Late Summer
The Tour du Mont Blanc is an epic 170-kilometre walk around the Mont Blanc massif, a dazzling landscape of snow-capped peaks, ice scarred mountains and tumbling glaciers. Its high, steep mountain passes are legendary and its wildness alluring. A walking journey through three different countries and cultures beckons (France, Italy and Switzerland). And the highest mountain in Europe, a fabled dome of snow and ice, will be our guiding star.
The closest you can get to the 4,807-metre high summit of Mont Blanc without a treacherous, oxygen-deprived climb is to take a cable car to the Aiguille du Midi. At 3,842 metres its thin air is euphoric and it affords majestic views of the 25-kilometre long wall of rock, snow and ice that is the Mont Blanc massif.
By way of settling ourselves for our walk, we spend an afternoon up here, amongst the fast-moving clouds, dark rugged peaks and snow-covered slopes. The crystals of the glaciers sparkle in the sunshine and when we step into the void, a glass room with a glass floor hanging off the highest terrace of the Aiguille du Midi, we find ourselves in an ethereal realm of whiteness and infinite space.
Stage 1: Les Houches to Les Contamines
The first light of day colours the snow soft pink as we set off from Chamonix, anticipation in every step as we walk excitedly through town to catch the bus to Les Houches, the start of the Tour du Mont Blanc. It’s one of the most popular long walks in Europe and while mountaineering skills aren’t required, a reasonable level of physical fitness and mental preparedness are considered essential. We are a small team of four undertaking the walk and we hope by the end of the day to have found a pace and a rhythm that works for us all.
In the cool of the early morning, the air is pine-scented. We follow a ski trail up 650 metres to the Col de Voza. There are other walkers on the move, young and old, solitary and accompanied. The climb up to the pass is gentle but the coffee at the quaint cafe at the top welcome nevertheless, as are the breathtaking views of the Dôme du Goûter, the Aiguille de Bionnassay, and the wide Bionnassay glacier that spills between these two peaks. Cows graze on the high summer pastures, their shepherds at work milking or making cheese.
On the other side of the pass, the walking is undulating as we descend into the green fertile Val Montjoie. Through pretty, flower-bedecked alpine villages of wooden chalets, small chapels and wood stacked artfully for the coming cold season. Quirky carvings of bears and chamois decorate the chalets, pear and apple orchards are laden with green fruit and the meadows are bright with wildflowers – wild lilacs and the last of summer’s Alpen roses. Through the small village of Les Houches and past the farm where Alexis Bouvard, the astronomer who discovered the planet Neptune, was born. Across steely blue cascades of icy water flowing off the glaciers and then a halt in La Gruvaz where we and several other Tour du Mont Blanc walkers are stilled by navigational indecision until a wise woman advises us to ‘follow the torrent’.
We look down on the remains of a drystone wall enclosure as we walk along a quiet country road and then follow a riverside track into Les Contamines-Montjoie for a late lunch and a quiet celebration. All four walkers pleased with the pace and the ease of the first day. The loveliness of the valley, its villages as picturesque as a child’s storybook, the views of high, rugged peaks and mountain ranges breathtaking.
Stage 2: Les Contamines to Refuge de la Croix du Bonhomme
After a gentle first day, we are keen to test ourselves in higher, steeper country. Along the valley to the pilgrimage chapel of Notre-Dame de la Gorge with its stone stations of the cross then up a wooded ravine on a rock slab track laid by the Romans to the Pont Natural, a rock arch with a rush of water flowing beneath it. Groups of walkers from the USA, Italy and New Zealand who started their Tour du Mont Blanc in Les Contamines swell the numbers of people on the track. A colony of once-domestic rabbits feed on the lush grass, oblivious to the strange, two-footed creatures passing close by.
We stop for coffee at 1,459 metres in the garden of the pretty Refuge de la Balme and take in the commanding views of the mountains and the valley below. Then onwards through a stretch of verdant meadowland with a profusion of late summer wildflowers including hyacinths, daisies, forget-me-nots and bell-shaped violet gentians before climbing steeply over rough ground, past a memorial to an English woman who perished here in a storm and to which walkers add a stone as they pass. An act of respect for a fellow walker and a prayer for a safe passage across the pass.
Up to the saddle of Col du Bonhomme at 2,329 metres, a cold wind gathering force, the distant Lac de la Gittaz and Lac de Roselend still shimmering and the valley below resplendently pastoral. Then up through higher and wilder country of scree, rocks and snowdrifts to the summit of Col de la Croix du Bonhomme. At 2,483 metres it’s higher than Mt Kosciusko, higher than anything in Australia, the cool air thinning, the weather closing in.
Birds of prey circling in the stormy sky, a marmot whistling across the valley, chamois (mountain antelope) silhouetted on the ridgeline. We arrive at the high mountain refuge just as the storm breaks. No phone or data coverage at this altitude. Just connectivity between the crowded tables of walkers from all over the world, pleased to be resting in comfort after the exertion of the day’s steep ascent and sharing food and stories with strangers.
Stage 3: Refuge de la Croix du Bonhomme to Rifugio Elisabetta via Col des Fours and Col de la Seigne
The earth’s shadow an ethereal pale blue. The first rays of sun lighting up the snow on the peaks. Breakfast in the half-dark of the refuge, its limited solar power, bottled gas and candlelight carefully managed so that there is enough fuel for cooking and light for safety.
Up a barren slope and across a patch of ice to Col des Fours, at 2,665 metres the highest point of the Tour du Mont Blanc, unless like us and several other walkers this fine, clear morning you make a diversion to Téte Nord des Fours. From its 2,756 metre summit we are blessed with a stunning 360-degree panorama of the alps in all their grandeur. Rugged peaks, glaciers and mountain flanks. Views across to Mont Blanc, a dome of dazzling snow and ice and majestic above the drifting band of cloud. Prayer flags, cairns and delicate wildflower gardens in sheltered rock crevices.
Then down shale covered slopes, looking across to rumpled, velvet green slopes and complex, scoured glaciated landscapes. Through alpine meadows bright with Alpen roses and orchids. Past abandoned stone-walled buildings, cinematic in their forsakenness.
Further down to a farm smelling of cows. Line upon line of cheesecloth hung out to dry and gently blowing in the breeze. Marmots everywhere. Their whistle alerting us to their presence long before we spot them grazing close to their burrows, content with our curiosity until we venture too close and they scurry back underground.
Ascending again, a few short, sharp climbs, a dip into a stream-cut ravine and then up a broad slope to the 2,516-metre summit of Col de la Seigne, the border between France and Italy. Awestruck by grandeur, again. Valleys carved by glaciers and sheer imposing peaks. Broken ridges, cascades of ice and grey moraines. Standing in silence taking in the beauty, like a meditation. Then into Italy and down into the Vallon de la Lée Blanche, with a stop at the former customs house, now a mountaineering information centre and museum with fascinating displays on the ecology and wildlife of the alps.
After a day of lingering over beauty, we eventually make it to Rifugio Elisabetta and its very Italian chaos. There are so many people seeking shelter here for the night that two dinner shifts are needed. The food served is generous as well as delicious; bruschetta, mushroom risotto, meat with juniper berries and polenta followed by berry panna cotta. Wine for the asking. And outside, a dramatic view overlooking a valley backed by dark peaks and tumbling glaciers.
Stage 4: Rifugio Elisabetta to Courmayeur
A crowded house for breakfast at Elisabetta, big steaming pots of coffee and homemade bread with jam to see us on our way. Setting off in the soft early morning light, following a Roman road to the valley below. No mountain passes to ascend or descend today although our guide book cautions that the undulating nature of this high route along a flank of the Val Veni can make for a demanding day.
The air cold and fragrant with wild mint. In the shadowed valley we follow the shores of an extinct lake on a road built by the Italian army. Ruins of gun emplacements and tunnels from World War II. Marshlands and wetlands and sparse conifer forests. Mountain peaks reflected in the still blue water of Lac Combal. A second morning coffee at a buvet. A side trip to a trio of small lakes – one grey, one turquoise, one milky blue – then up a moraine wall to Mont Favre spur. These high altitudes are home to ibex, golden eagles and bearded vultures. If you’re attentive enough you can see deer and red squirrels in the forests.
Dazzling mountainscapes to behold. Raw, rugged environments of scree, sharply sculptured peaks and glaciers. Sadly the glaciers are receding at an alarming rate due to climate change. Falling rocks crash like waves on a distant shore. We follow the meltwaters of three glaciers. Water cascading in falls and clear mountain streams emptying into icy blue-grey glacial rivers. Small songbirds hovering above the rapids.
The southern face of Mont Blanc is revealed to us; a sweeping majesty of crags and cathedral-like spires. In the sky, a rusty-headed bird of prey, a bearded vulture. These birds live and breed on crags in the high mountains and eat mainly bone marrow. Hunted and poisoned because it was mistakenly believed that they killed lambs (and young children), they were largely wiped out in Europe by the beginning of the 20th century. Now though, they have been successfully reintroduced to the Pyrénées and the Alps.
The path weaves its way down across streams and past an emerald green pool to Rifugio Maison Vieille at the foot of a wooded slope. Cattle roaming, their bells clanking. A lunch of homemade pasta and a delicious grape and chestnut honey cake in the sunshine. Then down a dusty track, the rugged face of the mountain only a breath away, to the 19th-century chapel of Notre Dame de la Guérison with its devotions to the Virgin and walls covered with naive paintings depicting tragic alpine accidents – climbers lost down crevasses, truck drivers careering off the side of the mountain, foresters being crushed by falling trees.
We arrive in Courmayeur just as the passeggiata is beginning; that time of the day when stylishly dressed Italians take to the streets to wander and socialise. With our dusty clothes and sweaty bodies, we look like tramps in this elegant Italian mountain village. Fortunately, people recognise us as Tour du Mont Blanc walkers and to take no offence at our dishevelled state. A hot shower, a terrace bar and an Aperol spritz beckon. And tomorrow, a rest day, to sit in the sun, take in the village, eat gelato and drink a chilled Italian white wine or two.
Stage 5: Courmayeur to Rifugio Bonatti
Replenished by a delightfully slow day in Courmayeur we eat a sustaining breakfast, prevail upon our multilingual host to help us with booking accommodation for the next couple of nights (as a mountaineer he understands our needs), and set off from town just as the Sunday Farmers’ Market is getting underway. Stalls abundant with cheese, salami, bread, mountain honey, the last of the summer’s fruit and the first pears and apples of autumn. Church bells calling the faithful to mass ring in our ears as we walk on, through the town and up steadily through spruce and larch woods, the forest floor a flowering mass of mauve colchiques.
We come out of the forest to sudden and spectacular views of Mont Blanc and the Aiguille Noir, as well as views back down to Courmayeur, a tiny toy town from this height. A morning coffee at Rifugio Bertone; no matter how high and how remote these Italian mountain rifugios are, there is always a gleaming espresso machine and a good macchiato to be had.
Above the treeline, the track contours around Mont de la Saxe. Alpine grasses, ice-blue glaciers, snowfields and sheer rock walls to marvel at. The day still and humid, the cloud building. Orange and black butterflies, electric blue beetles. We enjoy a picnic lunch on a sunny, grassy knoll looking out across to Mont Blanc, taking all the time we please to revel in the grandeur of the landscape and our luck in finding ourselves here. A narrow balcony trail among juniper and bilberry bushes then out across open meadows, bright with wildflowers. A shepherd leading his horse and dogs along the ridgeline. Abandoned farms and still working farms pungent with sillage and woodsmoke. Italian Sunday walkers out in force, the men bare-chested, the women in bikini tops. And lean, almost emaciated ultra-marathon runners, competing in a gruelling 350-kilometre mountain endurance event.
From the safety and comfort of Rifugio Bonatti, named after Walter Bonatti – the renowned Italian mountain climber, explorer and journalist – and adorned with photos of his extraordinary climbing achievements, we watch the wind gather strength and the rain begin to fall. Before dark, the great walls of rock and ice that dominate the landscape are obscured by sleet. Every so often a participant in the endurance event appears out of the gloom, their head torch creating a thin tunnel of light that guides them to the checkpoint. They stop just long enough to take in some sustenance before gritting themselves and disappearing again into the dark wet void.
Stage 6: Rifugio Bonatti to La Fouly
Wind gusts and rain squalls all night. The first rays of the sun reveal the deep drifts of snow that have accumulated on the dark mountainside. A pale rainbow in a pale grey sky, the weather seemingly easing. We set out up the slope and across cascading streams to an abandoned hamlet of derelict, melancholy buildings where a storm catches us and we scramble into wet weather gear for the first time on the Tour du Mont Blanc. From down in the valley comes the call of a cattle herder and the answering bells of his cattle.
We stop at Rifugio Elena for a cheering hot chocolate and some respite from the fog and driving rain. A horde of wet walkers is crowded into the rifugio, built into the hillside after previously being destroyed by an avalanche. Fortunately, the adverse conditions heighten rather than fracture the camaraderie of the trail.
The storm persists so we accept our fate and walk back out into the tempest. On the climb up the wild windswept Col Ferret, all that is visible in the fog are white daisies and the white rush of water off the mountains. In fine weather, you can see back along the length of Val Ferret and Val Veni to the distant Col de la Seigne, but not today. The orientation disk at the summit of Col Ferret is of academic interest only, its identified landmarks all lost in a white haze. At Alpage de la Paule are two white yurts with embroidered doors, barely visible in the swirling mist. It’s a scene more reminiscent of the steppes of Mongolia than the European alps.
Out of Italy and into rural Switzerland, gentle and green even in the storm. Great beasts of cows, placid in their sodden summer pastures. Flowers and flower-bedecked wooden chalets. The rain eases as we come out of the clouds. Dropping down through a sloping meadow and into trees we come across people foraging for bilberries as we near the small village of La Fouly, our home for the evening.
Stage 7: La Fouly to Champex
The early morning full of the promise of a brighter day. Smoky blue clouds make an abstract painting of the mountains and the sky. Shafts of sunlight pierce the still dark valley. A day of gentle walking, nothing as wild or remote as yesterday. Ambling through larch woods and across glacial rivers, the day warm and clear, steam rising from the still damp earth. The last wild raspberries of summer. Deciduous trees starting to lose their green, the air fragrant with resin, camphor and woodsmoke.
Across a moraine wall then through Swiss mountain villages lost in time with their centuries-old dark-timbered barns and chalets. Dairy cattle grazing in the fields. Wood cut and stacked for the coming winter and hay in the barns. Praz-de-Fort, quirky Les Arlaches and Issert with its geranium and petunia adorned window sills. Then a one and a half hour climb to Champex. Along a forested path, the Sentier des Champignons, with hazelnut trees, tree trunks pock-marked by woodpeckers and wooden sculptures of mushrooms and mountain creatures lining the route. Near a chalet above Orsiéres, there is a lone child on a swing, laughing with delight as she pushes herself ever higher into the sky.
From Orsiéres it’s a short walk to Champex with its fabled lake reflecting snow-capped peaks and belle epoque hotels. We are having our second and last rest day here so that we might experience the cadence of daily life in a Swiss village, eat fondue made with mountain cheese and discover Swiss wines.
A beautifully carved and stencilled chalet is our home for two nights. It is high above the town in the serene Jardin Alpin, a botanical garden featuring high altitude flowering plants and affording breathtaking views of the glittering lake below. The gardens are also home to Julien Marolf’s fantastical sculptures of dwarfs, guardians of the wild world, driven out of their forests by humans and seeking shelter here for the summer. Once the gardens close for the day we have them to ourselves, the night sky star-studded, the world quiet.
Stage 8: Champex to Trient via the Fenêtre d’Arpette
Our wildest day’s walking begins and ends with Swiss chocolate box scenery. Early morning alpine loveliness reflected in the lake at Champex and, in Trient, a picturesque church glowing pink in the late afternoon light.
At breakfast, the proprietor of the boulangerie in Champex makes us a present of energy bars for the 1,200-metre climb to the mountain pass. Along with the Col des Fours, the Fenêtre d’Arpette at 2,665 metres is the highest point reached on the Tour du Mont Blanc and the toughest crossing of the whole route.
Out of town, we follow the clear running water of the bisse and then up, up, up, past fern gullies and through spruce and fir forests and bilberry and blueberry scrub until we clear the tree line and come face to face with the chaos of rocks that rises steeply and unsteadily up to the Fenêtre, still just a cut in the skyline of dark spiky crags.
Taking the climb one step at a time. Breathing calmly in the thinning air. We become hyper-vigilant as we boulder hop our way up the steep slope, being careful not to dislodge stones and picking a line, contouring, where the route isn’t clear. Once across the boulders, there is more wild alpine country and a steep gritty slope to climb before we reach the summit. A rotund English walker we meet says he checked his GPS and it advised him to take a U-turn at the earliest opportunity! Ah, but the sense of arrival and, after catching our breath, the magnificence of the landscape.
Looking back on a vast slope of scree broken only by rivulets of boulders. And beyond to dark ridges, snowfields, and glaciers. Looking towards the west side of the ridge we can see the Trient glacier in all its receding drama, spilling down the plateau into the valley, ‘a sweeping snow lake’ that has carved out a deep valley. Two ibex bound down a boulder-strewn slope, fast and sure-footed. At our feet, the most delicate of wildflowers in the harshest of high mountain country.
Stage 9: Trient to Les Frasserands
A crisp, cool morning. Light on the snow-capped peaks behind the pink church. Up through the forest, light bouncing off the peaks, swallows on the wing. Climbing out of the shade and into the sun. The whistle of marmots, the clanking of cowbells, a herd of chamois leaping from rock to rock, the dominant male roaring.
Stonewalled huts in a rough hollow, dug into the earth for protection. Shelter for shepherds and mountaineers caught out in treacherous weather. Up to the Col De Balme on a steep zigzag path, climbing to 2,191 metres, or 2,204 metres, depending on whether you subscribe to the Swiss or the French opinion on the height of the Col. A coffee and delicious wild blueberry tart at a Refuge on contested territory, then back into France for the last two days walking.
The first views of Mont Blanc since Bonatti, still snow-capped and stunning in all its icy, domed glory. Cows in the alpine pastures, mountain bikers who have caught the chairlift up from Chamonix and are now riding back down, a group of chattering school children enjoying a picnic while their teachers share a bottle of wine. Down to an unsightly ski lift area then up again, following a rocky ridgeline, the heather blazing, larch trees turning golden. Pale yellow butterflies with striking black markings. Emerald green grasshoppers and dark purple beetles.
Up to L’Aiguillette de Posettes for a picnic in the sun and panoramic views of magnificent peaks, glaciers and great rock walls. A shimmering lake and the green valley sheltering Chamonix, still a distance away but visible now far below. Then ambling down and along a lushly vegetated ridge into a forest and on to the quiet hamlet of Les Frasserands and the gîte Le Moulin. The guardian of the gîte single-handedly conjures up a delicious meal and a comfortable night’s accommodation for a full house of walkers. Microbats come out as darkness falls and the night sky is lit bright with stars and satellites.
Stage 10: Les Frasserands to La Flégère
The mountain and the shadow of the mountain. The crash of ice as the earth warms and the deep thud of it smashing onto rock, resonating across the valley. Following a herd of chamois along and up a slope. Rocks stained purple with the droppings of creatures subsisting on wild blueberries.
Walking the Grand Balcon Sud on the north side of the Vallée de l’Arve, said to be one of the most scenic of all alpine belvedere paths with its stunning views of the Mont Blanc range. So many peaks and snow domes and glaciers, so much grandeur. ‘Alps upon alps arise.’ You can see how the landscape was made. Great glaciers scouring out valleys, their ice flows creating rivers and cascades. Avalanche fences built to contain some of the damage; old dry stone walls and newer timber structures at intervals across the steep mountain slopes.
Ladders to climb, and rock walls to scale. Up a steep gradient, past milky blue, turquoise and green lakes to Refuge du Lac Blanc. Bird song, a flight of swallows and a flock of alpine choughs with black plumage and brightly coloured feet. Lac Blanc is resort-like, filled with day-trippers from Chamonix who come up on the chairlift to sunbathe on the warm rocks.
Dazzling mountain-scapes reflected in the still waters of Lac Blanc. Col de Balme, Col de Voza (which we climbed on our first day), snow-clad Verte, the Aiguilles du Plan and Midi and of course the summit of Mont Blanc itself from which the Bossons glacier tumbles. Legendary places and landscapes that we’ll dream about tonight as the alpine air stirs our soul.
Stage 11: La Flégère to Les Houches
Last night we enjoyed our final communal meal of this Tour du Mont Blanc. We were eleven; four Australians, three Spaniards and four Norwegians seated together at a square table near the centre of the dining room. The Spaniards shared the sachets of Spanish olive oil they travel with so that we could better enjoy our bread; not for them the artisan butter on offer in France. The Norwegians talked about their country’s transformation from a poor nation to an affluent one, the change spearheaded by people from the coast who differ from those who live inland because they have always been exposed to and influenced by outsiders.
Jet trails shooting into the sky like rockets. The early morning light golden. Up through larch woods and then higher still, through Alpen roses, bilberry and juniper bushes. Watching paragliders mimic the spectacular aerobatics of the alpine choughs who dive and roll with fanned tails and folded wings.
One last rugged ascent to Le Brévent, our passage over the clamour of rocks and boulders guided by cairns and painted red spots and assisted at its steepest by steel ladders and metal handrails. This last summit is 2,526 metres high; the views across the valley to Mont Blanc are dazzling.
We linger over lunch, the summit cafe full of walkers ending their Tour du Mont Blanc and taking in the high altitude panoramas one last time. Then there is nothing for it but to begin the climb down, a 1,546 metres descent over rocky ground to grassy slopes and on through patches of forest.
As the Tour du Mont Blanc started, so it ends, at Les Houches, after a long steep climb fortified by views of glaciers and the splendour of the alps. A reviving beer while we wait for the bus to Chamonix and then a celebratory dinner and a toast; to staggering beauty, an adventurous walk and the luminous landscapes of the Mont Blanc massif.
You might also like Into the Pyrénées or The Way of St James, Chemin de St Jacques.
