Heights of adventure around the beautiful Mont Blanc

Dan MacCarthy dodges torrents of melting glacier water, tries to emulate Bear Grylls, and meets interesting comrades as he treks in some of Europe’s most beautiful scenery around Mont Blanc.

MOUNT Blanc is magnificent but has terrible risks, especially for climbers. Witness the 20 deaths in this year’s climbing season including two Irishmen. Despite the most careful planning you can still fall victim to chance: an avalanche, a crevasse, winds. For walkers, there are fewer risks but severe ones nonethelesss. The snow is heavy underfoot on a beautifully sunny day.

Ahead, the peak of Bonhomme harbours a hut where a rest and a drink are promised after the day’s efforts. After a three-hour trek in tough conditions from the valley about one-and-a half Carauntoohils below, that break would be most welcome. (Note to self: bring snow shoes for any prolonged traverse of snow.) Finally, the roof of the refuge appears. Thank God. At the final few steps from the top the hut hoves into view. And that is all I am going to get — for it is buried under 2m of snow and all that appears is the apex of the roof. Great. I sit on the roof and tuck into my sandwiches.

This is day two of my trek on the tour de Mont Blanc, one of the world’s great treks through the mind-boggling beauty of the Alps. The circumnavigation of Europe’s highest mountain takes in three countries in a trek over 180km long and with a combined height gain and loss of about 10,000m. That’s about 11 Carauntoohils. But not to worry, the allowed-for time for most people undertaking this trek is 11 days. Except, this adventurer plans to do it in six. (Note to self two: Don’t try to cut in half what it takes experienced trekkers twice as long to achieve.)

My route, anti-clockwise, starts near the French town of Chamonix at Les Houches and then upwards to the town of Contamines followed by Refuge des Mottets on the Italian border, Courmayeur in Italy, Rifugio Bonatti and Refuge de la Felgere in Switzerland, and back to Les Houches.

I had started at Les Houches having arrived from Cork via Paris and Geneva. (Note to self three: Attempting an eight-hour trek after two flights and a 90-minute motorway drive just isn’t on.) The mountain track was well signposted and the bible — Tour of Mont Blanc by Kev Reynolds — was really accurate and reliable. The path wound ever-upwards through some of the most breathtaking scenery on the planet. Finally, after about three hours I reach the top before descending through villages of pretty log cabins. In one village I espy a church whose altar is made from logs. As the evening stretches on the cows are called home, jangling their bells as they loll though meadows of poppies.

It being the start of the Alpine trekking season there are very few trekkers. As I realise, they are a vital source of information: The track ahead is blocked by an avalanche — you must take another route; a river has burst its banks — the bridge is impassable. Finally, I arrive after an eight-hour trek to my first refuge where a dorm bed is a massive welcome.

Next morning I have breakfast with a couple of Israeli trekkers. Two hours later I pass them struggling up to the first col. Further on, I meet a retired Parisian gendarme, and on hearing I am from Ireland he bursts into Van Morrison filling the valley with “Going down to Monte Carlo/ Gotta get my head some peace”. Yes, wilderness is wonderful, but the occasional human can be interesting too.

At Col du Bonhomme and I encounter a father and son from Flanders; not Belgium they say, but Flanders. They give me a hearty bonjour. The pair undertake this journey every year, varying the route each time. They will stop for the night at the approaching refuge in about one more hour. But it’s only 2pm with a lot of light left. I could go to the refuge or press on to the Italian border. A great opportunity to keep ahead of schedule.

Well then. Decisions, decisions. I go for it. Soon the Belgians are black dots on the snow as I wade thigh- deep to the next col.

As soon as the father and son vanish I get a strong feeling of independence that I’m tackling this on my own — but it is almost immediately replaced by fear. (Note to self four: No more Bear Grylls solo adventuring.) The silence of the day is shattered by a roar. Is a jet passing? A bomb down the valley? I soon see for myself. A huge tunnel has been carved beneath the glacier by the meltwater and thousands of tonnes of water are being released in a cacophonous explosion. I narrowly evade the ice tunnel and get lower down to the delta. Some adroit stream-hopping is called for. I don’t want to contemplate a slip.

Finally, after the toughest trek of my life, the refuge is visible below me on a plateau. Six trekkers from Grenoble are my companions and provide much needed human succour. Afterward, following many beers and a nourishing dinner it’s time to hit the hay.

Next morning I press on. After the jaw-droppingly sublime entrance into Italy over the Col du Seigne I stop for a drink at the magnificent Rifugio del Elisabeta. The views down the valley are extraordinary, soon to be replaced by a less-than-extraordinary concrete road, necessitated due to several avalanches. Bring it on.

Six hours later I hobble into Courmayeur, half way. But six hours on a concrete road leave my feet in tatters. With a heavy heart, I realise to go on is impossible. In German, the word “alp” means “nightmare”. It could have materialised. Suitably chastened, fair enough. The mountain wins. For now.

Getting There

Flights from Dublin to Geneva return with Aer Lingus about €235.

Shuttle buses run from Geneva to Les Houches.

See www.alpybus.com; www.mountaindropoffs.com; www.chamexpress.com; €25 each way.

Do's and Don'ts

Do: Make sure you have every bit of gear needed for testing mountain conditions but don’t overdo it either. Do you really need that tent if your route has been calculated to bring you to a refuge before nightfall?

Give yourself loads of time at either end. I arrived after eight hours travel including two flights, and an hour-and-a-half minibus trip to to the trailhead. Only fit for a beer, not an eight-hour trek in unknown surroundings.

Don’t: Travel on your own. No matter how good you are at navigation, you can’t read the future and you don’t know what sort of unexpected hazard can rise up. Someone has to know you are arriving at a certain hour so they can send out a search party if required.

Walk outside the accepted season. Usually, July 1 to mid-September.