Take your time - Chamonix's more than just a ski resort

As the Montenvers train chugged slowly up the hill towards the Mer de Glace I realised that I had totally misjudged the timing of the day. No wonder the woman in the ticket office looked at me strangely when I demanded a Mont Blanc Unlimited one-day ski-pass; it was already midday, with barely time for one activity, let alone two. It might have been the thing I really wanted to do, but I hadn't planned it very well. My heart sank as I read that the trip to Aigiulle du Midi took 3-4 hours on busy days. We only had 4 hours until our transfer out of Chamonix departed and it was a Sunday, so surely a busy day. Feeling rather despondent, I resigned myself to the fact that the Aiguille du Midi would have to wait for another trip. I'd admired it from Chamonix for a few days, and now I'd have to admire it even longer.



After nearly half an hour of pleasant scenery barely seen through ice-covered windows the train pulled into the station above the Mer de Glace, a large glacier that pours down the mountain from Mont Blanc. In winter you cannot see all the crevasses - it is just a smooth harmless-looking white slope, dotted with the odd off-piste skier.



It is only the posters of a young skier who went missing the previous week that remind you of how dangerous it can be. I imagine Christophe's body will be found in the summer when the snows melt, or in years to come as the glacier recedes further. It makes you realise that it's a mighty beast down there, inspite of its serene appearance.

Wanting to make the best of the fact that this might be our only activity of the day (and an expensive one at that), we headed down to the Grotte de Glace (Ice Cave) to explore. There was a cable car to take one down most of the way, and then a long stepped walkway down to the cave's entrance. The journey was made under the shadow of Aiguille du Dru, and unfeasibly pointy peak directly above the glacier.



We reached the entrance to the cave, which they dig out anew each year, as the glacier shifts during the seasons inbetween.



The cave was a lot shorter than I'd expected, only about thirty or forty metres long from start to finish, but the walls of the ice were smooth with intricate patterns of bubbles beneath and beautiful crystals hanging from the ceiling, like tiny stalactites.



The walls were adorned with information about the history of the glacier and the railway, which we'd read in the blurb on the train. Feeling slightly disappointed we climbed up the stairs back to the gondola to take us back to the train down to Chamonix. Along the walkway I noticed a small dip beneath some rocks attached to which were exquisite ice crystals. The lighting was poor, but I just managed to capture one of them with my macro lens (still working in spite of the cold) with its delicate layers of tiny symmetrical ice particles.



As we reached the top the train was about to leave (they only depart once an hour), so our chances of visiting Aiguille du Midi were marginally improved; our visit to the ice cave had been efficient! On the train we perfected scraping the ice from the windows with our ski passes and were able to enjoy the view of fir trees in the foreground, mist in the distance, Chamonix nestled down below and more beautiful mountains across the valley.



I looked at my watch incessantly. Murray assured me that it wasn't peak season and that the return lift trip would only take 2 hours; just enough time. When the train stopped we rushed out and headed along a busy main road to the bottom of the Aiguille du Midi station. A cable car took off a few minutes before we arrived and another one descended towards us. As we reached the entrance we realised that we were definitely not there in peak season, as there were two skiers in the queue already; our visit was going to happen after all. We had twenty minutes to wait, time to grab a ham and cheese baguette at the adjoining café before rejoining the queue. I calculated that we would just have enough to make it up to the top, have half an hour or so up there to take a few photos and enjoy the view (and the -25°C temperatures with a 25mph wind to boot), before heading back down, racing back through town to pick up our bags and our ride to the airport.

By 2.30pm the doors were opened and we crowded into the first cable car - the first stop is just under half of the way up at Plan de l'Aiguille. Seven or eight minutes later we were bundled out, shuffled along to the next cable car which would take us all the way up to an altitude-sickness-inducing 3,770m above sea level. Another eight minutes or so, with little to see given the condensation and frost on the windows, and we were at the top, where we had plenty of time to explore. We left the cable car and headed towards the elevator that takes you up to the highest viewing platform at 3,842m. In order to get there we had to cross a bridge, as the mountain station is arranged over a number of rocky outcrops, joined by this bridge. As we walked across there was a strong gust of unbelievably cold wind, making standing around to take photos fairly unpleasant! I was very glad to be wearing my mum's Michelin-man down jacket (and about 6 layers underneath). We rushed across to the tunnels opposite and headed out to some viewing platforms, as there was a queue for the lift.



Fortunately the wind was nearly absent on the other side, so it was almost pleasant standing out there, overlooking the magnificent mountains spread beneath and in front of us. To the left was an exit that nutters take when skiing down (where poor Christophe must have begun his fateful journey).



Behind us was the enormous metal tower that sits above the highest viewing platform and that is visible from Chamonix, 2,700m below.



We headed back inside and made our way to the lift (no queue now) and headed out to the highest viewing platform.



The view from here was even more incredible, with the mighty but smooth summit of Mont Blanc lurking behind more jagged peaks, a constant stream of cloud emanating from the other side. We both felt a bit light-headed from the altitude.



The sun was just to the west of the summit, making photos a bit tricky, but taking photos is tricky anyway with an effective temperature of -40°C; a raised hand to shield the sun glares helped.


The automatic focus on my wide-angle lens stopped working, but otherwise the equipment was performing okay, if a little slow. I was surprised at how I still managed to turn the camera on and off and press the shutter release with my bulky mittens.



By 3.45pm it was time to go and leave the panoramas behind us, to embark on our long journey back to London. We made it back to the hotel with about ten minutes to spare, relieved and happy that my mis-planning hadn't involved missing out on such an incredible sight. Of course it'd be great to have an excuse to come back - I'd love to visit in summer - but it was truly worth the visit, even in a mad rush. If I were to go back, however, I'd make a bit more effort and get up a bit earlier so I could relax a little once up there; a coffee with the most stunning view would have been nice.

Rubber Gloves! - How to get two filters stuck together unstuck!

Just spent ages Googling to try to find a solution to a little problem I had - my graduated ND filter was stuck to a B+W 6-stop ND filter. As the graduated one has a ring that twists it makes it very difficult to unstick them - and obviously I had screwed it on too tight. It's happened to me a couple of times now.

What's the solution? Well, I read that you need to avoid having pressure points and should spread the pressure over the whole of the ring. Rubber bands were suggested - didn't work. Holding the filters with a tea-towel and trying to get my grip spread - didn't work. Filter wrench? Might work but don't have one to hand right now. Trying with all your might? Didnt' work. Finally I saw a suggestion to use rubber gloves - magic! Worked like a dream, in an instant!

So - filters stuck together or stuck on lens - use rubber gloves! I may have to add them as part of my camera kit when I go on my next trip!

Walk to Work

Tried a couple of long exposure shots on the walk along the River Thames towards the City today, on my way to work. I had planned to walk the whole 6 miles, but my photography got a little bit in the way, so I had to get the tube from Westminster in order to get in in time. I quite like the results though. Camera was propped on top of (large - purpose-bought) handbag.



Will try again in the next few weeks (before I leave - have quit the day-job again!); hopefully the clouds wills be a bit more distinct and fast-moving. These were taken without ND filters (apart from a graduated one) - will get the black glass and remote out for some really long ones.

Oh, and the river looked quite nice over the weekend too, down by Chelsea Cloisters, a new development just west of Chelsea Harbour.




I put some more photos on my flickr page.

The Lures of Lisbon (and fame with National Geographic - well, their Traveler magazine anyway...)

Got my first photograph in the National Geographic Traveler Magazine this month - rather pleased with that!

Check out my photo in National Geographic Traveler here!

It was taken in the Rossio Station in Lisbon, Portugal, in November 2009, where my (now) husband and I went for a long weekend for his birthday - we decided on a little side-trip to the UNESCO World Heritage Centre of Sintra. Lisbon is a great city to wander around, and Sintra makes a really interesting day out (about an hour on the train from Rossio Station in central Lisbon).

I'm lucky enough to have a good Portuguese friend, Nuno, who gave me some tips on what to see in the centre of Lisbon. Here are some photos from around the city (sadly only on a point-and-shoot - for some reason unknown to me now, I didn't take my DSLR with me):
The Castle...

.... and the wonderful views it affords:

The old Azulejo tiles dotted around in the old bits of town:

A view in the hilly bit - Bairro Alto:

.... and museums/monuments galore in Belem:

There are some great things for the taste buds too: cherry brandy in the smallest bar in the world (probably not literally) in Alfama (no photo), pasteis de nata (custard tarts) in Belem...

.... and the most amazing grilled octopus and lemongrass creme brulee in John Malkovich's restaurant, Bico de Sapato, down on the waterfront (no decent photos, but oh, the taste is still with me!).
In the grottier parts of the city there's some interesting graffiti, some of it quite artistic (some of it not so pretty):

And so to Sintra - a couple of views of the place, where the weather was very variable:




Back in the city... there's some great modern architecture, especially around the Parque Nacoes:

Not to mention the awesome Vasco da Gama bridge:

Must try and persuade the hubby to go back - great city (and of course I'll take the DSLR this time...)!

For more photos, please have a look at my sets on Flickr - Lisbon and Sintra

Shortlisted in the Travel Photographer of the Year competition!

Fingers crossed - I'm in the "New Talent" category. Will find out in early December.

There's more to Bilbao than the Guggenheim

The main reason that people visit Bilbao, I imagine, is to visit the wonderful Frank Gehry-designed Guggenheim museum. It is definitely worth a visit - both for the incredible building, but also for the modern artworks inside and out. We were in Bilbao as a starting point for a trip to the Picos de Europa national park nearby, but Bilbao made a perfect spot to visit before we headed off to the mountains.

Even if you don't want to fork out the €20 odd to get in to the Guggenheim, there's plenty to see around the outside, with sculptures by Jeff Koons, Louise Bourgeois and Anish Kapoor.



But away from the museum there is also a lot to see. Bilbao was once an industrial city, with not a lot on offer. In the '80s the Basque authorities began a period of redevelopment and with the building of the Guggenheim in 1997 the city really began its transformation, which is still ongoing. I first went 8 or 9 years ago, and even then it wasn't quite as appealing. Now it is a very pleasant city to spend a couple of days in - there's walkways all along the Nervión river over which the stunning white bridge designed by Santiago Calatrava sits (it is named "Pasarela Zubizuri" which means white bridge in Basque).Wandering around on a Sunday morning we stumbled into a large square in Casco Viejo (the old town). In one corner of the square people of all ages huddled together. As we meandered through the crowds we noticed that they had lists and piles of football cards. We were there a week later and the same was going on - people swapping cards to get the ones needed for their lists.
The other thing we stumbled upon was a game of Basque Pelota in progress. We peered through the railings until an old man beckoned us inside to watch. It looked like a game of squash, only on a slightly larger court with green walls and the guys hit the ball with their hands. The speed was impressive; I didn't want to think how their hands might look close-up. A week later we were back and some young boys were playing; it wasn't quite as impressive or fast - they'd got a long way to go...
The other thing that seemed to be a Sunday activity was just hanging out along the river; either sitting on a bench enjoying the sun, or walking or cycling along the newly-created riverside path. There was also a jazz trio at an open-air café opposite the Guggenheim, and people with their typically short fringes (a Basque thing, apparently) sat enjoying the music with a cheap glass of wine or beer.

Once the sun sets the city comes alive in a different way.
In the early evening on Saturdays the old town is still alive with shoppers, but the crowd slowly changes as people come out for pintxos, the Basque equivalent to tapas, only smaller and cheaper.
The narrow streets of the old town teem with pintxos bars, with young, dark-haired, short-fringed locals drinking red wine with coke, smoking outside in the streets, hopping from bar to bar, grabbing a pintxo here and a pintxo there. We spent our last night in Spain there, with a friend from LA, and had to try the wine and coke (despite the horror of the idea). I tried to order three red wines with coke and the barman started to pour three glasses of wine, before getting out another glass for coke. I stopped him and tried to explain that I wanted the wine mixed together with the coke, like the last person had had. He laughed when he realised, said "ah, kalimotxo!" and added ice-cubes and coke to the glasses. It didn't taste as bad as I expected - more like coke than wine, but it did feel wrong. The coke was more expensive than the wine in the glass too, so we didn't order another.

As well as being a great little city to hang out in for a weekend, Bilbao was also a great starting point for a trip to the Picos de Europa mountains nearby. The mountains are 200km away, but the road connections along the northern coast of Spain are pretty good (we didn't have a map and ended up in the middle of Santander by accident, which was a bit annoying). You could fly into Santander itself, which is only 100km away from the park, but then you'd have to fly on Ryanair, and I'd rather drive an extra 100km than having to do that :)