One Step at a Time

It’s the morning after Lausanne-Haute Cime-Lausanne and I have far from recovered — my legs are heavy and aching and my heart is still trying to catch up from the previous day’s effort. I’m intensely happy to have had such a beautiful day with friends and yet still asking myself again how I agreed to this when I remember a message from Tim that interrupts my thoughts. 

Tim and I had previously agreed to form a support team for Camille on a section of her upcoming 78km trail race, but had yet to solidify the details of our plan. 

I have a proposition, Tim’s message read. The itinerary I’m putting together… let’s just say it checks the box “ambitious.” That much is sure.

Intrigued, I open his planning document. Each step individually looks doable, fun even. A bike ride to Verbier, a hike to a beautiful bivouac spot, trail run to join Camille, the race segment, and the journey back home. I try not to think too much about how each step might add up. I’m reminded of my last “ambitious” bike-trail-bike adventure just hours before and wince sympathetically at my aching legs. One step at a time, I think to myself. And we start to work out the details.

Two weeks later, I’m riding my rusty but trusty aluminum bike into Lausanne — carrying 3 meals, a sleeping bag, mattress, and two-days of clothes on my back. I spot Tim in the distance, propping up his touring bike with two cargo bags filled to the brim. 

Slowly, we make our way toward Verbier, watching the lac léman disappear behind us. We discover the small asphalt cycling paths that follow the Rhone river, weaving between farms, through little patches of forest and town. The bike ride is rolling and pleasant for the first 75km. We cover some 400m of climbing almost without noticing. After a brief break for lunch in St. Maurice, we reach Martigny and prepare for the start of the true climb. The kilometers shrink faster than the elevation and soon we have only 6km and nearly half of the climb left. I’m dripping with sweat and Tim’s trying to capture the drops accumulating on my nose and chin as we tackle the last few turns. We make small turns along the road to ease the 10-15% grade and frequent stops for snacks and water until finally, we reach the trail head.

The trailhead is in a clearing with a big wooden house, and the owners of the house are sitting outside enjoying the evening sun. Tim makes quick friends with the local Valais folks and they soon agree to let us lock our bikes to their trampoline at the back of the house. After a quick transition: helmets off, trail shoes on, cycling packs emptied and backpacks filled, we’re ready to go for step 2. Relieved to be off the bikes and stretch our legs a little, we start our ascent to the bivouac. 

What had looked on the plan to be a small hike up to our campsite was still a 1100m D+ trek, and with already 100km and 1500 D+ under the legs, we’re still in high spirits but tiring quickly. After a steep climb with increasingly rumbling stomachs (Tim starting to dream about food), we reach a clearing with a refuge perched on top and this tantalizing smell reaches us. There’s a family outside sharing a fondue and the smell of melting cheese is irresistible. Per Tim’s suggestion we order a “croute” to share, bread layered with oozing cheese. It’s the first time I try one and it’s magnificent. 

Rejuvenated and slightly less hungry, we make our way to the bivouac site, nestled between streams and scattered rocks with a view of the not-so-small “Petit” Combin. The only sounds come from echoing rockfall on the Petit Combin, an almost continual stream of little clatters that reaches us even a few kilometers away. 

We mount the tent and Tim prepares his inflatable mattress in 30 seconds. He smirks and I eye him enviously as I blow my own mattress manually, still huffing 5 minutes later till it’s finally ready. After some delicious camping burritos for dinner (recipe coming soon ;)), we call it a night just as the first racers of the 140km trail race start their journey.

We wake up the next morning, enjoy some rehydrated oats and muesli, and under the peaceful morning sun, grimace sympathetically as we think of the 140km racers now 9 hours into their race and the 78km and 42km racers just starting the first climb of the day.

We pack up the tent and change out our big packs for trail bags, leaving them hidden under a rock with a little message to any passerby who may see them: “Expedition in progress. Bags will be retrieved tonight 12.7 GPS tracker inside” Tim and I crossed our fingers his custom-made sign would be enough to deter onlookers. 

To reach the 78km race course, we planned to summit a nearby peak, the Mont Rogneux at 3084m. We were only 600m beneath the summit, so we figured it would be a relaxed morning. Soon after we started up, we saw the first 42km racer head down the same path. Indeed, the 42km race passed along the same alpine trail. Excited to see our first racers for the day, we made a hand bridge on either side of them and, at first, gave a dramatic wwwooooaaaeeeiiiii !!! to every racer who passed. Early in the race, we were surprised to see a friend Mathieu bound down the mountain, just as surprised to see us, jumping and nearly tripping as we exchanged exclamations. As we kept running up, the space between racers became denser and denser until we were almost at a standstill cheering them on. Finally, after some 150 racers we gave up on doing the hand bridge for each and settled on a “Bravo!” “Magnifique” and the occasional “Allez” + Name. We scrambled over technical, rocky terrain as we tried to stay out of the path of the racers, sometimes squeezing between boulders or over rocky ledges. At one point, Tim noticed the racers taking a wrong turn at an ambiguous fork in the path and redirected them in the right direction. “A droite ! A droite !” Eventually, I intercepted another friend and re-ascended the rocky slopes with her briefly, joining the flow of the race and hopping in and out of line to take pictures and offer encouragement. 

The “short trail run” to intersect Camille turned into a 3 hour expedition by the time I joined Tim at the Cabane de Mille where we’d await Camille. Nevertheless, happy and energized by the race, we agreed supporting the 42km runners and navigating the technical terrain was truly exhilarating and a perfect start to the day.

After a brief lunch, delicious tarts, and an intense two games of Skyjo with Tim (we tied 1-1 and will one day settle the true champion in this intense rivalry), we started to prepare to meet Camille. The race tracker predicted she would arrive at 15h40, so at 15h we were just collecting our packs and starting to shake out the legs when Tim got a call. She was already here!! With the support of friends, she’d tackled the previous climb quickly and arrived almost 40 minutes before the predicted time. Scrambling to get our things together, we filled our gourds and started down with Camille. She was flying down, passing runners left and right and with our vests still on and trail bags half buckled, Tim and I stopped briefly to de-layer and had an intense sprint to catch back up to her. 

We rounded the corner and started a long climb up to the next rest station. We exchanged stories on everything and nothing (including an extended conversation on haribo gummies), took silly pictures, marveled at the beautiful scenery, and tried to keep high spirits even as the climb continued relentlessly. One step after another. Said Tim. Just one step after another. Finally, we made it to a col and saw the glacier up to the grand combine and a magnificent 200m suspension bridge appear in front of us. After a brief descent, we made our way to the bridge with a fellow racer, Lucas, just behind us. I’m terrified of suspension bridges. He admitted. Don’t worry, that’s why we’re doing it together, we’ll be here for you. Said Camille. And Tim coached him through the whole thing. Just stare at Camille’s back, don’t look anywhere else. We made it across and Lucas thanked us each with evident relief. Finally, after a last rest stop, we parted ways with Camille and wished her the best for her descent and last climb, the notoriously steep “wall.”

We made our way quickly to our backpacks, which were thankfully still untouched under the rock where we’d left them and made a quick descent back to our bikes, hoping to arrive before dark. As the night fell, we started to see dotted jumping lights in the distance where the 78km runners were making their way down. Their paths briefly intersected with our bike route down and we shared our last encouragements “Allez bravo!!” As we cycled down. Across the valley, we could see a line of lights ascending nearly vertically up the peak, the infamous wall. Tim and I exchanged worried glances and thanked ourselves for not having chosen to join the race ourselves. 

After over a marathon of trail running and hiking, the descent by bike was a relief, though Tim still needed to pedal to maintain momentum with his cycling bags catching all the wind. We finally arrived in Martigny, just in time to see Camille had finished the race! Happy and satisfied, we prepared a quick but delicious rehydrated meal in the train station, I introduced “trail mix” to Tim for dessert, and we made the long journey back to Lausanne. 

One small step after another, our weekend adventure had come to an end. It’s amazing to see how each step can accumulate and just how far one step and the next can bring you.

For Camille: 

In 15 hours and 13 minutes, 78km with 5400m D+/-, the longest trail race of her life. An absolutely remarkable feat.

For Tim and I: In 38 hours and 15 minutes

• 130km of cycling with packs with 1700m D+, 1000m D-
• 12km with 1100m D+/- hiking with packs
• 30km with 2400m D+/- trail running
• 200+ cheers, whoops, arm bridges, bravos, and encouragements
• countless unforgettable moments

Can’t wait to keep experiencing it all together, one step at a time.