Through trials, tribulations, dead carcasses, dead-ends, asphyxiation, mistrust, and even losing my temper at one point, I embark on an adventure of a lifetime with a special companion.
Sorry I wrote so much! Instead, feel free to listen along to hear how I tell the story in my own mind. I promise I’ll get better with my articulation next time! XD
During the off-season of extreme alpine sports, the World’s Renowned Ski Resort Town of Chamonix resembles a ghost town.
The Night Before the Hike
In the valley of Chamonix, I walked in a daze, a trance almost, giddy of excitement, mesmerized by the jagged mountains against the darkening backdrop of sky. Soon enough the indigo night would join the clouds to blanket and obscure the white snow-capped peaks. It was like God had placed a little blanket on planet Earth. And underneath the soft cloth, little humans away from home, away from obligations and responsibilities, jumped on their beds, threw up their hands in the air, and declared, "PARTY!” similar to the multitude of minions would do in Despicable Me. My classmates and I were going barhopping. I found our amicable spirit endearing. In the Alps, we were young, wild, and free. On nights out like these, I mustered up the courage to go out of my social comfort zone. Because, let’s be honest. I desperately needed friends.
It was the off-season and off-hours of the alpine sports town, so the closed restaurants on our way resembled somewhat of a ghost town.”You know,” I whisper to Sophia, one of my classmates, “I would like to come here with my soulmate. It’s so gorgeous. I love how that light touches the mountain and that we get to see that through the fog that’s just about to cover it. Talk about fleeting.” That was usual of me—attempting to say something profound when no one asked for it. I received only pleasantries but no response to my mountain observation. Talk about a fleeting conversation. We reached a bar and bought watered-down tequila shots and drinks with our already depleting bank account. Money is happiness when you see it as no value. You spend and spend for a temporary high until you forget the intrinsic value of it. I was worried that I was getting too spendthrift.
Just outside the door of one bar, I saw Saheel, a tall Indian guy classmate that always smiled, not smiling.
“Saheel, hey, what’s up? Aren’t you excited we’re in the Alps!”
“Hey Thi!” he brightened up, “Yeah..it’s just that we can go to bars when we get back to Lyon, anywhere really.” (Lyon was our host city of our study abroad program.) “We’re in the Alps. This is like a once in a lifetime opportunity to do something we can’t do anyplace else.”
I was yanked back to reality. I put down my drink, leaned back, and tucked my hand in my pocket to feel the 2 coins of 4 euros I had left and sighed. Yeah, that was my attempt on being cool. What a party pooper. But man, I was spending so much money.
“Yeah, you’re right. Totally,” I agreed, “but hey a night with friends in the Alps don’t hurt. Don’t get me wrong. I am enthusiastic about being here. This is like, the high point—,” I connected my two index fingers to form an upside down ‘V’, “—the summit of the study abroad trip. I’ve been looking forward to this, too.” I was referring to our class excursion to l’Aiguille du Midi aka ‘The Needle’ the next day. I searched the crowd to latch onto some form of promise of a good time.
One of the bars we went to..
As the bar-goers jeered and socialized, existential questions pestered my mind. What Saheel had mentioned hit me like an incoming soccer ball. What was I exactly here for? Going out was so not me. What was the purpose in all of this? Woah, wait a moment. I’m here to have fun. But why did I choose to “go on vacation” instead of going on another mission trip like I did last winter? Why am I not helping people with my time? Am I being selfish? Was I supposed to be worried about that right now? I’m earning class credit, gosh darn it. I was starting to feel guilty. I mean, certainly, it’s no big deal grabbing a few drinks. But how soon did I really want to face the truth? The truth that I very much was privileged to travel, yet I felt as if I was going absolute nowhere with no purpose. In the back of my mind was the voice of my brother who reminded me before the trip that I was living other peoples’ dreams to live the life I was living. I was freaking lost, in a foreign country I did not know. Do I know myself? Heck, I don’t know what to do with my life! I wanted to scream my head off and smash some glasses. I kept flipping my four euros in my pocket, ruminating.
“So like,” Saheel scratched his head, “ I am planning to hike tomorrow morning. There’s a lot of hiking trails around here. Leaving super duper early before our class goes up to The Needle. Do you want to join?”
An opportunity. An invitation. A little journey! “Where?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’m leaving at 6am sharp so—”
My heart jumpstarted and my circadian rhythm readied itself. “—I can do that.” An adventure! I am to wake up at 6am!
“Great, well, see you then. You have my number. I’m going to go back to get some sleep and wake up early tomorrow. I’ll meet you at breakfast and tell you about it.” He left without having a drink.
I stayed back for a while, only to refuse all of my classmates’ invitations to the dance-floor. To not feel so entirely disconnected, I offered to look after everyone’s jackets and belongings. I just started folding jackets, keeping myself busy. The truth was that among the flashing lights, the grooving sweaty bodies, and my warm chest due to alcohol, I felt numb and so out of place. Man, whatever happened to that time when I was so lit, chugged a shot, danced on the table to Rihanna’s “Umbrella,” and drove my classmates to insanity? LOL. I sat there awkwardly thinking about what Saheel had said. I resorted, like always, to be the wallflower of the party, sitting there, smiling dumbly at everyone. Was I about to #CryInTheClub? You bet. I left early before I could.
“We’re off the map. We’re on our own now.”
The Hike Day
“Look out! Another car is coming.”
We hop over the silver railing onto the steep narrow strip of grass. The incoming car and a couple of eighteen-wheelers whooshed by. We jump over the rail to continue on the asphalt road again. 7am, an hour in, already lost among the mere foothills of the mountains. 30 minutes ago, Saheel and I tried to speak to two Frenchmen for directions to Cascade du Dard. Apparently, we had been going in the wrong direction and had to essentially go back to where we started. We had lost an hour and weren’t going anywhere. We thought about trespassing some fenced gates to look for trails and go up the mountain, but that was, duh, trespassing and it didn’t seem safe. Our GPS wasn’t cooperating and kept telling us to go some weird path that didn’t make sense. According to it, we were also floating and teleporting to places as if we were ghosts. So we kept at the walking and decided to survey the bottom of the mountain which meant walking terrifyingly close to the highway with very little to no shoulder room on the side of the road. 15 minutes of walking and scratching heads pass by. Saheel stops.
“Okay, we’re off the map. We’re on our own now.”
“Say what?!” Imaginary alarms blared. The creatures of my mind raced around in panic. But I kept my cool.
“Look. Look here. There are some broken branches. It looks like people have walked here before.”
I peered up at the escalation. The woods led to nowhere but up, and the waterfall had to be up there somewhere. When you’re lost and alone with someone, you have no choice but to trust each other.
“Okay. Let’s do this.”
We trudged up the hill which resembled a scene from Frozen where the trolls lived. Large boulders covered in vibrant moss soon surrounded us. We trekked through a movie scene, a landscape no green-screen and CGI can mimic. Everything was alive and breathing. Then, we encountered a concrete tunnel where we used the flashlight from our iPhones to get through. Crouching through the tunnel should have been the first red flag. As we went on ducking through, we were getting more nervous. It was dim, and the sun hadn’t shone on this side of the mountain yet.
“Uhhh..I’m not sure if this feels right.”
We graciously get through the end of the pipe and hike up some more 25 or so steps. We make it to a second concrete tunnel.
“Yeah, do you think we sho—AHHHHH!”
We freeze. Lying in front of us was a fresh dead carcass of some kind of armadillo-looking animal. Beat.
We crab-walk around the carcass, going for the second tunnel with alert eyes. The walls amplified the crunch of the gravel beneath our feet. In the middle of the second tunnel, our guts finally lurched out of our churning stomachs. The route was getting more wild. There were fewer signs of broken sticks or evidence that people had been here. Behold, no man’s land! We were spooked!
“Let’s go back.”
So, we turn around and squat back to the opening, back to the carcass, and back to the first tunnel. Now, walking up was a fair workout, but walking down was trickier. The fall of our weight made us prone to go fast and sprain our ankles. As I paid attention to my foot placement, I notice the dark gray and black rocks covered in the velvety moss. I wonder if I was hurting the mosses.. With my head bent down focusing on my feet, I thought of the trees on my way down. Am I worthy to be walking among this beautiful place? It seemed that they were talking among themselves, saying things that humans don’t know. I let the pines sigh and shake in their own language, hoping to remember these sounds until the day I die. Eventually, we make it down to the foothill where we started. Back to the highway.
We decide to continue around the bend of the hills. We weren’t seeing any waterfalls. Where the hell are we? My trust and fun depleted. The highway wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. But still, we went onwards.
“Hey! I hear water.” Thank goodness I went along with a normal hearing person. I would have not heard a thing. I follow Saheel.
“Here!” We encounter a short bridge with rushing water beneath.
“The water must have come from somewhere! Let’s check it out!”
We trace and follow up the river for 50 or so steps.
“There!” I gasped. In the distance, a waterfall spewed. Huh, okay. We made it here quicker than we thought.
“Oh I thought the waterfall would be bigger, but I guess this will do,” Saheel admits.
“Let’s go down there and snap some pictures!” We go and Saheel accompanies me down a four feet drop. Walking towards the waterfall took me back home. The land was loose, soggy, and marshy just like the Texas coastal plains. However, the differing thing was that I could finally hear the rushing water. It dawned on me that I had rarely in my life experienced elevation. The water was coming from someplace up. This was the freaking Alps!
We get to the waterfall as close as we can before our socks would get soaked. We take turns taking photos of each other. C’était sympa. It was nice.
I pull out my phone to see if the GPS was working again. Out of curiosity, I enter in Cascade du Dard. Strangely, the map points us in a direction 35 minutes walking distance from where we’re standing.
“Saheel, I don’t think this is it..” I show and explain to him the map.
It was nearly 7:50am.
“Okay,” Saheel contemplates, “so we gotta get back by 9. We can try to make it if we pick up the pace. But it’s up to you if you want.” We had just enough time but weren’t guaranteed that we would make it to this place where the GPS took us. This meant that we had to know where we were going, and we couldn’t afford a wrong turn. We weren’t even sure if we could trust the GPS. We were still a floating dot.
Now that I think about it, the mantra of the day was: This is the freaking Alps! The mindset I set myself in was to keep moving forward. We had a road ahead of us which posed to us as an opportunity and a challenge.
So, allez-y! Let’s go. I said yes. And it was a scary thing to have said, since I then worried. But it was time for no fear; it was time to hustle under the time limit we had. And so we went on..
Saheel and I trudged up hill and tricky rocks. My knees wobbled. My head throbbed. And my lungs heaved for air. Gravity pulled on harder by the second. I was getting higher and higher and heavier and heavier. Any moment now, my heart was going to accidentally slip out of my mouth. “Darn it, Thi,” I mutter to myself, “You knew better to wear lighter clothing!”
I brought a beret. I felt so dumb with that damn thing.With the hat, I was the It-Girl wannabe. I was Alicia Silverstone in Clueless, naively dressed up for a hiking trip. I whined about it, how heavy it was. Saheel said nothing about it. He was a serious guy, the kind of guy who goes on a hiking trip to go on a hiking trip and nothing else. I was the kind of girl who wanted to show the world and brag about where I went. I also wore a 4 lbs camera slung around my shoulder. So I admitted to Saheel, “I brought my beret..because I wanted a picture of me with it.” Sensing judgement, I quickly came to my defenses, “but I regret it! I didn’t know it was going to be this rigorous.” Even though it was light, it became heavier, and I had no place to tuck it in, so it hung from my hand. This was the day I learned my lesson: I cannot stress how important it is to pack and dress light for a hiking trip. I did not only bring the beret, I brought burden in the form of a felt hat.
I heaved and my lungs fought for air. My throat seemed to be closing up. I used to have asthma when I was younger, and now it was recurring. Asphyxiation, we meet again. I now kept quiet, and now Saheel talked.
“Yeah, I used to be in Boy Scouts. I’ve hiked before and—”
“Say what?! You were in BOY SCOUTS?” No wonder. He seemed to be not panting at all. He was up and going. I had been sedentary ever since middle school. This fit french fry was no match for this couch potato. I grew angry at myself. Imma hustle. I can do it. I can do it. I tell myself. Ooooh rah.
He talked and talked. I paid no mind to what he was saying. I was too concentrated on my breathing, pushing myself beyond what I was physically capable of. My mind was a blot of clouds. I couldn’t listen, plus I was unable to hear 30% what he was saying. The only working thing in my body was muscle, and it was getting continuously stretched, maybe torn in places I had never used. The cobwebs of my tendons were clearing, making room for lactic acid for sores that would last a week. I groaned out acknowledgements for the conversation to commence. “Uh-huh, yeah, oh.” He continued to chit-chat..
“—Sorry! Could you..keep quiet for a bit?” I shut him up, “I just.. I’m very tired and could hardly hear what you’re saying. Please don’t take it the wrong way.” He took my command. I felt like such a bitch. Poor guy, honestly, I couldn’t handle any more talk. The hike was tiring enough.
We still are lost. We go up more. And still, I lagged behind.
“There! A sign post.” We go up to the skinny pole, and funny enough in small font, the words read “Cascade Du Dard … so and so meters … and an arrow pointing us in the direction.” How can something so small give us so much joy?
Finally, yes! We are going in the right direction. We follow the arrow.
Still surrounded by trees, and still seemingly lost, I finally see a dark, red tower (telephone pole?) poking out of the pines. I snap a picture. We make a turn and see some cut logs. Sign of civilization!
“Oh look, tractors!” My heart was glad to see a place inhabited by human activity. I leave my beret on some logs. Maybe I’ll come back for it. I didn’t mind losing it. Fuck that shit.
We make weird sharp turns that made us look like we were going back down the mountain, but we followed the GPS. That little signpost we had seen earlier gave us hope. We approach a steep large dip. I pause for a moment at the top. Took a deep breath. Then, using physics, I let my weight fall. Hitting the bottom of the dip, I used the kinetic energy I stored up to run up the dip. It was like skateboarding I guess. I’ve never skateboard before.
We continue with my (our?) exhaustion. We go on some more. I think we’re on time.. I don’t know, but I know for sure that I am giving it my all.
Alas, a café. It was the café that the Frenchman told us about! A cute cottage with vibrant flower pots greeted us. The café was closed. But we saw two other people deep in conversation in the background. I wonder where they came from. Anyways, we were so happy. We take some pictures. The funny thing is, which one of my French professors on our trip pointed out to me, is that the French seem to put cafés in the most extreme places, out of nowhere. I laugh to myself. It’s like a reward. I love the locations of these gift shops and cafés. This idea deserves five out of five stars for hospitality.
Saheel shouts and flaps his arms to get my attention. I reach up to him. After a sharp turn, there it was. We threw up our arms. In the distance! That magnificent discovery. We had no idea! This must be it. Yes, the CASCADE DU DARD. Jackets whipped off, water bottle flung off to the side, we ran up to the drop where the roaring water fell and pounded into mist. We dip our hands in the icy cold mountain water and laugh our heads off, dismayed at our finding. On the way back, we were friendly and talkative again. We opened up about our lives. I told him about my father who passed away, my struggle about where I want to live in the future—in the city or in a small town, my career plans, my worries, dreams, and aspirations. He pats me on the back and apologizes about my loss. He tells me about his family, his studies, and some places he’s gone to.
We get lost on our way back, unknowingly found a different shortcut, and had to walk on the highway again. Nevertheless, we made it back in time. And we returned to our hotel where our classmates had just woken up and were eating breakfast. We were the early birds that got the worm. It was a humbling feeling to return.
All along, though we didn’t see it, the mountains were there, above the fog—watching us. 🏔 The feeling of the glacier water, especially this special adventure with this special individual, has not and will never leave my mind. Thank you, Saheel for putting up with this annoying girl and for accompanying me on one of the best adventures of my life.
The “False” Waterfall
A dead carcass
Cut logs! Signs of civilization!
The Cafe that the Frenchman mentioned
Icy water from the mountains
“Earlier during my study abroad trip, when I was feeling down and doubtful, out of despair, I told my brother something. I was sad about the situation that I was not being able to make friends. I needed to say this something to reassure myself that I still had some sense in me. I said, ‘We are walking miracles and we tend to forget that.’ To which he replied—‘yeah, and you’re living many people’s dreams.’”