(written sometime last week)
I have to admit that I often felt like a dirtbag hiking through France. The French people are stylish relaxed, sipping pastis or coffee and loving life in town, not on the trails. For a place that reveres its mountaineers, there were so few distance hikers… until we reached Chamonix. Suddenly, everyone walking around had an ice axe and a farmer tan. Returning to the campground loaded down with grocery bags, we noticed a steady stream of semi-rough-looking folks headed in the same direction also carrying grocery bags. At camp, everyone else was also cooking their pasta meal amid piles of gear. We were just two more adventurers in the crowd. Everyone else was climbing Mont Blanc, but for the first time in weeks, we blended in.