When Isabel came home from the Tour du Mont Blanc last summer, I noticed something different about her. It wasn’t just the photos or the stories—it was the way she carried herself. She had discovered something most people spend their entire lives searching for: her voice.
This trek wasn’t just about hiking 108 miles through three countries. It was about a 16-year-old girl learning that discomfort is where transformation happens. As her mother, I’ve always known that the greatest gift I could give my daughters is not a comfortable life, but the courage to step beyond it.
In this blog (and podcast), Isabel shares her own perspective of our family’s adventure—the struggles, the breakthroughs, and the moments that changed how she sees herself and the world. I’ll let her tell you what it means to find your expression when you’re standing on top of a mountain, covered in sweat and doubt, wondering if you can take one more step.
When my family decided to skip our typical New Year’s Eve celebrations and create vision boards instead, I had no idea how transformative 2020 would become. That quiet evening at home, where I crafted four simple words—expression, progression, reflection, and contribution—would guide me through one of the most incredible adventures of my life.
Where It All Started
I’ve always been introspective, driven by my peacemaker nature to maintain harmony both within myself and with others. But that year, I realized I was craving something different. I wanted to push myself beyond my comfort zone. I wanted to express myself in ways I never had before. So when my mom suggested hiking the Tour de Mont Blanc—a 108-mile loop through France, Switzerland, and Italy—I hesitated, as I always do. But I said yes anyway.
The Journey Begins: Embracing Discomfort
Flying into Copenhagen and then down to Chamonix felt like the beginning of something sacred. My mom and I slept on the airport floor—something that had become routine in our travels—and I remember thinking that this journey was already asking me to embrace discomfort. We arrived exhausted, with barely three hours of sleep in 24 hours, yet somehow chocolate croissants fixed everything.
That first day on the mountain, we took the gondola up and pushed ourselves further than planned. We hiked nearly 30 miles that day, passing through Italy, where we arrived at Refugio di Elizabetha desperately wanting a bed. When they graciously offered us a room with a plush mattress and hot shower, I felt more grateful than I had in years.
Pushing Past What I Thought I Could Do
The Tour de Mont Blanc forced me to confront my limitations repeatedly. Stages like the Arpette—which reminded me of Asgard Pass with its relentless three-hour climb—left my legs screaming. I remember my mom hiking ahead with her characteristic fast stride, while I struggled to keep up on my smaller legs. But each time I wanted to stop, I kept going.
There was one night when we all made questionable decisions. Exhausted, hungry, and looking at Google Maps showing Chamonix as just “two miles away as the crow flies,” we decided to hike down in the dark. What we didn’t account for was the steepest ski resort road I’ve ever encountered. For four hours—the last two in darkness with headlamps—we descended with 30-pound backpacks on knees that had already endured countless steep descents. I almost fell off the mountain when I stepped on a loose rock, doing a cartwheel that somehow didn’t end in disaster. When we finally reached the campground at 11 PM, the host felt so sorry for us that he offered a can of ravioli, which I was too exhausted to accept.
The Refugios: Where Expression Becomes Possible
But it wasn’t all suffering. Refugio Bonatti became my sanctuary. When we arrived after climbing 6,000 feet of elevation gain and loss, I wanted nothing more than a bed and a shower. Instead, I found something deeper: a place of genuine nourishment. Fresh espresso, homemade blueberry pie, and beautiful people who seemed to understand that hospitality means more than just providing a room.
At Coldebaum, on the border of Switzerland and France, I had the best night of my life. The refugio keeper invited us to camp outside under clear skies, and I sat watching Mont Blanc’s glaciers glisten white in the starlight, a glass of wine in hand. I had trouble sleeping, not from discomfort, but from the overwhelming beauty and sense of presence. That night, I realized what expression truly meant.
What This Journey Taught Me
As a 16-year-old who has spent most of my life preferring comfort and peace, this trek fundamentally changed me. I didn’t just hike 108 miles; I discovered that discomfort is where growth happens. Every steep climb, every cold night camping, every moment of hunger or exhaustion led to something beautiful—perspective, resilience, gratitude.
My Instagram posts probably seem unusual compared to those of my peers, filled with pictures of mountains and reflections rather than beach photos and selfies. That’s intentional. I want people to see that there’s more to connection than likes and affirmation. There’s actual connection—to nature, to ourselves, to each other.
The Real Magic
What struck me most wasn’t just the physical achievement. It was how differently people in Europe seemed to live. They took time for long meals. They asked genuine questions. They weren’t rushing through life in predetermined boxes. In contrast, cities in America have created a system where we’re all expected to move at the same pace, think the same thoughts, and stay within our lanes.
The Tour de Mont Blanc reminded me that great things never come from comfort zones. But more importantly, I learned that discomfort, when met with intention and gratitude, transforms us.
My Final Word
If you’re struggling with your own expression, your own voice, or your own sense of connection, I encourage you to step outside your comfort zone. Not because suffering is good, but because on the other side of discomfort lies a version of yourself you haven’t met yet. Get out into nature. Ask harder questions. Look people in the eye. Express what’s really in your heart.
And if you can, do the Tour de Mont Blanc. It’s not just a hike—it’s an invitation to become who you’re meant to be.
What’s one area of your life where you’re avoiding discomfort that might be calling you toward growth?
