When the mountain calls: running the Tour du Mont Blanc Part 2
- Andy Hood
- Oct 21, 2023
- 7 min read
A little after 0730 on Sunday morning, after a hearty breakfast and some pre-trail running rituals I like to go through, I left the hotel and strolled up a steep street I found as I turned left out the hotels door, destination the Plan-Praz cable car. My TMB started in Chamonix rather than Les Houches, doing this in 5 days meant a couple of small compromises such as missing a few KM’s off the official distance. Although in fairness with other walking around I did I suspect I did a lot more than the 170K. Especially the miles I walked in Courmayeur trying to find the supermarket.
The pre-event devils made their presence known; I’ve written about these before in previous race reports. The inner voices of doubt and concern who chatter away in your head in the hours before you lace up and go. On the morning of TMB the devils would question me on if I was prepared for what was ahead, had I trained enough, did I have all the right gear, would the niggle in my left hip become a game changer. Knowing how to manage these mental games are as important as managing your physical fitness, they can plant too much doubt and prevent you from even starting, but tamed they can be useful too, stopping you for a moment to consider many of the important elements of your preparation.
The cable car took just 7 minutes to whisk me to a starting altitude of 2000 meters. The day was already promising to be warm, a forecast in the 30’s. The whole 5 days I’d be running the weather was beyond exceptional, 30+ every day with the bluest of skies. A deep rich blue the likes I had never seen before. And suddenly there I was standing ready to take the first step on an adventure I had been thinking about and planning for many months. A text to family, a photograph, and an emotional smile. I was ready; was I ready?
I’d spent months navigating the TMB Facebook group looking at pictures and posts by others who were on the trail. And many an hour on Google Earth studying the terrain. No matter how much you look from the comfort of the sofa it can never prepare you for the reality of the terrain you find your feet planted upon. The 4D world around you, sights and smells are similar to what you have seen, yet totally different at the same time.
Not knowing quite how the day would go, I’d planned on finding a balance between taking it easy on pace and getting to the first of the overnight stops in good time.
Those first few minutes gave views 360 degrees that made my heart swell, the beauty impossible to describe. Towering snow-capped mountains, lush green valley’s far below, I was in my own world of complete peace, so far away from the busy traffic laden roads in the valley thousands of feet below me. The air had a clean fresh smell, it seemed to welcome me to the mountain, encouraging me to take the first steps.
Day 1 would take me to Switzerland, the small village of Trient that has the most magnificent pink church perched on a small rise in the middle of this alpine wilderness. The 5 days would take me on the following journey.
Chamonix (France) – Trient (Switzerland)
Trient (Switzerland) – La Foley (Switzerland)
La Foley (Switzerland) – Courmeyeur (Italy)
Courmeyeur (Italy) – Les Containmes (France)
Les Containmes (France) – Les Houches (France)
Sitting writing this a couple of weeks after my return it is hard to recall all the details of what I experienced and in the order I experienced them too. Thankfully I love to take a photograph, and this helps to rebuild the adventure, each photograph has a time stamp and location information, so useful to build out how each day unfolded. As I scroll now the first picture of the day taken at 08:06 as I boarded the cable car and a couple of hours later at 10:00 a stunning photo at Refuge La Flegere where I sat with an Orangina and Croissant.
I’d told myself I would stop whenever I either felt like it or if there was a view I wanted to take in, and the view from La Flegere was worth stopping for. The drink and croissant were my 25th photo so far! Was this the early excitement of being in a new place where you find yourself grabbing the phone and snapping away, an excitement that a few hours or a day or two later wanes. It turned out not to be over the 5 days I’d take more than 350 photos, the beauty of where I was too much for my memory to retain, I needed photos to remember it all, to share with others, to tell the story.
I am glad to have taken so many photos. The image, time and date stamp and location information my phone stores have helped to recreate the adventure in an immersive way.
Altitude Mont Blanc organised the overnight accommodation, which apart from the one in Italy, were all fantastic providing hearty dinners, breakfasts that prepared body and mind for the day ahead and comfortable beds to lay my head. In Trient I needed to borrow a phone charger as my trusty European one didn’t seem to fit the sockets in either Switzerland or Italy. At dinner I met a hiker, Mark, who kindly lent me his charger for a couple of hours, I returned this to his room later that evening, Mark had chosen the Classic option and as I popped my head in the darkened dormitory room the aroma of 8 hikers had me quickly turning on my heals and saying my thank yous for choosing Comfort.
Luggage was taken care of each day, picked up in the morning and there waiting for me in the evening, meaning I could travel light during the day. My Ultimate Direction pack, 2L water reservoir, extra 500ml water bottle and a few snacks thrown in to keep me going.
The route to Trient had me follow the Grand Balcon Sud which delivered view after view. Rocky, dark and brooding the trails continued their undulating path through the mountains delivering me at L’ Alpage de Balme a café that looked well set to serve skiers in the winter months. With a careful eye you can see the ski trails but on a hot summers day it did take some imagination. I was to climb shortly after here to the top of Col de Balme, a high mountain pass topping out at 2195m (c. 7200ft) and the first border crossings. Col de Balme marks the border between France and Switzerland, passport at the ready.
The café at L’Alpage de Balme was doing quite a trade, it looks to be a good location for a day hike stop off. Browsing the menu, it was hard to resist a waffle and ice cream, and hey I’d need the calories for the climb ahead. The waffle was delivered with a service that indicated I was a nuisance, order taken and delivered with zero customer service and when I spotted an array on sun creams behind the counter I asked if I could have a dribble, thought it would be useful to top up. Well, you would have through I’d just insulted her whole family as my polite, boyish style question was met with a stern ‘non’ and in a harsh delivery I gathered this was for the staff and most definitely not for paying patrons. I ate my waffle turned toward Switzerland and said ‘Ah revivor’ to my new French friend.
Switzerland conjures up thoughts of chocolate, Toblerone to be precise. A delicious chocolaty scale model of the Alps which tastes good at any time of the day. And where does that milky goodness come from, Swiss cows. And this was one of the magical moments which made me smile so wide it hurt, the sound of cow bells.
The landscape had changed, it had been gradual and not until I came across my first heard of Swiss cows did I really notice. Lush, green and a beautiful pine tree line had replaced the broody rockiness of earlier in the day. I’d heard the cow bells from some distance away and now seeing the size of these enormous bells hanging from thick leather belts around their necks it was easy to understand why the sound travels so far. Taking a photo, I thanked the herd for my Toblerone secretly hoping there would be one draped across my pillow as I arrived at my overnight accommodation.
During the day I’d decided to walk the last 15 – 20 minutes each day, not so much to give the legs a rest, they were undoubtably thankful for this, but more so I could take a moment to think back over the miles I’d covered that day, to take in all that had been experienced. It turned out to be a great decision as I ambled the last mile through the wonderful village of Trient, its pink church perched on a small rise in the village acting as my beacon. Le Grande Ourse lay just beyond, and this was my scheduled overnight stop.
Instantly I fell for the Swiss. I was greeted at the front desk by a lady who welcomed me the way you might a family member who had been away on a long voyage. With warmth, with thoughtfulness and with a smile. I was told where I could leave any hiking boots and poles and if I didn’t have evening shoes with me there was a selection of Crocs in various colours and sizes I may choose from. My luggage had arrived and was in the same area as the boot room and dinner would be just a little after 7pm.
I collected my luggage, smiled at the multi-colour display of Crocs and being the rebel I am whipped out my evening trainers from my bag, popped in my trail runners, folded my poles and stuffed them in too and headed for my room. Yes, I was going to break the rules and put my shoes and poles in my room; I get a sense of comfort having them close. Although as I would find out an hour later I would need to open the window as the shoes were not quite as fresh as they were that morning.
Le Grande Ourse was wonderful, a good-sized room, comfy bed, hearty dinner and a lovely breakfast. The only disappointment was the missing Toblerone but I could forgive them for this minor overlook.
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