The Road to the Alps

The 'Alps-mobile' started as a simple idea to have freedom and flexibility during the climbing season. It's almost a cliché: 'hiker-turned-mountaineer buys and converts a van.' However, it's genuinely helpful to have a mobile home when chasing summits.

When it came to building my van, I found my biggest challenge was balancing comfort with practicality within a small space. Every decision, from insulation to storage, had to be tested against real mountain conditions in the Lake District, Scotland, Wales, and even a shorter Alps trip (June 2025).

Prior to the month I spent out there in August, I learned a lot about what worked and what didn't to ensure my trip would be as efficient as possible. Living out of it made everything more immersive. I could finish a climb, cook a meal, and look straight at the next peak, chase weather windows, and plan the following route with zero time wasted travelling or checking into hotels.

It stripped life down to the essentials: train, eat, recover, climb, repeat.

The 4,000m Warm-Up

Leading up to Mont Blanc, I climbed Breithorn, Mount Toubkal, Grand Paradiso, Weissmies, Pollux, Allalinhorn, and finally Grand Paradiso again. Each of those peaks taught me something different, but the biggest lesson was humility. The mountains don’t care how fit you are; conditions, timing, and decision-making matter more than ego.

Pollux was probably the toughest technically; the rock scrambling and exposed ridge really demanded focus. But Grand Paradiso was the best teacher in patience and pacing. It’s deceptively long; you spend a night in a refugio, and there are some extremely exposed sections. That mindset carried over directly to Mont Blanc.

The Power of Preparation

Beyond gear and fitness, the most important preparation was mental rehearsal. I visualised every stage of the climb, from the Goûter Hut to crossing the Grand Couloir, so that when it happened, nothing felt new or overwhelming. I achieved this by studying GPX routes and watching detailed YouTube videos. That mental preparation built calmness and clarity, especially when fatigue and altitude kicked in. It’s that calm that keeps you moving upward when your body starts questioning everything.

The Push for the Summit

The Goûter Hut feels like it sits right on the edge of the world at 3,800m. It’s less a hotel and more a survival outpost with a view, and in fact, I believe it’s the highest place you can buy wine in Europe.

The air inside was a strange mix of damp boots, metal, and wood, that unmistakable scent of people who’ve come a long way to suffer just a bit more. The hardest part about resting wasn’t the altitude or the noise, although both do make it tough, it was the anticipation. We didn't arrive until 8:57 pm (it shuts at 9 pm). After sorting everything out for the morning and trying to drink and eat as many calories as we could, we finally got into our bunk. Our hearts were still full of adrenaline from the day of climbing, knowing that in a few hours we would be stepping out into the cold, into the dark, to climb through the unknown.

Your body wants to sleep, but your mind is already praying and thinking of the summit. Sleep was tough, but I tried to stay composed and relaxed and eventually managed to drift off and get around 2.5 hours of sleep.

The Infamous Grand Couloir Crossing

The Grand Couloir was one of those moments which we were all worried about: it's notoriously dangerous due to almost constant rock fall. You hear the trickle of small rocks first as a warning sign and then a sudden crack as a bigger one tumbles.

It’s like thunder. Unfortunately, due to logistics, we were also crossing at the worst time of the day. At mid to late afternoon, the mountain is the warmest and the permafrost melts, causing the rock fall. My team and I moved quickly but deliberately, heads down, eyes locked on the other side. Fear was there, of course, sitting right beside focus. But you learn to compress it into awareness. You can’t fight the fear; you just carry it carefully across with you. We crossed one by one and eventually all made it to the other side safely.

The Summit

After five long hours from the Goûter Hut, the summit came into view and the final few steps felt endless, like moving in slow motion. I have never moved so slowly in my life. When I reached the summit, the first thing I saw was the curve of the earth. Chamonix looked like a tiny model village nestled in the valleys, and I recalled all the moments where I sat and looked up at the monster I now stood on top of. The Queen of the Alps, Mont Blanc.

The air was thin and sharp; I believe it was around -10°C, but it didn’t feel cold. The right gear and adrenaline keep you warm. What hit me wasn’t just euphoria; it was relief, disbelief, gratitude all tangled together. There's still worry that we are only halfway there, most accidents happen on the descent, so it was time to lock in and get home (back to the vans) safely.

Teamwork in Action

On the descent, one of our team members started cramping just above the Goûter Hut. It could've gone badly with steep ice, exhaustion setting in but the reaction was pretty relaxed and instant. One person anchored, another unweighted the rope, and we redistributed packs and had a few minutes' rest. No shouting, no panic, just quiet competence. It was one of those moments that remind you: solo strength gets you up, but teamwork gets you back down safely, and mountaineering is without a doubt a team sport. You are roped up for most of the climb; therefore, you pace as one and you move as one.

The Clarity of the Summit

Nowadays, there feels like there is more noise than ever. One thing I have learned about mountaineering is that it provides me with unmatched solitude and a feeling of achievement. Mont Blanc wasn’t just about climbing, it was about stripping life back to what's real.

For me, that means chasing something that strips life back to its essentials: purpose, focus, and presence. Climbing just happens to be the medium that gives me that clarity. It’s not about collecting summits; it’s about living in a way where every decision matters, every step has consequence, and you come away knowing yourself a little better.

Lessons for the Next Peak

From the 4,000m season in the Alps, the biggest lesson I've learned was to respect fuel, hydration, and recovery as much as possible. Most summit pushes leave with only a couple of hours' sleep. This is when your preparation gets put to its test. The Alps taught me that strength is built in the balance between pushing and pausing. I used to see rest as a gap in progress; now I see it as part of the process.

That mindset will be crucial for the Khumbu 3 Peaks, where endurance will last over four weeks, not days or hours. My preparation from now to then will make all the difference.

Joe's Advice

If you’re inspired but don’t know where to start, start small, but start now. The “impossible” things don’t begin as grand gestures or cool summit photos; they grow from tiny, consistent actions repeated over time.

Pick something that scares you just enough to make you pay attention, and commit to it. The path won’t feel heroic most days, it'll feel ordinary, but one day you’ll look back and realise that’s exactly how extraordinary things are built in a boring environment with no one watching...