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Position: 45°56’00.1″N 6°55’03.0″E
As weddings go this was a doozey! Mountains are not the first thing I think of in the summer. I think of beaches. Beaches like Corporation Beach on Cape Cod that stretches out in a long arc for miles with white sands and sea grasses hugging the low dunes. There, in my childhood, the tang of the salt air and cold, wet sand at low tide made for awesome sandcastles and kept us five-year-olds occupied for hours.
“I’m thinking mountains for our wedding,” Emma told me around this time last year. She and Jarno duly set off for France’s Haute Savoie and began checking out venues. Their research took them higher and higher until they settled on Chamonix. Just as well since there wasn’t anywhere else to go but over the mountains. After a month of digital nomading there in January, the deal was sealed.
Theirs was to be a ‘destination wedding’. (Although, I prefer the term ‘adventure wedding’. It is a term more reflective of travel in the post-Covid crush of tourism.)
Now, to be fair, there was an entire week of activities leading up to the wedding that are worth noting. Hikes among massed marathoners, precipitous photos on top of a spikey rock 3,800 metres up a glacier, train trips, gondola passages, and river rafting. With that teaser, that will come in the next post. In this post we’ll concentrate on the big event. After all, love comes first and always.
The Big Event
Here’s the thing: mountains make their own weather and July 6’s bright sunny morning turned out to be a tease and not an overture for the day. The forecast was inauspicious for an outdoor wedding. Thunderstorms starting at 4:00PM said the weatherman. Then clearing by 5:00PM, just in time for the ceremony.
The venue was the Refuge du Montenvers, halfway up the Mer de Glace, France’s greatest and fastest melting glacier. Serviced by its own railway, the refuge (or refugee as Carol likes to call it) opened in 1880 and has been in near continuous service ever since.
The refuge is an imposing, rectangular stone building. Four storeys in all, the upper floors have brilliant white and red shutters to contrast the grey/sand-coloured walls. Darkened pinewood lines everything inside. During the day it’s a little gloomy, but at night it is charmingly rustic. To better serve the legions of mountaineers and hotel customers, a cog railway, the Chemin de Fer du Montenvers, opened in 1909.
Allowing plenty of primping time, the wedding party and its supporting flunkies all arrived on the first train around 1:30PM. The rest were to follow a couple of hours later.
Our room had an issue and was the last to be ready. The issue was probably a minor flood in the bathroom. When we finally got our key, the bathroom floor was springy and exceedingly weak. Fortunately, the rot had exposed the outlines of the supporting beams and with care we could avoid putting a foot through the floor. Quaint and full of character indeed!
Streams
The weather grumbled and rain fell steadily throughout the afternoon. Clouds swirled clinging to the high, steep faces of the valley. Streams emptied water over ancient ridges and splashed hundreds of feet below onto strews of recently dislodged boulders. We heard the rumble and crack of landslides throughout the night. Four o’clock rolled around and there was no sign of a let up.
Undaunted, Monica, Emma’s wedding coordinator, chivvied people along during a brief break in the weather and soon the chapel was filled to capacity. It was just after 5:00PM and time for kick-off.
The guests, ushers, groom and officiant were all safe and dry as the bridal party and bride’s parents skittered their way uphill just as the rain returned. Four groomsman each took a bridesmaid by the elbow and lead her in.
The bride looked radiant in her elegant ivory dress. The design? A simple, cleanly cut bodice on top supported by a bustle and scads of skirting underneath. Wildly impractical for a muddy mountain, of course. But this was an adventure wedding, not a trip around the corner to your local parish church for 20 minutes. There was nothing the mountain could throw at that dress modern cleaning methods couldn’t wash out.
Joy
When she wears three-inch heels, I am barely an inch or two taller than Emma. With Wendy’s diminutive stride, we did our best to keep time as we three walked up the aisle. Seeing Jarno waiting at the altar with tears in his eyes meant that I, and the rest of the congregation, nearly lost it before the first words were uttered. I kissed Emma on the cheek and only then remembered that I should shake Jarno’s hand. We had elided that part of the proceedings in rehearsal. That’s okay. It wasn’t like they weren’t already married. In the eyes of the law, any road. That was last year in the Bath registry office.
This year, this celebration was their declaration of love to their friends and family. To the people that matter most to the celebrants: adventurers all willing to go the extra mile (vertically) to bear witness and share in their joy. More happy tears have not been shed on that mountain by as many people as in that moment. As for the weather. The French have a saying: “Mariage pluvieux, mariage heureux” (Rainy wedding, happy marriage).
Reception
Gathering in the dining room we found our seats and soon tucked into what else but delicious cheese fondue? The convivial hubbub continued through the first course, when it was time for the mother of the groom and father of the bride to speak. The pattern continued when the bride and groom spoke before dessert and the maid of honor and best man closed. All the speeches were marvellous. Everyone was under orders not to waffle or waste time. This team followed orders.
From there it was a few live songs and onto the disco. Between songs, the party took a break for the un-cutting of the un-cake. A stand of macarons heralded by sparklers and fireworks was guided in and passed around. So cool! Then the music cranked up to 11 and dancing lasted into the wee hours.
Speech! Speech!
What follows is my speech for Emma and Jarno. Should you like to join the WolfCott Adventure Wedding Guild, you have only to be asked. There is no telling when or where the next wedding will be. But it will be an adventure.
My lords, ladies and gentlemen, welcome, to the second annual meeting of the WolfCott Adventure Wedding Guild. I am Mike, the father of the bride.
You, all of us, are adventurers. If you weren’t you would not be here today. Congratulations on your induction and welcome to this the second, albeit for some of you inaugural, event. I cannot promise that subsequent meetings will be as fancy, or nearly as alcoholic. But perhaps that is up to you – the loyal members.
In life there are travelers and adventurers. What is the distinction? Travelers observe. Adventurers engage. After all, the adventure doesn’t begin until things go wrong – as you Adventurists know. And adventurers know that the basis of all trust is shared experiences. That and packing strategically.
Around the ages of five and seven, Emma’s mum Wendy had given her and her sister Katie their own roll-aboard bags. They packed everything they needed for a two-week holiday into those bags. It was theirs to fill as they saw fit, but they had to fit clothes on the way out and also accommodate any purchases on the way back.
Years later Emma admitted she judged men by how well they packed for a holiday. The sub-text being, I assume, if you can’t fit your needs in an overhead bin, your needs are unlikely to fit with my lifestyle. Emma – please correct me if I’m wrong.
My wife, Carol and I, live on a sailboat and last year Jarno gamely joined us for a few days sailing on the west coast of Sweden. There are a few rules to remember if you’re invited to go sailing, the first is: don’t bring more than a daypack’s worth of luggage.
I am happy to report Jarno passed that requirement with flying colors. That he brought good coffee and his own Aeropress only confirmed our belief that this was the man for Emma. The fact they were already married is neither here nor there.
And despite this being their second marriage in as many years, from my observations Emma and Jarno have built a strong foundation for their lives together. From repairing shredded clutches in Ulan Bataar to wrestling Komodo dragons in Labuan Bajo, they know how to solve problems together while also making space for each other.
Together they are living the modern fairy tale of life as true digital nomads. We Guild members are fortunate that we have them as role models – otherwise the only thing we’d know about digital nomads would come from envy-inducing Instagram posts.
As parents Wendy and I would say, If you don’t let your children go, they will never come back. Emma, Jarno, long may your travels be wondrous, fulfilling and joyful. You will always have a berth on Aleta should you need it. You will only have to find her.
Ladies and gentlemen, please be upstanding as we toast the happy couple. Hip Hip Hooray! Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray!
Photos
You will have to be patient for the good photos (preview here: felix russell – jarno and emma). I shall update this post when they are made public. In the meantime, you are welcome to bask vicariously in the happy occasion with these poor representations. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but you had to be there. You really did…
