Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc

A long overdue recap of an ultra run during summer 2012…

Mont Blanc towers over Chamonix and l'Arve River

Joe likes to say that lightning struck twice when I learned of my acceptance in the UTMB lottery only weeks after my name was chosen in the Hardrock lottery and whether I was as electrified at my selection for this one as I was for the other, it was bound to be a busy summer, with two of the world’s most challenging hundred miler ultra runs on the calendar.  One of the tricks to my success at Hardrock was to all but completely block out UTMB until I was finished kissing the rock and Colorado was in the rear view mirror.  Then it was time to take stock of ourselves and see if we thought we had it in us to have a go at UTMB.  Without too much doubt, we found in the affirmative.

Aiguille Rogues near la Tete aux Vents 

For those who have seen them before, the Alps need no introduction.  For those who haven't, what are you waiting for?  Go visit!  For people who love mountains this area is hallowed ground.  The Alps are an iconic range surrounded by old world European villages and farms that cluster in valleys and on hillsides, below ridges, spires, and peaks that abruptly transition from civilization and culture and soar skyward.  The town of Chamonix, France is the cradle of mountain sport, with the first climb of lofty Mont Blanc in 1786 launching this region's identity as a hub for mountaineering, rock and ice climbing, skiing, hiking, parapenting, and now trail running.  This is the birthplace of Alpinism.  It is an original and it is one of a kind.

Grandes Jorasses

I figured that running in the 10th annual Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc might be anti-climatic after completing Hardrock in July, but when the clouds in the Chamonix - Mont Blanc valley lifted on our first morning, revealing the scale and natural beauty of the area, it was clear that this would be anything but anti-climatic.  Mont Blanc rises some 12,000 feet above the valley, a hulking snow-encrusted crown jewel centered in a massif with many other peaks, jagged rock ridges and glaciers that surround the mountains and flow downhill, giving life to the valleys below.

Hotel Chamonix

Joe and I arrived one week early and immediately got to the serious business of exploring the valley, sampling the delicious local foods, and wandering out onto the surrounding trails while forever gawking at the wonder of this place.  Our hotel was perfectly situated at the start/finish line in the heart of town and any angst we had about the language barrier melted away quickly as it is owned and operated by Brits who went out of their way to make us feel at home, giving us great information on where to eat, run, and explore.

view from the hotel room

The UTMB is one of four races held during the week by the organization, the original and queen of the races, with the PTL, TDS, and CCC also taking place during this time.  The UTMB is a circumnavigation of the Mont Blanc massif, following a 168 km (100-mile) route through France, Italy, and Switzerland, before returning to France and ending in Chamonix at the Plaza d'Amitie, while accumulating more than 32,000 vertical feet of ascent and ascending to a maximum elevation of 2500 meters (8300 feet) on the Grand Col Ferret.  The time limit for the race is 46 hours.

la Floria chalet

On our first full day we decided to explore the course in reverse, heading up the trail from Chamonix toward la Flagere which sits on a mountainside north of the valley.  Along the way we ran past la Floria, a chalet festooned with flowers and nestled on the trail with views across the valley toward Mont Blanc.  The trail climbed steeply up switchbacks before reaching la Flagere, a popular tram-serviced skiing destination.  We continued east toward the Aiguilles Rogues (Red Needles) and la Tete aux Vents (Head Winds) where we had some remarkable views of la Mer de Glace (sea of ice glacier) with the Grandes Jorasses (Large Jorasses), a 4000 meter peak, and other impressive mountains visible way off in the distance.  We also scoped out the course and observed the far ridge where we would cross from Switzerland into France for the final push during the race.

Joe on the trail

Mike at le Tete aux Vents

stone structure near Refugio Bertone

The next day we drove through the Mont Blanc tunnel, an amazing feat of engineering, to Courmayeur, Italy.  The race passes through this town at about the midpoint of the run.  We ran up to the Refuge Bertone along the course and surveyed the southern side of the massif, which is no less formidable from this vantage point.  It was tempting to continue along the trail, but we were trying not to overdo it several days before the race.  Only a short number of miles away from Chamonix, the town and culture here feel markedly different.  As we ran back down into town we admired the beautiful old homes along the narrow street, many with stone roofs, and most very-well manicured.  This is a quaint old town, and it is decidedly high-end.

the Italian side of Mont Blanc - bongiorno!

Joe on the course at Refugio Bertone

at the Mer de Glace

If you visit Chamonix you have to set aside time for several great tourist attractions, including the Montevers train to la Mer de Glace, the tram to the Aiguille du Midi, and the tram to Brevant.  The Montevers train climbs to a stone station and hotel at the side of the Mer de Glace glacier where you can ride a gondola down to the lateral moraine of the glacier.  Except it's been receding recently, so there are a series of stairs to down-climb with plaques to note the elevation of the glacier in recent years before you arrive at the side of the glacier.  Every year tunnels are bored into the ice and various rooms are created and decorated complete with mannequins.  They light the inside and play music in the tunnels and it is a popular, if tacky, tourist destination.

climbers from Aiguille du Midi

Mont Blanc

The Aiguille du Midi (Needle of Noon) has a two stage tram that climbs to its rocky pinnacle some 9000 feet above town and 3000 below Mont Blanc.  To be transported to this place and stand on observation decks perched on the rock is to stand in the midst of a high mountain environment where climbers are ascending the glaciers and rock faces all around, and the mountains and glaciers seemingly extend in every direction.  Mont Blanc was in and out of the clouds, but lines of climbers were visible in the distance, their rope teams making slow progress on the glaciers.  This was a remarkable spot, but I felt the strong desire to be an active participant in this landscape and not an observer on the deck.  The museum detailed the remarkable construction of this tram, which required a team of climbers to ascend to this spot in tandem with the cable fastened to their packs.

lower platform at Aiguille du Midi, with Chamonix below

climbers on l'Aiguille du Midi

Brevant tram above Chamonix

Across the valley from Aiguille du Midi is Brevant, a tram that lifts you to a promontory north of the valley which provides a great view of the valley and the Mont Blanc massif.  During our visit we bumped into some Japanese friends we met earlier that day.  With thousands of ultra runners pouring into the valley it was easy to pick out the visitors and we met so many nice people from far off places.  We seemed to continuously run into this one group of Japanese friends throughout the week, before and after the race, and we exchanged information about races, shoes, and all manner of subjects.  They encouraged us to visit Japan for the Ultra Trail du Mt. Fuji race.  Maybe some day!  We also spent some time during the week with Patrick from Colorado and Nick from Vermont.  The ultra-running world is a great fraternity.

Joe in his happy place

The food in Chamonix was wonderful.   In the mornings we ate the croissants, baguettes, sweet butter, yogurt and assorted sundries from the hotel breakfast.  In the midday our favorite was a buttered baguette with ham and sometimes cheese.  And for dinner, we tried a bunch of different places, but our favorites were le Bivouac, a French bistro serving wholesome, natural foods with wonderful ham and cheese plates, and Satsuki, a Japanese restaurant that we visited several times for sushi, finally prompting the management to give us a frequent diner card after about our fourth visit.

a food reserve is part of the 'obligatory material'

Before long it was Friday, race day, with the race due to start in the late afternoon.  After a great stretch of weather, Thursday turned stormy and Friday morning dawned cloudy, cold, and rainy.  The feedback we were hearing about the TDS race which started on Thursday was that many runners dropped due to the inclement weather.  At higher elevations it was snowing and the trails were treacherous.  The CCC race which started Friday morning in Courmayeur had been re-routed to avoid high passes that were snowed in.  It seemed likely that some modifications were in store for UTMB.  Already we had been advised by the race organization to carry more layers in our packs containing the 'obligatory materials'.

Then, on Friday afternoon, several hours before the scheduled start, we received word that the UTMB would be shortened from a 168km distance to a 104km distance and that it would be conducted exclusively in France, without the circumnavigation of Mont Blanc through Italy and Switzerland, and that the elevation would be limited to1800m to stay below areas of deep snow.  The course would follow the first 30+/- miles of the original course before following a new route that wanders through the hills and back into Chamonix.  It was incredible that a reroute of the course was managed on such short notice, but all of this news served to deflate the excitement that had been building for a week.  It wasn’t that we didn’t want to run the new route, but this wasn’t what we had come to do.  I wondered if the Europeans were a bit soft in their avoidance of the mountain passes.

the start line at Plaza d'Amitie

Rather than wait out in the damp and cold, Joe and I stayed in the hotel until about 30 minutes before the race start walking downstairs and outside into the crush of 2400 runners packed into the square, spectators and media all around, and music and announcements blazing through the PA system.  I wore rainpants and a raincoat to start, figuring that the rain was due to resume within an hour of our 7PM start.  I also wore an old pair of La Sportiva Raptors which I brought on the trip as a secondary shoe and never dreamed I’d wear in the race.  But wearing the Hoka Evo’s would have been a terrible idea with the likelihood of mud and snow.

The final countdown from 10 was in French, but we didn’t need any translation to know when we hit 0 – the crowd surged forward, toward the race banner at the start/finish line and we were off.  But it probably took about 5 minutes to even cross the start line and we were only moving at a walking pace as we wound our way through the streets, spectators out and cheering on all sides, from windows and balconies and rooftops.  If nothing else, it was a dramatic send-off!

Joe is pumped as the race begins

We finally were able to start a slow run a few minutes outside of town, where people still lined the streets and Joe and I met Bob, a real nice guy from PA with whom we ran to Les Houches.  The course follows a road for at least a couple of miles before it transitions to a trail that parallels the l'Arve river with some small ups and downs.  The runners were still packed-in tight and on the uphills most of the people would slow to a walk, forcing you to also walk.

making our way slowly through town

Coming into Les Houches, the course picks up the road again before finding its way to a single-lane jeep road that climbs in switchbacks between ski trails and lifts.  Darkness started to fall and the rain began as we climbed this section.  I was following Joe and Bob who were moving at a good pace and passing quite a number of runners on this prolonged uphill.  I was moving in cruise control but I wasn’t feeling all that well.  I don’t know if it was general malaise, exhaustion or what, but I just didn’t feel super-motivated.  Plus, my back and ribs were all of a sudden feeling a bit sore from a fall I sustained a few weeks before.

the first climb past Les Houches

Coming toward the top of the climb, there was a checkpoint beside a big, lighted orb, and if you let your imagination control your thoughts you might think for a second that the full moon was rising behind the mountain.  Except it wasn’t going to show itself through the clouds on this night.  It was still raining but the terrain leveled off and it was almost time that we would start the steep descent into Saint Gervais.  Joe told me to go ahead; that he wouldn’t be able to keep up with me on the downhill to which I blankly responded “OK” and kept on going.  I was still in a bit of a funk.

The downhill was controlled chaos.  I quickly found that the Europeans tend to run like crazy on the downhills and with wet grass and mud, the mountainside was a like a multi-pitched slip and slide.  On the second hill I found myself on the ground after a good fall and I resolved to take it easy, planting my feet carefully so that I wouldn’t inadvertently knock myself out of the race.  Where the trail choked up to a narrow mud-slicked path the runners were funneled into a slow moving line of impatience through the tricky footing.  It was somewhat surreal descending from the ski slopes and into the farms and village below, runner headlamps illuminating the trail through the reflection of rain and mud with only the shadow of trees at the margins of your field of view.

leaving the aid station

Back onto a roadway we descended some large steps and into Saint Gervais, the first major aid station on the course.  Arriving, the aid station was packed with runners milling about.  I pulled off my pack to refill my hydration bladder before grabbing some meat, cheese, crackers, and cookies at the food table.  I was surprised at how casual the European runners were at the aid stations – there didn’t seem to be much urgency to get back on the trail.  I probably burned up 8 minutes at Saint Gervais and got back on the trail where I found myself behind more people.  On the stretch to Les Contamines I bumped into the guy I paced at VT100 several years ago – small world.

The aid station at Les Contamines felt crowded and uncomfortable.  Europeans are already not terribly respectful about personal space and here we were packed in like sardines, reaching around runners to grab another piece of cheese or a cracker.  Families stood on one side of the tent and provided aid to their runners, congesting the area.  With the course re-route there were no drop-bags allowed, so family aid was a real advantage for some while the rest of us had to rely only on what we carried on our backs.  I tried to fuel up as quickly as possible and hit the pavement.

The next section started with a mild climb and I started to pass runners on the wider path, feeling better and stronger than I had earlier in the run.  Past a bonfire the trail became much steeper and I settled into a comfortable climbing pace, still passing a few people here and there.  It struck me how quiet the night was, as the different languages precluded much chit-chat among the runners.  In spite of the mass of people, the palpable quiet made the endeavor feel like a solitary one.

bonfire before la Balme

Reaching a clearing, the course made it’s way past farm fields and up in the distance there were lights visible.  Soon enough I reached la Balme, site of a major bonfire and the last aid station on the original course before the new course peeled off in a different direction.  I tanked up on some hot soup and crackers, deciding that I probably shouldn’t keep eating meat, unsure of the potential outcome.  After months of joking and yammering about 'gants impermeables' which were required in the race, I decided to put the darn things on my hands before I continued.

The climb from la Balme was lit by the headlamps of runners ahead and the rain quickly transitioned to snow, with the hillsides now coated in white.  The trail was also snow-covered, but muddy and wet too, and it was impossible to keep your feet dry.  I pressed on as quickly as possible in the cold, now feeling somewhat fortunate that the race organization kept the run below the 1800 meter elevation.  As it wound its way across the hillside, it was difficult to see beyond the trail to tell whether we were in the midst of a ski area or a farm.  When the trail became more technical, I again found myself in a line of people, unable to move at my own pace.

Eventually the course opened onto a wider dirt road and passed a ski lodge before descending a long way past ski trails and lifts.  Here the number of runners felt like it was thinning out and I could concentrate on moving forward in the night.  With the constant snow and rain and a headlamp around my head, the brim of my hat caused a shadow which made me feel like I was forever stuck under an arched tunnel from which I was struggling to emerge.  This sensation continued through the nighttime hours.

Further downhill I heard the familiar sounds of cowbells and expecting to see people around the next corner I was surprised instead to find a few heifers who lounged in the grass and watched the event unfold in front of them.

back in Les Contamines

The course eventually wound its way back into Les Contamines but now it was well after midnight and August had turned to September.  I was surprised at the number of spectators, children included, who were out at 4AM to cheer the runners.  In the aid station I fueled up and drank some soup before heading back into the night.  I wasn’t feeling chilled, but I knew it was important to keep moving on a cold and wet night.  The climb out of town was incredibly steep and I found myself feeling very tired.  I felt so tired that I thought I could probably close my eyes and fall asleep standing up.  It occurred to me that I hadn’t been actively eating any energy food, either gels, chews, or waffles, and I was probably severely under-performing as a result.  I pulled out some chews and tried to give myself a lift.

The night was starting to get long, and with this new course released only the prior afternoon, I hadn’t had a chance to study the new route, including ups and downs, and unfortunately, I wasn’t recalling it very well at the moment.  I couldn’t remember the route between this past aid station and the next one and the climbs and descents that unfolded over the miles were a surprise to me.

There was a descent into a small town whose name I didn’t know before a steep climb up a hillside that seemed like it would lead us into the wilderness.  Except it emerged in another village up high before wandering back into the woods and climbing and descending some more.  I tried to keep a good pace going, but invariably I felt that I kept getting passed on the downhills while I held my own going uphill.  With the tough footing and wet conditions I wondered how Joe was doing, concerned for how this event was treating his knee.

Slowly, the light of the new day started to filter in and I turned off my headlamp.  We reached a place where a waterfall could be heard off to our right but it was not visible in the clouds.  Then we reached a place where the trail climbed a mountain slope with many unrelenting switchbacks.  I pulled off to the side to take a breather.   After some additional ups and downs in the woods, the course reached a clearing and we were approaching Bellevue, which sits at the top of ski slopes that run down into Les Houches.  While still damp, the clouds were breaking up and revealing some fleeting views of the mountains in the area, including the recent snow.

The descent into Les Houches was quite muddy.  With thousands of feet passing on waterlogged trails, I felt like we were part of a cattle drive tearing up the trails and leaving destruction in our wake.  As before, the narrow sections were bogged down with so many runners and it was hard to believe after more than 12 hours that we were still falling all over one another.

Reaching the paved roads above Les Houches, I tried to pass as many people as possible before we came into the aid station.  Leaving the aid station we re-crossed the main highway and began to climb the far mountainside on a paved road.  Again here, I failed to remember the new course and the climb felt endless – when would we again reach a trail?  An animal park near the top advertised, only 2km away, only 1km away, now 500m to this parking lot, now 200m to that lot.  It felt endless.  I definitely lost some time on this climb.

Reaching trail again, I picked it up as the course traced its way along the steep sidehill, passing at least one large gully and winding its way back into the Chamonix valley.  From the trail you could hear the excitement in Chamonix and I was thinking to myself that the UTMB winner had already finished.  Out here on the trail I still had a few hours to go.  With some intermittent sun and warming temperatures I stopped to take off my rainpants and put on sunglasses, making myself much more comfortable in the process.  Past gare Planpratz the course picked up the familiar Petit Balcon Sud which we had run along several times during the week before dropping down to the side of the river.  With the daylight I felt rejuvenated and I was able to pass a few runners here and there.

All along there were many spectators cheering “Allez Allez” and “Go Mike”, reading my name on the race bib.  Kids would chant “USA!” seeing the stars and stripes on the bib.  It was a nice lift.  I knew there was one really steep climb before the descent into Argentiere, the next town up-valley from Chamonix.  Sure enough, reaching the improbably steep switchbacks, the trail seemed to climb into sky, amid a forest of older trees which probably anchored the slope in place.  Again I found myself in a line of runners.  Topping out we joined another trail which continued an up and down course before dropping down into Argentiere.

From this last aid station it was only about 6 miles back into Chamonix, but as before I was blurry on the details of this portion of the re-route.  Thinking another climb was in store, I throttled back through the first part of this section, holding some energy in reserve, but once I realized that there were no major climbs remaining I started to push myself to pick up the pace.

Eventually the trail came out in a park and entered the flat plain in which Chamonix lies.  One curious note about the European competitors is that while they have a gift for climbing, and a crazy instinct for the downhill, they seem to lack discipline or practice on the flats, many of them walking on these stretches.  At first I snuck past a couple people who I recognized had passed me earlier.  But then I passed a few more, and before long, my pace was accelerating.  I would come up on people fast enough that by the time they thought about starting to run they wouldn’t stand a chance of passing me without a major output.  With this approach I reeled in and passed dozens of runners in the final stretch, eventually seeing the river, sports complex, and town ahead of me.

Within about 1km of the finish, the course winds its way onto the main streets of the city center which were set up with barricades on each side, behind which a crowd was cheering.  I knew this moment would pass quickly and I tried to savor the experience of running through town, bouncing from one side to the other and giving high-fives to the kids while absorbing the energy which was pushing me toward the finish.  I finished feeling a great deal of satisfaction about the race, having accelerated to run a remarkable 6:00 minute per mile pace over that final kilometer.  My finish time was 20:02 for the 64+ mile course.

I grabbed some food and a can of beer at the finish line aid station and took a seat in the grass.  Heading up to our room a short time later I was surprised to find that Joe had finished the race some 54 minutes earlier!  I had no idea that Joe passed me at the first aid station in Saint Gervais and he was ahead of me the whole time.  I was very impressed!  At least we had each run our own race.

some American friends doing what else?
hanging out at the hamburger stand together

With a couple of days remaining in Chamonix, we enjoyed some celebratory dinners at Satsuki and Chamber Neuf, meeting and making new friends, and we relaxed in town amid a veritable sea of race finishers, all wearing the light blue finisher vests.  We attended the awards ceremony where the top finishers received their acknowledgement and the clouds finally lifted, revealing a high mountain landscape robed in white. 

Joe and Mike at the start/finish line

One of the PTL finishers showed us a couple of pictures he took on the route including one on the Col de la Seigne, one of the passes the UTMB would have traversed on its original course.  There was knee-deep snow on the pass.  At the end of the day it wasn’t hard to understand why the race management re-routed the run and potentially even saved lives of participants who could have perished in such harsh conditions, even with their required clothing and food.  It was remarkable that a re-route was coordinated in such a short period of time.  The UTMB numbers were impressive too.  In spite of the weather, all but 14 of those enrolled for the race toed the start line, with a field of more than 2400, and when all was said and done, more than 85% finished!

Sure there was a palpable air of disappointment because we hadn’t been able to enjoy the full course, but we were relieved to have had the opportunity and to have succeeded at the challenge presented.  With one of our extra days remaining we took a drive into Switzerland and around to the Col du Grand St. Bernard, famous for the namesake dogs, and the town of Champex to scope out some of the course that we would have otherwise seen.

Aiguille du Midi & Mont Blanc in the Alpenglow

We left Chamonix as we found it, with Mont Blanc hiding in the clouds, but in our short time there I got a taste of what so many before us have felt while living in this valley.  The landscape is inspiring.  The mountains encourage us to challenge ourselves and the human spirit is strengthened in this place.  On our final evening I gazed up at the mountain peaks which were bathed in Alpenglow, that fleeting yellow-orange illumination that pauses your breath and hastens your heartbeat.  Sometimes when you leave a place you look upon sights with the notion that you won’t see them ever again.  Leaving Chamonix for me was quite different, as I knew it was likely I’d be back to climb Mont Blanc or ski the Haute Route or maybe even have another go at UTMB.