Altitude effect banished by vertigo, I collapsed in a heap under the protective parapet wishing the platform bolted to solid rock which I clutched would cease swaying.  Clamped to the rail with both hands, I gradually eased myself to my knees & peered out into infinity.  Although the impact diminished somewhat with familiarity, I walked about very slowly all day.  If I moved too quickly or turned too suddenly, stood with my back to the void or tried to take a photo without planting myself firmly in place, I swayed suspiciously towards the yawning abyss of the Chamonix valley or the Vallee Blanche.

We had paid for the full Monty so I had little choice but to endure that tension between fear & fascination as we cruised high above the crevasses which cracked the weird white expanse of the Vallee Blanche far below.  Passengers are warned prior to the trip that the cars stop half way to Helbronner, which is just over the border in Italy, to permit the taking of photos.  Five minutes was far too much time to contemplate the thinness of the cable and the impact of the drop on the tiny insignificant glass gondola.  To add to my turmoil the young lad & his girlfriend who took the other two seats in insisted on leaning from one side to the other to improve their view, an action which caused the car to sway precariously. 

Was our day trip to Italy it worth it?  On balance I have to say it was.  Treated to a crisp, sun soaked day below ice blue skies how could I possibly resist such monumental mountain magic?  But experiencing that level of anxiety is also exhausting.  I didn't realise quite how rigid I'd been until the following morning.  When I awoke my back was stiff as a board.  I longed to just relax and enjoy those experiences.  On the other hand I felt like I'd achieved something which really stretched me.

Next day I kept my feet firmly in the carriage of the cute red cog-wheel train which racks up over the spur to Montenvers high above the Mer de Glace, the glacier fed by the Vallee Blanche.  The Chamonix valley afforded us six days sunshine in which to savour the sights and tramp some of the well marked trails.  In fantastic finale the mountains mounted a massive electric storm.  Rain lashed the campsite and forked lightening and thunder split the sky above the summits as I tried to remember whether aluminium poles conduct electricity.  At five am, in the safety of the toilet block, we stowed our sodden tents before stumbling to the station summarily soaked by splashes from every passing car.

Sick in Cyprus (April 1998)
Cyprus is a sub-tropical island tucked away near the eastern end of the Mediterranean with easy access to Europe, Asia and Africa.  Visitors are attracted by the relics and remains of a dramatic history dating back over 9000 years to the Neolithic Age and spanning the Ancient Greeks, the time of Alexander the Great, the Romans and more recent cultures.

Aphrodite, who reputedly made her home there, is synonymous with Cyprus and travellers throughout antiquity have visited various shrines to pay her tribute.  For antiquity atheists like me, Cyprus also offers a varied landscape ranging from the golden beaches below a rugged coastline through rolling hills to the forest and the sometimes snow clad Troodos Mountains (c 2000 metres).