TMB An East Lancs Outing
Tour de Mont Blanc
Ken Noble got the idea from the book "Unforgettable Walks to Take Before You Die". A couple of years back, he emailed the East Lancs group asking who would like to do the Tour de Mont Blanc with him. With sufficient interest shown, he embarked on rigourous research and booked ten of us (including a couple of South Pennine interlopers) on a Salamander trek. In August 2016 we joined four other ladies - three of whom turned out to be Heart of England LDWA members - and our guide, Susie, in Argentiere, near Chamonix.
Logistically, the trip couldn't be faulted. Days were taxing enough without being over-strenuous. Susie knew her stuff well, and the group functioned effectively. For accommodation there are over fifty refuges en route for the more hard-core TMBers but we opted for the comfort of hotels. There's something to be said for private rooms, civilised meals and beer/wine on tap after a hot, sweaty day in the mountains. The styles varied from the Champex hotel, which could have featured in the Sound of Music, to the sleek off-season ski hotel in Les Contamines, and all would get a good Advisor de Trip rating from us. Apart from one place at Col de la Forclaz, perhaps, which had 'character' (i.e. it was like a large, packed youth hostel in a 50-year time warp) and a stressed-out young receptionist. Breakfasts were continentally hearty, lunches ample al fresco DIY sandwiches around a plastic table cloth, and hotel dinners quite tasty and more often than not a chicken variant.
To begin our clockwise route we backtracked a few kilometres down the valley on a local bus to Chamonix. As we milled around while some bought maps a couple of our group recognised fellow Irregulars across the square who had just done the Tour themselves. Small world, etc. The first day proved a welcome gentle introduction, with a major chunk of the ascent completed in the Flegere cable car. The 450m of actual climbing required to get to Lac Blanc, our initial experience at 2000m-plus, proved a little wheezy. There were stunning views to the south-east across the Chamonix Valley of the famous landmarks of the area: the Mer de Glace, the Aiguille du Midi and the white bulk Mont Blanc itself - apparently. For the only time of the holiday bad weather hit us so we saw only low cloud and wrapped up as if it was February on Saddleworth Moor.
A more typical day's walking followed, without the benefit of a cable car. This involved an hour or so of a lovely valley path from Argentiere to le Tour, then steep, steady zig-zagging to Aiguillette des Posettes then Col de Balme (2191m) and a sharp descent to the start of the northernmost section of the route from Triente. Heading uphill was a breathy, sweaty slog, but guide Susie noted that we were much quicker than previous groups. Maybe she says that to all her charges. The high point marked the French-Swiss border, so just like post-Brexit Britain will be, we were no longer EU-bound.
Days 3 and 4 were the easiest of the trek. There were no cols or peaks, just steady walking and the odd incline in forests and Alpine meadows and open country with sharply rising mountain slopes under blue skies (save for a single shower that coincided with the morning coffee and flan stop in the most atmospheric, dimly lit hut of the trip). Glorious. And there was a view down the Rhone Valley to some distant towns to remind us what civilisation looked like. Having walked generally eastwards to Champex (where we enjoyed a Saturday night lakeside performance by a blues duo reminiscent of Seasick Steve crossed with the Muppets) then south along Val Ferret to La Fouly, the peaks felt closer, the experience seeming to become a touch more intense. This sensation was heightened by an avalanche down the side of Mont Dolent just as we sat down for late-afternoon bieres and glaces.
There was some discussion about the pronunciation of Val Ferret as we embarked on the climb to the highest point of the whole Tour; the Yorkshire contingent seemed sure it was named after the mammal they use in their county sport. At the morning coffee-stop, thanks to Ron we also learned that if you're a tall guy and stoop through the doorway as you exit the loo a waiting Japanese guy will assume you're being respectful and will bow in response.
The positive effects of high-altitude walking may have been kicking in, as the kilometres to the Grand Col Ferret at 2537m were covered in reasonable comfort. This point was notable for a return to EU Europe (Italy) and a chilling wind tunnel effect that had us eating lunch in jackets and reclining close to the ground, while marvelling at the glaciers fingering down between the sharp peaks of Les Grandes Jorasses range nearby.
To avoid a long, hot road walk into Courmayeur we were persuaded by Susie that the bus was a sensible option. This southern opening of the Mont Blanc tunnel was our base for a rest day. Most of the group chose to chill at the highest outdoor swimming pool in Europe, while four people with too much energy reversed (not literally) the bus route, regained the TMB route and filled in the missing 10 miles via the Bonatti and Bertone Refuges.
A 20-minute minibus ride from the hotel took us to the broad, glacial Val Veny and we were suddenly accompanied by lots of day walkers, since it was a beautiful morning and within easy reach of Courmayeur. Quite a shock to the system, all these other folk on the track! Continuing south-west to Col de la Seigne (2516m), we were at our closest to Mont Blanc, and had great views of its domed summit, curiously understated among the sharply profiled lower peaks. A pale hulk of a mountain surrounded by rock spires.
After overnighting in the charming remote village of les Chapieux (scene of Pass the Pigs by torchlight in the garden), we set out northwards straight into a morning of steep slog to Col du Bonhomme (2329m). Here, you sensed you had turned for home, as the lower end of the Chamonix Valley could be made out in the hazy distance.
The final day provided further relatively close-up views of Mont Blanc's west face as we passed within around four km of the summit, looking straight up the Glacier de Bionnassay. This was a reward following the most strenuous climb of the week. The path up to Col du Tricot (2120m) had looked ominously steep from the forest across the valley, and so it proved. Five hundred and sixty metres of height to be gained from the base, countless switchbacks, relentless sun, sweat-drenched tee-shirts and increasing weariness until the immense relief of levelling out, and certainly the most well-earned lunch of the trip. Tame sheep greeted us, keen to lick the salt from exposed flesh, which was more appealing to some than others.
At the finish, the cable car station above Les Houches, there were no great metaphorical fanfares, or whoops and hollers. Instead, there seemed to be a slightly knackered sense of accomplishment, similar to completing a couple of long, tough challenge walks in close succession. We agreed that the cold cans of fizzy liquid were the best-tasting ever.
Given Ken's source of inspiration for this adventure, we wondered which walk he might choose next from his book. A Grande Randonee? The Machu Picchu Trail? The Torres del Paine Circuit? As we passed through Chamonix on the way back to the hotel, hundreds of runners were gathering in their lycra, bandanas and unfeasibly tiny backpacks to start the TMB Ultra race. The quickest would cover the 160km and 10,000m ascent in under 24 hours. Maybe we should get in training for next year...
Michael Bushby
