Tour du Mont Blanc

The morning is damp and foggy. The cloud is extremely low and dense; all of yesterday's views are extinguished. Graham's meeting over breakfast was to discuss whether to take his normal ridge walk route to the Col des Posettes then on to the Swiss border at the Col de Balme, or to walk up the valley. The consensus was that we would walk up the valley as there would be no views off the ridge — which was a shame as we would have had a great view of the dam at Lac d'Emosson. Still, you can't have everything!

We walk up the valley and stop at the old village of Le Tour where the famous climber Michel Croz lived, and whose house is still standing on the main street. He was a French mountain guide and made the first ascents of many mountains in the western Alps during the golden age of Alpine adventure. He is chiefly remembered for his death on the first ascent of the Matterhorn and for his climbing partnership with Edward Whymper. These early pioneers were indeed the bravest.

After a short break it was onward and upward on a very steep traversing path to the pass of Col de Balme on the Swiss border. The bunkhouse owned by a Swiss lady of whom Graham spoke very highly was closed, so we took shelter around the back from the piercing cold wind. It was the only place to eat our packed lunch: salami and cheese with pesto sauce was the order of the day for me. Don't criticize till you try it — you might like it! The banana was good though, and Haribos went down well as I could not purchase any more jelly babies — the true mountain sweeties, which most of us seemed to enjoy on the first day.

It is all downhill (not the holiday, just the path!) from here, and the cloud is starting to break with the odd sunray cutting through like a laser beam. As we drop a few more hundred feet we are surrounded by pink azaleas — how beautiful, I think to myself. Cameras seem to pop out of everyone's pockets as the views are seemingly getting better by the second. Well, if you don't like the weather in the mountains, wait a little, I always say!

The view down to Trient and our overnight wild campsite at Le Peuty is fantastic. The wildflowers are apparent as we descend down the mountainside. We come to a pine forest and I cannot resist running down; Lee is not far behind me. The 400-metre drop seems to take forever before reaching the valley floor. I cross the river which starts at the Glacier de Trient, and I can only imagine that it must be called the Trient River, but who knows? There are wildflower fields with every colour you can think of for the mile or so walk to our campsite. When we arrive Lewis has not yet made it, as the journey for him is quite a drive and also fresh provisions were needed.

I have about half an hour or so to wait in the glorious sunshine before the whole party regroups. Then with impeccable timing the support van arrives, and soon the camp is set up with all hands on deck. Lewis cooks a wonderful carbonara with a few vinos, and all are happy. After dinner Lee, being an Aussie, is encouraged to make a campfire. All I can say is, "Jesus, call the fire brigade, this is a bonfire!" — and the large logs that were scattered all around for us to sit on went up in flames! Still, it was a great fire and many tales were told that evening, mainly from Ted — most interesting, some weird, and all of them funny.

With the fire dimming (never thought it would!) and the light failing on the Glacier de Trient we soon drift off to bed. Can I say the snoring this night was a little more in tune? Still, it takes time to tune in.