In the French and Italian Alps, you can stay in mountain huts where cappuccino is served and a band plays “Strawberry Fields Forever,” singing in broken English with an Italian accent.

On the trails, you pass ancient stone houses — cow herder dwellings, still used today. The alpine slopes, grazed by said cattle, look like inclined putting greens. The peaks that rise above these human oases are so impossibly spiky that they make the Matterhorn look blunt. The French word for them is aiguilles — needles. Some of them are famous names in the history of mountaineering — the Drus, the Grandes Jorasses. And the white bulk of Mont Blanc, at 4,808 metres, lords above them all. Welcome to Europe.

I am here on a brief gig sponsored by Columbia Sportswear. Twenty journalists have come to the Alps to test Columbia’s 2017 line of outdoor gear. The forecast calls for rain, which, considering how many waterproof/breathable items we’re to try out, is desirable, I suppose.

From the Geneva airport, we are bussed to Chamonix, France, about an hour away. Think of Chamonix as a European Banff. It’s expensive, urbane beyond its size and built on mountain recreation. Even in mid-June, skiers wander the main drag with fat boards over their shoulders. Climbers nosh at patio cafés with ropes and helmets affixed to backpacks at their feet. On a high slope overlooking the town, a ratty-looking glacier, clearly in headlong retreat, feeds the channelized Arve River that flows swiftly through the heart of Chamonix.

The environment is wild, but it’s not wilderness in the Canadian sense. The mountains are technically formidable, but each sub-peak has a name, each ridge a storied past. Little wonder that speed climbing originated here, and that many climbers prefer to paraglide off a summit rather than hike down. When a natural environment becomes this well known, it becomes more a sporting arena than a place of exploration.

Our group is divided roughly in two, between hikers like myself and trail runners. I’m a bit bummed to find myself in the “softer” group — the runners go longer and take more interesting routes — but I just don’t enjoy running.

Our first small challenge is the Vertical Kilometre. A steep trail, following the swath of a tramline, switchbacks up 1,000 metres in just under four kilometres. Our guide, Cecille, works for the fabled La Compagnie des Guides de Chamonix. Founded in 1821, it’s the oldest and largest association of its kind in the world. Although it has diversified in recent years, even villagers from down the road used to be unwelcome in this exclusive local club. The record time up the Vertical Kilometre is about 34 minutes. Cecille keeps a fairly torrid pace. 

Our group comes from various countries and backgrounds: Germany, England, many from the United States and me from Canada. Many are experienced outdoor people, although our group includes two good-natured New York City writers, Roz and Andrew. This is Roz’s third-ever hike.

About half a dozen Columbia employees organize and give information about the products where required. They include the impressive Christelle, from Columbia’s European office, who is fluent in all the Romance languages — French, Italian, Spanish and Portuguese, as well as German and English — and always has a smile on her face.

The Vertical Kilometre is reasonably steep, although some popular day hikes in the Rockies, where I live, are steeper. Toward the top, it becomes more of a tamed scramble or via ferrata than a hike. Stemples in the rock provide foot- or handholds at key moments.

After a little more than an hour, I reach La Bergerie de Plan-Praz restaurant at the top of the Brévent chair lift. The tailing runners have just arrived. The British guys are already quaffing ale. Here at 2,000 metres, heavy cloud is closing in. It begins to pour, but I happen to be outside when the clouds briefly part and reveal the giant snowy hulk of Mont Blanc, soaring above the 3,000-metre peaks in the foreground. The glimpse lasts mere seconds, before rain and thick stratus enshroud our alpine world for the rest of the day.

Given the forecast, the organizers have already lavished us with last-minute additions to our cold-weather and rain gear, but the unseasonal snowfields in mid-June prompt a change of plan. Rather than hike up to our mountain refuge for the night, we descend the Vertical Kilometre by cable car and take another lift up the opposite slope, halfway to the famous Aiguille du Midi. A 10-minute hike brings us to a deceptively large mountain chalet overlooking the Chamonix valley where we spend the night.