May 26 2026
Inviting Adventure: Early Season, Three Countries, Father and Son.
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An unforgettable mountain bike trip in the Alps with Big Mountain Bike Adventures’ owner Chris Winter and his son Ethan.
Too Much Snow in the Alpine?
A mid-April storm had blanketed the Western Alps in an unseasonably deep layer of snow. It wasn’t ideal timing. In less than four weeks, we were set to attempt an early-season, unsupported e-mountain bike circumnavigation of the Mont Blanc Massif—a rugged 200-plus kilometer loop weaving through France, Italy, and Switzerland.
Uncertainty crept in early. I called my friend Jean-Marc at Hôtel La Vallée in Lourtier, Switzerland, just outside Verbier, to get a sense of conditions. He mentioned a friend of his who’d recently hiked above Orsières in the Val Ferret and shared photos on Facebook: snow lingering heavily above 1600 meters. Not encouraging.
We didn’t know how long the snow crossings would be, or whether the surface would hold—or if we’d sink to our knees step by step. It was a gamble. Still, we boarded the plane for Europe.
A few days later, on a warm-up ride in Verbier, we scanned Mont Rogneux across the valley with binoculars. Even from a distance, it was clear: there was a lot of snow. Locals in the Val de Bagnes, including Jean-Marc, advised against attempting the Tour du Mont Blanc this early. Three major passes stood in our way—Col Ferret (2557 m), Col de la Seigne (2516 m), and Col de Gittaz (2276 m)—all well above the snow line.
We started to reconsider.
The Decision is Made.
Then Ethan—11 years old—made the call. “We came all this way. Let’s go for it.”
So we did.
Our strategy was simple: take it one day at a time. If conditions proved to make progress not possible, we’d adapt. Turn around if needed. No ego, just movement.
We rolled out of Le Châble into a relentless 1500-meter climb that disappeared into the clouds and drained our batteries early. The descent on the other side was technical, wild, and completely empty—just us, the trail, and the mountains. I rolled into the Swiss hamlet of La Fouly on 3% battery power. A fitting introduction to what lay ahead.
Day two brought the first real test: the climb to Col Ferret and the Swiss-Italian border. Just above La Fouly, we stepped onto snow for the first time, bracing to sink. Instead, it held—firm enough to support us, soft enough to grip. A small win.
Progress was slow. I carried Ethan’s pack at times. We pushed the bikes in walk mode when we could, though steep sections meant leapfrogging: move one bike forward, go back for the other. Snow packed into drivetrains, wedged into forks, clung stubbornly to tires.
Saying Yes to Adventure.
We hunted for dry patches, riding wherever possible and pushing the rest. It became clear that long snow crossings weren’t just exhausting—they were risky. Lose the trail, lose visibility, and the margin for error shrinks quickly.
The days blurred into a rhythm of contrasts: sunlit valleys bursting with wildflowers, followed by long traverses across snowfields that stretched for kilometers. We were lucky with the weather, at least for now. Moments of perfect singletrack would give way, inevitably, to dismounts and pushing. Our feet got wet. Drivetrains were tested. Our gear took a beating. So did we—physically and mentally.
Each high pass was a question: Can we make it?
Would the snow hold, or collapse beneath us?
We kept our heads down and moved forward. One day at a time.
Somewhere in France’s Savoie region, Ethan found an old ski pole and refused to leave it behind. It stuck out of his pack like an antenna—an accidental symbol of the trip. In truth, we could just as easily have been ski touring.
On the final morning, we woke to cold rain and temperatures hovering around 5°C. Rolling out of Chamonix, layered in rain gear, the mood felt heavy. Within a few kilometers, we reached a river crossing—swollen, fast, and clearly unsafe. We rerouted.
Not long after, we found ourselves in the cosy and busy l’Al’pain bakery in Argentière—warm at last, dad’s hands wrapped around coffee, working through pain au chocolat. A pause. A reset. Not the ending we’d imagined, but one that felt earned. We had friends who were planning to meet us at the Col de Forclaz on the Swiss side and ride the final descent together to Martigny. We called them and asked if they’d pick us up in Argentiere and bump us up to the Swiss border. They obliged, thankfully.
Because this wasn’t just about finishing the loop.
It was about saying yes when it would’ve been easier to say no. About problem-solving in real time. About sharing uncertainty, challenge, and small victories—together. Three countries. Countless obstacles. One unforgettable ride with father and son. We’ll be back to finish this one properly.
To the mountain bike dads out there — a very Happy Father’s Day. Here’s to memorable riding adventures with your kids!
