The door closes and up we go. Immediately I feel unbalanced and scared. I hunker down, shoulders hunched, body tense. I close my eyes and reach across to the other seat, clutching the striped, rough, fabric, anchoring myself between the two. 

My heart is working overtime and my breathing is fast and shallow. I am dizzy. Sweat races down my back and It’s not because of a hot flush that frequents me often. My stomach twists. I slow my breathing, finding a calming rhythm.

‘Oh, my this is scary,’ I say. To me hours have passed, but I think it is only seconds. My hubby looks at me in surprise and laughs, then apologises.

‘It’s fine,’ I say and laugh with him. Although my laugh could be on the hysterical side of life.

‘You should look at the view, it’s amazing,’ he says.

I take a few breaths and dare to peek out.

The mountain range behind us is growing as we climb ever higher. Snow caps glint in the clear blue skies, there’s not a cloud to be seen. Although my body protests and shakes,  I look and enjoy.

The car lurches as we pass under a post and I gasp and terror grips my stomach tight.

Martin smiles. ‘It’s safe, you know.’

I nod, not trusting my voice as tears threaten. I breathe slower and reason with myself.

I let go of the seats and sit up, take a couple of photos then turn and watch the cable cars coming the other way. Most are empty. The car slows and stops.

‘Why has it stopped?’ I ask and fear leaks into my voice.

‘They do, it’s how we got on.’ Martin looks at me with concern.

‘I’m alright,’ I say and repeat the phrase over and over in my head.

The car approaches the first station, but we are continuing. The car slows, the door opens but we stay seated. Despite my inexplicable fear I have no desire to leap out and run screaming back down the hill. I want to see the glacier. The car moves on and the door closes.

Off we swoop and although my breathing speeds up again I slow it in control and try to enjoy the ride.



At the next station we get off. We walk around and see the next ride is not for fifteen minutes. That’s okay with me. The world is a little shaky under my feet but the mountain is solid. We walk out onto a large terrace and take in the half-way views.

Stunning, and I take a panoramic photo which includes Mont Blanc. She looks different from this angle. 

The next cable car is larger and has no seats. Another couple step in with us. My hubby stands in a corner and I lean on him. He wraps his arms around me, and I brace myself for the upward pull.

I have more control and don’t breathe as fast, but the peculiar light-headed feeling mixed with weakness and tears continues. I know sometimes people breathe into a paper bag to stop the hyperventilating so maybe wearing a mask is good. I turn to look at the views, my legs wobble and I sit on the floor.

The other couple chat about their holiday, when I sit on the floor they ask if I am afraid of heights. I say yes, but it’s not entirely true. I can stand and look down from a height without any problems. I don’t know what this is, but it’s too hard to explain in French.

As we approach the station the speed we are travelling at is apparent and I squeeze my eyes shut. Even the other woman gasps at our approach. Of course, it is fine, the cable car stops, and we walk out onto the top of the world.

Every part of me is shaking, but when I look at my hands, they are still. Internal tremors, then. The air is fresh, sixteen degrees, a lovely, welcome temperature.

We walk up a steep grey slate slope and there is the glacier. It covers 7.5 km square. We can see sink holes where the summer melt must be pouring down, but it’s too far away to see the water or hear the imagined roar. We can see an edge which shows the depth, it is 17m high and I wish we had the time and the ability to walk down the steep slopes and face the ice. But we don’t. Walking far is not possible for my hubby, that’s why we cycle lots.

We take turns to sit in a wooden circle of wood and take photos. My hubby finds some shade to sit in. I sit in the sunshine on the top of a mountain at 3000m altitude and gaze at the natural beauty around me. The slate crags, the faraway range that looks close enough to touch if I just reach out my arm, the brilliant blue sky keeping us all safe, the whiteness of the snow covered glacier, the cool breeze on my face and I am grounded and calmed. The precariousness, preciousness, and grandeur of the 360 degree views slow me to a sigh. This was worth the ride.