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If you haven't read Part 1 yet, I suggest you start here. Alex and I had just left Italy for our bus trip to La Fouley, Switzerland the long way around. Kat and Carly had started their climb over Grand Col Ferret and, unfortunately, Kat wasn't doing too well in her Norovirus aftermath. We were separated when we desperately all wanted to be together. When we came out of the tunnel into Chamonix, I made a quick decision, we booked a very pricy Uber to cut our planned public transit journey of around 4-hours to a quick hour and a half drive. The driver was indeed quick, a middle-eastern man, who had never been to Switzerland, picked us up. He seemed as happy to be driving us into the mountains as we were to be getting the ride. By the time we made it to La Fouley I had a plan set. We dropped Alex at the campground to setup and rest and I convinced the driver to take me three more miles up the valley for €10 to join the TMB at a higher point and get to Kat and Carly quicker. He dropped me off and as I took off up the trail I heard him start flying his drone around the valley. I had 4 miles up 3,500’ to reach the top of Grand Col Ferett at just over 8,000 feet. Kat and Carly were set 2 miles below the pass at a refugio trying to rest up before pushing further. I told them to meet me at the Col and I could take Kat’s bag and some of the weight out of Carly’s. After I hung up the phone, I started huffing up the mountain with nothing but a rain jacket, a liter and a half of water and a pack of gummy bears, set on my mission to link back up and end the day together. The higher I got, the more I crossed with UTMB runners. They kicked up dust flying down the mountain passed me as I climbed in the opposite direction. The valley going up was beautiful, a deep green canyon that made you forget there was a good size town at the bottom of it. I neared the top and still didn’t see my friends, I was worried they hadn’t started hiking and I’d have to go down the two miles on the other side to get them. As I made it to the top of the col I felt exhausted, my body was running a huge calorie deficit after losing my stomach the day before and not being able to eat much more than a croissant and gummy bears today. I sat at the top of the pass with UTMB runners collapsing around me at the top of their climb, I silently felt their exhaustion. I searched down the trail for Kat’s pink hat and Carly’s purple bag in the stream of runners that continued up from the Aosta Valley but saw nothing. Eventually, off on a ridge just below me, I finally saw my pink hat. Kat and Carly were sitting taking a break before the final bit of the climb. I started down, excited to see them, excited to help and excited to know that everyone would be okay even if it was about to be a long afternoon getting down to La Fouley. When I got to Kat, I gave her a big hug, took her bag from her and she was so excited to see me she threw up some more! Just a little baby barf, we laughed it off and made it to the top of the col. It felt like days since I had seen them, but it had been just a few hours. We sat and stared off across the valley before we started walking again. After what felt like ages, we got off the mountain and rejoined the road into La Fouley, a two mile walk to town. We were all feeling tired, hungry and ready for rest, it had been a long day. We stuck out a thumb for the few cars that passed us on the road down the dead-end valley with no luck. Eventually, our fortunes turned, a little red car with three French folks about the same age as us stopped. The two girls crammed into the front passenger seat and the three of us with our bags crammed into the back seat, we were off. The guy driving zoomed down the two-mile road in 5 minutes, something that would have taken us almost an hour to walk. As we got to town, we started passing runners, honking and cheering out of the windows, it was a fun end to an eventful day. The four of us, back together, ate dinner, chicken nuggets and fries, and discussed our plans for the next day. Carly and I would hike on and Kat and Alex would bus to Champex, skipping about 9 miles of gentle trail but getting a good day of rest in before we could all hopefully hike together again. I realized writing this, that I only took one picture this crazy, yet beautiful day. I was staring up at the mountains in the last light of the day before crawling into my tent, exhausted yet very happy.  Our fifth day on trail was uneventful, the trail wandered through small Swiss villages with little cafés setup to cater to hikers on their journey around the mountain. The day only had one climb, a gentle one, up to Champex to end the day. Carly and I were feeling good but very ready for lunch. We met up with Kat and Alex and sat at a bistro by the lake enjoying a nice afternoon and hoping to get a swim in before afternoon rain was expected. It seemed like things were back on track. We hiked out of town to the campground I had booked for the night, what I had failed to see was that the campground was a steep hike up a side trail out of town, not my best planning… It was a cozy refugio up a side valley with views of the southern Mt. Blanc Massif towering behind it. Once we got there, we sat and rested. Carly told us she was feeling a little uneasy in the stomach and we all silently had the thought that it was now her turn two days after us. I went to shower, keeping my thoughts to myself.
 Walking back out to the tents, I saw Carly upset, she had thrown up which meant her turn with Noro had just begun. As with the rest of us, it was a shitty five hours or so, no comfort and a constant feeling you need more water in your body that you could barely keep down. We seemed to have hit a wall with our journey, no one in 100% condition and yet another member of the team down with sickness, likely needing a day or two to recover. The decision was made that we’d all head down to Orsiéres in the morning via bus and get Carly on a train to Chamonix. If she was feeling good enough to get herself to a hotel, the other three of us would do the last climb to Refugio du Col de Balme to spend the night on the Swiss-French boarder and meet up in Chamonix the next day. When we made it to the train station, there were dozens of other hikers there, many had gotten sick themselves or someone in their party was sick. It seems as if a massive outbreak had rolled across the TMB and we weren’t the only ones suffering from it. Carly ended up feeling well enough to continue on her way alone, so we bussed to Triént and started the 3,000’ climb up out of Switzerland back to the Chamonix Valley in France where we had started. Rain clouds rolled in and a light breeze blew down the valley. As we broke treeline, an on and off mist started, but so did the blueberries. The next mile I did nothing but shovel my mouth full of blueberries which apparently grow great in the wild in this area above 2,000 meters (~6,500’). Wild blueberries have a different flavor to them, sweeter than your grocery story variety and so juicy they stain your fingers a blueish purple as you pick them. It was a good climb for me.  As we neared the top of the climb and the safety of the refugio, the mist picked up into a steady deluge. I honestly enjoyed the hell out of it, a little change-up. The refugio was warm and cozy, coffee, tea, snacks and a great music playlist, the perfect mix of throwbacks and contemporary music filling the space. We got our wet clothes off and settled in for the afternoon. The keeper told us that we’d have our own room but he wouldn’t open the upstairs until 4pm, none of us cared, the fact we’d have our own room was music to our ears. Dinner was a delicious plate of buttered noodles with a thick chicken thigh and for dessert a big cup of yogurt with a heaping spoon of Nutella or wild blueberry jam, you can imagine which one I picked.  We shared our table with a smattering of Americans from all over the country and one German who got dragged into our conversations. He had some interest in the Pacific Crest Trail and I gladly shared my stories with him. As the sun went down, we all headed outside and watched the clouds float over Mt. Blanc, the eastern sky was lit up with a brilliant orange glow as the rain clouds thinned. I looked off to the west at the Argentine Glacier and the Mir de Glace, once the biggest glacier in Europe, and thought about how this place had changed and was changing. I pondered the first people to find their way to the Chamonix Valley and how the glaciers used to terminate just feet outside of the city, now they were miles up the mountains. I thought about how the Mir de Glace used to nearly pour out of the valley it had carved in pictures I had seen and now it disappeared into that same valley. The world, even in my brief time on it, has irrevocably changed, likely for the worse, a startling thought.  The sun finally set and so did we into our bunks as the cold of a night high in the Alps set in. Kat and I watched Lilo and Stich on my phone and Alex pattered away on his. It was a nice final night on the trail, what I had hoped every night would be like, but our luck didn’t play out that way. The next day we’d find our way down to Chamonix and enjoy long hot showers and cushy hotel beds. We’d section hike some more of the TMB using the gondolas up La Brevent and the plentiful public transportation. We'd enjoy a dinner of fondue, escargot, wine and all the other delicious French food you can think of before leaving Chamonix. Although it wasn’t the full trip I’d planned for, we’d made the best out of it, everything was on the upswing, no hospital visits, no injuries and a fairly happy time in a fun and beautiful place.  With the remainder of our time in Europe we drove the long way through the Alps to Lake Como, as the tunnel under Mt. Blanc had closed for three months of maintenance just before we could sneak through into Italy. We enjoyed pasta and pizza and the warm Italian sun by the water and contemplated hiding away on a rocky beach to never leave the shores of the lake again. We shared quite a few bottles of wine and from the little cottage we’d rented, stared out across the lake at night as the lights lit up the shore and the silence made it seem like although we could see all the life around the lake, we were the only ones there. It was a very peaceful way to end a complicated trip.
If you asked me today if I would hike the TMB again, I would say no. I would love to climb Mt. Blanc one day, but I have lost my interest in European style hut hiking. The Dolomites, the Haute Route, none of these catch my excitement anymore. My experience might not be yours though, if we hadn’t all gotten sick from the unhygienic situation in the refugios my thoughts might be different. For me, a lack of a feeling of wilderness is ultimately what it comes down to. The Laugavgeur in Iceland was the perfect mix of amenities at huts and a feeling of wilderness during the day while you were out on trail and maybe that’s what I need to look for. I would love to someday go back to these places and experience them as the locals do, hike and run and explore from the comfort of a cushy bed and a private bathroom. As this trip closes out my summer and Colorado quickly settles into fall with cold air already tumbling down from the mountains, I’ve started thinking about things closer to home. As always, I’ll scheme in the back of my head but for the first time in a long time, I don’t have a major trip on the horizon, and I feel oddly at peace with that. I look forward to staying closer to home for awhile, wandering around in the mountains here. As always, thanks for following along with my stories, I write them to remember my journeys and maybe inspire some others on their own.
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This summer has been a season of trips, plans and various objectives that did not go according to plan, the TMB was no different. I’ve had several friends over the years who have hiked the Tour du Mont Blanc (TMB), the 105-mile route around Mont Blanc, the highest point in Western Europe, and always heard good things. I was told the views were magnificent, hiking from hut to hut, enjoying drinks and warm lunch almost every day was a grand treat, and the Europeans have no idea how to build switchbacks. All of this would prove to be true in some way or another. The idea of hiking in the Alps captivated me, I was curious what the mountains of another part of the world were like. For a long time, almost two thousand years, the Europeans thought of the Alps as more of a nuisance than something to be treasured. There are writings from the Romans where they had wished they had the manpower to knock the mountains down to access the north. The Alps were, and still are, a huge hurdle to get around when traveling across south central Europe. In the winter they were inhospitable, in the summer the massive glaciers stemming from the high peaks still complicated travel across many of the high valleys. Only in the last 3-400 years have many of the high passes in the Alps opened up due to melting glaciers and lower levels of snow fall. Only in the late 1800s did the Europeans start to appreciate and glorify their mountains, around the same time of John Muir, Theodor Roosevelt and other naturalists doing the same thing in the US. Unlike in the US where we set aside our mountains as wilderness to be preserved and protected in its natural state, the Europeans turned their mountains into a playground. In the Chamonix Valley alone there’s 4 gondolas that operate almost year around. You can ride up to 12,000’ on the Mt. Blanc Massif (the summit is just over 15,000’) and much of the western section of the TMB can be accessed via lifts. In several sections, buses serve huge pieces of trail where you can skip the walking and bus from hut to hut or town to town. It’s both beautiful in the easy access that it provides to so much beauty and disgusting to a mind used to (fairly) pristine wilderness in such a place. We put together a group of four for the trip, myself, Kat and our friends Alex and Carly. Alex and Carly had both joined us on the Kilimanjaro trip so we knew they’d be a fun time to have around, and Carly is currently living in London so we could have a good pit stop on our way across the ocean. The plan was for two weeks in Europe and around 9 days on the TMB, averaging about 12 miles a day hiking. The vertical gain each day was going to be between 4-5,000’ so big mile days were not in the picture. The travel was smooth, no missed flights, some fun riding around on the Tube in London, a short flight to Geneva, Switzerland and before we knew it, we were riding a shuttle to Chamonix, France arriving on a cloudy evening with the mountains socked and light rain falling, it felt like we had left Colorado just hours before. We’d have a day in Chamonix to grab last minute supplies and explore around the city, little did we know that we’d get to see the first race of UTMB week (the 100-mile ultra race on the same trail we were going to be hiking). Our first views of Mont Blanc were gorgeous and excited us for the coming days. The glaciers pouring off the mountain like an icy volcano made it seem like something out of this world. The only mountain I’ve set eyes on that came close to comparing is Mt. Rainier and even then, its scale can’t match that of Mt. Blanc and its massif.
Day two was supposed to be a big one, a ~4,000’ climb over Col du Bonhomme and it proved to be as difficult as it sounded. A clear, bight and sunny day, the steep climb up the pass was only broken up by a GIANT cookie at our first true Refugio visit on our way up. Although it was hot, I was happy to be there. The trail was varied, from road to single track, from rocky, to sandy, to walking over a glacial moraine. Just after noon we reached our second Refugio of the trip at Refugio du Bonhomme for a less than awesome lunch of lentil soup and stale bread but luckily accompanied by a frothy beer before our thunderous descent down 3,500’ to the town of Les Capieux to camp for the night. We enjoyed a dip in the glacial river and a big pitcher of wine at the restaurant in town, the trail was proving to be as enjoyable as expected. Difficult during the day, but very cushy when you were sitting still.
 The third day took us over our second true pass and into Italy. We spent much of the morning trying to remember some Italian, Kat was our professor from studying in Florence for 6 months in college. We slowly climbed and wandered our way passed cows, the Alps main wildlife, as the trail went through their pastures and slowly climbed up to Col de la Seigne on the high boarder between Italy and France. We could hear the ringing of cowbells and sheep herds as we continued to climb. As we gained the ridge we got our first sight of the southeast side of Mt. Blanc, just as glaciated and towering as its western slopes. On the pass, there was a large stone carin and a metal disk showing what you were looking at in the distance. I placed my head on the carin and thanked the mountains for safe passage, a small habit I’ve picked up over the years when traversing these wild placed. We also picked up a friend on the pass, a Colorado native named Scott. He was a cool guy, trail running the entire trail in like 5 days or something fast. We chatted briefly and expected to never see him again as he raced passed us but ended up running into him again at lunch for some delicious pasta at Refugio Elisabetta, our first stop in Italy. Elisabetta had a dubious reputation for its sleeping situation, three high bunk beds, 10 people across, side by side. We had heard it was a less than idea situation and opted to make this our longest day, covering 15 miles to Refugio Masion Ville.
The extra miles made for a long day and trying to keep up with our friend Scott for a while tired us all out on the last climb. We had sore feet ending the day, but going the extra miles ended up being the right call. Masion Ville had an awesome view across the Italian Alps all the way to Switzerland and a towering peak of the Mt. Blanc Massif on the other side of it. The ice cream was cheap, and the beer was even cheaper. Ending the third day, spirits were high, we had a great dinner, our second shower (unheard of on a 9-day backpacking trip in the US) and played some euchre to a pleasant sunset in the mountains before settling off to bed in our dorm room to the sweet sound of large Italian men snoring.
 We’d made it four days, over halfway on our milage and almost halfway on our trip duration. As we hiked down into Courmayeur, the sister city of Chamonix on the Italian side of the mountain(the two are connected by not only a gondola over the mountain but a tunnel through it), we could hear the half UTMB (~50 mile run on the TMB) being announced down in the city. We thundered down the mountain side, through yet another ski resort, and snaked our way to the main city street just in time to see the runners take off, pretty neat knowing their crazier friends would be passing us the next day. A short resupply, a shared load of laundry and a latte at one of the cafes and we were back on the trail before lunch to get our climb of the day out of the way. Spirits were still high, but it was a hot day and a steep climb with in and out shade. We all felt a little tired from the days before and slowly, slowly made our way up the climb, dripping of sweat. At the top, was perched yet another Refugio overlooking the city of Courmayeur and the first of the UTMB aid stations we would pass by. We stopped for a lunch of sandwiches and sodas before starting the 4-mile ridge walk to Refugio Bonatti, our intended stay for the night. The views along the ridge of the Aosta valley were magnificent, every chute off the mountain seemed to spawn a glacier at the top, quickly retreating up its chute in the enduring heat of summer. On one end you could see Col de la Seigne, the Italian-French boarder, and on the other you could see Col Ferrett, the Italian-Swiss boarder. It was a cool place to be hiking.
As we neared Bonatti, my stomach started to rumble, I figured a combination of the heat and too much chocolate. I told the others to go ahead while I tried to get some business done about half a mile from Bonatti but nothing came. I pushed on towards the Refugio and only felt worse and worse. I gave Kat and Carly our money and told them to go get us checked-in to the dorm. By the time they came back and told us where to go, I was feeling egregious, my stomach was at war, I couldn’t tell if I need to poop or vomit. About 30 minutes after getting into the dorm, the gates opened, and all hell broke loose from my body. I’m not someone who is usually taken down by sickness, I usually just push through it and silently suffer but this was intolerable. There was no getting comfortable, only trips between the bed and the toilet about every 30-minutes, that started around 4pm. My biggest concern was that I had gotten giardia from one of the water sources or swimming in the glacial river a few days before that upstream had nothing but cow patties besides it. I was worried that the dehydration would take me out as we had just seen a woman get picked up by a helicopter from Bonatti due to dehydration when we arrived. I was so worried, I spent $25 on last minute travel insurance with an evacuation package, that was how bad I felt. I tried to get down bites of plain pasta for dinner, but nothing stayed so I just went back up to bed and tried to keep drinking water. Alex eventually came up and said he wasn’t feeling too solid either. After about 15 minutes of laying on the bunk next to me, he ran across the room and yaked in the trash can, he was sick too. I had taken my temperature every hour or so for the first 3 hours of symptoms and hadn’t developed a fever so water borne illness was out, the only other culprit that would take out two of us was Norovirus. Norovirus is an intestinal infection transmitted through bodily fluids (poo, pee, spit and vomit). When you get sick, you feel like your stomach is at war for several hours with fluids coming out both ends, sometimes accompanied by chills and aching pains in your abdomen. There is no treatment, you just have to let it run its course and stay hydrated as much as you can. Typically, the main symptoms subside in 4-8 hours, and you feel exhausted afterwards. It’s a prevalent illness on long trails, especially the Appalachian Trail. Kat and I had had previous run-ins with outbreaks on the PCT in 2021 but never got it ourselves. We focused on clean hands and avoiding busy places but on the TMB the bathroom situation was less than ideal with disgusting pit toilets at the Refugios and many not even having soap to wash your hands (hand sanitizer doesn’t kill norovirus, only hot soapy water). On the AT, hostels would have to close after an outbreak of Norovirus to protect other hikers from further outbreak. On the TMB, the staff at Bonatti barely cared and simply moved us to a private room and got on with their evening. By 9:30pm my symptoms were mostly gone and I tried to get some sleep and snack and drink between Alex throwing up in the trash can next to me every 30 minutes of the night, it was less than ideal. For the faint of heart, skip the next section, for those curious about what Norovirus was really like, I kept a little note on my phone during the ordeal…. Norovirus - 9/30/2024 4-5:45pm - Large diarrhea 3x 5:45pm - Temperature of 98.2 6:02pm - Small diarrhea 6:05pm - Took one pill Peptobismol 6:18pm - Threw up 4 times, all water 6:21pm - Temperature of 98.7 6:43pm - Took Anti-gas pill & drank 1 liter of water since last throw up 6:45pm - Small diarrhea 7:03pm - Temperature of 98.2 7:12pm - Small diarrhea and throw up 7:33pm - Small diarrhea 7:55pm - Alex just threw up 8:00pm - Temperature of 98.7 8:03pm - Shivering started 8:09pm - Small diarrhea 9:03pm - Finished one liter of water 9:28pm - Double trouble, small diarrhea and vomited up all my water again 9:30pm - Chills have stopped, going between too cold and too hot 10:30pm - Finished 1.5L water 11:36pm - Finished another 1.5L water & granola bar 1:27am - Chills are gone, room was boiling, opened window and took final liquid poo. In the morning, I didn’t feel great, but I felt stable. The cold air outside revived me and getting water and a couple of bars down in the night gave me back some strength. Alex was still in shambles with a very uneasy stomach and when I went to talk to Kat and Carly, I found out Kat had gotten it in the night at about 1am. She had opted to silently suffer through the night knowing what she had. Kat said she felt strong, her usual stubborn power that I love her for coming through. Alex did not feel well enough to hike but Kat did and Carly definitely did at the time. I was torn to go ahead with Kat and Carly and leave Alex to stitch together the buses to get around to La Fouley, Switzerland, our camp for the night, or stick with him and link up with Kat and Carly somewhere on the hike in the afternoon. We decided to split in two, the girls would continue on with the ~5 mile climb ahead into Switzerland and Alex and I would stitch together buses and trains to make our way to La Fouley. We said our goodbyes and Alex and I headed downhill to the road. It was a steep mile downhill and I could tell Alex was not feeling as well as I was but he was soldiering on. The first bus wound down through the Aosta Valley to Courmayeur, it was a fast and bumpy ride that unsettled my fragile stomach. By the time we got to Courmayeur I was craving a static chair and Alex looked like he was craving a toilet. We waited for the bus to Chamonix and tried to plan the rest of the day. After we had gotten on the bus and were waiting our turn to go through the tunnel to Chamonix, I got a call from Kat, she wasn’t doing as well as she thought and was still throwing up along the trail. I was worried, I had said to Carly earlier in the day that no matter what, I’d link up with them by the end of the day, now there was a chance they’d be stuck in Italy, and we were already in France, on our way to Switzerland. TO BE CONTINUED… Part 2 now posted!
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