That time I didn’t hike Tour du Mont Blanc.

This is a long overdue trip report from the Euro Trip Belle and I took last European Summer. Five weeks through Turkey, Scotland, England, Italy - and for me also Switzerland and France. 

Our trip was centred around Belle attending summer school at Cambridge University; whilst she was doing that I had two weeks to kill - so fresh off a successful hike to Everest Base Camp, I decided to hike Tour du Mont Blanc. A tri-country, high-altitude mountain adventure through the Alps around the peak Mont Blanc.

With a tight timeframe to fit in the 10 day adventure, I wasn’t able to join a tour run by my preferred operator so took the punt on one of the lower end outfits, ya know, one of those intrepid explorer type mobs. I should’ve known I was in for an interesting ride when I turned up in Chamonix (via Geneva) to meet my squad and it was 12 hikers... and just one tiny but formidable female French guide.

Our trek started off with a literal ride. First on the bus from Chamonix to Les Houches - and up the Bellevue Cable Car to our start point. To fit the hike into 8 days of walking we had a few planned shortcuts of buses, the cable car and taxis, but an hour into the journey we were on our feet at quite a pace. 

I was in the upper-middle-third of the age range, but surrounded by marathon enthusiasts and trail runners, as well as three doctors, two more Australians and a great girl from just outside Boston who I still keep in touch with. 

My style of hiking, is slow and steady. “Pole pole” is a Tanzanian saying used on Kilimanjaro - it translates to “slowly, slowly” and that’s the type of ascent I’m usually down for. Not on this trip - I was sweating up a storm and lagging behind the pack from our first stint past the Bionassay glacier and the rolling slopes of Col du Tricot (alt 2120m).

But what goes up, must come down, and at the bottom of the steep valley, nestled among fields of lupins was Refuge de Miage (alt 1560m) where we were served lunch, family style with delicious blueberry pie for dessert. And I’m kicking myself for not getting a picture of it!

One of the unusual aspects of Tour du Mont Blanc for me, was the mix of off the beaten track paths, and public roads; our group walked out of a forest into the town of Les Contamines - Montjoie. Here I enjoyed a delicious creamy latte before we jumped on a bus to skip about 5km of “flat” road. The last couple of hours of day one took us over an old Roman Bridge and through more forest to Refuge de Nant Borrant for the night.  

This traditional 19th century chalet had bunk rooms for six, and a funky little system utilising plastic crates to keep your personal belongings contained - and your boots and pack in the drying room. We each shuttled through a hot shower and the comfortable dining room reminded me of a Nepali Tea House. 

Day two of the hike started with a climb (there’s always a climb on TMB) to Col du Bonhomme at 2329m. Today we encountered proper snow, river crossings and snow bridges. A snow bridge is where the snow has covered the river. At the time of year, they were beginning to melt so extra care was needed - just the week prior someone had a bad accident falling through and getting stuck under the snow in the freezing water.

With the steep terrain, traversing snow without crampons and stunning scenery to take in, I was hoping we might embrace a bit of “pole pole” today - no such luck. Our group set off at the same time as a large Chinese group. Our guide was insistent we needed to get to our lunch stop before them so we much to my chagrin, we were racing for the first few hours. 

As someone who normally hikes comfortably in the middle of the pack, I was not feeling good being “left behind.”

We were moving too fast to take in the journey. 

And like on the way to Mt Everest, I really hated the steep bits.

We literally slid down a snowy embankment to Refuge de la Croix du Bonhomme (alt 2443m) for lunch, after which we had a relatively smooth run down to Les Chapieux, a small hamlet where I picked up some local cheese and bread for tomorrow’s lunch. 

From there we crammed like sardines into a local bus to be dropped just a few hundred metres from our accomodation for the night, Refuge des Mettets (alt 1864m).

This refuge is a converted dairy farm, decorated with vintage farming paraphernalia, and every evening after dinner, the staff dressed in traditional clothing bring out an hurdy-gurdy type instrument that played well known tunes for a group sing-a-long.

Our Chinese friends had caught up to us by the evening and I spoke to a couple of ladies who described their lovely four berth rooms with a shared bathroom between them - no such luck for me on the intrepid-explorer-on-a-budget trek.. our group was resigned to the dormitory.

Refugio des Mettets is comprised of a number of renovated stone buildings, including a barn and a shed. The shed, presumably once used for milking contained rows of communal toilets and lukewarm showers, the barn was our dormitory.

I followed some of the girls inside as they looked around for a light switch in the semi-darkness of late afternoon. There were sleeping platforms on each side of the barn, with 12 thin mattresses sandwiched together. A pillow and blankets are provided for use with your own sleeping bag liner - and in this remote, cold location, sleeping shoulder-to-shoulder was probably a warmth advantage.

The girls weren’t having much luck with the lights, so I looked up at the ceiling...
Jesus, Mary and Joseph - there isn’t going to be a light switch, girls.
This place isn’t powered.

Honestly, my heart sank. 

I’m resilient. 

I’m used to roughing it. 

I’ve slept in some questionable hostels, tea houses and even a prison once.

Heck the Bibbulmun Track is my favourite hike in the world and the huts out there are three sided “shelters” with a bush loo. 

But when you’re on the Bibbulmun, you know what you’re in for. 

I didn’t sign up to stay in a Refugio to sleep in a barn. 

The next morning, in the rain, we set off uphill for Col de la Seigne at 2516m, the border of France and Italy. 

Stopping briefly at La Casermetta museum, a short way into Val Veny, I found a rare window of mobile reception so fired some messages off to Mr Bucket (he was quite new on the scene at this point, but able to read me so well already).

Clearly recognising I was not having a good time, he asked me “is your adventurous self outwitting your true self?”

I needed someone else to say it, but yes my adventurous self had got a bit too bolshy I think.

From here, the snow thinned out, marmots could be spotted running through the fields, and the track was downhill for the most part - I regained my preferred position in the middle of the pack.

During the next few hours of hiking towards our midway point and rest day, at Courmayeur, I thought long and hard about what I was doing. Was the reward worth the effort? 

For me, in that moment, it wasn’t.

So I threw Tour Du Mont Blanc off my bucket list - whilst I was hiking past the beautiful Rifugio Elisabetta.

Our final stop of day three was at Cabane du Combal, a quaint A-frame rifugio nestled next to a glacial lake. 

I enjoyed a strong espresso with the doctors and some time to take photos of the valley whilst the “runners” set off on an optional detour up some mountain. 

I was coming back to myself and what I desired. 

Sipping coffee and savouring the view.

By the time we arrived in the Italian ski resort town of Courmayeur, I had informed our guide that I didn’t wish to continue hiking Tour du Mont Blanc. It felt good.

One of the beautiful things about travel, is that every time I do it, I discover more about myself and ironically, what I don’t like.

I know it sounds audacious given the places and type of trips I’ve chosen to take in the past - but I don’t particularly like roughing it. 

I don’t like sharing bathrooms and I don’t like running, especially when there’s hills.

Now to be clear, my half trek of Tour du Mont Blanc wasn’t all bad. Not at all.

I love being in nature and in the mountains.

Touching snow again felt incredible having lived in Western Australia for nearly two decades.

There were carafes of cheap wine at dinner, plenty of cheese, and camaraderie with my new friends.

As the following day was a designated rest day, I was able to spend a few final hours with the group.

In the morning some of us set off for QC Terme Pré St Didier - the most wonderful thermal spa experience.

At lunch I enjoyed the best crepe I’ve ever had - speck and brie, washed down with a “Coca Zero” with lemon.

That afternoon we sped up the cable car, Skyway Monte Bianco to Point Helbronner (alt 3466m) for absolutely stunning views of Mont Blanc and Dente del Gigante. 

I bid the intrepid explorers farewell as I checked into more luxurious accommodation for an extended stay in Courmayeur before making my way back to Chamonix via Flixbus through the Mont Blanc Tunnel. 

This is the European summer holiday I desired. 

Proper hotels, relaxation, more time at the spa, boutique shopping, sipping espresso in the plaza, and wine with cheese as evening drew in. 

Being clean, and dry and having mobile phone coverage to contact Mr Bucket. 

As I said, I’m not afraid to rough it, but what my heart desired in that moment was peace and comfort and a private bathroom.

I have absolutely no regrets about that time I didn’t walk Tour du Mont Blanc.