The Mont-Blanc 90km: a thousand runners in the Chamonix night
This morning at 4:45 a.m., in the exceptionally mild darkness of the Place du Triangle de l'Amitié, a thousand runners left Chamonix. Ahead of them: 88 kilometers, 6,200 meters of elevation gain, a round trip through France, Switzerland, and Italy over the most exposed ridges of the massif. Behind them: nothing but the decision to come here and believe in it.
The Mont-Blanc 90km is one of the most demanding trail races in France. It is no coincidence that it starts in the middle of the night. And it is also no coincidence that its history dates back to a running magazine published in Valais.
Spiridon, trail running before the term existed
In July 1972, the third issue of the magazine Spiridon was published. Its founder, Noël Tamini, invited all runners—not just champions—to meet in the mountains during the summer and reclaim their natural environment. "Trail running, which wasn't even called that yet, was really his thing," Jean-Philippe Lefief would later write in La Folle Histoire du trail. Tamini understood before anyone else that running in the mountains wasn't just another discipline—it was a way of being.
Three years later, in 1975, the "Spiridoniens" launched the CIME (International Mountain Cup). The goal was not to produce champions, but to "multiply the opportunities to meet in a natural, healthy, and warm atmosphere." Soon, there were nearly eighty events across France, Switzerland, Italy, Great Britain, Belgium, Austria, and Czechoslovakia. The prizes awarded each year in Chamonix: New Balance Tarahumaras, the "first real all-terrain shoes," which, incidentally, were the first ones imported by Spiridon. It was difficult to find a good pair of shoes back then; the selection was so poor. It seems crazy today.
1978: the first non-stop tour of Mont-Blanc
Jacky Duc and Christian Roussel, two members of the Chamonix Alpine Club, wanted to see if it was possible: to go around the massif without stopping. Every summer, thousands of hikers spend eight days covering the long-distance trail. They would do it in one go, completely self-supported. It would take them 24 hours and 45 minutes to conquer the 160 kilometers and 5,600 meters of elevation gain. No one had tried it before them.
The following year, Christian Roussel co-founded the Chamonix Mont-Blanc Marathon, the first club in France entirely dedicated to off-road racing. It was this club that gave birth in July 1979 to the Cross du Mont-Blanc—the direct ancestor of the 90km race you are watching this morning.
September 8, 1979, 5:00 p.m.: two Spiridon singlets in the Alps
That same summer of 1979, Jacques Berlie—a native of Valais, friend of Tamini, and a pillar of the CIME—decided in turn to run around Mont-Blanc. He and Christian Roussel set off together. Before leaving, they stopped at a pharmacy to weigh themselves. Jacques: 73 kilos, wearing a Spiridon singlet, a small mustache, and brown curls. Christian: 56 kilos, in a skin-tight shirt stamped with the same logo. The magazine was on both their backs. Literally.
They passed through Les Houches and climbed toward the Col de Voza. By the Col du Bonhomme, night had fallen. At the summit of the Croix du Bonhomme: total darkness, headlamps held in their hands in the fog, and a technical descent to Les Chapieux. Chapieux, Val Vény, Courmayeur, Val Ferret, Grand Col Ferret, Champex, Trient. Halfway through, Berlie began to stumble. Roussel held on. A shoe tore. The team doctor lent his pair of "Brooks"—the same size, by chance. Friends took turns accompanying them section by section.
Once the Col de Balme was cleared, they began the descent to Chamonix. The village of Le Tour, the tarmac, the finish line drawing near. And it was with joy that they arrived, "hand in hand, with that church in the background which saw us leave 21 hours and 48 minutes ago."
Berlie told the whole story in Spiridon, August 1980. Here is his full account—one of the first written testimonies of what would become, twenty-four years later, the UTMB.
Around Mont-Blanc: the charm of true wilderness
Original text by Jacques Berlie - Spiridon Magazine, August 1980 - Photos by Michel Colin
Chamonix, September 8, 1979, just after 5:00 p.m. Christian Roussel is by my side, and we are standing there in front of the Chamonix church. One last look at the "four-thousanders" that seem to be watching us. No cloud on the Aiguille Verte, no cap on Mont-Blanc: the good weather should last for at least 24 hours.
We spent the afternoon meticulously checking the various bags intended for our supplies. Nothing is missing. And the friends who came to support us are there too. A quick stop at the pharmacy (to dope up? certainly not...) to weigh ourselves: 56 kg for Christian, 73 for me.
And off we go! Ah, how much better we feel right away, liberated after two months of training on this Mont-Blanc trail that we know so well now. The sun is setting on the horizon, offering us an unparalleled alpine panorama. The spruces with their dark drapes tumble down from the mountain. The larches with their light foliage are already dressing in gold, announcing their annual blaze. But our thoughts are elsewhere, despite the mildness of this late afternoon, which the last tourists are enjoying.
Indeed, are we not going to run for more than twenty hours, without catching our breath, over these 160 kilometers that make up one of the most beautiful trails in the world: the tour of Mont-Blanc. Just yesterday, I read that during this summer, 20,000 to 25,000 people, packs on their backs, completed this journey at the pace of their legs.
We are now leaving the tarmac road, leaving Les Houches behind, and entering the forest in the direction of the Col de Voza. Our stride has shortened, our breathing has accelerated, but the pleasure is still the same. The Col de Voza, one of the stations of the "Mont-Blanc Tramway," is conquered without any difficulty. Our brains are already bubbling with projects, without regard for the difficulties to come.
Ham, please!
We approach the descent with caution, as it is rather steep; but the path is wide, fortunately. Here we are at Les Contamines-Montjoie by the tarmac road. A first craving to satisfy: ham! We met Jean-Pierre Lanarès and André Galland at the beginning of the road—friends we will see again late at night at the Élisabeth refuge. Jean-Pierre does not hesitate to trade his suit for a tracksuit in order to run a few kilometers with us, up to Notre-Dame de la Gorge. The pace is fast, too fast for my liking. But everything is so easy; the mildness of this early evening encourages us to speed up: whatever is done is behind us. A final resupply (pear-coffee-broth), as the first switchbacks of the Col du Bonhomme stand out among the fir trees.
It's our turn! Night is slowly falling over the mountain pastures of La Balme, and the first stars are twinkling in the ink-colored sky. In the distance, we hear voices rising from the inn: people feasting, singing around a good fondue... We walk at a good pace, as if cradled by the gurgling of the melting snow patches. Besides, the altitude is starting to be felt: we are, in fact, at over 2,100 m.
At the summit of the Croix du Bonhomme, the darkness is total. We use our headlamps to begin the terrible descent to Les Chapieux. We soon have to hold our lamps in our hands; it's more convenient and safer. Fortunately, Christian has an innate sense of direction: among all these paths, each more attractive than the next, he infallibly knows how to choose the right one. We hop from stone to stone, and it is very risky given the lack of visibility. Vigilance is mandatory, because the slightest misstep would mean a fall... dozens of meters below. Everything is not going for the best, because fog has joined in. I then munch on two "Biofit" bars: a grave mistake that I will pay for later.
The first houses of Les Chapieux are not far away. Daniel Janin is there, as planned, with ad-hoc supplies. He really did everything to welcome us well: camping chairs are arranged around a butane lamp, and down jackets keep us warm while we drink and eat. The provisions dispensed during these stops are already proving monotonous. We had planned the following food: pears, dried bacon, rice cake, as well as "Isostar," hot broth, and black coffee to quench our thirst. No way to get anything else at this hour of the night.
The first disappointments
After a ten-minute stop, we set off again. We are within the times we set for ourselves, although we have lost the half-hour lead we had at Notre-Dame de la Gorge. We can now benefit from the lights of Daniel's R5, which is following us on the slightly sloping road of La Ville-des-Glaciers. It's more pleasant and less tiring than that damned flashlight. We leave him with regret as soon as the road narrows. Christian is in great shape; as for me, the first disappointments are arriving. And the Col de la Seigne, which just keeps climbing!
However, we are taking advantage of the full moon, an ideal solution to our lighting problems. My gastric troubles are increasing, and I am now staggering. Christian supports me while talking to me so that I keep my spirits up. But it's hard, terribly hard, and we haven't even done a third of the course... God, it's so long! I don't even have the courage to jump over the trickles of water running across the path: my feet are sloshing in my shoes. I trip over a stone, manage to regain my balance just in time, and end up sprawling full length! One of my shoes is completely torn. Fortunately, my companion is by my side...
We meet our friends at the Élisabeth refuge: what joy to be able to slide into that sleeping bag while savoring a grapefruit juice! Ah, to sleep and not think about anything... I will never see the end of this night! The masseur, after taking off my shoes and socks, puts ointment on my feet, which are incidentally in excellent condition. On the other hand, my shoes... but the doctor has the same size as me, and his pair of "Brooks" will do the trick.
And it's getting a little better. My morale is starting to return thanks to the warmth provided by our companions. But I have to fight not to close my eyes... Our friends will take turns wonderfully during these few tens of kilometers that take us to Lavachey. With them, the road seems less long. The tongues of the Brouillard, Freiney, and Brenva glaciers lick the Italian side, while on the heights, the Aiguille Noire de Peuterey and the Grandes Jorasses tower over us majestically.
"Think of me, of yourself..."
We are now in the deepest part of the night and at about the halfway point. I am still not at my best. Second massage session, at Lavachey. And to think that we hadn't thought of it at the beginning! It is by chance that a masseur joined the team... That, too, is luck. Christian is still as comfortable as ever; nothing seems to tire him.
"Listen, Jacques, we are not going to stop here: think of me, of yourself, of the countless kilometers covered together for this attempt... it would be too silly! Come on, one more effort, we'll do the Grand Col Ferret, and if it doesn't go well, we'll stop!"
I then remember the wonderful dance that a dozen marmots performed at the summit of this pass a few weeks ago during a very early morning training run. At the point where I am, let's try; but the pace is far from brisk, and I stop too often to catch a second wind sought in vain... The slightest pretext is good to stop the cadence: tying my shoes, drinking from the stream, or even pretending to admire the landscape... which I actually couldn't care less about! And this idea of drinking "Rivella" has been gnawing at me for a few hours!
We cross the pass as best we can, however. At 2,500 m, a violent wind is blowing. But already the first glimmer of day is taking shape. And with it, I will regain my form. We have, however, fallen four hours behind, and at this pace, the record will not be beaten! Moreover, we are increasingly anxious that our followers might not have waited for us for so long...
The descent shows me that I have rediscovered the joy of running... and the hope of drinking "Rivella." Phew, Nicole is there, she waited patiently. We tell her about our adventures while nibbling on dried fruit and asking her... to find "Rivella" and yogurts (for Christian) as soon as possible, even if it means going to get them in Orsières.
The forest is beautiful on this Sunday morning
Everything seems easier now; the landscape is even more human. And with that, a sunrise of great beauty! But it might be very hot by noon... It doesn't matter, because the pace has quickly accelerated, and we are starting to believe in the record again. After all, there are only two big climbs left: Bovine (1,000 m elevation gain) and the Col de Balme (900 m)! Nicole is surprised to find us already in Issert. And above all... she has yogurts and "Rivella." Sitting on the back of the car, we regain some strength. That's when Lattion passes by in a van. He stops, not used to seeing runners like this on the road on an ordinary Sunday morning... We explain to him what it's about, and it doesn't move him. It's true that the organizer of the Six-Blanc Trophy has seen others...
We leave this charming Valais town, with its houses, its wooden granary-barns, many of which ("raccards") are built on stilts covered with large stone slabs that prevent rodents from accessing grain reserves. The slope rises gently into the meadows, and the scent of fir trees intoxicates us generously. The forest is beautiful on this Sunday morning, and we meet a few people looking for chanterelles or porcini mushrooms. And the first flowers of autumn bend under our steps...
Already the first chalets of Champex, then the lake, and finally my two Swiss friends Guy and Fidel, present despite our delay. We don't stop for too long, anxious as we are to make up for lost time. We eat small fruits: raspberries, strawberries, and above all blueberries, which this nature offers us. Confidence is now regained; it's even close to euphoria... We look forward to seeing our friends at the Col de la Forclaz; we will surely give them a pleasant surprise.
All our buddies are indeed surprised to see us back at this hour already. Jean-Pierre, who had ordered an omelet, finally eats it as a sandwich, in a hurry to accompany us to the last pass, the Col de Balme. The friends from the Italian side were, for their part, quite sure they wouldn't see us again after the poor exhibition I had put on for them. One last massage, the time also to savor a good... vanilla-hazelnut ice cream! How good it is at this hour! Among the crowd on the restaurant terrace, very few suspect the feat accomplished. To everyone, we are undoubtedly two anonymous people who are completely crazy to run at midday. And that's much better that way...
Not a blister, not a sore!
Quick descent to Trient, while all our attention and all our concentration are already turned toward the last pass, which, moreover, will not pose any problems. Christian lets me lead; it is by dictating the pace of the duo myself that I will be sure of my own strength. The descent turns out to be very painful: sometimes stony, sometimes dusty, but above all steeper than expected, the path hurts the thighs. And Christian starts singing "C'est extra!"... That is by far not my opinion. But we must hold on: we are so close to the goal and probably with a good three-hour lead on the record.
Fortunately, since "Le Tour," the road is paved. The sun is beating down hard; an oppressive mugginess grips us. As we approach the finish line, the number of accompanying friends in shorts has suddenly increased. The cars of our followers block traffic, preventing any overtaking: that's a few cubic meters of gas that we won't absorb! Christian would love for us to come in under 22 hours. But there are still two kilometers left and... a crazy craving for "Orangina"! A wonderful team that will offer it to me on a platter 500 meters later...
Now, we have to run, the finish line is approaching. I draw on my last strength and accelerate, if only to be on par with my companion. And it is with joy that we finish hand in hand, with that church in the background which saw us leave 21 hours and 48 minutes ago. Phew, we can finally sit on a bench without fear of losing too much time. The two team doctors are already busy with one final restorative massage. Not a blister, not a sore; our bodies really handled the trip well! Our pulse rates are quickly returning to 60.
That is an exercise that I nevertheless advise against for people simply wishing to lose weight: Christian only lost 500 g and I barely a kilo... The champagne we are popping seems very insipid to us, and our minds are already elsewhere. 160 km, 13,000 m of elevation gain (ascents and descents added together), 21 hours and 48 minutes: that is the verdict of the figures for this Tour of Mont-Blanc. A record, yes, but our friends Adams and Mouat are considering giving it a go themselves in a year...
Beyond the achievement—but everything is relative—there is the friendship forged with Christian throughout the many kilometers covered together: that is the price of victory! But we must add the extraordinarily effective assistance provided by our team of followers, to whom we ultimately owe our success. Amidst our suffering, their comforting faces were able to bring us an extra dose of courage and will, necessary for such an undertaking. May they be thanked once again here.
The landscapes that are now passing through my mind will remain forever engraved there, because they have the charm of true wilderness and the effort accomplished freely in total joy.
Jacques Berlie
Berlie and Roussel: the rest of the story
That 21 hours and 48 minutes was just the beginning. Berlie and Roussel would return to the Tour du Mont-Blanc and lower their own record to 17 hours and 21 minutes - a time that remains remarkable even today, nearly fifty years later.
In 1988, Jacques Berlie - then a resident of Miex in the Valaisan Haut-Chablais - broke the record for the Mont-Blanc ascent and descent in 5 hours and 37 minutes. The man who was staggering down the descent into Les Chapieux in 1979 had become one of the fastest mountaineer-runners of his generation.
Christian Roussel, a watchmaker in Chamonix, had already left his mark on history even before the 1979 race: it was he who, with Jacky Duc in 1978, had completed the first non-stop circuit of the Tour. And it was his club, the Chamonix Mont-Blanc Marathon, that launched the Cross du Mont-Blanc a few months later - the seed of what you are watching run this morning.
In 2003, Catherine and Michel Poletti created the Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc on those same trails. The first edition: 700 starters, 67 finishers, victory for the Nepalese runner Dawa Sherpa. Today, the UTMB brings together more than 10,000 participants around the massif each year. What Berlie and Roussel did alone as a pair, with an R5 to follow them and a headlamp held in their hand in the fog of Les Chapieux, has become the biggest trail race in the world.
From the Cross to the 90km: forty-seven years
On July 1, 1979 - a few weeks before Berlie and Roussel's race - the Cross du Mont-Blanc had opened with 450 runners and a finish at Planpraz. Twenty-four years of development, then in 2003 the transformation into the Marathon du Mont-Blanc with the addition of the 42km. The 80km would come in 2013, later becoming the 90km. Today: 10,000 runners, eight races, thousands of headlamps in the Chamonix night.
The names to watch in 2026
In the men's race, Xavier Thévenard - a three-time UTMB winner - is at the start, as is Baptiste Chassagne, winner of the 2025 Diagonale des Fous and second in the 2024 UTMB, and Louison Coiffet, long trail world vice-champion and second in the 90km in 2023. In the women's race, the Swedish runner Ida Nilsson is the clear favorite, facing the Russian Ekaterina Mityaeva and the German Katharina Hartmuth. The race record is 10:23'11", set by Martin Kern in 2021.