When the mountain calls; running the Tour du Mont Blanc Part 6

26 October 2023 | Race Reports

7:57am, a hearty breakfast of oats, croissant doused in Nutella consumed, good byes to a couple I’d chatted to over dinner the night before and I was off, this was my final day.  It was climbing straight out of the blocks today, and lots of climbing.

My app told me it was just a 13-mile day, easy by any stretch, a climb to Col du Truc and then on to a further climb to Col du Tricot at 2120 meters.  The homestretch was into Les Houches for a photo by the start/finish sign I’d seen a hundred times in Facebook posts.

It may have been just 13 miles, but it turned out there was 4500 ft of climbing to do, the legs would get a serious work out.

My mood was mixed, I was excited again for the day ahead, to experience new places, enjoy all the mountains had to offer, the early morning sky blue with the promise of a hot day. But I was also reflective, this was my final day before I would be thrown back into the busy world and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.  The mountains felt like home, they had taken my heart, and I wasn’t ready for my heart to be broken.  I’d spent the last few days in a raw, uncommercialised environment, it was planet earth as mother nature intended, even the moments when I dropped into a village or town, as the trail does, had quickly started to feel strange and uncomfortable.  Very quickly the wilderness become my home, the speed at which it does makes me wonder if we were meant to be naturally much closer to nature and not in the busy towns and cities, we generally gather in.

Starting my final day on the TMB

Crossing the river out of Les Contamines I saw a woodland path which would have been a better option for the previous afternoons final couple of miles to the hotel.  This is one of my learns, I must stop and take a more detailed look at mapping to see if there are better alternatives to the route I take.  I stepped away from the shops in the town into a series of switchback roads serving a collection of hillside houses, there was a fairly straight route up which cut of out the switchbacks.  Less than 10 minutes I was back into the wilderness, trees and rocks were my home again.

I was remined of the kindness from total strangers twice in a short period on this morning, the first passing a beautifully carved granite basin, situated outside a small building I took to be a village hall.  The basin had a tap and sign announcing this was ‘eau potable’.  I’d seen many of these, had refiled at some and always said a thank you to those who provided and maintained them, free, clean water – something we take for granted everyday as we turn on a tap in the house, but here in the wilderness it was a special moment to come across one.  

Then not far from Refuge de Miage, which is in a beautiful valley with meandering stream and prior to the climb to Col de Tricot I stood aside to let a quad bike go past.  About 50 feet after the bike had passed the driver reversed and indicated he had a spare seat if I’d like a lift up the trail.  He looked to be a local farmer, no doubt busy with his day, and that one simple act was thoughtful and kind.  I declined with a smile and thank you, he gave a wave and wished me ‘bon voyage’.

View towards Refuge de Mirage

I’d found the same on the Land’s End run last September, kindness all around.  By and large those you meet are filled with it, whether on the trail or at places I stopped to eat, but especially on the trail.  Once you step away from the hassle and bustle of everyday life there is a trail magic seeping up through your shoes, magic that brings out a side of human nature where we smile more, share more, support more.

It was just a couple of weeks before the UTMB kicked off, today I saw plenty of helicopter activity moving around the mountain’s supplies needed for the runners, including at the top of Col de Tricot a large Perspex cube full of UTMB goodies.  An aid station by the looks of it.  The climb to the top was rocky, uneven with increasing steepness.  The switchbacks quickly turning left and right, it was a power hike all the way up and I was grateful for my running poles.  The view as I crested dramatic, every climb in the last few days was rewarded with a view making every heart pounding moment worth it.  There were a couple of hikers coming up the other side, we stood and chatted by the UTMB cube agreeing this was one amazing spot to find ourselves at this morning.

UTMB cube at Col de Tricot

The run down was less steep but just as technical, ankles taking a pounding as they were constantly thrown this direction and that.  My trusty Speedgoats providing excellent grip and medial stability, I ran past hikers coming up, often to ‘oooos’ and ‘wow’ as I ran with speed and dexterity downhill.  I’d not taken a single fall but knew if it were to happen there would be certain to be a large audience, you never fall alone!  The Himalayan bridge was fun to cross and not far the other side the trail crossed another river, stepping stones providing a wet free passage, this was the only time on the run I noticed my annoyance at others.  On the far side of the crossing a large and noisy group of hikers were gathered, completely blocking the path and with no intention of moving aside.  I had to detour into bushes to get past and even a friendly hello failed to get any response.  Not what I come to enjoy on the trail over the last few days and thankfully this was the one and only time it happened.

I was very aware my time of the trail was coming to a close, so I took some time out to enjoy where I was.  At Bellevue I sat at a picnic table and watched the small train making its way up the valley to the little station.  I Facetimed my parents and family to say hello and share my view.  Leaving Bellevue I couldn’t immediately find the right trail, it seemed somewhat overgrown so I tracked back and looked at a couple of other options, neither being correct.  Going back to my first choice I pushed on and picked up where I needed to be, whether that had been the right way or not I was back on track.

I stumbled upon a wonderful café overlooking the Chamonix valley, La Fre Mi, its view commanding.  It was a little after midday and not wanting my day to end I stopped here for a drink and some lunch before the final few miles into Les Houches.  I’m glad I stopped to appreciate everything the last few days had given me, scrolling pictures on my phone as I tucked into a delicious cheese and ham sandwich.  Memories so fresh I didn’t ever want them to fade into distant memories, the mountains held my heart in their hands.

View from La Fre Mi

With some reluctance I picked up my pack headed downhill, over rocky trail, through small woodland, under still and silent chairlifts until I was thrown out of my wilderness into the town of Les Houches, the start and finish of many a TMB adventurer.  I walked the last half mile or so until I came to the famous arch sign.  The town was very quiet, hardly a person around.  Taking a seat near to but not at the sign I sat and cried.  Huge waves of emotion coming over me, sadness it had ended, happiness of the new memories I had made, love for the mountains.  Journeys like these are emotional, reminding you of what is important in your life.  I knew that no matter how I describe it, how many times I gush over the photos I show, no one will truly understand how I felt in that moment or over the whole leg testing last few days.

I found a passer-by to take my photo by the sign.  Then slowly made my way to the Rocky Pop Hotel for my last evening before flying home.

I returned to Chamonix just a few weeks later taking my wife and a family friend for a few days away.  We did many of the tourist activities which were lovely, they both enjoyed the area.  I went for a few trail runs in the days I was there, only short ones between 6 – 10 miles, each time wishing I was back on a multi-day adventure, having nothing to think about but the next step forward I was to make.

Listen carefully, the mountain will call your name.