IN THE THRONE ROOM OF MOUNTAIN GIANTS

Yesterday I found myself surrounded by the mountains of my childhood dreams. Finally, after so many years, I visited the Legendary Mountains - the European Alps - Mont Blanc and the Grandes Jurasses Mountain. I visited the villages where legends started: Courmayeur and Chamonix. The excitement of these magical names was more than I could bear. I might be smiling non-stop for 3 months.

During my teenage years, I bought every mountaineering book I could afford. I read about mountains, read again, discussed with my climbing buddies, dreamed, and read again. These are the mountains where Walter Bonatti "almost" died MANY times. Cats are supposed to have 9 lives? Walter Bonatti had 9 times 9. My heroes Herman Buhl, George Mallory, Heinrich Herrer, Chris Bonington and others pioneered many "impossible" first ascents on these two mountains. They survived blizzards, extreme weather, rock avalanches, severe injuries, and other challenges. In the 1870's Edward Whymper climbed here many times with his pack full of bottles of fine wine and metal brandy flasks; in case the wine bottles broke. Rheinhold Messner and Peter Habeler set fantastic speed records in the Alps, blazing up many standard 3-day climbing routes in just a few hours. Most of my childhood heroes proved themselves in these mountains with harrowing tales of near-death, survival, and indomitable spirit to continue.

Two days ago I arrived in Torino Italy late at night. I was determined to wake early and get to Mont Blanc, Courmayeur and Chamonix. The night passed with me being more excited than a young boy waiting to open my Christmas gifts. I couldn't sleep at all. At the first opportunity, I jumped out of bed, packed my hiking clothes in my bag, and took off to catch the first train to the mountains. I could NOT wait.

Courmayer, Italy and Chamonix, France. These beautiful mountain towns are dominated by Europe's largest mountains – Mont Blanc and the Grandes Jorasses. These towns were my target.

The early morning train cruised through the fertile Piemonte plains of Italy, famous for lush farms that produce some of the world's best food and wines. The numerous farms had corn higher than my head, hay for cattle, grapes for wine, beautiful farm houses, and roads that led to quaint villages. Finally we reached the base of the mountains. The train started the long, winding climb up the Aosta Valley. Reaching the town of Aosta, I traded the train for bus transport. I stopped for about an hour to visit Aosta, a beautiful mountain town by any standard. I wandered through the local outdoor market, watched motor-less glider planes soaring above the mountains, and was blessed by the statue of Saint Anselme with Mont Blanc beckoning to me in the background. I enjoyed Aosta, but could not stay. Mont Blanc dominated the background like a giant king. My heart was pounding with each glance. Mont Blanc was calling to me, demanding, “COME…”

Our bus chugged up the Aosta valley on winding, steep curves above a raging river. Immediately I wondered where I could rent a kayak or raft? That river looks FUN with lots of boiling white water churning over and around the numerous boulders. Next time.

We passed villages that contained small mountain houses built to prevent snow build-up on the roofs and destruction by avalanche. Finally we reached the town of Courmayeur. Courmayeur's scenery is dominated by the towering pinnacles, glaciers, and water falls of the massive Grandes Jorasses mountain. The Grandes Jorasses is awesome and intimidating. How many tales did I read about near death epics climbing this mountain? Many. Immediately I felt the urge to strap on heavy boots and climbing gear to test myself against this magnificent mountain. Mont Blanc? It was hidden behind another mountain, but still the king whispered with greater power, “COME…” I spent an hour or two hiking around Courmayeur; a great little mountain village. I could live here happily.

But I had to go to Chamonix. Why? To take the telepherique, the cable car, the tram to the top of Mont Blanc. I wanted to see the view from the top, even if I had to cheat and take the easy way. Reluctantly leaving Courmayeur, I boarded the bus with a group of French high school students. We drove to Chamonix through the long tunnel going underneath Mt. Blanc. Arriving in Chamonix, I was immediately stuck by the immense presence, the overwhelming size of Mont Blanc. I fell in love with Chamonix. What a great beautiful place, surrounded by mountains. No wonder so many people spend much of their lives here climbing, skiing, hiking, and enjoying the mountain life. I MUST return.

I jumped out of the bus and walked quickly to cable car, telepherique, to take me to the top ridge of Mont Blanc. The cable car goes to a pointed rock at 3854 meters (12,644 feet) called the Auiguille du Midi (Middle Needle). This is not the top of the mountain, but near enough for lazy people like me. The car was filled with people from all over the world. Most of them were tourists like me. Some were serious mountain climbers with all the heavy equipment, ropes, and pointed metal tools for climbing ice. Many years ago I was part of the group with the mountaineering equipment. But now I have a titanium hip. Those days are behind me.

Boarding the cable car, we climbed into the clouds that enveloped the top of the mountain. Looking through the windows we could see silhouettes of climbers traversing the top ridge of the ice. Finally we reached the top of the tram ride. We were enveloped in a snow storm, but still the scenery was spectacular and exciting. How I longed to go out hiking in the snow. I MUST return for some of the easy climbing up here.

The snow storm intensified until it became a heavy wind and thunderstorm. We couldn't go down the mountain until the storm passed by. Lightning and thunder rocked the cable car station, but fortunately we were warm and cozy inside the hut and rock cave. While waiting, I chatted with a group of tourists from Japan. They were having a superb time during a 10 day hiking trip in the European Alps mountains.

Finally the storm passed and we managed to reach the bottom just in time for me to catch the last bus back to Courmayeur and Aosta and the train. Maybe that was a mistake. NOW....now I wish that I had missed the bus. I wish that I was forced to spend another night in the magical presence of Mont Blanc. I longed to spend more time in Chamonix – much more than the few hours allotted to me. NEXT time, I will bring my wonderful wife and we WILL enjoy several days up here. I hope I can teach her how to climb steep ice slopes with me. We need to enjoy much more of the Mer de Glace (Sea of Ice) on the immense summit region. I need to find a way to reassure her that the many "near death" stories for other people won't happen when I'm involved......

After the bus and train, I returned to my hotel late at night. I fell asleep with more dreams – dreams of Mont Blanc, the Grandes Jorasses mountain. Dreams of the mountain climbers who were my heroes. While sleeping I dreamt that they all whispered to me – “COME AGAIN. CLIMB again. CLIMB even if only the easy portion.”

Yes, sometimes we are lucky enough to reach our childhood dreams. For me, that day is coming.