Day 11: How To Stay Cozy

The weather forecast for Chamonix was grim: The rain didn’t look like it was about to let up, so there was no point for us to do the one day stop-over as initially planned. Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland’s proposal wasn’t anything better either: The weather looked just as foreboding, so much so that Caroline even considered leaving us in the sunny south of France to get more climbing out of the coming five days.

“No way!” we responded indignantly. “We went here to see how climbing life is like, and if bad weather includes it, then so be it. It’s all part of the discovery; wet, miserable, rainy and all."

Caro suited us up for the potentially wet camping weather. She lent us extra down jackets, beanies, water proof pants, Goretex (rain-proof) shoes, gloves. Thick sleeping bags – good for up to negative 20 degrees – were pulled out of the storage, and if all else fails, even their lone Himalayan jacket was included in the inventory. It all sounds absurd, but better to be overpacked for this kind of trip, than to suffer and regret later.

We were so excited to see Chamonix that the drive felt shorter than it actually was. Chamonix is, after all, one of the valleys skirting Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in the Alps. Our friend, Alex, was just in Chamonix the week earlier, as a participant in one of the biggest ultra-trail running events in the world, the UTMB. The city is also one of the regular venues of the Sport Climbing World Cups.

I spent the four-hour drive alternating peering through the windshield and the backseat window, observing as the landscape turned from less browns to more greens; from moss and dark greens, to lush, luminous greens. From moderate-size mountains with their tree-dotted gray faces, to taller, prouder mountains with bare, weather-worn limestone crowns. Basically, I watched in awe at the unending vista of mountains and rock faces at this country’s disposal.

Miel testing the Himalayan down jacket at a stop-over

Mont Blanc coming up soon! 4810 meter elevation :-D

The highway going up to Chamonix

It was uplifting to know that the feeling of exhilaration was something that James could relate with. He shared with us how when he first arrived (at the south of France) after growing up in flat England, practically every cliff he saw seemed more alluring and of better quality than a typical home crag. It also made sense how he could easily tease us about every mountain peak we saw, joking how it’s the Mont Blanc when it wasn’t...Our excitement was just that obvious.

But the joke ended at some point when we finally saw the white mountain, for which Mont Blanc is literally named after, having perpetual snowfields and glaciers. We finally arrived in Chamonix. Stepping out of the car, we put on our extra jackets and beanies. Together, we admired the Mont Blanc's barely-visible peak under a cloudy sky. We also met up with Andrea, our host for the one-night stay in this winter sports capital of France.

Andrea wasted no time in showing us his favorite hot chocolate joint, and made sure we each ordered a full mug (my Venezuelan hot chocolate was superb!), to go with the macarons that he also ordered, for our taste buds’ enjoyment. The macarons came in different colors, not necessarily corresponding to its flavor profile, which only suited the flavor guessing game better. Who would ever think to use basil or passion fruit in a macaron?! Apparently, the café’s owner/baker did!

Afterwards, a trip to the boulangerie and cheese/salami shop was in order, all for the dinner he was getting ready for in his cabin. 

So much cheese!

Yes, we were apparently going to stay in his place, which was a cabin. A real, proper cabin, with a stone foundation and wooden interiors, in the mountains, with a fresh spring water source, with a cellar underneath the floor, and a fire place.

Opo, pwede po inumin, malinis po.

Books, a keyboard, and in the other corner his guitar collection. This guy is some kind of genius!

Down the cellar...

Wine stash lang naman

Enjoying the warm fire!

It was also in this cabin where he hosted tonight’s dinner party of seven, where he served cheese, salami and wine for starters, before the main course of his home-made tartiflette with salad and bread, and ending with tiramisu.

If it all sounds so filling, well, it certainly was! Here we were just letting our tummies digest the hot chocolate and macaron merienda, and already he was popping open the bottle of wine and laying down the cheese and salami platter.

And the tartiflette? It was as comforting as cuddling with a book and hot chocolate under a warm blanket while it rains (snows) outside. A tartiflette, I learned, is one of the most common dishes in the cold/mountain regions of France and Switzerland, with its base ingredients being potatoes (easy to grow in the mountains) and cheese (just common all over this country). It is made by simply slicing potatoes and onions, assembling them in a casserole with lardon (or bacon, ham, etc.), crème fraiche and cheese, and baking in the oven. (Some people choose to pre-cook the potatoes to shorten baking time).

Ingredients are obviously not complicated, and the result is just something satisfyingly rich. I mean, cheese, cream and pork fat?! You absolutely can’t go wrong! And with Andrea serving it right from the oven in the weather we were in (a lit fireplace being a necessity, not just for the purposes of ambience), it made perfect sense.

His tiramisu was equally heavenly, and I have the sweet tooths Miel and James to attest to it. The two had more than 2 servings each – and whatever portion was left was easily swept clean by the guys. I particularly loved the cocoa powder that was generously sprinkled on top, which just complemented the rich (fatty) cream really well.

Careful, hot tartiflette dish!

Freshly made tiramisu!

Without a doubt, stomachs and hearts were full after all that. Caroline was so satisfied that she fell asleep on the couch by the fire. Meanwhile, instead of feeling guilty about all the fat, carbs and calories we wolfed downed, I took comfort in the advice that eating heartily was one of the ways that locals counter the cold.

Considering the 10-degree temperature drop from Connaux to Chamonix, well, then may I have another plate of tartiflette, s’il vous plait?