Petit Envers du Plan (Vallee Blanche variation) for Valentine's Day

Arriving in Chamonix for the first time as a skier is analogous to arriving in Yosemite as a climber. The history of mountaineers, climbers, skiers, and pioneers oozes from the aiguilles and extravagant vertical relief enveloping the Chamonix valley. The grandeur of the mountains and the ambiance of the premier mountain town is found only here. The sole of mountaineering, mountain culture, emanates from the top of Mont Blanc down to the glaciers of the Vallee Blanche, from precariously balanced refuges to chateaux style gites, from the Aiguille du Midi teleferique to

the bustling walking streets of Chamonix. This is a place of religious value for any mountain enthusiast.

Anytime one rushes with urgency, life seems to remind us of the value of patience. After loading the Citroen and beginning our drive toward Chamonix, we noticed an odd smell followed shortly by billowing smoke coming from the dashboard. Slow to allow our peppy van to dash our weekend plans, we pull to the side of the road and pop the hood. The trusty diesel van had transported us on so many excursions. The thought of mechanical problems NOW seemed incomprehensible. We knew this had to be something simple. The billowing smoke was just more bark than bite, right?

Drawing off years of owning an '81 diesel rabbit named Dinky, I knew this would be a roadside fix. Reattaching hoses, replacing hoses, tightening hoses had been a past-time with old trusty Dinky. In this case, the odor was clearly radiator fluid, and it seemed obvious a leaky, detached or otherwise fixable hose was the culprit causing the leak and hence the billowing smoke. Our noses hovered over the engine, et viola, the radiator presented a limply hanging hose. Diving into our ski packs for the duct tape residing in the "epic kit", we did what any diesel owner would do...........and the duct tape permitted our voyage ahead, while the Citroen calmed our urgency and reminded us all good things come with time.

Rounding the last corner, Mont Blanc, spilling seracs, L'Aiguille du Midi, followed by so many more aiguilles, and finally Chamonix presented themselves. It lived up to all expectations leaving us both breathless and somewhat dizzy. Pictures could not translate the energy, immensity, and grandeur that overwhelmed us. We spent the rest of the day finding our bearings and securing our teleferique reservation for the following day. Awaking on Valentine's Day, we skied the Vallee Blanche. A 3000m descent from the Aiguille du Midi that provided us a fantastic way to orient ourselves to the terrain for return trips.

La Grave

Provence in 4 days

Some say Provence is shaped like a giant wedge of quiche. As a food focused person, how could I resist making a visit. Avignon became my home base from which to explore all the Roman, Medieval, and artistic wonders situated a stone's throw in all directions. Camping on L'Ile de la Barthelasse of the Auberge Bagatelle's hostel and campground, Avignon lights up the night sky and Provence hotspots lie waiting within 30-50 km. I anticipate retracing vanGogh's footsteps in Arles, imaging bullfights and gladiators in action at the Amphitheatre of Nimes, and exploring the cold hallways of the Palais de Papes of Avignon.

The journey from the Savoie allow me to navigate from 1850m Courchevel down valley through Albertville (the home of the 1992 winter olympics), on to Chambery (the Savoyard capital), through the Combe de Savoie (agricultural region at the foot of the Bauges Mountains and home to Savoie winemaking), on to Grenoble (known as capitol of the Alps complete with views of Mont Blanc), over Le Col de la Croix Haute with views of Mt. Ventoux to access Nyons followed by Provencal villages, and eventually landing in Avignon with sun setting on the Rhone River. With broken French complimented by broken English, I secured a campsite and set out to explore night life in Avignon. Le Place du Palais is found quiet while la Rue des Teinturiers is glowing with lights, food, and French fashion. The streets are alive, buzzing, and magnetic to explore. I wander through tight streets lined with quaint home facades and find bearings to my new surroundings. Returning to my campsite, I fall asleep with Rick Steve's Provence pleated on my chest ready for exploration the following day.