Prepping to Solo Backpack the Tour du Mont Blanc

Have flight voucher, will thru-hike.

By Grace Smith

Published August 9, 2025

About a month or so ago, I wrote about how I wanted to use a flight voucher to go somewhere—anywhere—but had been informed it expired earlier than expected and that I could not break it up into multiple flights. I hadn't planned for nor budgeted for any time off (unfortunately, the timing is not great) but also relish, praise, adore, long for travel enough that I'm a travel writer for my day job. I'd planned to use it for flights I had to take already: a camp reunion, a school reunion, family gatherings.

I travel a lot, but mostly in other contexts. I've always worked multiple jobs for the purpose of paying myself in book-writing time, so any time off for personal travel has been for family time or weddings or school reunions or similar: purpose-driven and probably centered around others. Of course, I've gotten very lucky in getting to go to gorgeous vacation spots for work and experience some luxury there, especially in destinations or resorts I never would be able to afford by myself. So I figure it sort of balances out.

But usually, I'm working while traveling, even if I can significantly lighten my load. While I'd like to believe I'm financially responsible, my book ambitions have necessitated a paycheck-to-paycheck reality in terms of liquid funds; because of net-30 payment terms, I don't usually have much extra cash on hand, so I don't consciously spend a lot beyond what props up my business.

Even in Canada, I wrote from about 6 a.m. to 10 a.m. before a toddler could come in and make the existence of a laptop precarious, even though I could largely tell people not to expect responsive communication because I would be avoiding my screens as much as possible. Bona-fide vacation vacation is less common; I've worked in gorgeous places, but I've never really had the budget to travel and not work at the same time.

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I'm a travel writer for work—

Again I've been lucky thus far in getting to go to and review incredible places, and (hopefully) honor their gravitas and personalities within the context of my career. Without veering too far into resumé, I've fact-checked and updated for Travel + Leisure, done behind-the-scenes work and research for Robb Report and AFAR, and written for pubs including Food & Wine, Lonely Planet, and Well+Good. I'm particularly fond of boutique hotels and all they embody, so one of my favorite pieces to write is a hotel review from Hotels Above Par or The Quality Edit or similar. I actually have my dream job in this sense, no matter how tricky it is to stitch together. It is beautiful, and dizzying, and headache-inducing at times.

It's difficult to describe how press trips are not entirely a vacation (although equally meaningful and life-affirming), but thus far: I've spent my twenties on work trips to vacation destinations that are not themselves vacations.

So this is different! Because of this context: a full week, laptop off, sinking in somewhere just because I want to. Both times I've vacationed "properly" alone, it's been in the context of a flight voucher's urgent expiration forcing me to use it or lose it at a very specific time. Otherwise, I would likely come up with reasons why I don't deserve the time off at that moment, or why I should go and keep working during, or whatever it might be.

If the difference sounds subtle, forgive me. It’s that I’m trash at maintaining work/life boundaries so nearly always feel a semblance of guilt while traveling; it makes an enormous impact to have a trip in which I can set the hard “do not contact me” line that will actually let me feel the freedom to not touch anything. In fairness, book revision ups-and-downs affected this too, and this is my first big trip since being actually done with those too. Mentally huge.

This actually might be the first trip I've ever gone on in adulthood in which I'm not taking my laptop, and that will feel good.

Why this particular flight voucher exists

Frankly, I only have this flight voucher because the hurricanes so royally fucked up my travel plans for a work trip last year and I ended up forking over $1600 to get home afterwards. I'd already spent more than I wanted to then, and it seemed financially irresponsible to go anywhere now, on short notice, unplanned. But now I have a use-it-or-lose-it $1600 flight voucher that crept up on me. It's essentially pre-paid, but the timing is undoubtedly inconvenient. This one was in the context of a press trip, so it went through several layers before getting to me: a PR agency booking through a travel agency through an airline, which is why I didn't know the dates.

The flights are covered, sure, but what about lodging, daily costs, etc. or even the lost work or rent paid back home? Could I justify those?

Originally, I thought about:

going skiing in New Zealand (ultimately, flights ended up being too expensive even with the voucher)
wandering around Vietnam
exploring Alaska or Vancouver (a cheaper flight, so I decided to bench it for another time—this voucher should be used on a destination where the flight cost would normally keep me from going)

What I've decided to do with my voucher

Instead, I discovered estimates of backpacking the Tour du Mont Blanc in the Alps, which estimated that you could achieve the trail for under $1200.

That still tightens my belt more than is comfortable, but the ticking clock and my unique career situation make this a rare moment in which I just have to say hell yeah and go. The time between seeing the idea and booking my flights and lodging was approximately 24 hours, during which time the prices on short notice ticked urgently upwards.

The trouble with the voucher on this timing is that either way — using it or not using it — feels wasteful in some sense, either for a rare experience or funds, so I could really only use it if I got everything else aligned somewhat magically. Realistically, it’s just not the right year for a big vacation.

Thanks to the expiration date, I just barely miss being able to use the flight for my existing domestic plans. I'd been looking at other spots closer to me. The flight from Honolulu to (anywhere in) Europe is a long haul. But as soon as I saw those mountains and my mouth went dry and I pictured the reward of it—the sensory contrast, the earned beauty I love so much from hiking, the small luxuries that only this kind of immersion gives you—I knew this was my trip.

About the Tour du Mont Blanc

The Tour du Mont Blanc is a 106-mile hut-to-hut trail crossing Switzerland, Italy, and France around the Mont Blanc mountain range. Most people take 7 to 12 days to complete the thru-hike.

Timing is always another tricky justification for me in terms of time off; without fail, I never get contracted for anything strict or in-person except for the exact times I really want to be gone. The universe is a little bitchy towards my schedule in that sense.

So I won't have time to complete the full thru-hike, but I can justify hiking a good section of it now, and hopefully returning sometime in the future to complete the full circuit. That sounds perfectly glorious to me.

What Hiking the TMB Is Supposedly Like

Obviously, I can't speak to the experience without having completed it myself, but I can give the broad strokes of it as someone who's now devoured as I can about the Tour du Mont Blanc within the last three or so days. I got lucky in that two friends of mine have done it, one last minute, so their advice was also extremely helpful.

One of my all-time life goals is to thru-hike the Pacific Crest Trail, which snakes from the U.S.-Mexico border to Canada. Reading books like Awe and The Nature Fix and After the North Pole this year have especially intensified that hunger. So solo backpacking is very much within my sphere, but I don't get to venture out in that way nearly as often as I'd like.

Tour du Mont Blanc is an easy one to do in that sense—although there are dozens of coordinated group tours if you'd like—because it's hut-to-hut hiking or wild camping. There are dozens of rifugios (refuges, hostels, however you'd like to think of them) scattered along the loop. Most people plan the trip by stitching together the huts they'd like to stay at, or planning their campgrounds. (If you have a tent, you can also do it all on a whim, for the most part; there are some regulations around where you can set up, but it's all very doable.)

Since this is so last minute, I got lucky. People tend to book huts about a year, or at least a handful of months, ahead. They book up quickly, but timing it all super late might have benefitted me here because some last-minute cancellations might have freed up the single bed or two available that makes my trip possible. It might have been harder to find lodging a month or two ago.

I'm doing hut-to-hut this time—maybe wild camping next time—just because I don't have much camping gear with me at the moment. Plus, I don't need to go hardcore when getting outdoors to feel I've done it right; I'm happy to spend most of my day in the mountains and have a cot to crash on at the end of the night, sore and satisfied. A hot meal and maybe a book in a rocking chair at a rifugio sounds like heaven right now. A bonus too, of the rifugios: they nearly all have showers, which definitely isn't the norm when camping.

The trail itself passes through a ton of towns and huts, so amenities like grocery stores, fresh water, and coffeshops are easily accessible—so you don't need to pack in food or anything.

It sounds like you can make it as social or independent as you'd like, which is usually my favorite context when solo-traveling: to go by feel in falling in with a group or keeping to myself. Per my own travel taste, it looks like each hut or area has a specific flavor of personality that will keep the terrain distinctive and rewarding if I decide to linger or push forward at any given time.

For the love of travel!

Pursuing travel has plenty of rewards, but one of the biggest for me is how it’s chipped away at my perfectionism. You learn to roll with the punches, problem-solve on the fly, and go for experience over optimization. Relish whatever it is you’re doing, no matter how it shakes out—whereas in domestic routine, it’s harder to escape the pressure of getting everything exactly right.

People who know me professionally or creatively—where I am hopefully disciplined, high-powered, ambitious—are often surprised by how chill I am about traveling when I’m in charge. Very much a wanderer, in most senses, versus needing a strict itinerary. Plus, I’ve become a much happier traveler since I started expecting surprise as a given, instead of assuming I can map out a trip’s exact feel or pitfalls ahead of time (which is also why I say I think traveling helps to humble you.)

It’s a domain where I’m happy to wait and see what a trip will give me—good or bad. Sure, I can plan it to death if I want to, or encounter some unpleasant stress, but I’m mostly just grateful to be elsewhere and to have the chance to prove to myself that I’m capable or resilient. And usually what I love most are details I couldn't have anticipated bubbling up through the cracks, whether those are the indulgences or the challenges. No better rush.

Obviously, I won't give y'all details—but here's the plan:

On [unspecified day this month], I'm flying into Geneva, Switzerland and taking the train to a spot where I'll start the trail the next morning. I've split my own hike into four or five sections, and my timing really only messed up the stretch between La Fouly and Courmayeur. (I'll talk specifics after I return, but people—especially solo female travelers—can be careless when giving travel info on the Internet.) That was the stretch I prioritized in terms of views, experience, and hut stays, so I'm most excited for those days.

Similarly, most people hike the trail counter-clockwise so the views are always in front of you, and some do it clockwise depending on scheduling and hut availability; I'll tell y'all which one worked out after I'm back.

All in all, I can justify about a week total, with 4-5 of those actually on the trail. If I could make it all the way on the trail to Chamonix or Les Houches (the traditional starting point), I'd be able to spend more trail time and less train/bus time, but unfortunately the timing and my preferred stretch necessitates a day on either side to get properly set up.

Relatedly, I could do a lot more of the trail—and maybe even finish it— if wild-camping because I'd have full control of my daily rhythm of stopping and starting on the trail; if you're staying in a hut, you generally have to arrive by 6 p.m. (dinnertime) or else they'll give your bed away. So, no headlight hiking pour moi.

A perk: most huts are half-board, meaning they include dinner and breakfast. If you have a marathon day on either end, you might miss a meal. (Ex: I have one night in which I know I'll miss dinner because I plan on checking in then going to catch a sunset at a different refuge, so I have to add an additional meal cost to my planning.) You're really only responsible for your lunch—and can often request a packed lunch at extra cost—and that's both easy and cheap to snag along the route. But, that's why they're strict on timing.

Like I said: I think so much of this trip and the huts will feel luxurious in contrast, so those moments will definitely be where I feel vacation-esque:

a cold beer or a hot tea at the end of a long day
the sigh of relief of slipping into lounge clothes and camp shoes after hours in hiking boots
the way you only crash when you are deeply sore after a full meal
the first glimpse of certain peaks over a striking valley (the elevation is no joke)
being a little slap-happy tired with anyone I happen to meet
wildflowers, tall grasses, the sounds of water
a refreshing dip in the lake in sweaty hiking clothes that dry out in the sun later

Notes on Packing

I'm not going ultralight—I like my comfort here—but I also don't need a ton to be happy and luxurious. My pack weight should be okay for the stretch I'm able to do.

I don't have a backpacking backpack with me in Hawai'i, just a travel one, so I figure for this length of trip, I'll be fine just shoving everything into my Cotopaxi 35L and calling it a day, even if it hurts my shoulders more or doesn't distribute the weight optimally. Another reason to keep it light is that I get massive, massive bruises on my hips whenever I backpack, even with a good ol' iron supplement. I bruise so easily. Even whenever I go surfing—just stretches of black and blue.

When finished with my trip, I'll report back on what I would change: bring more or less of, what I could have left behind, how everything held up, what felt worth it, etc. I had maybe 90% of this on-hand already, but did place a last-minute order at a supplier that should arrive...on the day I'm meant to leave.

So fingers crossed for the timing there.

All-in-all, I should land around 15 to 18 pounds. My heaviest item will be my Freewrite Traveler (which, yeah, is indulgent—but that's my one) and my lightest is likely a pair of wired headphones. Will share a packing list!