My Tour du Mont Blanc journey

Back in Les Contamines about ten days ago, I’d first met Austin and Anastasia from Florida at the breakfast table. We’d bumped into each a number of times since, including in the dorm at Bourg St Maurice, and they had now finished the trail and were heading off home via Geneva later that day. Austin is a keen mountaineer, and they are both way ahead of me in speed, confidence and hiking ability- but for them, as for me, I could tell that the Tour du Mont Blanc had been a very special experience. Part of this for me has been meeting so many warm and friendly kindred spirits, Austin and Anastasia among them, even if it’s just fleetingly. May they have many fond memories of the trek and more happy hikes in the future.

Meanwhile, I still had one more day of the Tour left and had decisions to make. Plans evolve, and I had originally intended to walk the entirety of the official route for this day- from the top of the Planpraz gondola, up to the very top at Brevent, and then down 1700 metres to the valley at Les Houches. But reading reports about the downward path, I started getting jittery: my guidebook described ‘airy sections’, chains for security, a steep drop by path and an awkward rocky descent. Researching further, I came across the blog ‘our little hiker’ which showed some truly scary looking pictures and a bit ‘that required you to scramble beside cliff edges with 1000 metre drops with shaky legs and only a small chain to keep you from death’. That was enough for me!

Instead I would get the cable car up to Brevent, take a look, then come back down and do another part of the Petit Balcon Sud, halfway or less up the mountainside. This would still involve considerable climbing and descent, but nothing too dangerous or vertiginous I hoped. I’d also done part of it before, with my wife Jeni and daughter Rachel back in 2013, so had a good idea what to expect.

First, Brevent. The cable car ascent was smooth and fast. Once there, from the viewing platforms you had incredible views across to Mont Blanc and the Aiguilles. It was a perfect day for it , sunny and not really cold despite being 2500 metres up and it being only 930 in the morning.

As the view was so amazing, I thought I’d savour it for a little while, having a cold drink. Hearing some English voices, I found that the guys at the next table were from Devon, so I asked them to take my photo. They told me they had climbed up all the way from the valley, starting early that morning and seemed cheery enough despite that. I think if I had been in their shoes I would have looked dead on my feet.

Taking the cable car back down I could see some of the path I would have taken if I’d done the official Tour route. It only confirmed I’d made the right decision for me, I have to say, seeing how exposed and steep the path was.

Back at the bottom, I then had to climb back up again, thankfully mostly in the forest, and nowhere near as high. For the first hour and half it was a short steep climb and then mainly level walking, like it had been yesterday, in the forest. But soon things became tougher. First, the route took me down much of what it had climbed, before a relentless ascent . Certainly it wasn’t anything like as long or as high as the climbs in the earlier part of the Tour, but it wasn’t a walk in the park either.

At times there were lovely little openings where you could see the array of mountains facing across the valley, their tops still snow covered. It was now getting warm and sunny and the sunlight lit up the mountains through the trees.

Being a Saturday, and so close to Chamonix, the walk was busier than yesterday, but mainly with joggers and runners, and no sign of any other Tour trekkers. At one point a bike appeared and careered down the hill at great speed towards me. There’s no doubt about it, the French love their bikes.

There were several places where clearly there had been rock falls, landslides and overflowing streams and this seemed to be the cause of some of the detours, making me go down and up again. There was one particular point where signs directed you down wooden ladders and bridges to get across a gully in quite a dramatic fashion, with stern notices telling you not to continue where the path obviously used to be, becuase you could see it had been washed away and covered by rocks.

Then suddenly I was at the entrance to the Merlet marmot park- with picnic tables, dozens of families and young children who had arrived from the opposite direction. I had to walk through a long steep series of car parks before I finally saw the official Tour route joining from up above, and was then led off downwards steeply via the Tour towards Les Houches, which a sign told me was only fifty minutes away. This timing wasn’t actually far out, unlike one sign I’d seen earlier pointing back to Chamonix which suggested my previous hike of three and half hours should have only taken one.

My final day had taken me up and down nearly 700 metres- actually more uphill than the official route would have been, but less than half of the downwards. The final part of the descent took me again through forest, past a large statue known as Christ Roi, and finally down to the road and over the railway and motorway before managing to get in one further short climb back to Les Houches itself and the finishing post.

Here,unsurprisingly, people were gathered, finishers this time, and some fellow hikers from Brisbane kindly took my picture.

Well, it’s over. I’ve done it (at least most of it). A great hike, and one which absolutely deserves to be so popular. With another day before I fly home to Scotland, I’ve still got another day hike up my sleeve .

I’ll cover that and post some further reflections on the Tour du Mont Blanc as a whole tomorrow, and what I felt were its highlights, before I sign off.

Ladders up rocks have earned Day 9 of the Tour du Mont Blanc something of a fearsome reputation. But, as they say, other options are available, and it was always my plan to make use of one of these.

Originally my plan had been to follow the alternative route back up the hill via Col de Montets, but as that had as much, if not more, climbing than the main ladder route, I thought I’d opt for the lower level Petit Balcon Sud instead.

On my last visit to the area in 2013, I’d done some of this route, west of Chamonix and enjoyed it, and I knew that although this was no high mountain trail, it was likely to be interesting in different ways, and so it was.

So, no massive climbs on open hillside, but instead an undulating stony forest trail, with glimpses of the mountains adjacent to Mont Blanc- Aiguille d’Argentiere, Aiguille Verte, and Aiguille du Midi amongst them.

I’m actually a big fan of a good forest walk, especially when it’s varied like this one, not simply a forestry track through an artificial plantation of sitka spruce, as is too often the case back home in Scotland. This was a lush, green forest of conifer and deciduous trees, with mossy rocks, little streams, rocky stretches, and ups and downs. The name Petit Balcon Sud denotes that it’s a lower level, south facing, balcony walk, so is actually on the north side of the Chamonix valley, generally a couple of hundred metres above the valley floor.

And while there were little stretches where I met the occasional dog walker or jogger (and even fifteen bikes at one point) generally those were near turn offs to car parks and camp sites down in the valley, and for the most part I had the walk to myself, in contrast to much of the Tour.

There was, however, the constant hubbub of nearby traffic and trains, wood cutting and the like, down in the valley, so I was very much aware that I wasn’t way out in the wilderness.

As the walk progressed there were more and more openings to my left giving views of the giant mountains across the other side of the valley, still with glaciers on top (for how much longer I wonder?)

After about three and a half hours, I descended into Chamonix Mont Blanc, one of the biggest resorts in the Alps. Despite being bustling and sprawling, Chamonix manages to retain its charm, with the mountains dominant in the background wherever you are, and some interesting buildings. I found I remembered my way around quite easily, finding the supermarket without thinking.

Chamonix will be my base now for the next three nights, with tomorrow’s final leg of the Tour starting from the top of the Brevent cable car and ending in Les Houches, where I’ll get the train back. I then have one extra, final, day in the town, from where I hope to do another walk, the Grand Balcon Nord on the other side of the valley, but this time higher up than today’s, which will make an interesting contrast.

While there have been some gaps in my circuit of Mont Blanc- for various reasons- I’ve still managed to clock up nearly 6,500 metres of ascent, 5800 of descent and over 122 km, all of which feels respectable in nine days of walking. My feet feel like they know it,

Tomorrow’s final leg of the Tour looks to be an unrelenting downhill of 1700 metres, which by any stretch of the imagination is a lot, but from the pictures should be an appropriate ending to an amazing hike.

Hotel de la Grand Ourse was a sociable place- dinner was at big tables with allocated seats, and I chatted with a young couple from Seattle and another from New Zealand, who were spending three months travelling. In the morning, I met a couple from Vancouver island and and as I was leaving I met Mark and Foster again, who along with their wives, I’d chatted with a few times since we first met in La Fouly- they were friends from different sides of the US/Canada border.

The whole atmosphere was very friendly on the trail too, as I set off in the early morning cloud, beginning another big (948 metre, in other words, equivalent to a Munro) ascent, this time to the Swiss/French border. As I climbed up through the forest , there were some familiar faces, many of whose also seemed to recognise me, and brief words when people inevitably paused for rest and breath, as we zigzagged up another hill.

The difference this time was that it was not hot, and indeed as we got higher it became noticeably colder and colder, so layers were added, and I ended up with beanie, scarf and gloves. We entered the cloud and it became difficult to see our surroundings or how far we had left to go. This is where my gps came into its own as it has an accurate and useful elevation monitor and I could always tell how much more climbing was left. In fact , when we approached the top and people rested, as I had done previously, I gave people some encouragement by letting them know, for instance we had climbed 749 metres and only had another 200 or so left. When you couldn’t see the top, I think it helped.

Finally, there I was at Col de Balme, the border, the top, and right there, a refuge with a cafe and bar. Everyone by now was so cold we at least put our heads inside, but it was a small place and there was barely enough room to get in and out, as all the seats were by now taken. I decided to give it a miss, and here took a a decision on which route to follow next.

Basically there were two choices- the main route via Aiguillete des Posettes, apparently quite tough; or an easier but less scenic route via the ski runs of le Tour. I had wavered between the two, but a chance comment by my Kiwi dinner companions the previous night had put a third idea into my head- as it seemed for a ten minute walk you could actually get the chair lift and gondola down to Le Tour as they had not yet shut down for the autumn. Feeling cold, that’s what I opted to do, but arriving at the bottom in a big car park, it seemed a shame just to walk down the road for a mile or two to Argentiere after only three hours walking.

I suddenly had a thought- there was a lovely walk I had done back in 2013 from Vallorcine to Le Buet, and this wasn’t far away. Maybe I could catch a train or bus there and do that again? So I walked down to Montroc, caught the free train to Vallorcine, and ended up walking all the way from there downhill to my accommodation in Argentiere, a further 7 kilometres to add to the 7 I had already done.

It was amazing how familiar the route seemed even though I’d only been here once before 13 years ago, but what hadn’t appreciated until I looked at the map and signs was that this route was an actually a lower down, and easier, part of the more difficult variant Tour route. So I had jumped tracks from the main route to the variant, enjoying a bit of both.

The route led alongside the road and railway line, broadly flat at first, but with sheer rocky outcrops on either side. it was, as I remembered, beautiful, and so much quieter than I’d been used for the last few days. Beyond Le Buet, the route was entirely new to me, and it led through a nature reserve at the Col des Montets, with a shiny new visitor centre, which I briefly visited. Then it was steeply downhill, but a fraction of the distance I would have had to cover had I not caught the chair lift and gondola, alongside a gushing river, into the heart of Argentiere.

I can feel now the trek is approaching its climax, as I have returned back to France, and, effectively, ‘greater Chamonix’. I have a number of options for the last two days, and know that some of some of the options I have done before. so I’ll chew on it overnight before I make a final decision on which one to take.

In the meantime, for only the second time on the trail, I have a bath in my room, so I’m going to enjoy a soak in that now.

Tuesday was a rest day, after six days on the trail. Exhausted, I needed to recharge and relax: Champex in the sunshine was a perfect place for just that.

On Wednesday, the following day, however, all the weather apps I could find forecast it was likely to be wet: heavy rain was forecast for all day, with high wind and thunder and lightning in the mix. And after several past brushes with recent extremes of weather behind me, I was erring on the cautious side. Only last year, my friend Keith and I had been almost blown off our feet in mid Wales on a walking holiday, despite thinking we were being cautious with a weather warning by diverting from a high trail to a lower road. And four years ago, I’d been in an Austrian alpine mountain refuge when a mudslide hit, the road and trail were washed away, cars buried, and we had to be flown out by helicopter. If I’d been a few hours later arriving I would have been underneath that mud too.

So with those experiences in mind, and besides, with the prospect of not being able to see much, the thought of a thousand metres downhill on muddy misty mountain trails filled me with dread.

Overnight, sure enough, the storm hit. I was woken a couple of times by flashes of lightning, rumbling thunder, and heavy rain and wind whistling through the trees. So I wasn’t surprised that I wasn’t the only one waiting at the bus stop in Champex who thought it better to give this stage a miss and take public transport instead. In fact it was a pretty full bus that took us all to Orsieres, where our through tickets connected precisely with first one train, and then a couple of stops later another at Sambrucher.

But I thought rather than arrive in the middle of nowhere at Trient by 1230, without access to my hotel room, in the pouring rain, I might as well spend most of the day in the much bigger town of Martigny, where the second train deposited me, and catch a later bus. Doing my internet research I discovered the tourist highlight of Martigny is ‘Barryland’ a kind of museum devoted to the St Bernard dog. So off I set, for what looked like a spanking new building that had obviously had some money spent on it.

Forking out my 25 Francs (almost the same in £) I thought this must be something, but clearly the money must have made these St Bernard’s the most pampered dogs around. The ground floor was a museum proper, which informed me that the St Bernard originated as a dog kept by the monks of the St Bernard hospice on the nearby St Bernard pass. Apparently they gave the dogs no training, with mothers training pups in the art of mountain rescue, although how this the original life saver gained its skills is lost to history. And I discovered why the place was called ‘Barryland’ as well -Barry being a St Bernard in the nineteenth century who holds the record for saving the most lives. It had nothing to do with Barry Manilow.

Downstairs was populated by mainly elderly dog lovers, whereas upstairs was a whole series of glass fronted rooms containing- largely sleeping- St Bernards. There must have been at least a dozen of them, and one was being groomed carefully by its keepers while children watched, agog. It all seemed a bit surreal.

I thought I’d venture into the rain outside to see what other wonders awaited me. as according to a signpost, there were both rabbits and tortoises outside, but all I managed to see was one dishevelled, wet rabbit, before I made my way back.

The whole experience lasted no more than half an hour and I struggled to see how you could make it last much longer really. Maybe I was expecting the impossible. I mean are we likely to get new tourist attractions springing up all round the world devoted to Alsatians, chihuahuas or Dalmatians? If this experience is anything to go by, I hope not.

So I set off for the centre of Martigny hoping for better things. But it didn’t look promising as all I seemed to find apart from various cafes were numerous optician’s shops. Now if I thought home in Helensburgh we did quite well for these, Martigny really seems to excel. By that time I came across about my twelfth opticians, I began to realise there was something familiar about them, and I’d simply been walking round in circles.

I’m afraid I never really found out whether there was much more to see in Martigny. I’m sure there is. But don’t rush out and book a week there unless you need glasses and are prepared to pay Swiss prices for them.

After a long wait for my bus to Trient, I finally boarded and once it made it out of town, it was a nerve wracking journey up narrow switchback roads, increasingly in the mist. In fact visibility went down to about fifty metres, and I was hanging onto my seat as we negotiated some incredibly tight zig zags up and down hill. In typical fashion at one point somebody actually overtook our bus just before one of these bends. All of which just made me glad even to get the bus journey over with, and certainly confirmed me in my judgement in not doing the walk today.

So tonight I’m in a fascinating hotel/hostel in a remote valley shrouded in mist. It seems like it’s a place with some faded grandeur where they’ve found they can make more money out of cramming people in, but luckily I’m upstairs with my own private room, albeit with no working wifi, hence this post may be late in arriving. My first experience trying to use the toilet wasn’t great either with the seat promptly falling off the minute I lifted the lid.

Tomorrow the weather looks set fair, so I’ll be back on the trail heading back into France. Only three more days left, and it’s another big climb.

What an amazing lady. You may recall that right at the end of the first day’s hike, as I approached Les Contamines, I met a woman who’d been unfortunate enough to slip and had her arm in a sling, walking pole in her other hand. Well today there she was again, still going strong! Her name is Linda, and she hails from Colorado, and at the grand old age of 81 she is fighting fit and doing one of the toughest multi day hikes you can do, despite that little setback.

I’m pleased to say she’s now accompanied by two young hikers who have been helping make sure she stays safe. I hope to see her again, maybe at the very end back in Les Houches, who knows?

Anyway, back to the start. Today was supposedly the easiest day of the trail, and while it was less of a climb that the last four days, because a lot of this took place in the final third of the day it felt harder going than expected.

First there was some easy forest walking, with openings where you could see the accompanying mountains and the river the trail was following.

Unfortunately, at one point there had been a landslip so we were diverted to the other side of the river, which meant that I missed the shortcut I had intended to make to miss a trickier part of the walk. Instead, after a little section with chains on the rock, the path descended down steeply and I found this a little unnerving as it was narrow and sandy. But taking my time I was alright, although when the path widened and I allowed the people I knew were behind me to pass about a dozen steamed past.

In the middle of the day, I met a hiker from Sussex , alongside another from Uruguay, who had come back to do the trail ten years after his first circuit. He said it was much, much busier than the last time he’d been here. We walked through the village of Praz de Fort together, and then they forged ahead as I dawdled through the pretty little wooden buildings of Les Arlaches.

Then after a quick lunch it was onwards and upwards for the sting in the tail of today’s hike. A steep ascent, then another diversion that took us down, and then up very steeply, adding extra climbing to the route. I kept coming across the same people as we all took breaks to catch our breath and rest whenever we needed to. The cooler temperature of earlier in the day (it had rained overnight) was overtaken by clammy, humid conditions and I was sweating profusely as the climb seemed to carry on and on.

During this last bit of the hike there were various wooden sculptures of animals in the forest dotted along the trail. But what we really wanted was it to flatten out.

Even when my gps told me there was only another 2.5km and 200 m of height to go, it took another another hour before I finally reached the beautiful resort of Champex, on its mirror lake.

Today’s walk may have only been 604 metres up, but it still felt a lot, and the descent (733m) and distance 17.5 km , made it one of the longer days.

Tomorrow is my rest day, at Champex, by the lake, and after six days I have walked nearly 100km and ascended and descended over 5000 metres. Unfortunately, Wednesday, when I’m due to resume the hike the weather forecast looks ominously wet all day, so I might have forego stage 7 altogether and catch various buses instead. That would be a shame, but better safe than sorry. The sort of terrain covered is not where you want to be in the middle of heavy rain, with sand turning to mud, and warnings in my guide book of a few streams to cross which pose problems after heavy rain. And doing it tomorrow would be logistically difficult with all accommodation booked months ahead.

Anyway, we shall have to wait and see.

The hotel last night was in a perfect spot, at Lavachey, on a fast moving river in the Val Ferret, with the mountains and forest all around. Although not actually on the Tour du Mont Blanc itself, it was in a valley beneath where I’d walked on Day 4. Facilities were a bit basic , with a shared bathroom and toilet, but there was nice home cooking and the staff were all very welcoming. This was to contrast with my experience at the end of the day….

First I had to catch another of the excellent free buses that run in this area. The first one to come along (at 758 am on a Sunday) was jam packed and I didn’t fancy trying the squeeze in like a tube commuter, when it was driving fast up winding mountain roads. Luckily the next was a lot better and so by 830 I was back climbing again, this time aiming for the Italian/Swiss border at Grand Col Ferret.

Although in the shade of the mountains at first, by 930 I was in direct sunlight and the path seemed trickier than past ones. I really was getting fed up, but I knew from the signage that even going slowly I should get to the top by 1130, so that kept me going. Then I suddenly realised the top was at 2537 metres, and I was only insured for up to 2500 metres! So you can imagine how careful I was when I approached the top. You know insurance companies try and wriggle out of paying anything if you have an accident- and on an international border too!

The top was another superlative viewpoint, and I actually became quite emotional being there. This trip is actually a bit of an emotional rollercoaster . While you’re going up, you wonder why you’re doing it. At the top there’s a feeling of elation. Doing something you never once thought possible. And the knowledge that at my age I’m unlikely to ever want to/manage to get there again. Going down is generally more enjoyable, although at times you have to be on your guard in places as one false step. …I make it sound like an ordeal, but it’s not, on the whole, just at times.

One the way down, I met some young Americans, and we got talking about Scottish hikes as they were keen to try some. One had even heard of that TGO challenge- a cross Scotland, find your own route expedition that people enter into each spring-which shows you the power of the internet these days. I also bumped into a couple of Inuit ladies from Alaska when I took over their picnic spot as they were leaving and we met again later and chatted about hiking there , and inevitably, climate change. It’s nice bumping into people again on the trail- there’s also an English couple I keep coming across, and another couple from California, Mark and Amanda, I’ve met and chatted to in the taxi a couple of times, although I haven’t seen them today. Certainly there’s a feeling of shared experience as you progress on the trail.

Now I could hear what sounded like distant machinery, but as I approached it was the familiar sound of dozens of cow bells, that distinctive sound of Switzerland. Half way on that descent the trail took you right though a bar, Alpage de La Peule, which seemed to be doing a roaring trade from hikers, but which my guide book, quite rightly as it turned out,warned against stopping at, as there was still a way to go.

That second half of the descent was largely on a dirt track, and very winding with a gentler gradient as it could take cars as well as mountain bikes. Well in fact I’d seen mountain bikes right at the top, and on occasions being ridden or carried up the Swiss side I was descending. How they could do that in the heat of the day I have no idea.

Finally at the bottom the last hour was spent in a very pleasant walk in the forest and by the river , partly along a quiet road, partly along tracks, through Ferret village and on to La Fouly.

Pleased to finally arrive there after six and a half hours walking, I had to wait 40 minutes in blazing sun before the proprietor arrived at 4 pm. She spoke only French, but laid the law down right away, demanding with finger pointing that we take off our boots, wear flip flops, and empty the contents of our rucksacks into plastic boxes which she let us carry to our rooms. It was all very officious and didn’t exactly make you feel welcome.

Luckily the room seems nice , and the walk tomorrow is apparently the gentlest of the whole Tour, and through forest, which I really like. Then it’s a rest day, before I resume the hike for its final four days.

What a day. The grandest scenery imaginable accompanied me almost all day after another almighty climb, luckily mainly through shaded forest. So far every day has simply improved on the last.

First logistics caused one or two issues. After a ‘lie in’- daring to get up at 715- and finishing breakfast by 815, I found the taxi driver was there already and I was the last bag to go on. Luckily he waited ten minutes for me, but now I know. Then I tried to assemble a lunch, popping into little artisan shops (all I could find) that wanted to sell me local runny, smelly or award winning cheese and wine, rather than a bit of bread, some Baby bel I could keep in the rucksack for a couple of days, and an apple. By the time I found a supermarket (half the size of our Tesco garage in Helensburgh) I had already walked nearly 2km, up and down hill and wasted nearly an hour.

But starting out at 930 did mean for the first time there were significantly fewer hikers around me than before, even going up. And typically, once it levelled off , people spread out, stopped for picnics etc and it felt much more than ever that, while I didn’t entirely have the place to myself, I wasn’t engaging in some sort of mega mountain race.

The views for my lunch stop were sublime, and included not only the pointed peak on the earlier photo, but a mist shrouded Mont Blanc too, with a massive glacier, threateningly perched above Courmayeur

The weather too was a little cooler at the top-ideal for hiking. Most of the climbing was done by noon and I had trouble tearing myself away from the view after lunch.

The route for most of the rest of the day was broadly level, but for some reason, right at the start- and only briefly- I had a touch of vertigo so took it slowly. I think it was just because I realised how high up I was.

This mainly level walking, after my initial vertigo, was perfect: relatively easy, varied and with a glorious backdrop all around me. Eventually, I arrived below Refugio Bonatti, where I turned off the Tour du Mont Blanc downhill towards the road for a steep and somewhat tricky forest walk to the road, and another free bus (like yesterday’s which was also free , and packed).

I’m incredibly cautious going down, having once broken my wrist in a fall simply on some wet decking, and worrier that I am, I have actually been watching YouTube videos about it. One confidence inspiring young Italian explained about how to avoid falling when hiking (the right kind of grippy soles, poles, packing your rucksack well to maintain balance, even duck steps) and if you do, trying to fall back rather than forward. Another 70 year old American hiker in a video warned of thin skin burning and cutting quicker as you age, supportive shoes,and tracker devices). Pretty much all of these things I’m doing, or aware of, so if I do slip it’s going to be bad luck, carelessness, weather conditions or really tricky terrain. Luckily so far the route has been well graded and maintained- I guess it has to be for the number of people that do it. Maybe there’s teams of volunteers helping keep it in condition like us Loch Lomond volunteers do for parts of the West Highland way.

Now the stats bit. 1060 metres up today, 545 metres down, and nearly 16 km walking. That makes 3500 m up so far, almost the same down, and 65 km in four days, with six more days to go.

Les Chapieux, where I finished yesterday, is a pinch point on the Tour du Mont Blanc and not only are many guests ferried by taxi to Bourg St Maurice, 12 miles away, but even there space is at a premium. So when I booked up 11 months ago, I had to accept a dorm room for the night or nothing. Luckily, my five room mates were all very considerate- which meant that I had to be too- and included a young couple- Austin and Anastasia -from Florida I’d met at the last hotel, an Irishman from Derry, and a Canadian lady. No snoring, no getting up in the night, but boy was it hot, despite two big fans whirring away all night and the windows being open. None of us I think got much sleep at all, so by 6 am we were ready for breakfast and then the 730 taxi.

The standard Tour takes 11 days, but my 11 days included one rest day and combining two days together. This was that day. Luckily, the taxi driver drove us an extra 6 km up the road to Refuge Des Motetts, and at the end of the day, rather than walk to Courmayeur, I and many others were diverted to La Visaille along a more scenic route, where there was a bus. So the two combined days with these shortcuts actually made an easier single day than yesterday.

First, once again it was up hill, steep straight away, but thankfully as it was so early (830) the climb was mostly in the shade of the mountains. After barely two hours sleep, I was not only exhausted, but actually wanting to fall asleep. But it passed , and after two hours, I was there, the Col de la Seigne (2516 metres)my first border crossing point, from France into Italy. It was only 1030 and was all downhill from this point on.

Around the top unfortunately even stopping for a drink of water attracted the attention of groups of wasps or hornets, so looking forward downhill into Italy, I ploughed straight on.

The vista below was even more beautiful than yesterday’s. And I have to say most of the rest of the walk – apart from one long straight stretch where the sun was beating down and there was no shade- was the most scenic yet.

Jagged mountain crests, enormous mountain waterfalls, a couple of idyllically placed mountain refuges, a pretty lake, and then a gorgeous path downhill alongside a gushing river, with forest and mountain all around. This part was clearly popular not just with Tour hikers, but also with holidaying Italians. It all had a grandeur that reminded me of California’s Sierra Nevada, and the smell of pine was exquisite.

Then suddenly it was back down to earth and a wait for the hourly bus into Courmayeur. After a half hour wait there was just enough room for the seventy or eighty people that had accumulated to get on the bus. God only knows what it is like in peak season.

So a lovely hike today, walking nearly 15km, up 714 metres (still a lot but half of yesterday’s climb), and down 849 metres. So far I’ve hiked nearly 50km, up 2500 metres and down even more, 2800 metres. Still another seven days hiking to go, and tomorrow is another big climb, nearly 1300 metres, but less downhill.

Brutal. That’s how I’d describe today. But nonetheless an amazing hike and a dramatically scenic route.

Today was very much an exercise in stamina and timing. An ascent of 1444 metres- probably the most I’ve ever done in a day, and more than Ben Nevis- a long, winding descent, conscious that I had to make the taxi pickup at 430 pm (more about that later). And after the first hour or so of shade, in 25c + temperatures and blazing sunshine.

After Notre Dame de La Gorge, the climbing started, and it was steep straight away. It soon became clear just how many of us were doing this hike as none of us were moving fast. There must have been a hundred or more- people from all around the world, but it seemed from the voices and the people I spoke to, a preponderance of Americans, alongside those from France and other parts of Europe, from Asia and Australia, as well as the UK.

At Chalet La Balme many seemed to stop for a drink or a snack, but we had barely started… as we climbed to the Plan des Dames people were clearly beginning to flag. Some stopped when we came to brief flatter sections, but I realised it was better to pause half way up a steep part, have a drink and regain some energy.

Then I reached a plateau at Col du Bonhomme. Not quite the top, but 3/4 of the way there, and like most I decided by 1pm it was time for lunch. I had a display of dog herding sheep to watch, but was still clock watching as I needed to get to very top by 2pm to meet my taxi at 430 at the bottom.

This next hour was very different. Rocky, still climbing but not quite as consistently steep, and magnificent views to the south, now I had crossed the first col.

Then finally I was there.2479 metres above sea level. Shortly after there was another mountain restaurant, which seemed to be being rebuilt, judging by the helicopter bringing in builder supplies in buckets at great speed above us!

And then the descent. A steep winding zig zag that took a couple of hours and with fantastic views all around.

Finally I reached Les Chapieux in time.it seemed that the local arrangement here is that all taxis leave the village at 430. The taxi drivers seem to have some arrangement between them and a guy was walking round the bars asking for names of the passengers on his list. I tracked him down by asking another taxi driver. All a bit chaotic, and without a mobile signal, a bit of a problem if you got stuck, as all the buses were also full.

So an amazing day, but a really tough 8 hours, which I’d probably have preferred to have had another hour to do. But there you are. Apart from the 725pick up tomorrow, for the rest of the trip, I can start when I like. And take as long as I like too, there are some further long days ahead, but now I know what to expect.

I imagine that, centuries ago, when the first French farmers decided to settle in the village of Les Houches (literally in English plots of farmland) they probably would be baffled by the attention this little place now gets from people around the world setting off for, and completing, their Tour du Mont Blanc.

Arriving there last night, I took the precaution of taking my picture at the official start and end point, after the throngs of finishers for the day, so as to avoid the inevitable queues in the morning of those setting off. If I’d been really smart, I would have taken two pictures- one looking keen and bright, and one sweaty and exhausted, and saved myself the trouble at the end of the Tour too.

This morning, bright and early , I set off, taking my first cheat of the Tour. To be honest, this is the only time I could see that you can usefully take a cable car to save some climbing on this hike, certainly in September, and it seemed everyone else had had the same idea. I was reassured to see that many of my fellow hikers in the queue for the Belle Vue telepherique were as old, if not older, than me. I wonder how many of them will stay the course, me included?

The first day was a relative gentle introduction, with the majority of it a steep descent on stony roads, short sharp climbs, pretty little Alpine villages and riverside paths.

I knew it would be popular, and it looked at first as though I would be walking alongside throngs of Americans and Australians (there seemed to be at least one guided group in the cable car), but by the time I had faffed around getting my Garmin devices working, they were either way ahead of me, or listening to their guide give them a lesson on glaciers. In fact, like the West Highland Wayback home, people soon seemed to find their own pace and straggle out.

One lady hiker who I spoke to briefly had her right arm in a sling. Apparently she’d slipped right at the beginning of the trail. Undaunted, she made it to the end of the first day at least. I imagine most though, like me, were pleasantly surprised by the ease of this first day (using the cable car of course), but remain daunted by the prospects of the next few days. To put it in perspective, today I hiked 14.5km, climbed 360 metres and descended 989 metres. But tomorrow it will be over 1400 metres up and down (more than Ben Nevis) and the day after around the height of a Scottish Munro (900 metres). The distances will be greater too.

This is my first time in the Alps in four years, since I spent six weeks hiking the Alpe Adria trail, through Austria, Slovenia and Italy in summer 2022. While we’re now settled in Scotland, and I take every opportunity to get outdoors and enjoy the Scottish scenery, it is nice to be back here in the Alps too. In some ways it feels as if I’ve never been away.