Talk about lucky. Yesterday’s arrival in La Grave was inclement then downright rainy. This morning? Clear with blue skies. Perfect for our trek into the skies. Meija Glacier here we come.
La Grave’s elevation is 1,400 metres, the glacier 3,983 metres. It takes two sets of cable cars to get us to the top.
I’m enormously relieved that the wind has died down. Swinging from a cable car in high winds holds little appeal, especially with the recent spate of cars plummeting from great heights. It’s only the love of being mountain high that can coax me into one. Himself meanwhile, completely relaxed.
It looks daunting from below and that’s only the first leg – the second ascent is hidden out of sight over the rise. Meija was the last mountain conquered in France, taking until 1877 to scale its summit. Yesterday’s pretty graveyard is sadly home to many the mountain claimed.
Tickets purchased and we’re on. The trip up takes a full 30 minutes including the interchange. Understandable – we’re going 2.6 km straight up. Midway, we learn it’s 3 degrees at the top with 58 km winds. I’ve come fully loaded with coat and gloves, just in case. Himself has more practical pursuits in mind – is there a restaurant, he asks. Well of course there is. That’s lunch sorted.
There’s a momentary blast of cold air on arrival but it’s soon back to a t-shirt. The glacier unfurls before us, mountains 360 degrees all around. It’s endless and utterly glorious.
Very serious mountaineers have beat us to the top. As they go about the business of parking their dogs (dogs!!) and unclipping their crampons for lunch, we’ve ordered and settled in.
It has to be tartiflette mountainside for us both – an oven baked cocotte with potato, onion, lardons and melted rebechlon cheese. Utterly delightful, calories be dammed. The air is thin at 4,000 metres and you have to work hard to get anywhere is my reasoning.
Lunch inhaled, our first stop is the ice cave sculptures. Set deep in the glacier, the ice cave is re-carved every 4 to 5 years to account for the glacier’s movement. Access is a sharp hike up then down hill in slippery snow. The altitude soon makes itself known. Work hard to get anywhere indeed.
The cave is elaborately carved and extensive. There’s a mule, wasp, birds, octopi, an owl, flowers – it just goes on. A light display highlights each sculpture. It’s very well done and must take an extraordinary amount of work. Interestingly one thing it isn’t, is cold. I finally understand how an igloo might actually be cozy.
Ice cave explored, we venture to the edge of safety in all directions. Warning signs are everywhere “keep off the glacier” hidden crevasses are everywhere.
We’re above cloud level – the view clears then closes in at the wind’s whim. I do my best to capture everything but it’s hard to do justice to nature in this scale.
Whilst mountainers lounge about in the best kit available, I’m perfectly happy in a t-shirt. It’s sunny despite being 3 degrees and the wind chill is refreshing vs arctic. I dread to think what it’s doing to the glacier. If the waterfalls streaming down are any guide, it’s not ideal.
Himself eventually drags me away. The last lift is mid afternoon and he’s not keen to miss it. I doubt they’d leave tourists stranded though. Our descent to mid level offers great views over the five neighboring villages. We can even see the motorhome, a mere white dot in the distance.
I coax Himself out at midpoint to explore. I know he wants to be in ground level, but how often do you get to go up a mountain? It’s a gentler altitude at 3.200 metre. Greenery replaces the moonscape above and spring flowers are still in bloom. Mountain bike and walking trails are popular here and there are beautiful reflections in the man made lake.
All too soon it’s time to go down. We see the odd walker on the way. I could be convinced to walk from this point. The first few hundred metres are rock face but it’s green the rest of the way, even if blindly steep. I’m less convinced at riding down, but a few hardly souls are intent on doing just that, as the last cable car up reveals. Note the bikes on the rear. Sheer madness.
All too soon we’re back on ground level. I practically get eye strain looking for mountain goats and marmots, both whom call these mountains home. Sadly there are none. I see a marmot tunnel, sans furry butt marmot. I have to settle for a wood carving creature stand in.
I’m so glad we persisted through yesterday’s race to make it to La Grave. Imagine missing this. I’m too hyped up to go home. We opt instead for drinks. I try Chartreuse for the first time and pronounce it delicious. A bottle will need to come home.
Himself relaxes into the late afternoon whilst I twitter about excitedly, as I always do when enthralled. There’s a part of me that’s very at home here. Perhaps I was a marmot in a past life?
We take a last stroll through La Grave and meet yet another Australian Shepherd – she has the classic happy grin. And why not. It’s utterly mesmerising here.
Miss Baci Travels 