TMB Day 3: How did we end up on a high pass variant on the Tour du Mont Blanc?!
Refuge Bonhomme to Rifugio Elisabetta
This is one of those days that will live in Team Gianni infamy. Aka - we did a dumb thing. We were told that if the weather was good to do the high pass from Refuge Bonhomme over the Col des Fours to save a few miles and see some cool stuff. It was Grant who told us this. Grant is the gentleman who helped us book the huts. He also told us we wouldn’t need microspikes. I blame Grant for nothing - we’re grown adults. But perhaps we should have talked to someone else.
We left the Refuge and headed straight up to the top of Col des Fours. After 10 minutes we started to get the feeling that this wasn’t a great idea. There were no other hikers and the trail through the snow seemed disused. But after investing 10 minutes climbing what are you supposed to do? Turn around and go the standard route? Never!
When we got to the top, it was extremely unclear which way we needed to go. Even though I had the tracks loaded into my phone as gpx files in Gaia - it was still confusing. Two hikers appeared behind us and we waited for them to see what they thought. They weren’t all too sure either. We started down in the direction that seemed most likely. There was a faint trail in the snow. The two hikers were already far ahead of us - and I saw one of them slip and fall. Oh jeez. This is going to be fun.
It’s impossible to capture steepness either on a GoPro or in photos. But it was steep. I’m not sure this will help, but we had a descent of 1,000 feet in half a mile. It took us almost three hours to make it that half mile. So much snow. So steep. So stupid. We had to dig our heels in on every step to create a little ledge to stand on while our other foot was digging the next step to stand on. Luckily we were equipped with lightweight trail running shoes which were not at all engineered for this use case. This was one of the sketchiest things I’d ever been a part of - and that’s saying something.
We got close to the bottom of that first steep snowy descent. Before we could celebrate we became scared to death instead. We noticed a few small holes in the snow that appeared to lead straight to hell. We could see a raging river off to the left and we assumed that there was water flowing under the snow, but who knows where.
We saw a patch of dirt across the snow field and slowly picked our way across hoping not to fall through. I was doing the dad thing where you act like everything is fine but internally you’re wondering how you’ll be able to deal with the guilt for being responsible for the senseless deaths of your family members. I’ve had this feeling before. It usually results in the most vivid and long-lasting memories. I can tell you that there is a correlating internal feeling that occurs with Jennifer which is likely a murderous outrage at me for putting everyone at risk. Even when things aren’t really my fault, they’re my fault. I’ve come to accept that. But the truth is - I left the decision up to Malena this time - so our deaths will be her responsibility! I thought about jotting this down on a scrap of paper so that everyone would know who was at fault should we be found frozen.
We made it across and had I not been so exhausted, I would have knelt down to make out with that sweet sweet dirt patch. From our new vantage point, we could now see the white water of the river carving a tunnel under the snow and spilling out and on down the mountain.
The hike from there made me think of the old ViewMaster toy from my youth where you could look at 3D photographs of places you’d never imagine you’d ever go. But here we were. We stopped at the bottom of the valley in La Ville des Glaciers and leaned against the wall of a dairy farm building to rest and eat our packed lunch from the refuge. Some hikers headed the other way asked us about the descent. I shook my head and said, “We shouldn’t have done that.” They asked, “Did you have crampons?” After realizing he said ‘crampons’ and not ‘tampons,’ I replied, “No. No we didn’t.”
Next was the climb to the Italian border and what a climb it was. 3.5 miles with 2,500 feet of ascent. We’d thought that yesterday was going to be the most difficult day of the hike. We were wrong. And we’d be wrong every day going forward. Every day seemed to surpass the last in its brutality. At least it wasn’t treacherous. But it was a long tough slog with zero flat sections. We made it to the top and hoped that was our last climb of the day. And it was.
We crossed the border and into our ancestral homeland. Italy! The rest of the day was spent hiking down into an incredible valley, across a few snow patches, and finally arriving at the most beautiful refugio of the trip, Elisabetta. (Now that we’re in Italy, they’re refugios instead of refuges.)
We were absolutely exhausted. We stowed our gear and grabbed a table. I began a passionate love affair with a series of enormous Moretti beers, Jen grabbed a wine (or three), Malena had some hot chocolate, and we continued our ongoing card game once again.
We had a great dinner with great people. We met a couple from Portugal, a dude from the USA, and a young woman from Czech Republic. We told them about our harrowing hike down from Col des Fours. They had all taken the normal route and we made them feel good about their decision. Glad to be of service. The next morning the guy from Portugal showed me a Facebook post on his phone about a woman who had died on the trail the week before. He pointed out that it was on the route we had taken. The woman had been walking down the same trail, but when her group got to the bottom, they went left and were unknowingly traveling above the underground river. She fell through. The water dragged her down and spit her out where it broke out of the snow cover. She survived that and her companions pulled her out of the water. Unfortunately, she died of hypothermia before the rescue helicopter arrived. Horrible. For some reason, we didn’t know this was a “variant.” We just thought it was an “alternative” route. I’m not sure what the difference was in our minds, but… Suffice it to say - that’s our last venture off the main trail. Really. Truly. For sure. Think of this as a written contract.
It’s the insane days of hell that stick in the ole memory banks so it’s hard to be sorry. Of course, you have to live long enough to remember such things. But this was an epic day that will live in infamy in our family lore. And that’s what you want. Right?
Another well written story. You do have some adventures. Well done!
Not only do you make some great videos (SGR) ,but also are fun to read. I don't think you realize your talents. Keep up the good work, and Thanks.