JKB's Bike Ride

With the Tour des Combins half of my trip wrapped up, it was time to continue along the Tour de Mont Blanc route and make my way back to Chamonix. Just three big climbs remained, and two more borders to cross. The good news was that I’d found some rhythm after such an overwhelming start. I’d accepted that my days would involve hours of pushing, and I’d come to terms with that both uphill and on the descents. It was just as well, because I would start the day with a big climb up to Grand Col Ferret and the Italian border.

I’d actually backtracked slightly the evening before, after riding up a little higher in search of somewhere to stealth camp instead of the official campsite in La Fouly. Wild camping is a bit fiddly here. The laws seem to vary between France, Italy and Switzerland. I get the impression that people won’t mind you camping up above 2,500m or the tree line, as long as you are setting up camp at dusk and leaving at first light. The problem is that actually it’s only really the high passes that are above that elevation and they’re usually very exposed. The other problem is that there aren’t many flat areas, and usually those patches have something already there. In the past I have never really cared about where I wild camp – I know how to be discreet and responsible, but it gets tricky in a place like here where there are so many people around. The TMB sees so much footfall that it’s important for the environment that everyone is responsible, and the easiest way to ensure that is to get everyone into campsites or refuges.

It would have been fun to stay in a refuge (I actually never have), but camping will always be a cheaper option. Besides, I know I’ll sleep better in my tent than in a shared room full of snoring hikers who insist on getting up at the crack of dawn. Last year I hiked the GR20 in Corsica, which had lots of refuges on the way, and you could camp at all of them. Sadly it doesn’t seem to work like that in the Alps. The refuges are up in beautiful spots, but the campsites are down in the valley. They varied a lot in price from €6 to over €20 in Switzerland, but generally those on the TMB route had subsidised hiker rates from around €10-15. I enjoyed the affordability, but found these ones annoyingly noisy, and they’d always cram in the hikers’ tents close together so you’d be very aware of when your neighbours were starting or ending their day. Unfortunately hikers have a habit of getting started considerably earlier than my usual preference…

Before travelling out I worried that the TMB might be busy with hikers, even in the shoulder season (which apparently early September was). The walking season is actually quite short: snow can linger into June and start arriving by late September. The route must be heaving in the height of summer, because the TMB was often too busy for me even at this time of year. 

The Tour des Combins had been completely empty in comparison, and had lured me into a sense of tranquillity. Heading up Grand Col Ferret was busy once again, although I pushed up most of it so was moving at the same pace as any hikers around me.

Coming down was a different story, and I felt conscious of my presence on an MTB. I had to stop so often, and tried my best to be courteous giving the walkers right of way. I also felt a little silly walking down the steep sections, with the trekkers presumably wondering why on earth anyone would attempt to ride this. 

I’d actually met some mountain bikers from Denmark on the ascent who were riding the TMB route – the first I’d met doing a multi-day trip. But they were more sensible than I; a travel company was moving their luggage for them and they were staying in refuges every night. Inevitably they overtook me without a single bag on their bikes.

At the bottom I joined the dirt road along the valley, avoiding the crowds before climbing back up onto the balcony singletrack which was a wonderful ride along the side of the mountain, with massive glaciers under sharp cliffs on the opposite side.

I was happy at the prospect of a resupply at Courmayeur’s Carrefour (which almost felt free after the last shops in rural Switzerland), before climbing the tarmac road up to a campsite for the night. I celebrated my arrival in Italy with a pizza. Sublime.

The next day I needed to tackle two big climbs. Aside from a few ‘little’ ones, I’d generally just crossed one pass a day, but I was keen to start the last push to Chamonix and there was a sanctioned wild camping spot that I could make it to. It was free, and would put me within a few short hours to Chamonix.

The first climb was Col de la Seigne and the final border crossing of the trip. I tried to work out the order of countries I’d been in, and it took me a minute to figure out: France, Switzerland, Italy, Switzerland, Italy and now back into France for the final time. Not bad for 7 days’ riding.

The descent was fantastic, concluding with a road into Les Chapieux where I stopped for lunch. I generally just graze throughout the day on rides like this – a big meal makes me feel tired, and I occasionally struggle with indigestion when riding – but given I had another massive climb ahead I decided to load up on a big bowl of pasta from the refuge.

Col de la Bonhomme was a real punisher, reducing me to a walk within 10m of where I had lunch. From there, it was a long, tiresome hike up to the summit at around 2,450m. The early afternoon heat didn’t help, and there was no shade for shelter. There had barely been a cloud in the sky all week, with temperature in the high twenties every day. The nights were always dew soaked, but never much cooler than around 10C. Overall, I really couldn’t complain about my good fortune despite the sweaty afternoons.

By this point I’d just accepted that my days would involve a long push. This one took me around 3 hours, with some short breaks to catch my breath, barely cycling anything. I was glad I’d bought shoes for hiking, rather than braving clipless cycling shoes.

As I’ve mentioned, hikers love early mornings for reasons I still don’t quite grasp. Even when it’s not that hot (mid-twenties isn’t going to kill anyone), many of them insist on waking up before dawn. They spend all afternoon twiddling their thumbs somewhere, which is the part of the day that the trails are completely empty. That’s the state I found Col de la Bonhomme in, with only the occasional hiker to keep me company. 

While I’d come to accept the long hikes up, I was still finding many of the descents extremely tedious. It was hard to know which would be rideable, and obviously that makes a massive difference in terms of timing. This one began – as they often do – with a glorious stretch of singletrack, before descending into a pile of rocks that required just as much upper body exertion to get down in one piece. A trail runner overtook me on the way down, but luckily the descents all eventually became something rideable and I soon caught up.

I arrived at the sanctioned wild camping spot near Refuge de la Balme, filthy, tired, and chuffed to have knocked out two big climbs in a day. The only thing this trip had really lacked was beautiful camp spots, but this was a more than adequate spot. I cooked dinner watching the light fade, casting the distant mountains in varying colours as the sun slipped away. I was so ready to stop dragging my bike up and over these mountains, but also quietly a little sad that there was just one climb left.

That one final climb was actually a pretty easy one, and I could have ridden the whole thing if I’d had lower gearing. At Col de la Voza – around 1,600m – you can even catch the funicular train onwards along the mountain. There’s also a network of MTB trails that take you down into the valley, so I skipped the dirt access road in favour of a blue run that was far more entertaining. It was nice to have singletrack descent that was actually entirely rideable. The first and last of the trip to wrap things up.

From there, it was an easy spin along the road back to Chamonix where I was relieved to find my backpack safe and sound at the campsite. I’d paid them about €4 a night to hang onto it for me.

It was only lunchtime and I considered staying for the night, but I was keen to make my arrival at Manigod the next day as early as possible, so that I could look fresh for my week with work colleagues. So I pushed on, riding down the valley before heading up towards Megeve.

Aside from an off-road short cut down into Servoz, it was an all-road affair and it felt strange to be sharing the road with so many cars after all that time on little tracks up in the mountains. Before long I was down at barely 500m and it was hot in the valley. A little push took me up to the Megeve where I stopped at a quaint and cheap little campsite, which I would simply describe as very French. The hikers were a thing of the past, and I was left with the grey-haired couples drinking wine outside their campervans. They do campsites very well in this country.

It was just one last push to Manigod for my final day. I was beyond excited for a bed after spending the last eight nights in the tent. It was just a 30km ride, but with around 1,000m of climbing. Punchy.

It was a real slog up to Col de Aravis, which seemed to go on forever. It was painful riding up on my heavy hardtail, getting overtaken by dozens of cyclists. It was Sunday, and the lycra locals were out in force. The landscape was similar, but the context was totally unfamiliar compared with everything else over the previous week. I didn’t even stop at the top. On any other occasion I would have exclaimed how beautiful the views were, but I didn’t even take a picture this time. I flew down the other side, past the Tour de France graffiti still covering the road with lines of encouragement for the leaders, and then began the last push of the trip up to Col de la Croix Fry. My backpack was full and heavy, and I was desperate to get it off.

That pass marked my conclusion, as I was staying up there for the next 5 days with work. I had just enough time to clean myself up, chuck my stinky clothes in the laundry and present myself as a functioning professional by the time my colleagues all arrived.

I felt very lucky to have had that full fortnight up in the Alps. The first half was an arduous cycling, and then a static week with work. But I still needed to get down to civilisation in the end. This was a far more satisfying ride, with a huge descent to Annecy. My friend Ali – who I rode the Dales Divide with – had moved out to Annecy for a few months – so I invited myself over and we spent the weekend exploring and swimming in the lake. I feel very smitten with Annecy – it’s an incredibly beautiful town with some amazing scenery within a stone’s throw.

I’m glad that my one two-wheeled adventure of 2023 was an almighty one, and I’m glad to have scratched an inch that was craving an tough MTB ride deep into high mountains. For years I’ve been wondering what a bikepacking trip along both the Tour de Mont Blanc and Tour des Combins would be like. Well, now I know.

And while I loved it, I learnt something important.

I know that I love bike touring over rough terrain in wild places. I’ve known that for a long time. Last summer, while hiking the GR20 in Corsica, I was reminded that I love multi-day trekking. It made me think that combining two things I love would be a match made in heaven, and that cycling two famous hiking routes would be amazing.

It was amazing. Absolutely. But it was also bloody tough. And there were many moments that I wished I was walking. The trails were so technical at times, there was so much pushing, and there were so many people. I think I’d like my next bike tour to actually be a bike tour. With gentle, rideable miles and without any back-breaking hikes.

And on that note, I’ll conclude with a few brief practical notes. The TMB & TDC are tough. I think I’ve made that clear in these two posts. I’ve done lots of other MTB trips that involve plenty of hike-a-bike, but these ones were particularly long. The Alps are pretty high, it turns out. The altitude definitely made a difference, even though it took me a while to finally accept that it might be affecting my breathing.

If you decide to take on these routes, I would really advise taking as little gear that you can possibly get away with. Perhaps, like I, you’re charmed by the idea of being self-sufficient and cooking your own food and camping to save on costs. But the weight makes such a big difference, that if you can afford it I would suggest that staying in accommodation is the way to go. You can easily do both routes with pre-booked accommodation and not have to carry very much at all. Bear in mind that the passes are still going to be tough, so plan daily distances that are realistic. I wasn’t riding more than 40-50 km a day.

Also consider that while many of the ups & downs are not rideable, plenty of the climbs are – but they’re just bloody steep. Much of it I walked because my gears were not low enough. Make sure you have super low gears, and if you can get lower, do it.

And if you’re only going to pick one of the two loops, I’d recommend TDC, because you’ll have much more time with the trails to yourself. If you have time to join them up like I did, then go for it – you’ll have quite the breathtaking adventure ahead of you.

You can find my full route in this komoot Collection 👌.