…is not always better than from the bottom, allow me to explain… The clouds had been coming and going all day, each time I ventured a peek towards the vista, I knew existed, I was greeted with a variety of shifting clouds obscuring my views in fast moving patches between the blue skies. One moment I could see the entire chain of peaks above me, the next it had all gone blank. This time of year the light is very directional, a landscape photographer’s ideal, never rising too high. The drawback is limited hours of daylight. Midday came around and seeing a growing break in the clouds I decided to head out and make a go of it…so, gators, boots, long sleeve thermal, jacket, gilet, jumper, mountain trousers, backpack (full of photo gear) and off I went. Defying gravity and all those lift paying people as I marched defiantly out of the door and straight up hill (the ground floor flat sits on the edge of a ski piste…my route to the top!)

10 mins and only a few hundred vertical feet later, jacket off; jumper, hat and gloves in the bag, jacket back on. Ok, so I knew I’d warm up doing this up hill walking business but I warmed up a lot! So, de-kitted and somewhat cooler I continued on. And on, And on. Sometimes the snow was quite compact allowing me to crunch over it’s surface with ease, at other times I would step down onto a seemingly firm patch and sink up to my waist in white power. Walking up hil in soft snow is tough. Imagine walking on a sand dune, you really have to kick in with your toes to get a grip then with your weight all on one foot as you bring the other forwards you slide a few centimetres before catching the next step. After perhaps an hour of walking through the snow in this fashion it started to snow, not diddy little bits but the large white fluffy stuff, really magical. Not as easy to capture on camera as I first thought, as I discovered, but after a few moments of playing around I continued my upward slog. In a moment of brilliance I ducked beneath the snow laden boughs of pine trees lining the piste I was following and found the snow was considerably lighter. So, in the dimmed surroundings I crouched and pushed my way up the slope at a much improved rate. Sadly this didn’t get me that far and I was faced with an open climb for the last pull to the top…

At ~1800m and essentially ‘the top’* I turned round to find the clouds I had hoped to leave at the bottom had chased me and within moments my visibility was down to 10m or less. So much for getting to the top to admire the view.My plan was to get above them for some stunning views as the sun dipped below the horizon at the end of the day, then I’d head down with a torch…At the top is a sign showing which (of the few) ski pistes are open, it also displays the time and temperature, rotating between the two. I saw it change from -4C to -5C in the time it took to roll round once. When the fog rolls in and the temperature drops the best course of action is to get off the mountain…going down is also much easier than up. For the first few hundred meters it was like moonwalking, take a huge bound and land softly a few feet further down the slope. Push off hard enough and you travel a few metres…get into a rhythm, keep your balance, and you’re away! When the snow got too hard it was time for some improvised skiing ‘a-la-walking shoe’…skid on one foot and push with the other. Again, good balance required! In what seemed like no time – including time to stop and take a few shots of the encroaching mists – I arrived back at base…about ready for that hot drink!
So, what did we learn? The view at the top may not always turn out so great but its a satisfying feeling having got there.

*the top in this case is where a ski lift takes people, from about 1000m up to around 1800m. The top station rests on a flat area not far from the top of the particular bit of mountain we are on within the Mt Blanc range. So strictly speaking its not the top but near as damn-it.