The Alps, Italy, and on to Greece

The Alps, Italy, and on to Greece   

     Our first morning in Chamonix, we awake to see freshly fallen snow and mists swirling around amazing peaks.  The rain was worth it! Here's what we saw!

     Later, we walk from our camp to a cable car station. The valley is full of rides to places that otherwise only dedicated walkers or skilled mountain climbers reach. The next day a cable car effortlessly swings us up to a spot high above tree line. In ten minutes it lets us off at a place that would have required a long, tough trudge to the top. 


     We hike to a lake. Again, it’s a much longer, tougher hike than our French trail guide makes it sound -- well, there’s that, and we’re not exactly at the height of youthful vigor either :)  The lake is lovely, though. Here are the dramatic views from the lake across the valley to the big peaks. Enjoy!

     We barely make it back for the last car down. We have to really get moving back down the steep, rocky trail --not entirely our idea of fun.

     The most outrageous ride in the valley is up to Aiguille de Midi (“middle needle”), the central and most dramatic peak in the Mont Blanc Massif.  The car zips like a quiet helicopter up to a building that clings to the giant cliff. Even this precarious, snow-covered spot has the de rigueur restaurant, bar, and souvenir shop. It overlooks rivers of ice moving, apparently, at a glacial pace.

     Beyond the glaciers are dozens of giant peaks poking up through clouds. From here, when the clouds part, you see a high rounded snow mound, Mont Blanc. Big peaks in Italy and Switzerland crowd the distance. In the foreground are mountaineers , tiny ant-like lines of climbers, roped together, making their way up long, steep ridges.  Here are a few photos:

Yes, those are climbers on the ridge!

Mount Blanc is the mound at the right, highest point in peninsular Europe

Aguille de Midi, cable car station on top

Mt. Blanc is the mound in back

     Mountain climbing seems a brave and challenging thing to do! Foolish, I’m sure some would say; yet I too know the excitement of a challenge that can lead to exhilaration atop a magnificent peak with 360-degree views. Now, at an age where the high peaks are too much to climb, I fully appreciate cable cars taking me .

     At the top of the ride, an icy cold wind whistles over the ridge. The sudden change in altitude that the cable car provides feels strange. I’m subtly dizzy. Hearing and voice sound a little strange. My lungs go into overdrive on a simple staircase.

     
     To our surprise and mild discomfort, the more popular Chamonix cars crowd in every last possible person. There’s maybe fifty standing in the car sardine-style. Claustrophobics: note to self. Others cars provide individual seats in small compartments for four people, a nice conversational living room in the sky. One ride is a ski lift pressed into summer service. Here we buckle into a seat and fly through open space, no car around us at all.

  
     Our campground came with a free pass on French rail anywhere in Chamonix Valley, a nice perk which we use several times. We enjoy walking around in the valley by the trees and river and streams just as much as swinging up to the heights.

Chamonix from above

     Amira took these shots around the flower-filled village of Chamonix.  She's really getting into photography, since it's hard to do her colorful tiling art on the road:

Jazz in the afternoon in Chamonix

    
    

     Chamonix village itself is charming and a bit upscale; skiing is it’s biggest thing. The expensive stuff on display here is ski and mountain gear of all kinds, especially clothing and climbing equipment. We buy on sale a compact backpack-style stove to serve as an additional burner for outdoor cooking.

     There are flowers everywhere in Chamonix! We take as many photos of them as mountains -- here's a sample:

Mont Blanc back in the mist

    

     Chamonix is French – no shortage of patisseries, though we know we’re closer to Italy with the frequent gelato shops. Amira likes gelato so much, her philosophy of “Life is short --eat dessert first!” truly comes into its own!   She also finds a couple Arab guys selling great falafels made with fresh, French ingredients. Delicious! We chow down happily.

     At dusk, I take photos with alpen glow on the peaks:

        Here's just a few more of this amazing area that I could not bear to leave out.  Every day the same mountain would be worth a new and different picture!

    

This last Chamonix picture is a climber's view taken from another cable car:

     After ten days camped  in Chamonix, we finally drive on to Switzerland just up the road.

     The first thing we come to, in the town of Martigny, is an exhibition of paintings by Monet, some from the Monet Musem in Paris, others rarely-seen, from private Swiss collections. It was an unusual event, and we saw signs about it starting in our campground in Chamonix. 


     Eventually the signs lead us right to the front door of the local museum. Outside on the park-like grounds were Rodin statues – including “The Kiss” – along with works by Calder, Matisse, and Miro.  Here are a few things found in the gardens:

        If the exhibit was impossible to miss, it was beginning to feel impossible to find our campground, despite the best maps and GPS coordinates. Our angel of the evening actually pulls around us on the road, brings us to a stop, and says, “I know where you’re going, follow me!” It’s hard to believe we’re getting used to this kind of generosity, but it continues to happen on a regular basis.

     The next day, we climb up a steep pass and then simply drive on to a car transport train that speeds us north under the Alps via a series of tunnels. A journey that can require up to a day is reduced to an hour or so. Soon we’re in Spiez on the shore of turquoise Lake Thun.

      
     Buying croissants and tarts in a patisserie in Spiez, we discover we have neither the Swiss Francs nor basic German language skills to complete the transaction. Along with other customers joining in to help, we get it done with a lot of laughter and fun.  We get coffee and walk down to an ancient castle and church by the lake, munching our goodies.

Lake Thun from Spiez, just before rain

     Seen in Spiez:

     
    
     We drive on through rain, through Interlaken, set between Lake Thun and Lake Brienz, to our campsite at the end of the road in Stechelberg, a narrow spot at the bottom of a deep gorge made mystical by mist and literally dozens of magnificent waterfalls. We've never seen so many big falls in one place, and don't expect we ever will again.  The heavy rain treats us to seeing the falls in spring-like flow. Waterfalls away! 

Some other sights in this mystical, amazing gorge:

 
    

     This valley is at the feet of the highest mountains in the Swiss Alps. We know they're far above us up there somewhere.  We walk to a cable car station not far from our campground, past the highest free-flowing fall in Europe, and swing high up the mountain.

     The first stop is in a little flower-filled village where Amira gets lox and bagels and I make a ham sandwich. We seldom eat out due to high cost. We sit munching peacefully gazing at the peaks. Here's a few shots around the village:

     The next stage of the cable car takes us very high, to a revolving restaurant at Schilthorn station, of James Bond fame. Sunset is near. Across the chasm we finally see the biggest peaks in the Swiss Alps in all their glory -- the Eiger, Jungfrau, and Monch. These translate as Ogre, Virgin,and Monk – check out the photos to discern whether the names make sense to you!

From left: Eiger, Jungfrau, Monch

Eiger

Up close to the Eiger

Jungfrau

Eiger was the hardest of them all to climb

Monch (Monk)

We camped in the valley of waterfalls below 

    
Out on the observation deck we meet a young couple who seem very happy together. They were using a tripod to take their own picture. When they were done, we asked them to take a picture of us. We got to talking and laughing together, and they gave us a little present, a hand-embroidered jewelry-bag. It turns out they had traveled here from South Korea for their honeymoon. They set up the tripod and took a picture of all four of us. Now it’s on their website and this blog.

Top of the cable car ride at Schilthorn

This picture many thanks to our honeymooning friends from South Korea

     On the way down we meet a family that includes a young couple. He was taking dozens of photos of his attractive mate. He said to us, “How do you like it in paradise?” Amira said, “Where are you from?” He said, “Mexico.” It seems the whole world comes to see these amazing peaks.

     On the way out of the mountains we dally along aquamarine Lake Brieze, eating our lunch and enjoying the heavenly lake, along with flowers and water birds and sheep and goats.

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Lake Briez

     While stopped for lunch we meet a pony-tailed father taking his young daughter out to the lake. We get to talking, he’s from Germany and had come to work in Switzerland, where he was making twice as much. He tells us that just that day the Swiss intentionally devalued their currency.
 

     The Swiss franc had become so over-valued that even the Swiss were crossing over into France to buy groceries. It was getting too expensive to live in Switzerland.  Their tourist industry took quite a hit this summer of 2011, when many Europeans decided to vacation elsewhere. We spent only a week, and never ate out!

     Further along, we pass high Reichenbach Falls, where Arthur Conan Doyle had the criminal master mind Professor Moriarty push Sherlock Holmes over the Falls.

Reichenbach Falls

     If we were more into all that, we might have stopped at the little Holmes museum to connect with other fans. We spend the rest of the day driving a fiercely steep and winding road over the Alps toward the Swiss border with Italy. 

     At dusk we camp once more in Switzerland, near the rushing Rhone, enjoying a distant sunset view of the Matterhorn.

Free flow at the top of a major pass over
the Alps, it was a long haul!

We chose not to go to Zermatt, and get close, but
here's our photos of the Matterhorn

     The next day we once again drive onto a train that takes us through the famous Simplon tunnel. We almost miss one little sign out on the highway. We turn in, buy a ticket at a gate, nobody tells us anything about how to do this, it’s a good thing we did it once before – this is a different tunnel, though.


     Our timing is lucky, three minutes after we cut our engine, the train heads into the tunnel. When it comes out of the tunnel and stops, we’re in Italy – no signs, it takes us a little while to figure that out. Soon we’re on four lane, headed down toward the Italian Lakes.

     We make it into our campground by little Lake Orta by sunset. The change is dramatic. It’s warm and sunny, the plants and trees and palms seem almost semi-tropical. The water in the lake is warm enough to swim in. After weeks in the alps around icy glaciers, it’s a very welcome change.

      The view from our campground looks back over the blue lake, long and narrow in a valley, towards the Alps. From other places in the Lakes, you can see the Alps in the distance.

     The contrast is stunning. We are back to Mediterranean weather once again. We swim almost every day, and stroll along the lake balmy evenings. Amira has gelato every day.

     We eat out at a swank place on the lake one night and splurge a little, Italy is a lot cheaper.   Amira loves sea bass, and they had it fresh here, the best ever.

     One day we go up on the mountain across from us and find twenty-one little chapels, shrines to St Francis of Assisi. Far below, on a little island in the lake, there’s a monastery for cloistered nuns.

     Lake Orta is a sweet, romantic place. Eight days pass timelessly. One night we find ourselves, quite spontaneously, kissing at the altar of a beautifully painted little chapel in the village. Amira says, “You are the Light, I am the Light, We are the Light, and it’s a Delight!”

     Fall is upon us, the water and the nights are getting cooler, and we decide to head south for even more warmth. We stop one night on the Italian Riviera. It’s been ruined by popularity. We continue south, through Genoa and on down the Italian coast. It’s a beautiful coast, with dramatic islands, and the water is swimmable, but we want warmer water, we're thinking about Greece.

     The Italian countryside, with lazy villages gathered together tightly on their little medieval mountain tops, are beautiful and charming.

     We end up at a campground on the shore of lovely Lake Bolsena for a few nights, where we find broadband for one euro a day!  The last post gets posted!

This is what a gall wasp nest looks like

These lovely folks were studying the effect of
gall wasps on the local oak trees

     We drive on down to a campsite outside Rome. It’s called Happy Village, and as usual, we need angels to find it for us in the Roman suburbs, a young couple kindly leads us there. We are simply not tourists, and feel ambivalent about Rome. The next day we take a train into town, and walk to St. Peters in the Vatican.

     There are all sorts of impressive plazas and buildings, but the metro and the streets are dirty, the people seem lost in the anonomie of city dwellers, and the vibrations of Catholicism at St. Peter’s do nothing to stir our spirits. One afternoon is enough!

     We head for the ferry to Greece, but decide to stop at the town of Assisi, where St. Francis was born, on the way. Quite by coincidence, we have arrived on the big weekend of the year: October 3 is St. Francis’s birthday celebration, and a lot of folks have gathered in the town, our campground nearly fills up.


     St. Francis is buried in the church at the top of the hill in Assisi. We climb up the hill in hot sun, and Amira fortifies herself with a gelato to cool off. The basilica, or church – too small to be a cathedral-- is an elaborate scene with frescoes and paintings and statues everywhere.

Statue of St Francis

Modern wood carving of St. Francis

St Francis place of burial

The next few shots are all taken around the small and beautiful church in Assisi dedicated to St. Francis:

    

The next three shots are from a nearby larger church dedicated to Mother Mary:

     These are of the Basilica dedicated to St. Francis:

     We sit and enjoy the organ music and an Asian woman with a beautiful tenor voice, practicing for the mass. We stay for the musical part of the mass, and slip out during the sermon and readings, which are lost to us in Italian and Latin. Passing out the old city gate, Amira has another round of the best chocolate gelato she has found in Italy so far!

     We relax for three days in the country near Assisi, and then drive on to the ferry port for Greece, a city on the central coast named Ancona. We’re surprised to discover that all the campgrounds have closed the last day of September. It’s a pretty drive, but we meet disappointment at one gate after another.  By nightfall we are thoroughly lost in Ancona, a big town, not at all an easy place to drive, with little idea of what to do.

     Clearly, it’s angel time. We stop to ask a young couple for ideas. After they have a long staccato discussion, the details of which we can only guess, we find ourselves following them to a lovely parking spot in an upscale private marina – it seems the young woman is in some way affiliated with the scene, which is right next to the ferry docks.
     
     She somehow talks her way through the gate, a reluctant guard finally responds to her combination of smiles and firm insistence . We are parked near an electrical outlet (which we really need this night to prevent food spoilage), given a tour of the lovely showers and bathrooms, shown the two closest restaurants of this club, and finally, taken in their car on a careful driven tour to show us exactly how to get to the ferry the next day. It’s a little hard to believe, but this is a scene that would have been confusing and difficult all the way without that kind of help.

Hey you guys!  You are wonderful and amazing!
A million thanks for getting us on the ferry!

     We fill our refrigerator for the trip.  We need to be plugged in until the ferry leaves at 5:30 the next day, when we would be able to plug in on the ferry.

     We pick up our tickets, bought on line, and drive on to a very big ship.  Mostly we we’re with big freight trucks; there are only three or four other campers.

     On some ferries you can sleep in your van but this boat was not set up form that, and our tickets include inside cabins.  This will be the first night we do not sleep in the van since we picked it up in Wales -- about six months!  It feels luxurious to have a shower and toilet right there in our title room!  We have a closet with hangers!

     The ferry's horns blast and it  to slowly moves away from the dock, the town, and out to sea. It’s a late, sunny October afternoon in Italy, we’re on the way to Greece!  Soon we’re well out into the Adriatic Sea, sailing south mostly.  The sun is slowly sinking  into the sea to the west.  We watch a beautiful sunset unfold as we sit in the dining room eating Greek moussaka and gnocchi.

     The young dance late to disco. Soon we’re ready to turn in, knowing we’ll be up early the next morning in Greece.  Amira had never taken a sea-going ship on an overnight trip before.  I love being at sea and was as excited as she was.  Besides the bright stars and the ship’s running lights, it’s dark. We’re alone far out at sea.

     Next morning, I awake early and grab my camera.  I like to sleep, but must go out and watch for the first sighting of Greece.  We make landfall, there are big mountains in the distance.  The captain slows the boat as we cruise close between the mainland and the Island of Corfu and other islands.  Down by the water, Corfu is a lovely green. There are valleys full of dark green pines and olive trees.  Higher up, the sunny side of the mountains are almost barren.  It is evident that we’ve moved south to a hotter, drier climate. 

First views of Greece

     We drive off the ship into what seems a small town out in the boonies.  The first few blocks look very “third world ,” with irregular asphalt, no sidewalks, dust, and piles of construction materials all about. We come to a market and shop a little. 

     Just a bit further down the road, there’s a sweet little town, Igoumenitsa.  I search for a map of Greece and find one in a news kiosk.  Later, we learn that this little port on a tiny bay up against the mountains was a tiny village until it became one of Greece's two main western ports only fifteen years earlier.

Fishermen on the beach, Igoumenitsa

This corn on the cob over coals heads toward popcorn -- good!

     It's sunset as we get on the highway, ready for hours on the road.  The first thing that strikes me is how wild and unpopulated this part of Greece looks.  We’re in the far northwest, and towns of any size are few and far between. 

     After a few turns on a bumpy highway – and this is the main highway -- we look out over a deep blue bay with turquoise coves and I shout  -- "I see beautiful beaches, Wow!"  We see a sign for a campground.  We drive down to a campsite just fifteen feet from a beach on a little cove, its deep blue water sparking in the sun.  It takes me less than five minutes to be in the water!  It feels wonderful!  This turns out to be our home for our first week in Greece.  We'll never forget its sweetness and beauty and peace.

     The Greek owners are a family, from Grandpa to little ones. They take care of everything, and are so friendly and natural, we feel almost included in the family.  The campground is an old place. There are ancient stone stairways with bougainvillea hanging over them, palm trees, lots of flowers.  Delicious Greek food is served in the little bar restraurant, and we treat ourselves to eating there two or three times. They send us to a nice garage man who removes a nail from a tire that had become leaky.

Erhard and Erika,
who camped next to us on the beach.
They kindly sent along the photo below

     Another of our angels show up when we're looking for the right kind of gas for our camper stove -- she takes us all the way through town to the right store, shows us the right ATM, and more!  Dimitra, thank you again!  It seemed not to occur to you to even need thanks, you're helpfulness felt so normal for you.


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Dimitra with Amira, Our Angel in Igoumenitsa

     It’s hard to leave, truly.  We pay our bill of only twenty euros a night, and head south to Lefkada Island.  We drive along high ocean cliffs and an aquamarine sea.  There seem to be green islands everywhere.  Later, they become abstract silhouettes in the setting sun. 

     Will wind up this blog post here.  Stay tuned for the magical island of Lefkada and the ruins at Delphi, with its profound, ancient "spirit of place." It was here that the oracle told Socrates, when he asked why his friend had called him "the wisest man in Athens," that he was the wisest because  nobody knew anything, but he alone realized he knew nothing.

Kali Andamosi! 

That's "See you soon!" in Greek!