![]() ![]() ![]() It’s strange setting off on such a physically demanding journey knowing that my father, who is 85, has just broken his pelvis in a fall and is totally immobile at a hospital in the south of France (my mother and sister are with him now, and I will join him after the TMB). The author encounters many trekkers doing it their way along the Tour du Mont Blanc. My pack weighs in at more than seven kilos, a lot more than I’d like to run with, but I take solace that two kilos is my perishable energy powders that will be whittled down as the days progress. Vaseline, yup, check (don’t ask don’t tell). I shower, dress, and do a final dummy check of all my gear. when I wake to the sound of chirping birds and the hopeful absence of rain. The weather can be transient along the route, and getting lost in the fog is a very real concern. Yes, I am nervous that my legs will get crushed by the relentlessly steep terrain, but what really scares the crap out of me is navigation. Based on what I’ve read, I’ll be doing lots of “jalking” or “wogging”-fast walking with jogging breaks, not the other way around. The route is normally hiked in seven to 12 days, but I’ve opted to walk/run it in just five, staying at mountain lodges along the way. The appearance of the zombie-hikers returning from walking around “the roof of Europe” gives me serious pause. The stunning vistas and topography of the Tour du Mont Blanc in the Alps, with the spectacular massif itself in background. If you take a gander at the geographical profile of the TMB, it looks menacingly like a jagged row of shark’s teeth. Skirting the entire Mont Blanc massif, with its sharp ridges that catch clouds and scratch the sky, is the Tour du Mont Blanc (TMB), a 170-kilometer circuit through France, Italy, and Switzerland, with more than 10,000 meters of climbs and descents-an accumulative height greater than Mount Everest from sea level. Rising above us, like a formidable castle of rock and ice, stands Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in the Alps-indeed in Western Europe-at 4,810 meters. Maybe just a few are babbling nonsensically with fatigue. Some are speaking French, others Japanese and English. I am leisurely eating a pizza on the patio of the brasserie Le Bartavel in Chamonix, France, when they pass along the pedestrian boulevard with the weary eyes of soldiers returning from combat, pack sacks weighted on their backs, their feet dragging over the pavement like they’re encased in concrete. In his ongoing quest to explore the planet’s most beautiful trails, an ultrarunner heads to one of Europe’s highest mountains for a gruelling five-day “jalk ” (jog-walk). ![]()
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