My Tour du Mont Blanc journey

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.

Like tens of thousands of others who take on the challenge each year, I’ve finally decided to attempt Europe’s premier- perhaps its most popular – mountain hike, the Tour du Mont Blanc.

A circuit of Western Europe’s highest mountain, the route involves around 10,000 metres of ascent and descent, in my case, over a period of 11 days. I know some intrepid types choose to run it over just a few days and nights in an annual Ultra Challenge. Good luck to them, I say, but no, I won’t be joining you. My way will be hard enough!

Compared to the six week Alpe Adria Trail tour I took on in 2022, this will be shorter, but more intense. I’m hoping that by September, when I will be walking, this year’s record breaking heatwaves will be over and it won’t be quite as hot as those memorable days in Austria, Slovenia and Italy in July and August 2022.

My route this time starts and ends in Les Houches, in the French Alps, and travels anti-clockwise through Italy and Switzerland, before returning to France. I’ll be staying in hotels for the most part, generally taking the main route options, easier alternatives and a few shortcuts, like chair lifts and buses when it makes sense to do so. And getting my overnight baggage driven on each day by others.

I’m looking forward to some incredible scenery, experiences to remember, meeting fellow hikers, and the sense of achievement it will, I hope, bring.

Certainly there will be low points- maybe exhaustion, self doubt, injury and bad weather amongst them.But if I let that deter me, I’d never do anything. It’s the unique, the incredible, the awe, that I’ll remember most, I hope.

So here’s to putting one foot in front of another, and see you in September. In the meantime, there’s a bit of time to get myself into shape for the adventure ahead.

Jeni and I were finally reunited last night in the little village of Bagnoli in Italy. It’s been over five weeks since we were last together in Dollach in Austria, back on Day 3 of my trek. At one point it looked touch and go whether her flight would be cancelled but luckily it was just a bit late. By about 7 pm she had arrived, and we had a quiet evening catching up, and a modest meal round the corner at the local refugio.

Overnight we were woken by flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder, but by morning there was barely any evidence it had rained at all. It was our 25th wedding anniversary but celebration would have to wait for later, until I had finally finished the trek.

So I set out after breakfast, with Jeni travelling ahead with the taxi driver and the luggage to Muggia. I had another six hours or so of walking ahead of me.

I’d had a bit of a panic a couple of days ago when I’d noticed that the Alpe Adria app stated that stage 37 of the trail was closed. Apparently there had been another wildfire, as with stage 33. But both fellow hiker Edwin, and Simona, who booked my trail arrangements, assured me that the ‘old’ version of the trail was open, so it was simply a case of following a slightly easier route.

Walter the cab driver, who it turned out was also a member of the Italian Alpine club, explained to me very helpfully that the ‘old’ path left the current official route by a cemetery and was marked as route number one and with red and white markers throughout. And with his advice, a map and my gps track (which showed the old route anyway) I was fine.

First off, was some more woodland walking, going up hill, round the hillside and then back down. Along the way this time in the wood was something I hadn’t seem much of on this trip. Discarded rubbish, but also clothes and rucksacks. Why had they been left? Perhaps they had been stolen? It was a bit of mystery why there would be so many in this particular wood. I hoped it wasn’t anything sinister.

After rejoining the road, I found the diversion to the old route, and carried on through more woods. Eventually the trees started to thin out and the sunlight and the heat of the day burst through. It was back to 30 degree temperatures now and I could see across the hillside to wooded hills and a massive motorway viaduct. I descended down to a road, followed this for a little while, and then along a shady path alongside the edge of another forest on one side and fenced in plots or gardens on the other.

The next part was less appealing. First, I had to walk alongside an industrial estate, then there was a brief interlude by a river before I passed under a motorway and had to cross a couple of fast moving slip roads. All of this took about forty five minutes, until I finally escaped the traffic for a little country road which led right up to the Slovenian border. My phone kept pinging with messages from British Telecom saying ‘welcome to Slovenia’ and ‘welcome to Italy’ – they obviously didn’t know which country I was actually in. By the time I turned away from the border my gps told me I had only 5 km to go- Italy was literally only 5 km wide behind Muggia before it became Slovenia.

Then there was one final slog up one final hill. The first part was in the full glare of the sun. Thankfully the route then came under the cover of the trees for a bit, before flattening out. Annoyingly though, this climb to Santa Barbara, as it was called, barely gave any decent views, just little snatches of Trieste though the trees, and then as soon as it had climbed up, it was back following the road down again.

The end was a bit ignominious and disappointing. But I knew I wasn’t far away from the seafront where the route finally ended. Looking down a side street I could now see Jeni waiting for me as I approached the finishing post so to speak, where an Alpe Adria walking figure (a sort of sculpture) signified the formal end to the route. As I approached, I found tears welling up – I’d finally done it and to top it all Jeni was there to see me arrive. And it was our 25th wedding anniversary too.

I’ve surprised myself really. How I’ve managed, how I’ve kept going. I’m not after all known for being particularly fit or sporty, and have never walked anything like this long before in one go, the nearest being the coast to coast Southern Upland way back in 2008. That was about half the length (212 miles) and half the time (15 days). Or there was my half completed cross Switzerland trip back in 2004, where I flew back with the family after they came to meet me, being put off by the difficulty of carrying my own gear up mountain passes and a nasty incident with a bull chasing me that really sapped my confidence. It was not completing that hike that had made me all the more determined to finish this time.

Thinking about it, I am on the whole someone who, more often than not, perseveres with things, once they decide to do them. I hadn’t done every stage of the trail, due to storms and wildfires, but I had walked over 705 km- some 438 miles- and climbed and descended over 22,000 metres. Not 100% of what I’d planned to do, but 90% of it or thereabouts. In the process I’d managed to raise over £1000 for charity to help save pangolins, which made it particularly worthwhile.

I knew other people, like me, were doing the trail, because I had met them. Almost universally I think they were more sure -footed than me, probably fitter, able to carry more, faster. It’s still not a minor achievement for anyone though. Not that many people can or do walk such a distance and climb such heights. Most people wouldn’t want to. The majority would probably walk the route in stages of a week or two (and to be honest that’s the more sensible thing to do). I had wanted to do it this way and had done so, and that’s what matters. And I feel the better for it.

But if you ever hear me suggesting that I might do another walk of this scale, length or difficulty again, please remind me what I have written here on the day I finished this one- ‘never again!’

Over time I’ll probably remember just the best parts and the worst parts. Maybe I’ll look back on the photos and the blog to remind myself. Will I remember how it felt? I’m not so sure. It’s has really been a trip of a lifetime though I have to say. And thank you for helping me to do it, with all your messages of support.

Thank you to Jeni and Rachel above all. Thanks to all those who sent me lovely messages and kept my spirits up and donated so generously. Thanks to all those marvellous people I met. And thanks especially to those supremely helpful people at the Alpe Adria Trail booking centres, Bettina and Simona, who arranged every hotel, every taxi transfer, and offered assistance all the way through. You have all been great.

After five weeks, I’d finally reached my penultimate day’s hiking. But some have overtaken me! Edwin and Gerjanne, who I met on the trail near Ossiach, and who started after me, arrived in Muggia last night – congratulations to them. And thanks to you both for all your useful advice on the way.

I meanwhile woke in the night with a migraine, and in the morning had my usual post migraine nausea and light sensitivity. Not ideal for walking, but it mostly cleared up after a couple of hours, thankfully.

The hike started with a long walk on the road round the Lipica stud farm. Maybe because it was still early, but I never did manage to see a single horse there.

Leaving the grounds there was a glut of advertising hoardings for casinos, slightly bizarre, as it wasn’t exactly Las Vegas. Once I crossed the road I was back in the countryside. It started with a climb to near the peak of Kokos.

This was nothing like the climbs of past days and weeks and was in the shade, but because I was still feeling a bit sick from the migraine, I had to take it slowly. I knew though that this was the only major climb of the day, and I prefer, when it’s hot, as it was beginning to be again, that the bits of uphill were earlier when it was cooler and I was less tired. All the climbing was done by about 10:30 which was ideal.

Once at the top there were some views of the wooded hillsides and the path started to descend again. I went through a couple of villages, before joining a wide cycle track. This was the trackbed of the former Trieste to Hrpelje railway, which closed in 1958. I followed this for quite a while, eventually crossing back into Italy yet again, for the final time, I think. I found a picnic bench to eat my surreptitiously hidden ham rolls that I’d made up at breakfast.

One thing about tracks along former railway lines, and why they make such good cycle tracks, is that they are almost entirely level. Often though they’re not the most interesting walks, but this one became more interesting as it progressed. First it started to tower over the landscape below, which dropped away to my left. Then there were some little tunnels that the path passed through, and the views opened out around.

The Alpe Adria trail then took a turn off to the left down a sharp zigzag path to what was now a deep valley. And as it did so I started to be able appreciate the Val Rosandra, which I had now entered. This was a real treat, and though I’d been aware that the trail had something special like this at the end To look forward to I didn’t know quite how nice it would be. And so close to Trieste too.

At the bottom I took a path parallel to the valley with marvellous views backward and forward. It was, though modest in scale, the first bit of mountain scenery I’d encountered in the trail for over a week, yet different to other mountainous stretches and a lovely end to the day’s walk.

As I arrived at our bed and breakfast for the night the host explained to me it was Ferragosto, a public holiday, sort of equivalent to our August bank holiday Monday. Which explained why there had been so many people and families out today and why I could hear people having a barbecue outside.

As I write my wife, Jeni, is in the hands of Ryanair, hopefully finally winging her way towards Trieste after some delays. We should be reunited later today after our longest time apart in over 27 years. I’m really looking forward to seeing her again, after all this time on my own. While I haven’t felt as lonely as might- with the people I’ve met and folks back home staying in touch – it’s a very different thing to see you partner again after such a long gap. Tomorrow should be a double celebration with our 25th wedding anniversary and my final day on the Alpe Adria Trail. And I’ve told Jeni not to bring any walking boots. She is getting the taxi with the bags to meet me at the end.

I really have to thank everyone so much for your amazing support for the blog and my charity page over the last few weeks. It means a lot to me. As I write, after a flurry of very generous donations in the last week, including in the last hour, and including one anonymous donor who I will thank here, whoever you are, you have got me to have my revised £1000 fundraising target. That’s absolutely fantastic, so thoughtful and kind, and should really help Fauna and Flora international in their work to protect pangolins.

I hope it has also raised some awareness of their plight and helped a little bit to spread the word that more needs to be done to protect these and other endangered species. It’s given some meaning to my personal challenge but it’s you I have to thank for being the ones who have contributed. I’ve just been putting one foot in front of another.

The day didn’t start well. Just as I was leaving the hotel I found a cockroach in the washbasin. Then I just missed a bus. After waiting half an hour for another, I missed the stop for Prosecco and ended up in Trieste, and had to wait for the bus to come back again. So I didn’t start walking until gone 10:00, which I think is my latest start so far.

The beginning in Prosecco wasn’t auspicious either. I spent about twenty minutes trying to find which direction I should be going and which was the right street before I really got the walk under way.

But once out of Prosecco and going in the right direction, I soon found myself at the start of the Strada Vicentina, a grand promenade built high above Trieste in the 1820s. It’s sometimes called the Strada Napoleonica, but to me it makes more sense to call it after the engineer who designed it rather than a certain Corsican who I suspect had little to do with its actual construction.

It must have cost a fortune to build at the time as it’s relatively gentle in its gradient, and apparently involved blasting solid rock to construct. The route is several km long and takes at least an hour to walk. Thankfully it’s reserved for pedestrians and cyclists only. There were quite a few people having a Sunday morning stroll along it today.

The views of Trieste and the Adriatic are amazing from here, and the city gets closer as you walk towards the Strada’s eastern end. Here there used to be a tram going up to Opicina (it only closed about three or four years ago) and if that had been working I could have walked the Strada Vicentina yesterday at the end of the day, and simply got the tram up and down the hill to my hotel (without my unwanted detour to Trieste this morning). Hopefully at some point they will get the tram going again- they were somewhat antique, a bit like the ones in Lisbon, (there’s a stationary one on display in Opicina). In the end it probably all comes down to money, or lack of it.

At the end of the Strada I arrived at a busy road, by an large Obelisk. Helpfully here there was a subway to the other side of the road, where a quiet road uphill led to a camp site before a less grand, but almost as beautiful, continuation of the promenade took me further along the coast, again with views high above the bay. Here there was a perfect spot for my lunch.

The track then descended quite steeply, still in the same direction, before climbing again and eventually turning inland. I crossed back over the motorway and through a couple of villages, Trebiciano and Gropada, before a long stretch of quite pleasant road walking back towards the coast again.

It was a bit of a zigzag route this part, because once I reached Basovizza, I promptly headed north again crossing the Italian/Slovenian border once more (I think this is the fourth time now) on a track, named after another engineer, Josef Ressel.

The reason for all of these border crossings is quite evident. Trieste is on a little strip of Italy only a few miles wide, with the hinterland beyond in present day Slovenia. Now I can’t claim to know the full history, but suffice it to say that Trieste has a various times been a ‘free’ city (as recently as the early 1950s), part of the (Austrian) Habsburg empire and now in modern day Italy. Geographically the borders look a bit peculiar, but there are always good reasons why things end up as they are.

Luckily, with open Schengen borders, it doesn’t matter too much. But probably only 35 years ago, a route such as the Alpe Adria Trail, with all of its border crossings, would have been if not impossible, administratively difficult, I would imagine. I’m sure border officials would have wanted to know why I wanted to keep crisscrossing from one side to another. As it was, today, I saw a guy happily crossing the border, marked by an innocuous road sign, just to walk his dog.

The last few km was a pleasant shaded woodland walk, with frequent signs in various languages, including English, along the way. Then emerging from the wood I arrived at the Lipica Stud farm complex.

Not being knowledgeable about horses, I hadn’t appreciated until recently that Lipica is famous worldwide, and as my hotel, casino and golf complex illustrates, a big moneyspinner. Evidently Queen Elizabeth II has visited at least once as photographs of her are prominently displayed around the hotel. The rooms have doors designed to look a bit like stable doors and there’s a horse theme everywhere. However, as yet, I have not seen one horse. Maybe tomorrow I will.