Fear of Heights? Here’s What Hiking in the Alps Taught Me

I love the Alps.

They’re my mountains, the ones I keep coming back to.

Before moving to England in 2019, I lived in a small village perched at 1,250 metres, right above the Tarentaise Valley.

A place where mornings started with crisp air, cowbells in the distance, and the snow-capped Vanoise glaciers visible from my daughter’s bedroom window.

The village of Granier in Savoie

Not bad, huh?

Life back then? Totally different.

Now, I live near Portsmouth.

No mountains, no peaks, no dramatic landscapes.

Just the sea, and, well… a lot of grey skies.

But even here, far from the Alps, I still feel the pull of the mountains.

Hiking has always been my thing, my way of escaping, recharging.

The trails back home? They were my playground.

When the Fear of Heights Steals the View

There’s something about reaching a mountain summit, looking out over an endless stretch of peaks, that makes you feel… on top of the world.

Except when you don’t.

Because sometimes, instead of taking it all in, I freeze.

You know, that feeling when you suddenly can’t move, when your body just locks up?

Ever had fear of heights?

That weird, irrational sensation where your legs refuse to cooperate, your stomach tightens, and your brain keeps sending these urgent “DON’T MOVE” messages?

It had been years since I’d really felt it.

Living on the south coast of England, with its rolling hills and gentle cliffs, I had (almost) forgotten what it was like.

Until last summer.

The Hike That Went Sideways

Back in Savoie for the summer, my dad and I decided to do one of our classic hikes.

We set off from Plan Pichu, climbing towards the Croix du Berger, before heading for Col du Coin (2,400m).

The Col du Coin

Somewhere along the way, we ran into another hiker.

Friendly guy, looked like he knew the area well.

He pointed to the left of the col and said,

“If you want a stunning view of Mont Blanc, follow the ridge path. It’s worth it.”

Of course, I wasn’t going to say no to that.

Me approaching the mountain pass (Col du Coin)

So we reached the mountain pass.

And the second I stepped onto that ridge… I knew.

The Col du Coin is narrow, steep, completely exposed.

You look left — drop.

You look right — another drop.

At the Col du Coin!

You can tell from this photo of me taken at the Col du Coin just how uncomfortable I am. I’m trying to remain brave as I take the previous photo, but I’m not thinking any less!

Still, I gave it a go.

Determined, I stepped onto the ridge path, as seen in this photo:

Me walking on the ridge path–It’s true, the photo doesn’t do justice to the void on either side.

And then… well, you can guess.

• Legs shaking.
• Head spinning.
• Nausea creeping in, fast.

And then came the final straw.

That awful, gut-wrenching, I-need-to-sit-down-right-now kind of dizziness.

With a shaky hand, I snapped a quick photo before returning to the pass.

I would only catch a glimpse of part of the Mont Blanc massif, but so be it.

Because of my fear of heights, I was only able to see part of Mont Blanc!

I turned back. On all fours.

Yeah. Not my proudest moment.

So much for Mont Blanc. Next time, maybe.

A Conversation That Helped More Than Expected

Back at the col, I sat down on a rock, trying to get my breath back, trying to convince myself I wasn’t being ridiculous.

That’s when a couple arrived from the steepest side of the trail.

The woman, carrying a massive backpack, looked absolutely exhausted.

We exchanged a few words.

She glanced at me, raised an eyebrow.

“You alright? You don’t look so good.”

I didn’t even try to pretend.

“Yeah… uh… vertigo.”

She smiled, and nodded knowingly. Gave me some advice.

Now, nothing I hadn’t already heard before.

But just talking to someone, right there, in the middle of that exposed col, helped. A lot.

A little while later, another hiker arrived.

She had just walked the ridge I couldn’t face.

She looked at me and said,

“I nearly turned back too. But my walking poles helped. A lot.”

And you know what?

That stuck with me.

The Col du Coin in the Beaufortain Massif

Lessons from That Hike

👉 You don’t beat fear of heights in one go.

You take it step by step.

• Start with a low, easy summit (not the Col du Coin, obviously).
• Stand on a safe bridge, get used to looking down.
• Ride a ski-lift (cable car, gondola or chairlift)
• Let yourself adjust, at your own pace.

The Aiguille Rouge cable car (Les Arcs station) offers plenty of opportunities to experience vertigo!

I still remember my first real fear of heights.

I was five. In Chamonix.

My parents took me up the Brévent cable car.

We stepped onto the viewing platform.

And I froze. Absolutely terrified.

I posed digilently for the photo, but as a little boy, I was hiding a strong fear of heights inside.

Every summer after our excursion to Chamonix, we returned to Pralognan-la-Vanoise.

My parents had a technique: start with easy hikes so that my eyes could get used to the landscape.

Easy hikes first. Let your eyes adjust.

They were right. It made all the difference.

It is indeed a good strategy, especially if you come from a city or a flat region.

👉 Sometimes, turning back is the right choice. And that’s fine.

That’s what I did at Col du Coin.

And, even more embarrassingly, at Col de Rosset, above Pralognan-la-Vanoise, on my honeymoon.

That day, my wife discovered a new side of me: her husband, crawling on all fours.

“Sorry, love… I just can’t do it.”

The dream route I had planned? Scrapped.

In the mountains above Pralognan-la-Vanoise

👉 Accept your limits.

Better to feel a little embarrassed than to do something incredibly stupid.

And let’s be honest — no one ever mocks a hiker struggling with fear of heights.

If anything, people are surprisingly kind.

Standing on a rock near Plan Pichu above the village of Granier. Straight ahead is the infamous Col du Coin!

👉 Be open to new ideas.

I thought about that woman with the poles on the way down.

How she had gone farther than I had.

Would it have made a difference if I had them? Maybe.

I’ve always been a bit sceptical about poles.

They look great for balance, sure, but I never really felt the need for them.

Walking with poles in the mountain pastures of Pra Spa (Village of Granier in Savoie)

Turns out, that might have been a mistake.

I started noticing other things, too.

Like how, when I get that dizzy feeling, my breathing goes all over the place.

Short, shallow breaths. Tension in my chest.

A breathtaking view of the Tarentaise valley from the Deux-Têtes rocks (Les Arcs)

And I realised — every single time I’d had fear of heights in the past, I’d done the same thing.

Tensed up. Stopped breathing properly. And stared straight down.

That’s probably the worst thing you can do.

I tried something different on the way back.

Slowed my breathing.

Focussed on the trail ahead, not the drop beside me.

It wasn’t perfect, but it helped.

Me at the alpine pastures near the Croix du Berger (Beaufortain Massif)

Final Thoughts

I don’t think I’ll ever be one of those hikers who sprint across exposed ridges without a second thought.

That’s just not me.

But I do know that little by little, I can get better at handling it.

And honestly? It’s worth it.

Because the mountains are calling, and I don’t want to miss out.

The Vanoise glaciers seen from the Beaufortain massif (Plan Pichu, Granier)

A breathtaking view of Mont-Blanc from Signal des Têtes, a ‘vertiginous’ summit in Les Arcs

The magnificent view from the Col du Coin

From my last summer holiday in the Alps, I’ve posted a video to show you the stunning landscapes of the Tarentaise. Hope you’ll enjoy it!

[embed]