The 7am flight was very pleasant – none of that scrambling for seats you get with the budget airlines and a snack thrown in. Ironically, the major carriers have been forced to reduce their fares to compete and the Swiss Air flight was only a few pounds more than EasyJet with 23kg of luggage thrown in.

We met Matt at arrivals at Geneva airport, Switzerland. The airport is actually based on the Swiss/French border and we headed for the ‘French Zone’ to catch a shuttle to Chamonix. An Alfybus minibus took us the 90 odd kms out towards the Mt Blanc massif in brilliant sunshine to the alpine town of Chamonix.

Matt had booked us into the Mountain High lodge, a hostel on the outskirts of town and we checked in our hefty backpacks. Downtown, I found the Tourist Office which directed me to the High Mountain tourist office which lay up 3 flights of stairs in a wooden building by the church. Inside, I was told by one of the French receptionists that the weather has been so hot, Mt Blanc had consequently been officially ‘closed’ by the authorities because the amount and size of rocks that had been destabilised by the thawing were unprecedented. All guides had been told not to attempt it either.

Retiring to a restaurant, we sat outside with a set lunch of peppered steak and salad and debated our options. We would have to find something else to do and hope the mountain reopened. Glace du Mer was the most popular option. This glacier would allow us an opportunity to practice with our crampons, ice axes and rope. I went to Snell Sports shop to pick up my rental equipment – crampons, ice axe, a harness and a fine pair of walking boots. The rest of the time was spent exploring the town and neighbourhood. I found a cheap supermarket up the road from the hostel and settled in with red wine and sausage for the evening.

Thursday August 23rd

It was a late start the following morning. I sat on the wooden patio and sorted through all my gear, debating what to leave and what to take and if it was coming, how to pack it. I eventually had it organised but it was heavy. No matter. It would be good practice to hump it around.

From the centre of Chamonix we took the 20 minute cogwheel mountain railway to the Montenvers station (1909m). This is mostly used by tourists going for day trips to visit the grotto or just look down at the glacier called the Mer de Glace (the ‘Ice Sea’). The other passengers looked at our heavy packs and wondered what we were up to. At the train station we followed a wide descending path heading south leaving it after 100m to follow a smaller trail on our right.

It was bit of a surprise to find two long vertical metal ladders hanging off a sheer cliff face. I descended one, step by step, feeling the weight of my pack trying to pull me off. After going down this first series of ladders, we set foot on a wide flat area covered with boulders and scree. Following a gradually narrowing ledge to our right, equipped with a handrail there were a pair of even longer ladders to get down to the glacier. Most people were coming up from the glacier, so it took a while to get all five of us down.

The ice lay under the stones. We put on our crampons for the first time. I needed help from Amin to get the straps right. When you walk with crampons you have to point your feet slightly diagonal (like Charlie Chaplin) so you don’t trip over the spikes. We had barely got going when it was obvious we were mostly walking on rocks, so the crampons came off. Then we reached the main glacier and the crampons were put on again. Talk about “All the gear…no idea.”

From the ladders, the glacier dominating the valley had looked spectacular – like a carpet of smooth white ice and to start with it was. We gradually climbed up the sloping ice. Thunder was heard cracking around the mountains and Matt Tolson got concerned about us being struck by lighting. But we pushed on. The ice was mostly shaded by the surrounding mountains.

Eventually we came across deep crevasses which criss-crossed the ice. Matt M, Matt T and Amin decided to tackle them head on using ropes and ice axes. I decided to follow the contours in between the crevasses until I could skirt around the end of one and then head back in the other direction, snaking my way through the deep cuts. It was a longer route but as I looked back across the crevasses I could see that Matt’s group had made virtually no progress. Nick was in two minds and made his own way through the ice when he saw I was getting somewhere.

We must have spent nearly two hours messing around with the crevasses. At one point, I had to descend down a 6ft wall of ice to a narrow ledge using the spikes in the front of my crampons/boots to dig in. With my heavy pack I don’t know how I did it. My determination paid off and I saw a gradual way back across the ice to the side where Matt etc were still trying to get over crevasses.

Once I was there I climbed a hill of rocks to see where they were and how they could get through. Nick had disappeared somewhere and was out of sight. Matt’s group gradually broke up and everyone made their way to where I was. While I waited, it started to get cold and I put on my layers (fleece, down jacket, waterproof top), hat, gloves etc. Four of us came together but no one could see Nick. A tiny dot appeared waving something. Matt M thought Nick was in trouble, left his pack and headed over the rock hills by the edge of the ice and ended up escorting Nick who felt exhausted.

By now it was past 7pm, and it was obvious we weren’t going to get any further before dark. Amin had scouted around the area and found a water supply and a flat(ish) area to put up two tents. The other 3 had ‘bivvy’ bags and opted to hole up elsewhere. I tried to erect my one man tent which was problematic because it was on ice and I had to use boulders to hold it up rather than tent pegs. It was dark before I had got everything organised. I felt shattered from carrying a heavy pack through all those crevasses.

Within a couple of hours, the wind picked up and the rain started to lash down. I was warm and dry in my sleeping bag until I felt the raindrops which were coming in from above. My fly sheet had blown off. But in a gale, I would have got more soaked getting out of the tent. I hoped it would stop, but it never did. The sleeping bag took on water as did I and I started to shiver. The lightening started and I could hear avalanches in the surrounding hills. I remember being awake most of the night. It was one of the most uncomfortable nights I have ever spent anywhere. Amin was immune to this in his self supporting tent. Bastard!

Friday August 24th

As soon as it was light, I was up and finding any rock surface to lay out my dripping gear. We were in the shade and there was no sun to dry it. I changed my dripping clothes. Ironically, anything in my backpack which had been left outside the tent was pretty dry. I should have put it over my head! Then I started to pack everything away. Matt T came to see how we were. I told him I was heading back to the hostel to dry everything out. I was ready to abandon this expedition.

We packed and met up with the others who had also had a bad night. The group consensus was that we should walk back to the train but use the glacier as an excuse to practice our crampons and ropes. It took an age to scramble over the uneven and rocky scree down the side of the glacier, bypassing the crevasses until we were finally able to climb onto the ice and put on our crampons and helmets.

We roped up with 10 ft between each of us. None of us knew what we were doing but the idea was that if anyone fell into a crevasse, then the others wouldn’t and could pull him out. We knew that we had passed all the crevasses anyway so it was just going through the motions. This didn’t stop me from tripping over my crampons once and falling heavily with my pack on top of me. Later we un-roped and made our own way back. I was the slowest as usual and on a steep decline of ice, I tripped again and slid on my front down to the bottom. My right palm had taken the brunt of the fall and the sharp ice had ripped open a large bloody gash.

It seemed a long way back to the ladders. This time they had to be climbed. There were lots of people coming down them – day hikers. I took my time and heaved up the heavy pack. My legs felt shot from carrying it for two days. I found the others at the top enjoying the view in the sun. I was pleased to be back in civilisation.

The train took us back to town. The others decided to go for a late lunch. I walked back to the hostel, emptied everything onto the patio and lay it out to dry in the sun. The local supermarket provided some goodies and I took the rest of the day and evening off. The others came back and said that the tourist office had continued to say that Mont Blanc was un-climbable with the avalanches and that they had met a guide who was going to show them some rope work in the morning. The hostel was full so I camped out in the back garden with my dry tent for 7 Euros.

Saturday August 25th

I decided to go hiking for the day. Walking down to the High Mountain Tourist Office, it was a relief not to have the heavy pack – just my daypack with water and nibbles. The lady gave me a map and outlined a route. I walked up the steep road behind the church to the cable car. This took me up to Planpraz (1999m). You could change here for another cable car to the top of the range but I got out instead to walk up to Le Brevant at 2525m. There was a fabulous view across the valley and the hanging glaciers, even though many of the peaks were covered in clouds. A wide twisting path led me up to the ridge and then up to Le Brevant just below and behind the cable car terminal. Other walkers appeared here.

A lovely rocky path allowed me to descend to the peak of Bel-LaChat (2136m). The views both to the left overlooking the valley and to the right with Brevant Lake (Lac du Brevant) below were marvellous. As I continued along the ridge, most walkers had descended. It was hot and I was glad to find a small stream to refill my water bottle. The Aiguillette du Brevant (2305m) led to the Aiguillette des Houches (2305m) where I had a snack and took in the views for the final time.

I descended to Chalet de Chailloux down a path, passed to my great surprise by 4 helmeted mountain bike riders. They must have caught a cable car up. Reaching the tree line of conifers, it made a pleasant change to walk through leafy footpaths down to Merlet par and find another stream on the way. I wasn’t sure of my route now and followed my nose to a private park entrance, and stumbled across a narrow footpath with a signpost saying ‘Chamonix 1 hr’. This took me further down the valley side through more forests to Les Bossons (1012m).

From here it was only a 15 min walk back to the hostel with lots of treats from the supermarket on the way. I was parched, hungry and my knees had taken a real bashing. But it had been a beautiful walk – one of the most spectacular I had ever done. It also reminded me how much I preferred hiking to mountaineering – no carrying of all that gear. Recommended. Another night camped out in the back garden.

Sunday August 26th

While the rest of the group hummed and harred about attempting Mont Blanc, I had grown impatient and thought I had nothing to lose by seeing how far I got. Having learnt the lesson of a heavy pack on the glacier, I stripped down to the bare essentials for this trip – but included my mountaineering equipment. Waiting for the bus to Les Hoches, I came across a Japanese man. He was 59 and was aiming for Mt Blanc. He hardly spoke any English, but we inevitably teamed up.

The Bellevue Cable car from the village of Les Houches took us up the mountain and we ran to catch the hourly TMB (Tram Mont Blanc) train. It was short 15 min ride. Supposedly, the train took its passengers to Le Nid d’Aigle (2372m), but repair work was going on and it terminated at the previous stop. Hikers were being re-directed up a mountain trail, but we followed others walking up the deserted train line. It was slow going with the packs but we reached the short but dark railway tunnel full of equipment and made our way through to the end of the railway line. There was no-one working here on a Sunday but apparently you could be fined for walking up the railway line.

The sun was out and it was very warm. I sweated up to the shelter at Baraque des Rognes (2768m) following a well worn path. Other day walkers would pass us. We pushed on up more rocky outcrops occasionally stopping to take in the views and get our breath. There were cairns and red markings to indicate the way and at times short sections of cable. A carpet of snow eventually became visible. This was the small Tete Rousse glacier, but no crampons were needed. On the other side lay the large wooden Tete Rousse hut (3167m). We had ascended 1445m today by foot.

My Japanese companion had a tent and camped amongst the rocks with other tents. I splashed out on one of the 68 beds and an evening meal for 60 Euros. It was a five course affair – cheese, soup, pork casserole, pie & custard, and cake. I felt sleepy but there was a marvellous sunset with the cloud level below us. It was like standing on the edge of the world with a huge orange ball lying on a carpet of white fluffy clouds. It was one of those sunsets you’d never forget. Behind me lay the massive white glaciers frozen to the cliff edges. See the photos.

Talking to others, they were going to attempt a summit of Mt Blanc. Most were going up to the Goutier Hut, staying there, doing the summit the following day and coming back down. I weighed up my options. With my knees, there was no way I was going to do an estimated 10 hr summit day and get back to the hostel by Tuesday night. Since I was flying home on the Wednesday afternoon, I couldn’t afford to take the chance. Losing those first 3 days had taken its toll. I texted Matt and told him that Mt Blanc was open and I was going up to the Goutier Hut in the morning.

Monday August 27th

Other climbers had left during the night. I decided to wait until sunrise. I left as much stuff in a locker at the hut since I was going straight up to the Gouter Hut (3817m) and back down to the Tete Rousse hut.

There was a massive scree field of large boulders which took an age to circumvent before reaching a narrow path heading up the sheer cliff. I followed 3 Spanish climbers up to the Grand Couloir. This is an area where the boulders and stones come tumbling down and is considered the most dangerous part of the climb below the snow line. This was where the huge boulders had been coming down last week with the melting snow. I watched as the first Spaniard crossed it and waited on the other side. The other two then crossed it separately. Ironically, as I was approaching it, a large stone came hurtling past my helmeted head out of nowhere. I stood, looked and listened and got a feel for the crossing. Then I crossed the 100ft path, ignoring a cable which had been strung out across the pass.

From this point, the climbing became more challenging. I followed the cables and red markings upwards. This section of the route was very steep in places, though I didn’t bother wearing a harness or clipping into the cable with sling and a karabiner. I preferred to trust my hand holds and leg positions. The route weaved its way steeply upwards towards the Goutier hut. This section is given Grade II alpine. With very few people above me, the usual enormous potential for rock fall was reduced this morning.

The 3 hour 650m climb was far harder than I had imagined and when I reached the snow line and the gleaming new Goutier hut in the distance, I knew it was time to turn around. I had climbed as far as time would allow. I could see why many spent a day/night at the Goutier Hut before the long summit day. Coming down was equally as hard and slow and for me even harder. I re-crossed the Grand Couloir and traversed the terrible scree field back to the Tete Rousse hut. Repacking, I descended back down to the Baraque des Rognes shelter and decided to take the Rouges route back down rather than the one I had ascended up. It was very twisty and steep. There were a couple of ladders to descend as well.

It was another beautiful sunny day and now that Mt Blanc was open again, many walkers/ mountaineer groups were coming up. I was surprised to see a small heard of mountain goats including the male with his massive curled horns. I also spotted a fluffy marmot disappearing beneath a rock. My knees took another battering on the rocks. I could see the train station below and it seemed to take an age to reach. The TMB train approached but I would not reach it in time. No matter. I settled down in the sunshine with the day trippers, pleased to have got down intact. I couldn’t be bothered to walk an extra hour down to the cable car terminus especially having bought a return fare.

An hour later, another train arrived and I boarded. At the other end, I was shocked to come across Matt, Amin and Nick. It was 3.30pm. They had been up another mountain the previous night when they got my text and had decided to give Mt Blanc a go. I couldn’t see how they would do it in the even more reduced time limit but filled them in on the climb to the Goutier Hut and what to expect.

They boarded the train and I walked to the cable car and waited for it to fill up. Then I waited for the bus but when it arrived it dropped me at Les Bossons again which made for a short hike to the hostel, more supermarket essentials and a night in the back garden in my tent. My knees felt shattered. I was getting too old for this shit.

Tuesday August 28th

I deserved a relaxing day and spent it exploring the town of Chamonix which I had walked through many times but the same old three streets. I hardly ever leave myself time to just have a day off so it made a change to explore this attractive town packed full of tourists with its restaurants, cafes, souvenir shops and a white glacial river running through the centre. The Mont Blanc Ultra Marathon was due to start in 3 days and the town was full of fit looking runners.

I booked my bus for Geneva airport tomorrow and generally took it easy. Matt Tolson appeared from his overnight stay up on the ridge that I had climbed previously on the Saturday, camping by the Lac du Brevant. I was surprised when Nick walked in as well. He had made it to the Tete Rousse hut but also considered a summit out of the question with so little time. He said that Matt and Amin had started at 1.30am having only had a 3 hour rest and were intending on doing it non-stop. I had one final night in the tent to save money.

Wednesday August 29th

Packing for a final time, the airport shuttle bus was due at midday. Matt & Amin appeared at 10am feeling victorious. They had made it to the Goutier Hut, had a rest then made it to the summit, dumping their rope to reduce weight and just chancing it. With 10 minutes at the summit and nothing to see, they had come back to the Goutier Hut and got back down to their tent at Tete Rousse sometime in the evening, crashed and got up at 4am to descend back to the train and get back. I was pleased for them and envied Matt for his 15 and Amin for his 27 younger years. I like to think I played my part by texting to let them know about Mt Blanc’s status, otherwise they would never have bothered.

We left Matt at the hostel. He was doing the Mont Blanc Ultra Marathon on the Friday. It was a familiar trip back to Geneva airport for the comfortable 15.30 flight home. Picking up the car at Heathrow we battled through the London rush hour traffic. I dropped Nick in Norwich and finally got home around 10.30pm

Conclusion: if you are intending on climbing Mt Blanc, you need to give yourself more than a week to do it to allow for any circumstance. I think that if I had had a straight run at it, it would have been feasible. That said, Chamonix and the surrounding scenery is outstanding and worth a stay even if you have no intention of climbing. There are some lovely hikes in the area. I’d like to go back one day.