Tour Du Mt. Blanc – Courmayeur to Chamonix

This is part two of a two part series on the Tour du Mt. Blanc, a trek around the Alps highest mountain. Please use the term “Mt. Blanc” in the search function to see the other part of this series.

The skies looked dark and ominous.  Our hike up to Col de Ferret, the boundary between Italy and Switzerland, was in 40° temperatures and a howling wind.  Not only was the steep climb fatiguing, but so too were the cold and the strong wind.  The conditions also added a mental challenge, working hard to sap our spirits and draw on our fortitude to make it to the top.

Our gain in elevation finally took us into the clouds, stronger winds, and a frost covering just about everything.  Men and woman on mountain bikes were heading downhill.  We needed to get to the side of the narrow trail to let them by.  Craziness!  What we were doing was hard enough, but to do so on a mountain bike!?

Upward we churned, our faces wind burned. Using my frozen hands, I held onto my hat. Failing to do so would see it blow off into the fog, never to be seen again.  Others at the top tried to put on their wind jackets. Doing so was very difficult since the 50 – 60 mph winds made it hard to find the sleeves that were flapping about wildly. 

Mary Kay topped out before I did.  We couldn’t linger for long.  Signposts and other route markers were covered in rime ice that had frozen sideways due to the speed of the horizontal winds.  My eyes watered up making it difficult to see which way to go.  Fortunately, others at the top started to head down allowing us to follow.  Not until 200 – 300 feet below the pass did we feel warm enough to try and talk and expose our frozen fingers.

Soon we were low enough where the sunshine dominated.  Switzerland looked fantastic; green and shining.  After 30 minutes we walked up on a buvette (a snack/drink bar) where other hikers had gathered.  Hot soup, cold beer, and the remaining cheese we bought several days ago (bought in Les Glaciers) served as a welcoming mid-day meal.

We made it to the bottom of the mountains and into the flats at the head of the valley and the tiny town of Ferret where we waited in a restaurant (more beer) for the mid-afternoon bus.  We headed to Orsieres with a transfer to Lac Champex. The bus served not only several other hikers and normal, everyday commuters, but also a dozen or so school children. At stops along the way, mothers and younger siblings stood waiting for the kids to exit, excited to be done with yet another day of school. The pattern continued in several of the towns up the mountainside and into the next perched valley.

Our stay for the night was in Lac Champex, is a very picturesque and quaint Swiss village squeezed by mountains on one side and a pretty lake on the other.  We only briefly toured the town.  It was too cold to do much else.  Our fantastic hotel (Glacier du Sporting) served us a great four course dinner, the best meal we have had so far.

The next day started cold. The trail was in the shadow of the mountains where the heat of the rising sun was blocked and hidden. A thick frost covered the village’s car windows. Small puddles were layered with a thin coat of ice.

As we climbed and made our elevations, the now shining sun and exertion began to heat us up.  The scheduled three hour climb up the Col Fenetre d’Arpette turned into a five hour grunt, one of the most grueling climbs Mary Kay and I have ever done; certainly the toughest on this trip.  The path gave way to a boulder field below the pass.  The only discernible way was via various symbols painted on the boulders and rocks, or an occasional cairn or two.  Progress was slow.  Mary Kay’s knees were on fire.  She was in great pain and we still had a long way to go.

We reached the top of the pass at 2:00 p.m. and lingered only briefly knowing we still had a very long way to go.  We began our descent.  The pain Mary Kay was now experiencing was excruciating; barely tolerable.  I don’t know how she did it other than she had no choice but to continue the torturous climb down given there were no other alternatives.

Unlike the hike down from the various other passes, this was like no other.  It was very steep; precarious actually.  The path required one to take large steps down off of one large rock and onto another. The pattern continued for long stretches of time. There were not many switchbacks.  The gravel was also slippery.  You can only imagine the stress on the knees and other joints. One overall highlight that made this downhill misery somewhat tolerable was the stunning view of Glacier du Trient that the trail paralleled.  The shining sun added to this ancient ice’s whiteness.

We finally reached a more level stretch with a gradual descent.  Poor Mary Kay could hardly walk.  She looked like Frazier Crane’s dad both in the way she limped along and in the grimace on her face.

After 10 hours on the trail, we reached Relais du Blanc, a “hiker’s hotel,” and our stay for the night.  It had very basic accommodations.  A shared bath and shower room were down the hall from our spartan and cramped private room.  At dinner we shared a table with four Brits who gave us tips on good restaurants in Chamonix for our last night later in the week. 

As we awakened after such a grueling day, Mary Kay’s soon learned her knees still weren’t right. It didn’t take us long to decide that the best course of action was to take advantage of the public transit option to our next scheduled stop instead of another physically demanding trek over the Col de Balme pass.

After overcoming some confusion with bus and train schedules, we made our way to Hotel L’Ermitage in the small village of Le Buet, our stay for the night.  The train conductor didn’t have change for our 50 Euro note, so he let us on with the 2 – 3 Euro in change that we had in our pocket despite the 5 Euro fare.

We sat in the hotel’s courtyard drinking beer and poured over our maps, deciding on how we were going to finish our trek on our last day tomorrow.  

Our trail notes gave us three options for routes from Le Buet to Chamonix.  Our original plan to take one of the two high routes was soon scratched after our early morning departure due to MK’s condition. 

The lower route, called the valley route, ended up being very pleasant.  Riverside trails and sidewalks through quaint, picturesque French villages made up the route.  Here and there we would stop for beer, cash at an ATM, and for simple rest and relaxation.

We walked wearily into Chamonix, familiar with the way to our hotel.  After checking in, we ate what remained of our backpack lunches (tuna, cheese, crackers, etc.), then off to get tickets for tomorrow’s bus trip to the airport in Geneva.  After securing our tickets we strolled over to the ticket office of the Aguille du Midi cable car and took a vertigo-induced trip high up the mountainside.  The views were stupendous with snow and glaciers all around us.  It was well worth the time and money for sure. 

We burned time window shopping, beer drinking, and light snacking before our bus’s 1:20 p.m. departure time the next day. After being dropped off at the Geneva airport, we walked about 10 minutes or so to our hotel.  What a dump!!!  It was a slum landlord’s version of a hotel.  No reinvestment, stained and torn carpeting, smudged walls, and thick mold in the shower.  The only good thing about it was that the bedding was clean.

Our sleep was frequently interrupted by noisy guests next door and by hoodlums hooting and hollering outside in a back alley. At 2:00 a.m. a loud ruckus was heard in the hallway, followed by noisy, stomping pairs of feet growing louder as they drew near. Bam, Bam, Bam! Whoever it was, they were knocking loudly on our door, its feeble lock straining against the pressure. Our terror soon abated as they ambled off, apparently recognizing they had the wrong room.  

I slept with one eye open the rest of the night. 

A video of our trek is at the following link: