June 2025

“Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky, Mont Blanc appears—still, snowy, and serene; Its subject mountains their unearthly forms. Pile around it, ice and rock; broad vales between.” – Percy Bysshe Shelley, Mont Blanc

Day 1 – Chamonix to Les Contamines

Our group of 12 departed from the cozy town of Chamonix (France) just after 7am, not knowing all the ominous twists and turns the first day of this mountainous trek would bring. From the valley floor we could look up and see not just the French Alps, but Mont Blanc itself, towering above us at 15,766 feet (comparative to our elevation at 3,400 feet). Getting to the trailhead of our 8-day trek involved a short train ride to the gondola station, where we ascended up the Alps in a gondola by roughly 1,000 feet elevation. Excitement pulsed through the group as we listened to our guide, Jean-Pierre, explain the itinerary for the day. After a few moments taking in the scenery, we set out together on a single-track trail winding through tall pine trees, hugging the side of the mountain range we’d be circling around for just over a week. However, little did we know that morning’s meeting would be the only time we’d be together the rest of the day.

About an hour into the day’s journey, a member of our group suffered an injury from a fall and sadly had to drop out. Our guide fell back to handle the situation and allowed the rest of us to traverse the trail on our own, leaving us to rely solely on spotty cell service to communicate. We ascended slowly up and over a pass, then took a steep windy trail down to a cafe where we had our first lunch composed of hearty salads and blueberry/raspberry pies. The main server was clearly annoyed our group was not all together, as the cafe relied on continuity between groups to stay organized with so many crews passing through. Our group was all over the place, with our guide nowhere to be found.

After about an hour, we finally received a message from Jean-Pierre encouraging us to continue moving on while he remained behind. Leaving the valley then to ascend another several hundred feet, we observed a helicopter hovering over the pass we’d just traversed, which we came to find out was carrying the person in our group who dropped out. It was sad watching this happen on just the first day – we felt especially bad for Jane, a member of our group who was close friends with the person being evacuated. Jane, a fellow American from Georgia, had an adventurous spirit (as one does doing mountain treks), but had a maternal instinct as well, keeping track of who was where on the trail and acting as a mother hen for us chickens running around with no guide. She was a trooper that day, sticking it out until dusk making sure everyone was safe and accounted for.

After two more hours of hiking downhill, we found a shady spot by a refreshing water fountain and waited there to regroup. To our complete astonishment, Jean-Pierre caught up with us after booking it up the pass and through the wide valley to reach us, crushing the 5,000+ feet of elevation gain we’d just hiked. 60 years young and a father of two, he’d served in the French military and had a persistent spirit in him, underneath that wry smile of his. Sensing the fatigue in our group from the long and chaotic day, he ordered a car for anyone who wanted to join him down the road to our hostel to get to dinner on time (later on we learned the driver was his wife – so sweet). However, my core group of 5, all runners, decided to skip the ride and continue hiking, to get the full experience. During this last stretch, we stumbled upon a rather desirable ice cream parlor which we of course stopped at. After another mile or so, we finally arrived at our hostel for the night, where we refueled and prepared for the next day.

Day 2 – Les Contamines to Les Chapieux

We woke to cool air and cloudy skies, a welcome sight considering the day before was hot and exposed with hardly any shade. Even more interestingly, I also woke up to a girl brushing her teeth in our small guys’ room of 6, which perplexed me in my groggy state. I figured she just needed a sink and went for it seeing one in our room, but found out later there was more to the story (to be continued).

At breakfast, we learned Jane would sadly be dropping out due to knee pain, but would potentially re-join after a few days if rest and treatment garnered improvement. Down to 10 now (including our guide), we set off with a much better start than the cluster we’d experienced the previous day. Jean-Pierre set a great pace that allowed for good conversation and fun trekking, despite the nearly 4,000 feet of elevation gain we had before us. The trail could be seen far off in the distance winding through hills and passes we’d be covering, something that reminded us of an epic screensaver (and also the Shire – Lord of the Rings fans, anyone?).

Trudging uphill for nearly 3 hours, we saw a herd of mountain goats far up in the hills above us, a pair of them bashing heads as mountain goats do. Marmots could also be seen running through the hilly landscape, with their fat puffy bodies roaming the greenery all around. We had some time to kill because, for whatever reason, the lunch area was closed from noon to one (who makes such a schedule?!). Even Jean-Pierre was a bit salty about it, noting the workers on break were “communists” – the old military man got a good laugh out of us with that one. After a bit more time observing the scenery, we saw the girl who’d been brushing her teeth in the men’s room hiking up the mountainside towards us. She was not part of any guiding group, an impressive feat considering we were with G Adventures and there still proved to be logistical challenges. Hiking only with her older sister, she had been informed about our sink by one of our own – Ben. Tongue in cheek, Ben had a pep in his step that day that implied only one thing, which had us excited but also nervous for another member of our group who he’d recently been dating. More on that to come…

Ben was an avid traveler with a knack for adrenaline and adventure, two things that led him to some awesome places and at times got him into sticky situations. He’d been my roommate most of college and we’d shared some interesting experiences, from hiking through the Sierras in California (where we once legitimately hallucinated from dehydration), to getting stranded in the middle of a forest village with no cell service and relying on locals to get us out, to running around in sub-0 temperatures (Fahrenheit) and getting frostbite on our feet. His solo adventures were just as intense, if not more. A risk taker on every level, Ben always had interesting stories to tell. Matt, a friend Ben had met at pilot school, was also part of this trek. I’d gotten to know Matt the year prior when he, Ben and I hiked through the Himalayas to Everest Base Camp. Matt was someone you could talk about anything with, and one of those people you just felt comfortable around. An investment analyst based in Oahu, he surfed every morning and was an ardent reader, someone who loved to learn and wasn’t afraid to present a hot take every now and then.

Cameron was another close friend in our inner group of 5, and someone I was grateful to be hiking with on this trek. Laid back and easy to talk to, Cameron could carry a conversation with anyone he’d ever met for hours. A former teacher and scholar of his own accord, he was versed in Latin and a master of wit (I would be remiss not to mention he was also the master heel-clicker of our group). I was thankful to be around these guys during this trek.

At long last, we reached the highest point of our day where we enjoyed pasta and pizza for lunch.

After lunch, we spent 1-2 hours hiking down some aggressively steep grade where we could look down and see our stopping point. It was during this stretch I got to know the British warrior woman in our group, Pippa. 60 years young, she was scheduled to run a half marathon one week after this trek and proved to be an incredibly durable hiker. One of the girls in our group (Melissa) coined her correctly as an absolute “badass,” a term Pippa didn’t even know but quickly learned as it was explained to her as a huge compliment. Pippa’s strength was unshakable, yet her warmth made everyone around her feel safe and seen.

Once we’d reached our destination, a bus was scheduled to pick us up in the valley and take us into the city, where clean beds and bathrooms awaited us. Our group had been much faster that day – in fact, to our shock, we had 2 hours to kill before the bus even arrived. Thankfully, it so happened that Jean-Pierre owned a winery and had wine waiting for us, so we enjoyed some tasty French wine and cheese on the house as we decompressed.

Day 3: Les Chapieux (France) to Courmayeur (Italy)

A moment of panic set in when we woke, as a member of our group, Melissa, thought she’d left her hiking boots on the bus ride from the previous day. Searching all around the common room we’d just slept miserably in due to no AC, the boots were nowhere to be found, and the reality of Melissa hiking in sandals began to set in (a thought some of us admittedly chuckled about). Alas, with our bus ride to the trail head about to depart, she remembered she’d stored them on a separate floor where all backpacks were supposed to go (a rule no one else followed apparently).

Melissa was a connection I’d met through college friends, and someone us 4 guys really valued having on the trek. The 5th person of our inner 5 (but certainly not the least), she brought a fresh female perspective to every conversation and never held back on a hot take. Her honesty, vulnerability and sense of humor made for a mix of hilarious banter and deep connection, a balance we all needed to make the hiking feel a little lighter.

Yet another day of morning uphill and afternoon downhill, we reached the top of the pass around noon which happened to be the border of Italy and France. There was a very captivating view of Mont Blanc, but still no view of the Matterhorn, something I was looking forward to seeing (but never did on this trek, sadly).

While resting and taking photos, someone called out “nice shirt” to me – I was wearing my Hood to Coast shirt which a group on the trail had done the year before and was planning to do again this year. It was always fun running into people with the same goals in the same part of the world as me.

Ending our hike in the valley, we had 45 minutes to wait for a bus which would take us into the mountain Italian ski town of Courmayeur. It was during this time I got to know Chris, one of the most intelligent and humble human beings I’ve ever met. A Filipino foot doctor from New Jersey, his positive energy spread through the group as wide as his big smile. He was one of those guys you could say something random to, and he’d make an enjoyable conversation out of it that you wanted to be a part of. Not to mention, the dude was jacked (legend has it he curled boulders while we slept).

With the group looking to pass the time, a cool leg dip in the nearby Fiume Dora di Veny river hit the spot as we waited and discussed how we would spend our “rest day” the next day.

Day 4: White Water Rafting in Italy Gone Wrong

We had nowhere to hike today; it was a scheduled rest day to do whatever we wanted. Clearly, that meant signing up for a 4.5 rated white water rafting excursion. We arrived on site and after roughly 45 minutes of having our wetsuits fitted and practicing a variety of paddling maneuvers in the raft (but still on land), we were ready to launch. Our guide Mark was a wiry little fellow, barking out instructions while we practiced drills with him, and letting us know if we were being too passive. “Paddle harder!” “Get down!” “In position!” were just a few of his many commands in his Spanish accent. We watched as the powerful Dora Baltea river rushed by, relentless to any who dared paddle it. “Only 23 people have gone overboard” Mark told us, a number I didn’t want to clarify with a timeline. Even still, we welcomed the sight of fresh mountain water in the grueling heat. After gaining the necessary approval from Mark on our capability to not capsize, he ordered us to get out, pick up the raft, and approach the riverbank.

The raft now in the strong current, we carefully took our positions one by one as Mark used rope to keep it in place. Ben and I got in last, volunteering to take the back while the other 4 (Matt, Cameron, Chris, and Melissa) took the front. Mark took his position in the middle with his master oars at the ready – we were one carabiner away from being swept into the 4.5 rated rapids (out of 5). Before launching, Mark slapped both his hands twice on the water, as if to challenge it, then washed his face aggressively yelling “Ready!” This reminded Ben and I of the iconic movie Gladiator where Maximus rubs his hands in the dirt before each of his battles – we were entertained.

Off we went, going from 0 to 15 mph in the rushing current. The first quarter mile was the most technical section according to Mark – there was no easing into it. “Forward, forward, get down” he yelled, his voice now significantly drowned out from the noisy current surrounding us. Adrenaline kicked in, all of us doing our best to execute what we’d just learned and practiced. Then suddenly, after about 15 seconds from launch, I noticed something that put my heart in my stomach – Mark’s right paddle had snapped off, turning the oar into a useless pole now dragging through the rapids. Spinning wildly out of control, our raft went off the intended route, with Mark trying to use just his left paddle to steer us to the closest bank (Mark’s paddles were significantly larger than ours and were necessary for guiding the raft correctly). He blew a whistle letting the other rafts in our fleet know we were in trouble, then yelled more orders at us (although I’m not sure all the guys in the raft even knew anything was wrong since they couldn’t see the broken oar from their positions). Eventually, we somehow anchored the raft by the side of the river, where employees on land came to provide a spare oar. After 5-10 minutes, we got going again, relieved we didn’t capsize from a beginning gone wrong.

With our rafting adventure now behind us, we returned to Courmayeur seeking any and all gelato shops we could find. In Italy, gelato isn’t just dessert – it’s a food group, and we were hitting daily servings after every meal.

Day 5: Courmayeur to Val Fal Ferret

It was Sunday and having spotted a church in the village, we started our morning with Catholic mass, something I’d never attended as a Protestant. Despite the entire service being in Italian, my friend Matt, a Catholic, provided a play-by-play to help me understand what was going on. It was heart-warming being in the midst of this faith-based Italian community and watching everyone turn to their neighbors saying “peace be with you.”

It so happened that Hannah and Moriah, the two sisters we’d met on the trail a couple days earlier, were also in attendance. When the service concluded, we said hello outside as a group and exchanged numbers to stay connected on the trail.

Returning to our hotel, we hit the trail and hiked 2,400 feet out of the valley we’d been staying in the last 2 nights. Thankfully, the trail was shaded by tall pine trees with roots protruding out of the ground, reminding me of home in the Pacific Northwest and providing some familiarity on a different continent.

After a couple hours, we arrived at our lunch spot and began the second half of our hike. The trail hugged the side of the valley, providing unbelievable views and many photoshoot breaks. I spaced out for a while listening to Lord of the Rings and other soundtracks (there hadn’t been much private time up to this point). We finally arrived at our hostel, which was perked on a hillside overlooking the valley with a vast wall of Alps across the way.

Once settled into the hotel room, I looked out the window to find the inevitable – Ben and Cameron chalking it up with the two sisters Hannah and Moriah. Intrigued by this new friendship, Matt and I went outside to join them to witness what might develop. Hannah was a travel nurse and Moriah was a teacher, both living in New Orleans and both in their mid to late 20s. It was fun making new friends so organically like this, and with our view looking directly at the Italian Alps, it was the perfect setting for it. Of course, as was usual on trips like these, Ben brought out his penny whistle and played the Lord of the Rings theme song in an effort to serenade Hannah, who he’d clearly taken a liking to. However, this did not bode well with the girl in our group who Ben had recently dated. They had broken up a few months prior to this trip, but residual feelings have a way of bubbling up in the least opportune moments. Minor tension was building now as I wondered how this would all play out in the end.

During dinner, we learned Jean-Pierre not only owned a winery but was also a master skier and had even tried qualifying for the Olympics during his younger days. “I was THIS close” he told us, gesturing with his fingers. “Double black must be no problem for you,” Cameron said, complimenting him. “Double black…? What in ze world is that” responded Jean-Pierre, breaking out into uncontrollable laughter. This had the whole group laughing, as it was clear “double black” was an American invention that Europeans found rather…cute. Jean-Pierre didn’t pass up any opportunities to roast us Americans.

Day 6: Val Fal Ferret (Italy) to La Fouly (Switzerland)

It was the first day we started with a descent instead of steep uphill as we were accustomed to. Winding our way down to the valley for the first hour, we stopped at a refuge where we ordered berries and cream (and also, hot chocolate). From there, we had no where to go but up as we crossed over the epic pass that was the border of Italy and Switzerland. Many trail runners were out on a mission training for the upcoming UTMB trail race, something that made me think of all the ambitious trail runners I knew back home. “Trail runners yield to no one” a member of our group said as someone whizzed by us.

That afternoon we stopped for lunch at a Swiss farm where cows roamed the countryside and provided fresh dairy for all who would pay for it. As a self-proclaimed dairy fiend, I ordered a strawberry milkshake and sipped on a glass of raw milk, something that gave me (and everyone else) the energy we needed to get through the rest of the day.

After lunch, Jean-Pierre stopped to point out a sign that overlooked the valley we were hiking down to. He read the sign in its French text, but admittedly I had no idea what he was saying. Gathered as a group, Ben asked Jean-Pierre if there would be ATM machines in the village we’d be staying in later that night. Chuckling, he responded in his French accent: “If you can find anything in Switzerland, it’s money.” We burst out laughing, knowing full well Switzerland was the land where people kept secret bank accounts.

Finally, about 25 minutes from our final destination, it started pouring hard, leaving us soaked as we arrived at our hotel. After drying off and taking time to lounge and people watch outside, we saw more trail runners passing by joyfully waving at us.

Day 7: Lake Champex to Trient

We started the day with a bus ride to Lake Champex, a small but charming alpine lake surrounded by green forestry and nestled into the small resort village of Champex-Lac. Even at 4,800 feet elevation, it was warm enough in the morning for us to want to jump in, something we’d been looking forward to during all the hot days prior. “I am not going to jump in, but you guys can” said Jean-Pierre, a statement we knew could be reversed with the right amount of peer pressure. We departed the bus and walked towards the shore, where the lake was crystal glass with no one on the water. After a few of us jumped in, it was only a matter of time before (mostly) all of us were swimming around – including Jean-Pierre.

It happened to be Canada Day that day, something we honored for the two Canadians in our group, Ray and his girlfriend Lu. Ray had a playful energy about him that made him easy to talk to on an individual and group level, while Lu had a peaceful aura to her that made us feel like we could open up to her about anything. It was easy to tell they were having fun exploring the world together, with several other trips planned after this trek. I admired their shared sense of adventure and felt they added a fresh romantic spark as the only couple in the group.

After about an hour on the lake, we began our trek for the day, with a few guys just in their boxers to start since it was all they had to swim in (when in Europe!). We felt rejuvenated from the lake and made it to our lunch spot in no time. Once again, cows scattered the hilly countryside and I ordered another milkshake to get that fresh calcium, despite it being luke-warm (when in Europe…). Later that afternoon, we stopped at yet another ice cream spot where I ordered a neapolitan bowl – yeah I don’t mess around when faced with fresh dairy.

We arrived to our destination shortly after, taking in the village scenery as we passed through. A beautiful pink church stood in the center of it, standing out amongst all the brown and gray buildings. A large trampoline was short walking distance from our hostel as well, something Ben and I took full advantage of as we took our shots at flips that neither of us had tried in years. Thankfully, neither of us ruptured our necks or became paralyzed.

With this being the last night we’d all be having together, we gathered in the common room after dinner and drank celebratory champagne, laughing and re-living stories we’d created throughout the trek. These people were strangers to me just a week prior, and now felt like good friends I could laugh and be vulnerable with. It’s amazing what the power of walking and hiking together can do.

Day 8: Trient (Switzerland) to Vallorcine (France)

It was our last morning together before we’d split off at the end of the day and go our separate ways. As was standard at this point, we hiked out of the Swiss valley up to the main pass where we would cross over into France again to complete the Mont Blanc loop. The weather felt no such pity for us however, as it was yet again hot and humid throughout the day. The guys all shed their shirts as the pass got ever closer in proximity.

As we reached the top of the pass, I saw an elderly man who seemed to be drawing a crowd. His name was Antonio, a 94-year-old trekker hiking through the Swiss Alps, with a smile. I couldn’t help but be in awe of the guy, seeing him do what he loved at such an astounding age. It was through these hills during World War II that people crossed countries, when he was but a teen.

We had an extra long lunch at the top of the pass, where there was fresh food and drinks. From there we could see Chamonix, the city we’d all met and where this trek had started. After taking in the sights, we began our descent to the train station in Vallorcine, where we waited for the train to take us back to Chamonix. From there we had one last celebratory moment as a group, where Jean-Pierre gave us our Mont Blanc certificates and wished us farewell.

Epilogue: Three Days in Saint-Gervais

After our adventure came to an end, the core 5 of us stayed an additional 3 days in Saint-Gervais (about 15 miles west from Chamonix) to relax and process our Mont Blanc hiking experience. Our Airbnb included a wooden barrel hot tub, which we of course used despite the blistering heat – a week of hiking 22,000 feet in elevation gain will do that to you. Staying for extra time also gave us the opportunity to meet up with a friend for our Everest Base Camp extrusion from a year prior – he was our British friend Cameron who happened to be passing through France, and whose bilingual skills made things much easier for us Americans.

We scheduled our own dinner with Hannah and Moriah to say goodbye; in turn they brought two other women they’d befriended on the trail, one of which lived in the same city I did (Portland). With 9 Americans total, it felt right having dinner in France together on the 4th of July. But it was also interesting watching how the whole group meshed, and extremely interesting watching how Ben, Hannah, and Ben’s ex interacted. Ironically, the two girls ended up getting along and even exchanged numbers, while Ben was left to wonder what each one was thinking about him.

Over the course of our days in Saint Gervais we played ping-pong, journaled, ate lots of gelato, played chess, and even took up paragliding – something none of us had ever done. It was one more adrenaline rush to cap off our time in France. I’d never even been sky diving before, so the thought of floating thousands of feet up in the air for 20-25 minutes was exhilarating, but frightening. When we arrived at the open field where the paragliders were landing, we noticed several children practicing their landing techniques. I’m not sure my mom would’ve ever let me take up paragliding as a childhood hobby, but it was fun watching these kids practice something they enjoyed doing. After some time, our guides pulled up in vans ready to take us to the top of the cliffs where we’d be taking off, and after a few short instructions on how to sit back and do nothing, we were suddenly running off the edge of a cliff with our lives hanging by nylon threads. Paragliding through the French Alps wasn’t something I thought I’d be doing on this trip, but it was one of the greatest experiences I had there.