From Berlin to the alps - on the road to Chamonix

From Berlin to the alps – on the road to Chamonix

Back in 2013 we set off on a road trip that would take us from Berlin all the way down to Spain. I was travelling with my former girlfriend Susan, and as with most good road trips, the real journey started long before the destination ever came into view.

Leaving Berlin meant hours of asphalt, changing landscapes and that quiet excitement that only comes when you know you won’t be back for a while. Germany slipped by quickly, then France opened up, wider roads, softer light, a different rhythm. The further south we went, the more the air seemed to change. The White Motorway – uhh yeah!

Chamonix was our first real stop, and it felt like crossing into another world. After long stretches of driving, the Alps suddenly rose up in front of us, massive and unapologetic. The Mont Blanc massif dominates everything here, and no photo really prepares you for the scale of it. The town itself sits calmly beneath it, as if this kind of backdrop were completely normal. Snowfield sparkled up on 4000m in a dark night and we drove past, it was a moment full of dignity and humility. We felt small and humble.

One of the most memorable moments was taking the cable cars up into the mountains. 50€ back and forth. 2 cable cars, let’s go. Step by step, higher and higher, from 1000 to 3.800m leaving summer behind. The first lift still felt warm, green, almost gentle. With the second cable car, everything changed. It was basically just 2 poles with a cable attached to the rock. Crazy construction and slightly scary. Still we took it with an instant. The landscape turned raw and white, the air thinner and sharper. Within minutes we had moved from summer straight into winter.

We spent time walking through Chamonix, letting our legs recover and our heads catch up. Crisp mountain air, the sound of the river, cable cars gliding silently overhead. There was a sense of focus and clarity in the place. Climbers, hikers, and travelers all moving with purpose, even when they were doing nothing at all.

I wanted to be part of it, I wanted to go all the way up. Not this time. I was only a visitor, taking the shortcut up to 3800m within 30 minutes.

Chamonix marked the real beginning of the trip. Up until then we had been travelling. Here, we arrived. It grounded us, set the tone, and reminded us why we had chosen the road instead of the fast way south.

From here on, everything felt open. The mountains behind us, the Mediterranean somewhere far ahead, and time suddenly on our side.