Since entering my thirties my passion for the great outdoors has expanded from occasional camping trips to four season scrambling along Crib Goch and Bristly Ridge. My friend Roger Williams has an almost exactly equal passion.  During a stint at our local indoor climbing wall and in a moment of madness, he agreed to join me in upping the stakes, to attempt Mont Blanc. 

Roger was 55 and had trekked in the Atlas mountains. I was 38 with my highest peak being a summer walk to the top of  Ben Nevis although I had spent a weekend at a Welsh winter skills course plodding in muddy crampons hoping that none of the locals would see us ( November had proved too early for snow in Llanberis !) Neither of us had much idea what to expect but I didn't fancy a Kilimanjaro trek albeit a higher summit; the technical aspect of ice, foul weather and the French were altogether more appealing challenges.

Part I - Getting Ready

After reading the various tour operators itineries we plumped for McNab Mountain Sports 'Mont Blanc Ascent' which seemed a suitably titled course. A brief conversation with them on the phone outlining our extensive experience (ho-hum) and parting with a little over two and a half  thousand pounds for the privilege of guides and lodgings, Roger and I were signed up. Now all we had to do was get fit. If all went well I would stand on the summit on my 39th birthday.

For the next three months we spent every second weekend in Wales walking ever increasing distances and height gains in short and shorter times. Every other day I spent and hour in my garage on the bike, stepper and rowing machines. Roger even joined a gym. Once a week we climbed indoors to help prepare for the scrambly bits. Four weeks before we were due to fly out disaster struck . . . I was at the ice rink with my two girls and, showing off as only dads know how, I split my difference and landed hard on my left knee on the ice. The pain was excruciating and a week later when it still seemed to be getting worse, I limped into hospital to get bandaged and four dozen hardcore painkillers and was told to rest it for two weeks. The doctor said " I know you won't do it but I have to tell you to rest it all the same." She was right, I continued to train but did leave it a week first but basically didn't manage to gain much fitness in that last month.

I decided to read everything I could about the routes using the Internet, BMC route notes, magazine articles but Joe Simpson’s gruesome if amusing accounts of his exploits on the mountain in This Game of Ghosts threatened to sap my confidence, so I stopped reading.

Equipment was an issue. Having spent a fortune on all the gear one could possibly need for British winter walking I was faced with getting lighter-weight and lower-temperature equipment for the Alps. As a glasses wearer the high altitude ultra-violet needed to be blocked too. Cool looking glacier graded sunglasses don't come with prescription lenses and I didn't much fancy loosing a contact lens half way up a cliff face. Italian company Nannini made a multifunction ski goggle that fitted the bill perfectly and included a prescription insert. A further £600 budget bought a new pair of Salomon B3 boots, Grivel G12 crampons, North Face wind proof fleece and hat and a pair of Lowe Alpine pants. These shiny new objects were combined with my existing Berghaus rucksack, Sprayway XCR Goretex jacket, leather gloves (for scrambling), ski gloves and overmittens (for cold high altitude) , alpine harness with belay device, three carabiners and a couple of Prussik loops, a white (to reflect the heat)  Petzl climbing helmet,  balaclava,  headscarf,  shorts, icebreaker merino wool underwear, sunblock, ice axe, 1L water bottle, compass and my favourite gadget - a swiss army knife with built in altimeter.

During training and breaking-in the Salomon boots, heel blisters plagued me. It became apparent that heel lift is a constant irritation in fully stiffened soles. Two layers of good socks and sticking silver duck tape directly to the affected areas solved the problem by allowing the heel to slip without painful friction on my skin.

So all prepared we headed off for Heathrow to catch the early morning British Airways flight to Geneva

to be continued...