My wife and I travel a lot--I was hiking in the Alps (S.Hrg.108-234)

I found it funny that on our trip to France, where TJ would run 40 miles using the power of his own feet, we had to take four different forms of motorized transport to get there. Because our flight left early in the morning, we couldn't use the Tube, which opens at 5 a.m., to get to the airport. So we took a bus to a train station, from which we rode to the terminal where we would board our plane to Geneva; upon arriving in Switzerland, we hopped on a minibus to get to downtown Chamonix, which lies at the base of Mont Blanc (left). The Arve River runs through the town (right), which attracts outdoorsy types of all kinds: climbers, skiers, and paragliders, to name a few.

We knew we had some walking ahead of us to get to our hostel, but we certainly didn't expect to be wandering around as much as we did. Based on the address from our booking, we headed toward the adjacent town of Les Praz (left). We wandered around the streets close to the town's central chapel based on the directions from our booking. But nothing got us to the right place, so a kind stranger looked up our place on her phone. Luckily, we were only a short walk away from the destination shown on her screen. However, we were too early for our prearranged check-in meeting, so we stopped for some beers at Hotel Eden, which had a good backdrop of Mont Blanc -- by eye and by telescope (right).

When the check-in time arrived, no one was to be found at our place -- or what we thought was our place. We decided to wait another hour and try again, in case there was some confusion about the time difference. Still no one was around, so we started hunting for help at nearby properties. We stumbled upon an unlocked room, which we thought might be ours, so we started charging our own phones in an attempt to contact the number listed on our booking. That cell number didn't work (because the owner was running in a 75-mile race at the time, as we later found out). As we continued to try to track down someone, the people staying in the room next door got spooked and called the owners of their place. 

The owners responded with shock yet sympathy when they found us trespassing on their property. Luckily, they knew the purveyors of our actual hostel, and we finally managed to make contact. We were so far off track that our host picked us up to drive us to Runner's Refuge. As it turns out, there are two properties named Runner's Refuge on two different streets of the same name. Despite all the runaround -- well, walkaround -- I preferred ours: a classic chalet rented out as a whole house during the winter skiing season but broken up hostel-style for the summer running season (left). Our room had a great view of the surrounding mountains and hot tub, which we unfortunately didn't have time to use (right).

 

We had to scramble off to find some supper for TJ, so he could get to bed at a reasonable time in order to get adequate rest before catching a 5 a.m. bus to his Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc race. Because of the series of five runs happening over the long weekend, every place was packed with race participants and fans, but we managed to get two pies from Pizzeria des Moulins before it started turning away customers because the chef suffered a severe burn (left). TJ didn't get as much sleep as he should have, but somehow he managed to get everything ready in time for the OCC (right).

The O in the race name stands for Orsieres, the sleepy little Swiss town where the race started. Everything in the town seem slow-paced, even the river bisecting the center right next to the main square (top left) and the woman cheering on the racers from her balcony (top right). But it definitely woke up and sped up when the runners streamed out of town along its narrow streets (bottom left). I was absolutely astounded that among the throngs I was able to spy TJ heading out (bottom right).

The first C in the race name stands for Champex, a Swiss ski resort. There was a rest stop in the town, but it was only 5 miles from the start, so even if I had rented a car, I would've been hard-pressed to beat TJ there, considering the winding uphill roads. Instead, I opted to follow TJ by way of the fan bus, whose first stop was in Trient. While I waited on the walls atop the hill of the Swiss town (top left), with a pretty pretty princess pink chapel behind me (top right), I took in views of the entire Trient Valley (bottom).

 

The town was at the 14-mile mark, so I had time to enjoy some apple cake and coffee as I watched the leaderboard from the concessions tent (left). I didn't linger there long, though, because I was worried I would miss TJ pass. As soon as the leaders came through, I settled into a good vantage point, where I could see him climb the stairs up to the rest stop (right).

Seven miles later, in another country, I found a perfect picnic table where I could eat my sausage and frites (top left) while keeping an eye on the precarious path down into Vallorcine, France (top right). It felt very strange not to have anything else to do but watch the runners come by. Usually, I crew TJ by trading out supplies along the way, but this race didn't allow any outside assistance besides that provided by the event, so all I could do was watch as he re-laced his shoes (bottom). I was even a little scared that giving him a good-luck kiss as he headed out for the final stretch would get him disqualified.

The final stretch was the longest. Not only were there 19 miles left, but TJ had to climb to La Flegere before descending to the finish line, which we had checked out the previous day (top). I could've tried to take a cable car to meet him at the top of his last ascent, but it was likely that the lift would stop running before I had a chance to get back down -- and I wasn't geared up for a steep downhill run. But I did, literally, run back to our hostel to pick up a bag of goodies with which to greet TJ at the end in Chamonix, the final C of the race (bottom left). After a few post-race snacks, I snapped a shot of TJ posing as a mountain guide at the Maison de la Montagne (bottom right). After all, he had conquered quite a few mountains that day.

To toast TJ's achievement, we headed to Micro Brasserie de Chamonix, so we could try some more of the microbrewery's offerings. After drinking the Blanche des Guides at the Hotel Eden the previous day, I decided it one of the best wheat beers I had ever had. The Biere du Inois amber ale at the hotel as well as the Plato Belgian blonde and Magnum IPA at the restaurant were equally delicious. We over-ordered two burgers, one beef and one lamb, along with a big bowl of poutine on the side, so we had to save half of the sandwiches (along with some leftover slices from our pizzeria meal) for the next day (left). To toast my encouragement, TJ graciously gave me the medallion from Chocolatier 4810, which the hostel gave us to make up for our trials and tribulations of finding the place. Oh, did I mention they didn't charge us for one night's stay? So really, I'd say we won this vacation all around -- and it was only half over.