arrived well after 10pm.  The camp host was jolly and sold us two bundles of wood.  We setup camp in the dark (for the second time this summer) and built a fire and poured glasses of wine.  Buckwheat scared a raccoon up a tree and then nervously paced around and tangled his leash.  We went to bed late and woke slowly the next morning.

The morning was gray (as was the afternoon and the next morning).  After coffee and cereal we ventured into the town of Mendocino, and then went a little further up the coast to Glass Beach in Fort Bragg.  Mendicino looked right out of Murder She Wrote (because it is).  In the grocery store our checker informed us that she had recently moved from Hawaii and was still waiting for the summer.  Someone in line chuckled and explained that if we wanted to see some sunshine, we should come back in October.

Over in Fort Bragg things were a bit sunnier but still cool.  We ate sandwhiches on logs and I gazed at the little bits of glass scattered in the sand.  Then we hiked along a winding path and stood on rocks and looked out at the blue ocean and felt small.

On our way back towards Mendicino, the boys were attracted by a sign promising a very large amount of firewood.   They bought all of it--filled the whole trunk of the car with it.  Back at camp we played Blongo Ball and listened to music and talked.  Mostly we hung around the fire.  And that trunk full of fire wood?  It all got burned.  And we were warm. 

  Below are some photos from our weekend in Mendicino:

On the Edge of the World (or Glass Beach)

(Speak Softly But) Carry a Big Stick

Looking Up the Coast, Fort Bragg, CA

Earth, Air and Water

California Coast, You're Really Something

Flowers and Coastlines

Views from the Trails Around Glass Beach

Coastal Living

Rooftops

A Trunk Full of Wood

And They Burned It All

Someday, I'd like to go back to Mendicino and stay in a cozy Bed & Breakfast.  And see the town and beaches in some sunshine.  Maybe next October . . .

Summer Camping Trip #2: Rocky Rest, North Yuba River

Towards the middle of July we went on our second camping trip of the summer.  Once again, we drove east.  This time to the Yuba River, and while it was another triple digit weekend in Central California, we made it without any car related incidents.   

There were 11 of us on the trip—eight people and three dogs.  The campsites were shaded and the North Yuba River was just through some trees and down a path.  Upon arriving, we immediately changed into our suits and made a beeline to the river.  We unfolded chairs on the water’s edge and slipped our feet beneath its surface.  Some of us waded out and submerged ourselves in its waters.  Others wandered down river to search out its fish. 

The water was cool and clear.  It contained tadpoles and frogs and snakes(!) and bugs and little fish (and presumably, also, some larger fish who were just not fooled by the casts and flies of our fly fishermen). The bottom of the Yuba was covered in smooth rocks and silty sands worn down by the flow of the river's waters.  Parts of the river ran fast and made you spin around and laugh in your inner tube.  Other parts ran slow and pooled in swimming holes that were perfect for reclining back, closing your eyes and just drifting ...

The camping trip was passed with hiking, swimming, fly fishing, gold panning, shade sitting, trail running, shore talking, chair lounging, rock hopping, doggy paddling and inner tube floating.  Our first full day, we carried our inflatables and chairs and towels to a little swimming hole and spent most of our day around there: exploring its shores, paddling across its width in various floaties and plunging beneath its waters to escape the day's heat.   

On our second day we headed to the South Yuba River.  To get there, we drove down a dusty, narrow road that kept winding and going down and winding and going down and winding until . . . it reached a dead end lined on both sides with parked cars. From there, we hiked (I did a little falling) down a shady path and then scrambled over rocks and rocks until we found another swimming hole suitable for passing an entire afternoon.  

After a couple hours on the South Fork, C and I had to head home (I had to work the next day) . . . but  I think we probably both left a little part of our hearts on the Yuba.  

Some photos our trip:

Up River.

Rapids and Rocks.

Lil Froggie Friend.

Straight Down.

River Gradients.

Friends Floating the River.

Spinning By.

Buckwheat and C on Float the Yuba.

Buckwheat Would Rather Brave the River than be Separated from C.

Back to the Swimming Hole.

In the Sun.

Lounging.

And Drifting . . .

Crossing the Swimming Hole.

Shore Exploration.

Darwin in the Shade.

Views from the Shade.

Dexter in the Shade.

Camouflage.

Back at Camp.

The Bird's Nest.

Buckwheat at Camp.

Evening Light.

Camping is Tuckering.

But it Also Makes You Smile.

Buckwheat Dons Crown.

Views of the South Yuba River.

River Activities.

Departing Views. 

It took me awhile to get this up--mostly because I feel my photos and words don't do it justice.  It was an amazing camping trip with some really good friends.  But I have a feeling will be back ... Until next time, Yuba!