(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.

We have been hiking and flying since Chamonix and are just emerging (with any luck) from almost a week of thunderstorms. Two nights ago, we hunkered down in our tent just before a spectacular electrical storm. If I have ever said that living in CA, I miss the thunderstorms from the east coast, I should amend that … I miss being INSIDE during big thunderstorms! Ay yay yay. One thing I can say is a very thick sleeping pad (we have thermarest neo airs) can  save a backpacker from some serious flooding. It is also possible to endure torrential rain and hail and emerge from a tent with puddles in it perfectly dry in a down jacket, down pants, and a down sleeping bag. Amazing.

These days, we see many more hikers on the trail and more people hiking for several days. Many are hiking hut to hut or village to village. Although there are some people camping, we have never encountered another tent pitched in a valley where we planned on camping. The sweetest camping spots may have an old fire ring just to let us know that someone else at some point appreciated the wildly dramatic sweeping view as well.