We stood up and cheered as our pal walked through the door of Refuge du Goûter mountain hut, the weariness of this physically beaten man brightened only by the look of pure elation spread across his face. Beer was ordered to accompany the well-earned, warm glow of satisfaction, and our friend received his pats on the back (while being jovially taunted for the length of time it took him to join us).
Our bodies were weary, our muscles still throbbing with pain, and fatigue ran deep, but we’d done it. We had climbed the iconic Mont Blanc – the highest mountain in the Alps and Western Europe, standing at 4,809m (15,777ft) tall. And the feeling was like no other. As we plonked ourselves down at one of the long wooden tables of the refuge, the flood gates opened, and the stories of the day came pouring out as we happily shared the hardship we had endured together.
I have, and always will say – these people made my trip. The crazy part is, a week ago I had never met them.
After making our way back down from Refuge du Goûter - which sits at 3,815m (12,516ft) and acts as a resting place for climbers ascending or descending Mont Blanc - we met up in the hotel bar at our cosy little wooden chalet-style hotel.
The shots of génépi (a traditional French alpine herbal liqueur) were coming in strong. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life – a combination of the euphoria from having achieved a life goal, the shared journey that we had been on throughout the week, and a healthy dose of banter coming as quick as the shots.
As I looked around at this small group of hilarious and slightly insane individuals who I now called friends, I felt so deeply grateful for the experience I’d had. I have, and always will, say – these people made my trip.
What if they’re slow and hold me back? What if they’re too fast for me and I’m holding everyone else back?!
The crazy part is, a week ago I had never met them.
The Waiting Game
I had booked onto my first ever group adventure trip a few months previous having absolutely no idea what to expect. It was a long-time passion and objective of mine to climb Mont Blanc, and over the years I had steadily been building up my skills and fitness in readiness to take on the challenge.
As I stepped off the plane at Geneva Airport and wandered through the arrivals hall looking for the trip coordinator, I felt wildly apprehensive. What if I don’t like the other people? What if they don’t like me? What if they’re slow and hold me back? What if they’re too fast for me and I’m holding everyone else back? How will I cope at altitude? What happens if someone gets ill or injured? What if we get bad weather? Will I be able to get vegetarian food? Did I bring the right clothes?!
The deluge of questions careering around my mind like a car round an F1 circuit was doing nothing to ease my nerves. Of course, this was partly about stepping outside of my comfort zone by trying to climb the highest mountain in Western Europe. But equally, the boundaries of my comfort zones were being well and truly tested here by rocking up on a group adventure with a bunch of total strangers, wondering if they’re psychopaths, boring - or just totally not my type of people.
I warily approached the sign that indicated our group booking, and instantly discovered I was the only female in an all-male group of travellers. I can hold my own with guys, so I was totally ok with that – I was actually more relieved that everyone seemed to have turned up solo rather than joining a group of mates or several couples, which would have felt much more intimidating to me. I said a nervous “hello” to the group and we followed the driver to the transfer vehicle.
There’s nothing like going through an arduous Type-2 mental and physical challenge with someone to get to know them at a far less superficial level...
On the minibus, as we cruised our way along the valley towards Chamonix-Mont-Blanc, the small talk began and we started to get to know one another. “Which mountains have you climbed before?”, “What do you do for work?”, “Have you ever been at altitude?”. It’s funny when you meet new people – you start to apply your own narrative to your assessment of other people’s characters, based entirely on your own experiences and interactions with people throughout the course of your life. You might instantly gel with someone after discovering you have something in common – which could be as trivial as living in the same area – or you might instantly take a slight distaste to someone on the basis that they remind you of someone you aren’t particularly fond of. People are funny creatures.
But you know what? That little fabricated personality profile you build up in your mind is soon shattered into shards of irrelevance when you truly get to know someone. And there’s nothing like going through an arduous Type-2 mental and physical challenge with someone to get to know them at a far less superficial level than you might during the mundane grind of daily life.
The Bonds of Type-2 Fun
From day one, we all hit it off. I couldn’t believe my luck. But for me, it was more than that – we were all there for a reason, and once you broke it down, our reasons were all quite similar. We had instant commonalities – not just the values that underpin the reasons why someone would want to embark on this specific type of adventure holiday, but also in the goals and objectives that we strived toward.
Much to our mutual amusement, most of us had barely ever put a set of crampons on, so we were all starting off with very basic mountaineering skills. We had some instruction on the glacier on the first day, and from the very off, the friendly jibing was on point. Picture someone continually tripping over because they keep catching their crampons on the inside of their trouser leg, and you’ll get the gist.
Over the next few days, jokes aplenty, we journeyed around the Alps, moving together on one rope as a team, traversing the glacier over a daunting-looking mountain range and arriving at a hut over the border in Switzerland.
Most of us had barely ever put a set of crampons on, so we were all starting off with very basic mountaineering skills
It felt like a huge adventure - and in these tasks, we were reliant on one another.
The next 12 hours in that hut will stay with me forever. As part of the acclimatisation process for climbing bigger mountains, it’s important to sleep at altitude, and so the strategy is to have some overnight stints in high altitude mountain huts. When we arrived at this particularly remote hut, we had no phone signal, no running water (so no showers, drinking water or traditionally functioning toilets), no Wi-Fi, no technology or televisions, and no personal space.
Alpine refuges are basic – evidently, some more than others!
While the huts definitely divide opinion in the mountaineering world (sleeping in dorm rooms with 20 snoring, sweaty men, dusty blankets, and toilets that constitute a ceramic ‘hole in the ground’), there is something rare and beautiful about them. And that is the lack of distraction. Up there, we only had each other to focus on – no distractions from technology, no outside stimulation, no luxuries or conveniences of modern-day living.
Well, let me correct one thing. They do serve beer.
So there we were. A group of strangers all embarking on a solo adventure, having one single beer (altitude does a fantastic job of lowering your alcohol tolerance!), and a deck of cards that one of the guys had cleverly smuggled in his backpack. I have never laughed so hard playing a card game – and I still haven’t, to this day.
With the unknown of the big challenge still ahead of us, but the day of inclement weather, navigational issues, and physical and mental toll behind us, we had nothing else to do but mess around with card games and toss around a healthy dose of now customary mickey-taking. It was connection in its purest form.
We paired off into self-selected teams of two for summit day (actually a two-day affair, as alpine starts are usually characterised by a 3am start in the dark to avoid avalanche risk as the snow is warmed up by the sun). It was an easy choice – I had bonded with one guy and we chose each other. We matched in terms of fitness and climbing experience, and the exchange of self-deprecating jokes reassured me that if nothing else, humour would get us through the tough moments.
Despite pairing off though, we were still a group as we steadily made our way along each section of the climb, from the rocky scramble and the dangerous rockfall traverse, to the snowy glacier flank to the summit ridge. We could (mostly) see one another’s teams both up ahead and behind us, and naturally, were wondering what they were going through mentally and physically.
It’s true what they say about bonding over adversity. It was here in its entirety.
Climbing Mont Blanc was and still is one of the hardest experiences of my life – I struggled a lot with the altitude above 4000m, but my new friend and roped climbing partner was my saviour. He encouraged and supported me, made me laugh when things got tough, and even pulled out a can of coke and Snickers bar on the summit to pep up my energy levels. It’s true what they say about bonding over adversity. It was here in its entirety.
When we all made it safely back down, I felt astonishingly grateful for these people. Just one week prior, we hadn’t even been aware of each other’s existence, and I was wary about whether we would get along and how it would effect the trip dynamic. But I can say unequivocally that they made the trip for what it was.
Although it felt incredible to have achieve what we had, the trip almost wasn’t even about climbing Mont Blanc anymore. It was about the shared experience, those moments of laughter, the camaraderie and support, the bonding through difficulty and the kaleidoscope of memories that will stay with me forever.
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