Chamonix to Zermatt

 A day by day serialisation of an epic trek in The Alps

The prelude, setting the scene.

Walking has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Not just walking to the shops, or walking to work. Not just walking as a means of getting about. No, walking for the sheer pleasure of it. Walking as a means of discovery, finding out about the landscape that surrounds us, about nature and the world we live in. Walking as a way of finding out how we react to that landscape and all that it contains, a way of understanding who we are and where we fit in.

I can still remember the first time I walked into a mountain landscape. Walking from the village of Coniston where I live, up to the Coppermines Valley. There is a point on that short walk where the steep climb stops and the ground levels out. It is the point where many millions of years ago a glacier must have paused for a while before continuing it’s slow, downward path, sculpting the valley as it went. At this point the bowl of the mountain valley opens out and swallows you up, into a world of rocks, cascades, waterfalls, crags and boulders. A world of excitement and adventure and at the same time a world of calm, solitude and beauty. As a five year old I could not have articulated what I saw, but I undoubtedly got the wow factor. I felt it then and I feel it now, everytime I walk over the brow of that hill, into the mountains, it gets a hold of me and I know that I am back in my rightful element. It is like passing through an invisible door, into my world, a world where I have always been at home, the comfort is immense and the awe and wonder of that place never leaves me.

Coppermine's Valley and Coniston Old Man

From that first experience I wanted to see more. I wanted to go back there time and time again, each time going a little further exploring a little more in what seemed an unending wilderness of untouched beauty. The thrill of having the freedom to roam, unhindered by roads, hedges and fences, in a wild mountain landscape. Crossing cold, clear streams of bright, fresh water. Watching for buzzards and ravens soaring above and foxes, hares and stoats on the ground. The warm sunshine and the constant sound of the skylark in summer. I couldn’t get enough of it, which must have been something of a pain for my long suffering Dad. Having worked hard all week and only having Sunday where he could maybe have some rest, I would be restless to get out as soon as the sun came up. I was still too young to venture into these places on my own and early on a Sunday morning, with the village seemingly still asleep, my Dad and I ventured into the hills, where he showed me all the significant places to look out for. The various mine shafts to look out for, where it was best to cross a stream, where the birds nest were and how to recognise signs of different animals. Slowly but most surely, my understanding and most importantly, my respect for the world around me grew, until I was deemed responsible enough to venture into these places on my own.

Now that I had been granted the freedom of the mountains I could walk all day and join together all the smaller walks and paths in the area. The whole picture came together and walking was not just something I did in my spare time, it was me, it was who I had become. 

Over the next few years I took every opportunity to be out on the fells, or if the weather prevented it I explored the woods on the lower slopes around the village. I was never really a solitary walker and always found friends who were willing to come along and share the adventure. Primary school offered new opportunities too with the head teacher being a keen walker he would often take a group of us out on a short walk after school, or a longer one on Saturdays. 

So somewhere in the years that followed, I moved from exploring my little patch of mountain ground that I was lucky enough to have on my doorstep, to wanting to walk through The Alps, from Chamonix to Zermatt. In some ways it seems like a giant leap, but really it is just an extension of the same feelings, the same inquisitiveness and the same love of mountains and the great outdoors that took me back to the copper mines valley time and time again, all those years ago....

Tomorrow:- The journey down to Chamonix and the French Alps.