I made the decision to embark on the Tour of Mont-Blanc somewhat impulsively. Following the cancellation of a ski trip to Zermatt, due to a lack of snow on the Glacier and the closure of the summer ski-season, I decided to still head to the alps, but instead hike, unimpeded by the repercussions of global warming.
There is nothing new I can say about the tour itself, the route may be one of, if not the most famous multi-day hike. People from all round the globe jet over to the alps to enjoy the trails, and understandably so. Day after day of flowing mountain footpaths, no complexity in navigation, coffee, cake and cold beer after every turn, a far cry from Dartmoor or the Brecon Beacons.
Due to the trip being last minute, I found myself having to hike alone, something I’m not unfamiliar with, but not for a trip as substantial as the TMB. Although I set out on my own, I was never alone on the trail, meeting hikers from all around the world. These people were from wildly different cultures, but all convened in the mountains to search for the same thing, with the same goals. The TMB is truly a social trail. Evening and mornings would be spent in common areas of campsites, sharing stories, planning the days to come and later adventures. Many of the people I met as strangers, and left as friends, staying in contact and sure to meet again one day. All of the people I met on the trail were doing their own walk, their own pace, their own style, from the ultra-light backpacking geeks, to the slow and steady trekkers, to the luxury hotel hikers.
The trail itself can be made as challenging as you like. People run it in 20 hours: people plod along it in 2 weeks. I saw no sense in rushing, and completed the route in around 9 days. This involved no real epics, and only doubling up on a couple days. This for me was on the limit of comfort, I never really pushed too hard, always ensured I had enough time to enjoy the camp spots, to rest and relax after a day on the trail. I was there to enjoy the trail and the mountains, to take photos, to stop and smell the flowers, enjoy a lunch and look at the mountains for a little too long, I had no intentions on setting FKTs or breaking records. This route is one to enjoy, to rush it would only result in missing out the views, the people and the experience.
The connection between myself and nature on the trail felt somewhat confusing. I wasn’t expecting an “into the wild” type experience however, I was in the mountains throughout, almost entirely, although the whole time, I felt equally as much a spectator of it, rather than being totally immersed. I was walking along perfectly manicured trails, with signposts telling me where to go, and how long it would take. I bought several maps, yet never once took them out of their bag, only using the Cicerone guide and once or twice, a GPS on my phone. This connection with nature was something I stewed over while I walked. I was in nature entirely, the whole time I was on the trail, I was outside, I cooked and slept outside in my tent, the only building I entered briefly were shops and bathrooms. I found to enjoy the trail for what it is, it is not meant to be a heroic wilderness experience, but more a rollercoaster of a trail through some of the world’s most amazing vistas, meandering through different countries, cultures and landscapes.
My goal of the trail was the trail itself, I looked to remove myself from a commodified, concrete goal. If I managed to hike the route for what it is, to immerse myself entirely in the experience and for it to feel authentic, I would of been successful. As mountaineers, hikers, climbers, ramblers-however we choose to define ourselves as, we are athletes at the end of the day. In this, it’s easy for the temptations of competition to muddy to purity of the experience in the mountains. The trail itself isn’t too challenging. There were little to no instances where I found myself challenged with the physicality of the route. This in itself is something that made me feel somewhat insecure. Is it essential to struggle in order to find growth? I enjoyed the trail, I learnt about myself and the world, I grew, and I undertook what is a pretty substantial physical achievement - yet I still found myself haunted by feelings of inadequacy. Should I have undertaken a harder challenge? Should I have pushed myself further? But why? What more would I gain? I think now, when it is so easy to compare your achievements with the achievements of others, it is too far too easy to undermine your own achievements. Through setting ambition that didn’t revolve around the stopwatch, it was possible to focus on the beauty of the route; to enjoy the scenery, but also the absurdity of hiking in the first place; to sit amongst the cows and listen to their bell’s reverberate around the meadows, to drink a coffee at every hut in Italy, to stay up later to meet new people