Chamonix. Just.

All of a sudden, the roads became familiar, and the great fonted French motorway signs (I just love the use of capitals and italics, what can I say?) started reading Chamonix-Mont-Blanc. As the dark of the night wore in and the great mountains became increasingly distinct, we began gawping + salivating + honking at every kilometre that drew us closer to that magical town we know so well. Diagonal rain started splattering on our bird shit infested huge windscreen and the truculent looking clouds began lurching and intimidating. The huge peaks took on new levels of ferocious darkening altitude as the impending incline began; was he going to make it?

Major roadworks meant that the long viaduct pass into Chamonix was turned into a crippling single lane affair;and in second gear we went, with a huge queue of impatient drivers building up behind us. The storm was increasing with every struggled metre we made it up, and we clutched, with clammy hands onto The Cheequey Bus; willing him up further into the clouds. Soon as we hit a lay-by to let the stream of bright lights + healthy revving engines past us, Cheeques laid out an almighty c l u n k ; z t o o m p h. We hit eachother's gazes with petrified glares, until smoke started bellowing in onto Dan's lap. Leaping frantically and manically around, probably swearing the whole time, I was convinced that my two great loves were suddenly on fire :

a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a a r g h ! ! ! ! !

As we reached for our French emergency roadside pack to avoid further disaster on this perilous edge of the mountain range, gigantic lorries edged past with nail biting proximity to our home and all we could do was freeze to a motionless gobsmacked stance, complete with high vis vests + drenched scared faces. At least neither of my babes actually caught fire, and we were soon conversing with a manically efficient road side team, who began directing the mamouth traffic jam safely up the hill and demanding inspections of our papers, now soggy + floundering beneath the inspection under the storm. An hour or so later after grappling with a French version of our insurance, Cheeques was once again pulled onto a greater machine + towed at great pace towards our intended final resting spot.

Tapping into some much welcomed very cheap wine purchased in Champagne once parked safely up in ski telecabin area, we resumed a dumbfounded observation; well, we're here then.