The Quest for La Croix Verte

Getting lost while hiking, biking or simply taking a stroll is one of my favourite things to accidentally do; you always end up discovering new nooks, secret passages, or treasures you just didn't expect to stumble upon.

Yesterday, with the sun beating down and spring in the air, myself, Fiona and Elena took off to discover the mountains in our own backyard in Cluses. Although our intent was to eventually end up at "La Croix Verte", we ended up meandering through the forest, losing our way, and having a lovely time. La Croix Verte evaded us this time, but it's the journey that counts, right?

Only one way to go

No trespassing

Skeletons

Naked trees

Some signs of life

Strolling

First blooms

Look twice: a pile of ants

VTT

On the way down

Ski Touring Attempt #1

Back in Canada, my friends in Vancouver were always raving about the merits of ski touring, where the chaos of groomed slopes is replaced by the solitude and beauty of nature. Despite the fact that the sport received such positive reviews, there were a number of things that I just couldn't wrap my head around. First, strapping on heavy skis and walking up a mountain? No thanks. Secondly, whenever someone mentions the "back country" my survival instincts scream "AVALANCHE", thus paralyzing me in fear. Needless to say, it didn't seem like a sport that I was likely to enjoy nor take up anytime soon. Slowly, I am seeing the light.

My first realization came on my first snowshoe in the Alps to Mont Truc. I had, ironically, strapped snowshoes onto my feet to walk up a mountain.  There were ski tourers close by, and I admit that in my head I may have snickered at my fellow mountain-goers, as their suffering and discomfort was clearly at a level superior to my own. My snickering came to a sudden halt as soon as I witnessed the skiers clamp down their heels, and glide gracefully and swiftly down the slope. Looking down at my own snowshoe-clad feet, I knew it would be a slow journey back down to the car. Maybe there was something to this ski touring sport after all...

My visit up to Notre Dame de Bellecombe, where I was graciously received by the Favrets a few weekends back, affirmed my suspicions.  With some extra gear on hand, my hosts Claude and Christian outfitted me with some touring skis, and we took off up the mountain. I went in with an open mind, keeping focused on the prospect of a speedy and fun-filled descent once we reached the top. To my surprise, I thoroughly enjoyed the ascent.  Quiet trails, sunshine, and good company made it pleasant hard work. We popped out of the trees on top of the ski resort Praz sur Arly, took in some sun, and then started to make our way down. This is where things started to go terribly wrong: with long and heavy skis and lack of practice, I had to resort to the classic, but ultimately humbling method of getting down a mountain. Snowplowing. I grimaced as I was passed by literally everyone on the slopes, and in the end I think it took me longer to get down than it did to get up. 

Even with the ugly descent, I'd consider my first ski tour to be a success. Or at least 50% successful...maybe it would be wise to stick to snowshoeing?

Touring skis

The Favrets

Room with a view

Snowy sunbathing

View of Notre Dame de Bellecombe

Made in France

The View from 3842m

This view was worth a lot more than the 35 Euros it cost to get up. With clear skies and the sun beating down, it was a balmy spring day at the top of l'Aiguille du Midi. The top afforded a bird's eye view of Chamonix sitting below in the valley, a sweeping vista of the Alps, and a view of a myriad of skiers, snowboarders and mountaineers enjoying Mont Blanc.

Adorable scavenger

Mountaineers

The French Alps

Birds flying high

Breathtaking

Chamonix below

Prayer flags

Morgan dreaming

The way to the summit

Castles

I've said this before, but one of my favourite parts of being in Europe is the fact that in comparison to North America, everything is steeped in history. I say this not to diminish North America's own rich and expansive past, but the art and architecture in Europe reaches so far back that it has the effect of igniting the imagination.  The prime example of this? Castles. Medieval strongholds, impressive in their construction, but also brought to life by the romance that is inherent to such buildings. It's impossible to think of castles without an association to classic fairy tales or stories of heroic kings and knights. Even the less appealing aspects of the times (serfdom, medieval torture, horrifying medical procedures, lack of sanitation) elicit a kind of fascination. So, needless to say, during our whirlwind tour of Germany, we stopped in at a few castles along the way.

The Kaiserburg sits above the city of Nurnberg, and was one of the official residences of the Holy Roman Emporers between 1050 and 1571. One of my favourite features of this castle is the fact that it's built on sandstone, so at points it looks as if it grows organically out of the rock. Walking through its courtyards, what stands out are the details that are scattered throughout; the intricate family crests, delicate tree growing in the centre of the inner courtyard, and the huge, sturdy padlocks that fortify the castle's gates. From over the Kaiserburg's walls, there is a stunning view of the red tiled, pitched roofs of the city's houses.

Outer courtyard of the Kaiserburg (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

Family Crests (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

Heidelberg's Heidelberger Schloss, mostly in ruins but partially restored, felt warm and welcoming compared to the Kaiserburg. The earliest date of construction dates back to around 1200, but the building suffered a number of destructive events (lightning bolts, fires, wars) and was never entirely rebuilt. Despite this, the initial walk up leads you into the castle gardens, which are impressive on their own. Large expanses of orderly grasses, shrubs, and a beautiful view of the city make it a worthwhile climb to the top. Inside the castle ruins are the remains of would have once been a bustling castle courtyard. 

Heidelberger Schloss

Castle wall

Everybody loves unicorns!

Last but not least, Neuschwanstein Castle, perched at the foot of the German Alps. This one is impressive for a number of reasons. First,  its location on top of a small mountain is precarious, and it was clearly no small feat to drag all of those materials to the top of its mountain perch. Secondly, when you see Neuschwanstein, the image that immediately comes to mind is that of the famous Disney Castle. This is completely justified, as Neuschwanstein was one of the many castles after which the Disney Castle was modeled. And thirdly, once you've taken a tour, and learned more about the history of the castle, you'll come to realize that King Ludwig II, the person who built Neuschwanstein, was likely insane and living in a fantasy world of his own. Which, of course, makes the castle that much more intriguing.  Neuschwanstein is much newer compared to the previous two castles that were mentioned; its construction started in 1868, and was one of many extravagant castles and homesteads that King Ludwig II commissioned. The interior is extremely ornate, featuring representations of Germanic and Nordic sagas throughout.  The castle was never completed, as Ludwig II went bankrupt, was declared insane, and died a mysterious death. Ah, the romance and mystery of castles!

Neuschwanstein sitting pretty in the snow (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

For all of you cyclists...

Bring your beater, because your frame is definitely going to get a little bike-on-bike loving while it's locked up in Europe. These shots were taken at a bike parking in Heidelberg, Germany. If we don't have a good infrastructure of bike lanes in Canada, at least we have spacious parking, right? Love it!

Ich bin ein Berliner!

Berlin feels cold compared to Paris. Not just the frigid air, but there is a harshness to the city's lines. It's as if the honeymoon stage were over, and you can see all of Berlin's scars; all of its shortcomings and its strengths. Its façade is marked with the signs of history to the point of being patch worked, where buildings and public spaces have been stitched back together. They are given new life through an architectural ingenuity that has a magnetic appeal; it speaks to the ability of humans to destroy in such a devastating way that it can only be counterbalanced by our capacity for creation and beauty. What makes Berlin such a startling place is that these two extremes are visually manifested in the fabric of the city.  

As an introduction to Germany, Berlin was a fascinating place to start. It was edgy and in-your-face (graffiti and a big Underground scene) but also ready to share its secrets; the city is incredibly well marked with information on both World War II and the Cold War. Our historical touring was punctuated with nothing less than a sampling of amazing German beer, a melt-in-your-mouth visit to a Rittersport factory, and Berlin style "street meat" in the form of currywürst (traditional German sausage with a curry sauce).

Ich spreche kein deutsch! But no matter... (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

In front of the Reichstag and its famous dome (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

Berliner currywürst

Morgan enjoying a hot chocolate

Gluttony at the Rittersport store

Beautiful stained glass at the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Memorial Church

Traces of the Berlin Wall (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

Patchwork

Shadows

WWII Memorial

Holocaust Memorial

Holocaust Memorial

Holocaust Memorial

Holocaust Memorial

Paris, je t'aime. Even if it's a cliché...

Finally, Paris: the quintessential European destination.  The city of love, melt-in-your-mouth croissants and cobblestoned streets that light up at night, just waiting for couples to stroll down them, fingers intertwined. Also a city bustling with people from the four corners of the world, with any worthy destination sporting a handsome line-up (is it worth the wait?) and souvenirs dangled in your face around every romantic river bend.  The beauty of the city blinds you to its faults, as if Paris were in fact the ideal lover, its shortcomings masked by the feeling of being all-consumed by its presence.

We kick-started our European travels in a tiny apartment (space comes at a premium in this city) in the 18ième arrondissement of Paris. With a delicious boulangerie around the corner and the metro a short walk away, we were fully equipped for our Parisian “séjour”.  Post-trip, the events of our 5-day visit tend to manifest themselves into a Monet-style painting in my mind; all of our experiences blur into one, creating a magnificent light-filled tableau of the city:

Day one spent exploring the beauty of Montmartre. Our feet and knees slowly getting accustomed to the dull pain that comes with walking on stiff concrete for kilometers on end. The Cimetière de Montmartre, shafts of light streaming between silent centuries-old tombs nestled within the bustle of the city. Cemetery cats pouncing in and out of shadows, with no notion that they’re living amongst the ghosts of Parisian history. Later in the day, les Champs-Élysées.  Busier than expected, the Arc de Triomphe sitting solid at the centre of it all, holding its own against the tourists and traffic as the sun sets. 

Cimetière de Montmartre

Dégas in his final resting place

Morgan with the Arc de Triomphe

Day two waking up to the taste of fresh coffee and light, buttery croissants.  The Seine flecked with a mid-winter sun and the Eiffel Tower jetting up into the frigid air. Solid metal beneath our hands as we climb up and up, to see Paris fold out in front of us, marked by gold domes, church bell towers, and people going about their day on the streets below. Later that night, the Moulin Rouge attracts a strange kind of curiosity from the crowds, and she gives no apologies for being so bold.

Getting used to the French-style breakfast (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

La Seine (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

Climbing up the Eiffel (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

Bird's eye vies (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

Picture perfect (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

Morgan taking it all in

Eiffel Tower, lining up

A tangle of metal

Le Moulin Rouge (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

Day three following winding cobblestone streets slick with rain, slightly shiny with the moisture. The gardens of Sacré-Coeur fresh with the scent of lavender, leading the way to the imposing solidity of the church’s stone and sweeping arches.  Another all-encompassing vista of the city before narrow staircases take us back down into the shuffle. Finally, buildings re-energized and brought back to life in Bercy Village.

Montmartre cat (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

Getting lost (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

Bercy Village (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

Bercy again (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

Day four, Valentine’s Day. The perfect day for the Musée d’Orsay, waiting patiently for a sight of famous brushstrokes. Paris renewed in the eyes of the impressionists. Later that evening, acclimatizing to the expressions of a Parisian climbing gym (“allez” and “c’est chaud”) and rewarding our hard work with the best pho in town. Stepping off the metro to the sight of the Eiffel Tower dazzling the city with its dancing lights. 

Musée d'Orsay (Photo: Morgan Edwards)

Parisian Valentine's messages

Eiffel Tower (Photo: Morgan Edwards)