We naively hoped that pushing our crossing back by 10 days would be enough. So we went to warm up in the Val Grande area, which I’d recommend to anyone who loves brutal climbs, unmaintained trails, next to nobody around, and a fantastic mountain hut around every corner. We went in with zero preparation, just offline maps on our phones.

After three days we joined the route I’d originally planned back home as a kind of final wander. We were struck by how deserted it was everywhere — you don’t meet a single soul all day, and the mountains around are absolutely gorgeous.

We found out that pushing it a a few days wouldn’t be enough, in a pass at 2400 m of altitude, where we were the first people through that year, and it was still buried under a solid layer of snow. That was the moment we said our final goodbye to the Tour de Monte Rosa and put away in a drawer for another time. We needed a new plan.

We wanted to stay in Italy and head to Gran Paradiso National Park. We planned out roughly 5 days of walking, approximate places to sleep, how much food we’d need and how to get there. Everything came together pretty well — we hitchhiked a car fast, stocked up on supplies, sat on the train. Scrolling through hiking Facebook groups, I notice that Écrins (where we’d been the year before) is also completely under snow, and I come across a snow map. Sure enough, Gran Paradiso turns out to be entirely under snow too, on top of having brutal flooding too — so I talked Jozef into heading to the Cottian Alps instead.

Those turn out to be completely passable, and in the end we even cross into their French side, since there’s a beautiful loop, GR 58, around the Queyras nature park (the Tour du Queyras). And it turns out to be a great call — stunning views, good trails, just the right number of people, and marmots everywhere. Over the last few days we push ourselves pretty hard, and our bodies start making it clear they’ve had enough.

We’re probably learning our lesson, and next time we’ll have a rest day after 10 days on the trail. In the end we spent 6 days in France, and the only thing we’re sorry about is not getting a flan cake there. All together, we covered over 350 km and nearly 23000 meters of elevation gain — roughly the equivalent of walking from Tatranská Lomnica up to Slavkovský štít and back, every single day, for 14 days straight.

One thing worked out really well, and I’m genuinely happy about it: I did the whole thing in Xero Shoes Mesa Trail barefoot sneakers. I’d been worried about it, since I’d already tried them in Portugal and Mallorca, where my feet started hurting after just a few days. Two months ago I was having issues while running, so I looked into it and discovered I had weak feet, and started working on strengthening them. Wonder of wonders, the problem went away and I stopped having pain. Every day after hiking I’d mobilize and massage my feet. I also walked barefoot on grass, tried to spend some time in a deep squat, on my heels, and released tension in my thighs (all of this I picked up from fyziomluva on Instagram — a really good account on how to add physio into everyday activities and become your own physiotherapist).

Thanks to those exercises, our ultralight gear, and some supplements, we made it through the whole trek without any major issues (aside from the dehydration — lesson learned there). I didn’t even get a cold sore, which usually shows up for me after a few days of hiking. From day one I diligently applied SPF lip balm, and we’ve also been taking omega-3s for a while now, which are anti-inflammatory, so that may have played a role too.

Overall I’d rate this trip very positively — I think it gave us a lot of valuable experience. We had to plan a lot of things on the go, on our phones, walked through plenty of snow and nonexistent trails, and navigated using GPS. We also tested out a few new pieces of gear, but I’ll cover that in a separate article.

After two weeks of wandering through the mountains with everything we need on our backs, we’re savoring the simplicity of it all. As we return to civilization, we put on our cleanest clothes and try to blend back in. It’s not easy — I honestly prefer the mountains, where nobody expects anything of you. We survive the endless journey home and start looking forward to a bed and a shower. Our one-room apartment feels enormous now, after so many nights in a tent. It’s good to reassess every once in a while what you actually need to live: food, sleep, movement, and the occasional shower.

The first thing we did once home was make flan cake, and then went to test our fitness. We track every hike with our watches, and there’s a real difference between walking hills and walking flat ground. When we were in Portugal, my fitness score dropped sharply, but here it held up nicely. On top of that, we were carrying a several-kilo pack the whole time, so once I went for a run up a hill without one, it felt incredibly easy. Jozef’s fitness score actually dropped, since he’s not exactly average person and normally keeps his score sky-high. But 10-12 hours a day on your feet leaves its mark on the body either way. Without any training, he then rode 150 km by bike to Kysuce, and the very next day did another 30 km on the bike plus a 13 km run with me. Those mountains might be brutal, but your body rewards you with fantastic fitness, your head with calm, and nature with incredible views.

Expenses

So how much does a trip like this cost? We were on the road for 17 days — 2 nights in a hotel, 2 nights at a campsite, and 3 nights paying a small fee to camp by a mountain hut. We ate at restaurants 6 times. The food category also includes alcohol, which I’d estimate at around €100. Our highest spending (about €160) came on the last day, when we slept in a hotel, ate out twice, and had three Aperol Spritzes each at one bar. As for grocery prices, Italy is comparable to Slovakia, while France is more expensive. On the other hand, camping in Italy cost us €34 for two people plus a tent, versus €12 in France. France also has better food on top of that, so France wins overall.

If I’ve wrote down everything correctly, we spent €1043 in total, including flights and transport from Partizánske to the airport. Broken down by day, that comes to roughly €30 per person per day (even with Jozef drinking more beer than me). It could definitely be done cheaper, but we didn’t hold back much.

I’m so glad you’ve been following along on our wanderings. It always makes my day when someone writes to say they enjoy following our trips — that’s exactly what keeps me motivated to keep writing, because there are moments I’d honestly rather just abandon it and simply go walking without documenting any of it. So I hope we’re inspiring you to get out into nature too. Our next destination is unknown, but we can be packed and ready for a hike within the hour, so things can change very quickly. If you want to stay in the loop, be sure to subscribe and you’ll get notified whenever a new article goes up. Thank you <3

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20.7.2024 Saturday

→ 29,3 km ↑ 1444 m – total 351,3 km

Alarm’s at 6:30am, and it’s 0°C outside. We push it back a while. I don’t feel great. My stomach hurts, and I feel like the last day of the SNP trail (back then I threw up and got through just on water and grape sugar). Looking back now, I think I was dehydrated. The day before yesterday we were definitely dehydrated, and yesterday we didn’t drink enough either, since I never felt very thirsty — but I should have drunk a lot more. I sip water slowly and take some Thai activated charcoal, it will cure anything. I get dressed and go move around a bit outside, up a small hill into the sun.

I have a small coffee and one egg with baguette. I don’t throw up, a good sign. I filter a lot of water, we can’t take today lightly. For about 5 minutes we watch a marmot that isn’t afraid of us at all, moving right past us. It happily eats, grabs a plant with its paw, pulls it close and eats just the flower. The guy camping next to us already left a while ago. We start at 9am. We don’t know exactly where we’ll finish today. Yesterday I checked the forecast, and tomorrow there’s an orange warning for storms and heavy rain. Today’s a beautiful day though, and we have 400 meters of climbing straight ahead to Col de Chamoussière. We get beautiful views and lots of marmots along the way.

We leave our backpacks at the pass and I go up Caramantran hill. Without packs we run up fast, take photos of the views, and run back down.

The crowd at the pass has grown a lot. No wonder, there’s a high-elevation road right next to it heading to Agnel pass, so the climb isn’t too hard and the views are beautiful. People drag bikes up here, and the other side is rideable downhill.

We head toward a parking lot, where we take a break. Luckily there are toilets here too, and today I’m really grateful for that, not feeling fully fit. I have another egg, a piece of baguette and a croissant. We consider hitchhiking into Italy from here, but I’m okay for now. So we continue toward Col Vieux. Not much elevation, but a lot of people. The trail is strictly fenced here because of erosion.

I feel a bit of a chill, so I put a t-shirt under my wind jacket, and it helps right away. From the pass we go down to Lac Foreant.

No wonder so many people are out hiking today. We think about sleeping by this lake too, but it’s good we didn’t, since it’s very busy here and there are protected zones marked off. We move fast toward the next lake, stopping only to drink water.

Just before L’Échalp we take a short break and think through our options. I really don’t feel well now, and if I could hitchhike right now, I would, but there’s no option to. I check tomorrow’s forecast — heavy rain — and look for accommodation in Pinerolo. I find one for €60, camping costs €30, so we agree it’s better to get a bit civilized, do laundry and sleep properly. I don’t book it yet. We have just over 10 km left to the end of the route, in Bobbio Pellice, and one last climb ahead, 500 meters up to Col Lacroix. I really don’t feel up to it, but we have no other choice, so I somehow push through it slowly . I have some grape sugar, and we top up a lot of water in the village. The start of the climb is brutal, but then we enter a wonderful old forest, and walking gets easier there.

We move at a decent pace and the elevation ticks by fast. By 4:30pm we’re at the pass. On the other side there’s already a hint of tomorrow’s rain, the peaks wrapped in cloud.

At least we don’t feel too sad about finishing now. Willy Jarvis hut is 2.3 km away, a proper steep drop that we try to run down gently.

A flock of sheep stops us, no way around them. We wait for the shepherd, since big sheepdogs are guarding them. With a single command, within 10 seconds, the dogs push the sheep to the far side of the hill. The hut, along with a few other houses, sits in a beautiful wide valley. There are camping spots here too, they grow potatoes and graze cows.

We just top up water and continue. Since it’s easy to reach, there are a lot of people here, and we don’t want to spread out our food right by the hut. We stop a kilometer lower by the road, and I eat my third egg with baguette. Quite a few people passed us, so we walk fast to catch up with as many as we can. Some of them clearly ended up in this bit of nature by accident. We run quickly down into the settlement of Bobbio Pellice, where there’s a parking lot, and we plan to hitchhike from there. The third car stops for us, a Volvo with leather seats. I sit in front, since I smell less. The guy’s originally from here, but’s lived abroad for a long time. We talk about how people are afraid to go into the forest because of the animals — it’s a very similar situation with wolves here as with bears back in Slovakia.

He drops us in the village of Villar Pellice, points us to a tobacco shop where we can buy bus tickets, and tells us the bus times too. The last one leaves in half an hour, so we go grab a drink first. The accommodation in Pinerolo isn’t available anymore, so I look for other options. We don’t feel like wandering around Turin much, so I book a hotel in None, a small town before Turin. We catch the bus in time for the last train from Pinerolo to Turin. At 8:30pm we get off in None and walk 1.5 km to the hotel. It smells of urine outside, and inside it looks like something out of a horror movie. An Asian guy greets us, and he can barely speak English. The room’s surprisingly nice though — clean, with fresh-smelling towels, only the shower stall’s a bit falling apart. We’re not that hungry, so Jozef just opens a bag of pretzels. I have three and my stomach starts hurting again, so I switch to just drinking water instead. We properly drank 5 liters each today, and I already feel a bit better. Tomorrow we just travel on to Bergamo. We’ve had quite enough, and we’re glad we ended this trip with a beautiful day in the mountains.

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19.7.2024 Friday

→ 22,2 km ↑ 1697 m – total 322 km

We sleep in, until about 8:30am. It served me well. We’re in no rush, having tea with Pierre and chatting about gear with two fifty-something guys doing the GR 5 (a 650 km route from Geneva to Nice). One’s packing heavy, the other very light, and they met somewhere along the way and are walking together for a bit. Once we’ve packed everything, they check how much our backpacks weigh. We brush our teeth, take a farewell photo with Pierre, and head into town to the shop.

We only buy food for lunch now and stop for coffee too. We finally set off at 11am. Jozef’s back hurts a bit, probably from all that sliding on snow yesterday, and he applies his usual remedy — ignoring it. We start with a climb, 1000 meters over 7 km, actually a pretty pleasant gradient. After about 2 km we take a break for bakery pastries, and I call home to my mom, since it’s her birthday today, and I’m not sure if we’ll have signal further on.

We continue slowly, both of us a bit sluggish from yesterday’s beers. It’s partly cloudy, so it’s pleasant walking. Just below Col des Estronques we top up water. We’re still not fully recovered from yesterday’s lack of water.

The wind’s really strong at the pass, so we don’t linger and head toward the highest village in France (3rd highest in the EU), Saint-Véran. We wanted to eat before it at a rest spot, but a group of shouting kids is there, so we push on into the village instead.

The shop’s just opened, so we go stock up for the last two days. They have a really good selection, specific stuff for multi-day hikers, though with a hefty markup. At least we don’t buy anything silly, just some cheese-filled pastries, apparently a local specialty. There’s a table with benches outside the shop, already taken by 4 hikers, so we settle in too. Finally we’re not just sitting on the ground, but at a table like proper people. We eat fruit, a piece of baguette with salami and a couple of those pastries — probably better warm. We don’t have a set place to sleep tonight.

We’re walking through a long valley, so we should find something there. We continue before 5pm. A huge group of hikers passes us going the other way, and we get a bit worried it’s some kind of tour group, but it’s just a shuttle bus that drove them down from the mountains. We’re walking nicely on foot along a stream.

We meet a few people and pass a scout camp in a small forest, quite a nice camping spot. We’re pretty sleepy, so even though the slope’s gentle, we’re moving slowly and want to wrap things up soon. On top of that, clouds are getting dark around us. At the edge of the village we spot an old mining cart on display, so we wonder if something was mined here — and sure enough, we pass an old mine. We google it later and find out copper was mined here as far back as 4000 years ago. There’s an observatory built on one of the hills.

We find our first spot by the road, with water and marmots too, but it’s quite windy there. We fill our bottles and continue, seeing on the map that there should be more good spots further on. A few hundred meters later we find another.

Jozef goes a bit further to check and waves that he’s found something better. There’s already one guy camping there. It’s a very nice spot with a lovely view, a small stream, and decent shelter in case a storm rolls in.

I go wash up in the stream and find a great spot where the water reaches my knees. I wash up fast, since the sun’s behind clouds and I’m a bit cold. Dinner is pasta with tuna and passata. We sort through photos from the last three days together. I want to write more too, but I don’t feel great, so I go to sleep instead, hopefully I’ll feel better tomorrow.

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18.7.2024 Thursday

→ 34,4 km ↑ 2096 m – total 299,8 km

Alarm’s at 6:15am. We don’t want to get up. We hear sheep coming closer. At 6:30am I open the tent door — the sheep are about 300 m away. There’s a dog on the edge of the flock that doesn’t look too friendly if you’re standing in the middle of it. We pack up super fast and start our watches at 6:53am. We go down a bit to some water source and brush our teeth. Then we walk another kilometer and have breakfast in the sun, baguette with fish in tomato sauce. We have a big descent ahead, 500 meters over 1.8 km. The map marks it as a dotted line (the hardest difficulty), and Jozef doesn’t really want to take it. But the trail’s clearly well-used, so I convince him to try it. It turns out to be totally fine.

The difficulty rating is probably because after rain, loose rock washes onto the trail and you have to find a new way through pretty steep terrain. We’re down on the asphalt road fast.

We pass through a small settlement and top up water. Almost every village like this has a community bread oven too. After 3 km we start a very steep climb to Col des Houërs, over 1000 meters in 5 km. We start hard, switchbacks, very steep, through forest. After 500 meters it opens up a bit. Walking’s easier when you have views.

It’s getting pretty hot. I’m wearing shorts, a sports bra, and my long-sleeve wind jacket for sun protection. The wind jacket already smells pretty bad, so I rinse it in a stream and put it back on — at least it feels nicely cool. Jozef washes a towel meanwhile. We take breaks fairly often, either for a snack or for water. We don’t carry much, since water’s everywhere here, and there’s even a great waterfall. Gradually the grass disappears and we’re climbing gravel instead.

We also go check out Lac Vert. It sits at 2700 m and there’s still a lot of snow around it. It has a beautiful blue-green color, with snow floating on the surface, and someone’s fishing there.

We can’t stop wondering at it. Only 200 meters left to the pass. The path crosses snowfields.

At the pass we meet a couple in their seventies. I look at them with real admiration for managing this, and I haven’t even seen what’s on the other side yet. I hear Jozef, standing at the edge, looking down, saying “uh oh.” I go over and say the same thing myself. Below us there’s a bit of gravel, then about a kilometer of snowfield. We slowly start heading down. Someone runs past us from behind and, instead of taking the switchbacks, heads straight down at a run. They seem to know what they’re doing. They reach the snowfield, and one sits on their backside while the other half slides, half runs. Since it works so well for them, we try it too.

It’s fun, but within 30 seconds my butt is soaked. I put my insulated shorts on top, and it works much better with those. What a fast way down! Our shoes and shorts are both soaked. The snowfield turns right into green grass again. The trail’s nice now, so we jog a bit here and there. The lower we go, the more people we meet. It’s really hot down in the valley, so we don’t push ourselves too hard. We take a break by a shelter, eating baguette with some canned meat and cheese. I filter water and we drink an electrolyte mix. I planned a big push today, and Jozef doubts we’ll make it in time. We think about hitchhiking from the hut, but I have no doubts and we continue. The path through the valley is brutal, though I really wouldn’t want to be here in the rain. It’s pretty wrecked from flooding here. We start climbing 900 meters over almost 6 km, so a bit gentler than our first climb. This side of the mountain is completely dry, all rocks, which makes the heat even worse.

We drink water constantly, and we don’t have much left. There should be a stream in 1.3 km, so I put my umbrella up, at least to keep the sun off my head. The stream’s dry and we have no water. Luckily, after another kilometer we find a very thin stream. I filter about four liters, we each drink a liter right away, and Jozef pours a cup over himself. We continue, it’s very exhausting, but at least there’s grass here now.

Jozef’s said “what a nightmare” about 20 times by now. He has his bad days too, not just me. If we’d known what was up here, we’d definitely have hitchhiked. We finally grind our way up to the pass.

We try to jog downhill, but the terrain often won’t let us. We’re out of water again and we’re probably a bit dehydrated. We’re not enjoying this at all and just want to be down already. We check the map and change our route, since the signpost still says three hours to Ceillac, even though it’s only 7 km away now. We go down an awful section near a rock face, where there are about 20 climbers.

Luckily there’s a well-worn path down to the forest road, so we take that. We even run a bit, wanting this behind us.

We stop worrying about water. Finally, after 6pm, we’re down at the settlement of L’Ubac de l’Aval. I top up water by a house and we start hitchhiking. The 5th car stops. Within 10 minutes a woman drops us off in Ceillac right by the grocery store. I text Pierre, who’s camping nearby, to say we’re in town. We figure we’ll go eat, so we just buy some snacks for dinner and a beer. Then, with Pierre too, we head to the campsite. Great price, €10.60 for two people and a tent. A 4-minute shower costs one euro. Jozef pitches the tent while I go shower. 4 minutes is a really long time, half of that would’ve been plenty. I left my shoes and socks by the door, and now about 30 flies are sitting on them. The guys are already having a beer, so I join in. Pierre’s a genuinely interesting person — he spent a year in Australia, living in his car and traveling the whole country. He’s done Corsica, La Réunion, and does mountain climbs too (Mont Blanc, Monte Rosa). He’s already eaten, if only we’d known, we’d have cooked dinner at the campsite too. So we go eat out instead, get burgers with a small beer each. I go pay and nearly fall over at the price of the beer, €7 for 33cl. Well, first and last beer we’re having at a restaurant. We head back to the campsite, where we still have a few beers left. We go to bed at 11pm. In the evening Jozef and I agree there’s not much chance of any epic hiking tomorrow, so we turn off the alarms, at least we’ll get some proper sleep.

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17.7.2024 Wednesday

→ 32,7 km ↑ 2171 m – total 265,4 km

Alarm’s at 6:15am again, but I really don’t want to get up today. I feel very tired. It’s 1°C outside with frost on the grass. I stay warm in the sleeping bag as long as I can. To force himself up, Jozef deflates his sleeping pad and packs away his sleeping bag. I just quickly run out to pick some wild thyme for tea and dive straight back into my sleeping bag. Now he’s freezing outside instead of having a nice warm breakfast. I warm up my clothes inside the sleeping bag before putting them on. I get dressed reluctantly, since Jozef keeps pushing me. I pack quickly. I’m wearing maybe 3 layers plus gloves. By the hut I still need to fold up my sleeping pad, brush my teeth, wash my face and use the toilet. Jozef waits for me there impatiently, even though these are all completely normal things and don’t take me long. Then he starts acting like a little child, saying he wants to leave, that he’s cold. Well, he shouldn’t have deflated his pad right away then, and now he’s rushing me. I don’t even get to do my hair. We leave in a hurry, and I hate it.

I’m in a bad mood, tired, no coffee, hair a mess, and I really don’t feel like walking today. I walk like I have no soul left. After 10 minutes we take off some layers, and he tells me I can even do my hair now, he’ll wait. I’m still in a bad mood though. He asks if he should make me coffee or if I want a nap, but these questions just annoy me more. If he hadn’t rushed me so much this morning, everything would’ve been fine. He can’t stand looking at me anymore, so he walks ahead. Finally a good idea. I walk at my own pace, sort my thoughts out a bit, admit I’m overreacting too, and try not to take it so seriously. My mood doesn’t change with a snap of the fingers, but it improves a little. All this happens during 2 exhausting hours of descending 1100 m over 6.6 km. He waits for me down by the road, where we have some chocolate. A Belgian guy catches up with us, someone we keep passing on and off for the second day now. He asks where we’re heading and shows us a few alternative routes. They look interesting, maybe we’ll change today’s plan. We now need to climb straight back up what we just went down, almost the exact same numbers. There’s a hut 1.5 km away. We only find a repairman there, but he says it’s open. So we look for someone to make us coffee. We find an older lady, and I order two coffees — I can manage that much in French. I want cake too, but after a lot of explaining with my hands, we work out they don’t have any. They do have 4 pretty chubby cats though. Coffee plus cats, my mood improves a lot. I still feel tired, but that’s fine, I’ll just go a bit slower. We keep climbing. There’s a sign in the village saying the water isn’t drinking water, so we move on right away. There’s water at the next settlement too. It’s getting really hot.

We pass several hikers, average age 60+. It still amazes us how many older people hike here. And I don’t mean a stroll in the woods — I mean with a backpack, poles, properly uphill. We take a longer break by the water. We drink a lot and eat baguette with pâté. A man stops by and asks if we’re doing the loop around the national park. He loves it here, says it’s a really beautiful part of the world, and tells us to enjoy it.

We continue with our umbrellas up, the sun’s really strong. Surprisingly we get through the 1000 meters of climbing fairly fast, thanks to all our breaks.

We have 4 km downhill to the town of Ceillac. We’d assumed it was a proper town. Turns out it’s a tiny village with one grocery store and two bakeries. We arrive at 1pm, when everything’s closed of course. The Belgian guy sits in the shade on the square, so we join him. We meet Pierre, who finished his loop here today. We swap Strava (a sports social network) and chat about hiking and different countries. I want to write the blog, but I’d rather socialize a bit instead. Pierre’s staying in this “town” another three days, and we’ll be back here tomorrow too, so we’ll see him again. We go shop for two days and grab another coffee. We eat lunch just outside town in a shelter. We set off again after 5pm. We have several possible sleeping spots picked out along the route, but we want to get as far as possible, meaning 12 km with over 1000 m of climbing. The first 2 km are on asphalt, then a fairly brutal switchback climb begins, 500 meters over 2.5 km. We power through, the trail’s busy so it’s in good shape. We reach Lac Minor. Views open up over the surrounding peaks.

A few people are already camping by this lake. We continue on, now a gentler climb, to Lac Sainte-Anne.

If we didn’t have so many kilometers to cover tomorrow, we’d camp right here, it’s beautiful spot. About 10 people are camping here already.

Surprisingly, we find Pierre here too, who we thought was staying down in the village. He wanted at least one more night up in the mountains. We swap numbers and agree to grab a beer tomorrow evening. We keep climbing toward Col Girardin, with beautiful views from the top.

From the pass we go down just a few dozen meters to a perfectly flat area. There’s a lot of sheep droppings around, but we find a clean spot and pitch the tent. We covered 11 km with 1000 m of climbing in 3 hours — a very different pace from this morning. There’s also a very well-fed marmot grazing close by, and it’s barely afraid of us.

I go wash up right away, and get water from the spring just below. Dinner is chicken soup first, then rice with tuna! We found a pre-cooked one at the shop, just needed heating up. A nice change. It’s been a tough day, so I skip writing and go straight to sleep.

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16.7.2024 Tuesday

→ 28,6 km ↑ 1682 m – total 232,7 km

Alarm’s at 6:15am. I sleep really well tonight. Even though I went to bed at 11pm, getting up feels easy. Breakfast is baguette with eggs and pâté. We haven’t had such a hearty breakfast in a long time — I can’t even finish mine and pack the rest for the road. We start with a climb through a beautiful valley, 600 meters up to Col de Peás. We start in long trousers, but change after just a few minutes. Two lively older men pass us. Jozef overtakes them right away, and I slowly catch up to his lead. In the end I pass them too and climb to the pass alone. It looks like the Dolomites here.

I reach the pass and Jozef’s nowhere to be seen, so I continue on. He’s sitting on the grass with a view, and the views really are beautiful.

We walk along a perfect trail. Easy, gently downhill, with beautiful views on every side. I really enjoy this stretch, it’s about 5 km.

Then we descend a short, steep set of switchbacks to the settlement of Souliers. From there we leave the official route and head to the village of Arvieux, since there’s a shop there. It’s 5.6 km, and the shop closes in 1 hour 15 minutes, so we shift into top gear. We pass a group of hikers, all retirees. Jozef has his umbrella clipped to his backpack, and it catches the grandmas’ attention — they ask how it’s attached. Jozef looks a bit confused. We continue on the road and then join a hiking trail.

We go down into the valley on asphalt road. Just after 12 we’re at the shop. We buy beer, chips, peaches, tomatoes, a baguette, cheese and pâté. We settle in the shade by a drinking fountain, where Jozef cools his beer. We sit there a bit, until the wind picks up and blows the fountain water straight onto us.

So we move to a bench. I have a beer too, that should be fun. I write up yesterday’s blog. Lunch is baguette with cheese, olives and tomatoes. At 3pm we go for coffee and a cake too. We hope they have flan, but they don’t, so we get fruit tartlets instead — also good. I drink two small 5.5% beers and I really feel it. My steps get lighter going uphill. Refuge de Furfande is 7.5 km away with 940 m of elevation gain. A road leads to Col de Furfande, just before the hut, so we start on that. After about half an hour we join the official GR 58 route. From there it runs through a beautiful pine forest with lovely green grass.

Flies swarm us badly again. We climb fast, and by 6pm we’re at the pass, with a beautiful view opening up on the other side.

We take our first photo together on this trip. The hut is now just a few hundred meters below us.

There are loads of marmots here. We drop our packs outside and I go ask how things work. We can pitch the tent anywhere, as long as it doesn’t block the view from the hut, and that costs €3. Shower and electricity together cost another €3 per person. Worth it for that shower alone. We go set the tent up on a little hill nearby with a nice view. I warn Jozef the ground slopes, but tell him it’ll be fine.

At first I try to help Jozef pitch the tent, but I make it worse, so I go take a shower instead. The shower is a wooden hut outside, with a little window set too high for me to see anything through it, for obvious reasons.

There’s hot water for as long as the sun’s out. Second day in a row with a shower — we’re living the good life. Dinner is mashed potato with tuna, olives and dried tomatoes. In the evening we sort through photos together. I don’t feel like writing much, so I choose sleep instead. The tent is set up completely crooked, and we keep sliding downhill in it.

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15.7.2024 Monday

→ 27,2 km ↑ 1449 m – total 204,1 km

Alarm is set for 6:30am again. The sun starts to rise slowly over the horizon. It’s English Monday, the day we speak English together, something we started at New Year. Breakfast is bread with Nutella and black tea. I keep my long trousers on all day today, since I got a bit sunburned yesterday. We put on sunscreen right away in the morning, even Jozef, and he does it willingly. We also wash a few pieces of clothes in the stream and set off. We have half a kilometer to Col Mayt, which is also the border with France. That building was probably a military site once, since there’s leftover barbed wire near the border too.

The other side of the pass is already beautifully green, and marmots whistle loudly there. We go down 1 km and sit on a rock, since we get a signal there. I write the blog and Jozef reads the news. Flies swarm me badly, I guess I smell great. We spend about an hour there. Then we go on downhill.

The trail isn’t much of a trail anymore, so we navigate mostly by GPS. What was nice short grass up top turns into waist-high grass lower down.

There are also very strong springs here, so water is everywhere. The way down is tough, but we finally join a nice path into the village of Le Roux. Suddenly there are a lot more hikers around. We get close to a flock of sheep, and 3 dogs run at us. At first we think they belong to the woman shouting at them, but it turns out she’s actually the shepherd — you’d never guess it from looking at her.

We continue on asphalt into the bigger village of Abriès. The sun is really strong now, so we get out our umbrellas. We need to buy that gas canister, and just a kilometer before town I realize the shop closes in 15 minutes. So Jozef runs ahead to make it in time.

I arrive 5 minutes later. Jozef goes into the shop for drinks and we sit down in the shade. Then I go get food. The moment I walk into the shop, I know I’m in France. The man behind the deli counter has a perfect French moustache. I buy three baguettes, and Jozef thinks that’s a lot, but we eat the first one plain, no toppings, and it’s incredible. We grab a quick coffee and then sit on a bench in the shade. I want to catch up on another day of the blog. We eat the second baguette with salami. Lots of hikers with big backpacks arrive in town, probably doing the same route as us. GR 58, also called the Tour du Queyras, is a 110 km route with 7800 m of elevation gain, running around the Queyras regional national park. I found out about this route just 2 days ago, and we decided it sounded like a good idea — we really love hiking in France. We put on sunscreen again. It’s almost three o’clock when we set off. We have 1200 meters of climbing ahead to Col du Petit Malrif.

It’s really hot. After a steep first stretch of a few dozen meters, we climb very gently. We keep stopping to drink water. I can really feel my arms burning. Tomorrow I’ll wear long sleeves. We meet quite a lot of hikers of all ages. That’s a big change after not meeting anyone on the Italian side.

Even though it’s pretty windy, I put up my umbrella. Jozef is far ahead of me. He waits for me in the shade, where we rest for a bit. After a few minutes I feel cold, so I check the thermometer. No wonder — it’s 17°C. We continue, and marmots all around keep me motivated to push on.

We reach a beautifully colored lake, Lac du Grand Laus. A sign says the pass is still an hour away. That seems long, since it’s only a kilometer left. We climb and go around a few snowfields.

There are some really lovely marmots here, and they’re barely scared of us. At the pass there’s a 3-meter wall of snow. It looked much smaller from below, but up close it’s still a big pile.

We get the ascent in half an hour. Clouds start building over the surrounding hills a bit. We still have more than 5 km to Refuge des Fonts de Cervières, where we want to sleep.

We go down about 500 meters over loose rock, and then a nice trail begins. We jog a bit here and there, and stop often when we spot a marmot. Suddenly they all start whistling loudly, and then we see it — a fox! We can already see the hut, so we pick up the pace a little.

The trail is more like a stream here, so we jump over the stones like goats. By the river I pick some wild thyme, and a marmot peeks out at me from its burrow. Dinner’s already being served at the hut, so the smell is lovely, and I walk in among them feeling pretty smelly myself. I pay €5 for a shower, camping and electricity. Great price, we’re happy with it. We pitch the tent fast, and I go straight for a wash while everyone else eats. A great warm shower in a wooden hut — I feel like a new person, though the flies still won’t leave me alone. Dinner is an egg as a starter, then mashed potato with tuna, olives, parmesan and dried tomatoes for the main course. No signal here, so I just sort through photos and write the blog. Jozef’s already asleep.

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We were on our feet for 17 days and slept in the tent for 18 nights. On average, each day we climbed and descended the equivalent of Poludňový Grúň from Vrátna — twice. Even though we had 11 km more to cover to reach that altitude.

Our original plan was to just do the GR 54 (around Écrins National Park) and then wander around a bit afterward. We had a big buffer in case of storms, and also because this trek is considered one of the toughest in the Alps. But the weather was on our side and our fitness was genuinely good, so we managed to finish it in just 7 days. We can confirm: GR 54 is definitely tougher than the TMB. In case we had a few days left over, we’d considered heading into the Vercors range, but it just felt like a waste not to put 10 free days toward something better.

So we decided to head into Vanoise National Park. And it was a good call. You can’t just pitch a tent anywhere in Vanoise, so we tried to sleep just outside its borders and once booked a bivouac spot by a mountain hut. Vanoise is really beautiful, and the climbs were less demanding. We always planned about two days ahead. Our days ended up a bit shorter, mostly because of the weather, but I think our tired bodies appreciated it too. Once we’d wandered across the whole park, we still had a few days left, so we decided to cross the Massif des Cerces, back toward GR 54, to Le Bourg d’Oisans, the town we’d started from.

And it really didn’t fall short of the national parks. If you ever happen to find yourself in that area, don’t skip Mont Thabor — we didn’t get better views in any direction anywhere else on the whole trip. To finish things off, we treated ourselves to something every cyclist would envy: the Col du Galibier (last year the Tour de France went over it twice — we’re currently watching the Netflix series about it). It was the last proper climb on our itinerary. The final stretch was genuinely steep, and it was there, for the only time on the whole trip, that thoughts of “why am I even doing this to myself” crept into my head. But once we reached the top, it was all good again — like it always is once you drag yourself up some peak or pass. Driving up to Col du Galibier isn’t much of an achievement. Cycling it, now that’s something. And walking it is the peak of madness.

Coming home

Coming home is tough. Slotting back into society is never exactly a favorite activity. In Grenoble we wanted a coffee, but right by the station was a Muslim neighborhood with a market going on and a million people around. So we ended up in a bakery, and even went to McDonald’s, just so we wouldn’t have to bother finding food at the airport. At the airport we repacked our things so Jozef’s backpack would come to 10 kg, and wrapped it in plastic film. We went to drop it off at check-in and the woman told us it couldn’t be wrapped like that — by the way, there was a paid wrapping service right there. We then read the rules and apparently it’s not allowed to be wrapped in film from home. Honestly, I have no idea what the actual difference is. So we took the film off and secured it some other way with straps, but we’ve had it happen before that they’ve damaged the backpack a bit. On top of that, they sent us over to the oversize counter (even it weighed only 10 kg). The staff there had no idea why we’d been sent over, but they took it anyway. We flew to Kraków. We weren’t seated together — I ended up next to a bunch of kids, Jozef was sitting next to a Frenchman, with whom he even spoke in English during the flight. So he does know English after all. In Kraków we wait at the baggage carousel, wait until it stops completely. No sign of our bag. There’s another girl standing there too, who says she was also sent to oversize with her backpack. So off we go to fill out a lost luggage form. They’d left it behind in Lyon. It’s supposed to arrive on the next flight, on 2 August, and then they will send it to us. Because of all that, we miss our train and don’t leave Kraków until almost 8pm. I handle the navigation. Part of the route takes us down a genuinely narrow road through a forest, but Google showed it as the fastest option. By quarter to eleven we’re in the Kysuce region. We eat something, chat a bit, and go to sleep in an actual bed! The next day we head off at 9am to Partizánske with 6 buckets of blueberries. We don’t even stop at home first, straight to distributing them among the family. We get home at 2pm. Once everything’s unloaded from the car, the apartment looks like a bomb went off in it. We hadn’t been home in almost a month. Jozef cooks pasta puttanesca while I sort out what I need for work tomorrow. In the afternoon I fall asleep on the couch, and toward evening we go for a bike ride. Our fitness is fantastic. Róbert Fekete’s is closed, so we grab a beer at Osemdesiatka instead. And that’s really the end of our journey. It was amazing. There were harder moments, easier ones too, but we got through it together. Hope you enjoyed this diary, and that at least through the photos you got a little taste of the French Alps.

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Col du Galibier – Le Bourg d’Oisans

→ 13,39 km ↑ 219m ↓ 875 m

We get up around 7am, no rush today. No more mountains waiting for us. We just want to link this section back up with GR 54, so it’s all nicely closed off. Breakfast is mushroom soup and coffee. Glad the gas canister held out. It’s a clear morning, so the glaciers are on full display.

We pack up slowly, finishing the soup on a bench. We head down the switchbacks, watching the last of the marmots along the way.

We meet a grandma with a genuinely stylish haircut, walking poles and a hiking backpack. She starts talking to me in French, but I pull out my trusty line, “No parlé francias” (translation: “I don’t speak French”). And, as usual, that’s followed by simplified French and a lot of expressive gesturing. She asks if we hiked up to the pass on foot. I say yes, and she replies in English, “very good.” Genuinely lovely grandma. And there really are a lot of older people out here — at least half the hikers we’ve met were over 50, often well over. After that we’ve still got a short climb up to the busy Col du Lautaret (2057 m). We grab a coffee and charge our devices for a bit, since last night our power bank died completely at 15% — something we’ll need to look into once we’re home. Today’s destination is Villar-d’Arêne, which we passed by on day two. Still 7.5 km to go.

We follow the GR50, which loops around the Écrins national park. It’s longer than the GR54 but with less elevation gain. First along a mowed path through meadows, then on asphalt all the way to Villar. This is where the main road to Grenoble runs, and we want to hitchhike to Bourg d’Oisans, which is on the way. Along the road Jozef mentions he read somewhere that hitchhiking in France is notoriously bad, so we’ll see. We find a decent spot and stick out a thumb — the very first car stops. It’s only going as far as La Grave though, so we keep hitchhiking. A minute later another car stops, also headed to La Grave, and a minute after that, another one. Finally we flag down one going further. It’s a tiny Škoda that Jozef barely manages to squeeze into. An older French couple gives us a lift, and they speak a bit of English, so we attempt some conversation. The woman teaches me how to say Bourg d’Oisans since she couldn’t understand me when I asked where they were headed. Turns out you just drop half the vowels and say it as fast as possible. The result comes out something like “BOODOZAHN.” The ride takes 40 minutes and it’s genuinely a bit dangerous — lots of tight bends and narrow tunnels. Every few meters there’s an avalanche warning sign, some even with light signals. This place must get pretty rough in winter. At 1pm they drop us off at the edge of town, close to a campsite, so we head straight there. We were deciding whether to go or not, but we do need to unwind and clean ourselves a bit before the flight, and they’re forecasting thunderstorms for this evening.

It’s very muggy out. After showering, pitching the tent, and sorting out our gear, we head into town. First stop is a shop, where we grab a pasta salad with crab sticks since we’re starving, then we go send some postcards. We’ve got time to spare, so we get coffee and later pizza too. It’s starting to get dark and we can hear thunder in the distance. On the way back to the campsite we stop to buy Prosecco — I really want some tonight. As we step out of the shop, it starts drizzling. Looks like it’s going to keep raining for a while, so we hurry back to the campsite as fast as we can. A proper downpour breaks out over the last 200 metres, so we run back to the tent. I finish writing yesterday’s blog post and we drink some Prosecco. Jozef goes to have a shower again, but when he goes to put his shoe on, he finds a huge slug inside it. Pretty disgusting.

Later that night, when we’re heading to bed, there are actually three of them in there. I guess the amazing smell drew them in. Just to be safe, we bring absolutely everything into the tent. It’s still raining pretty hard. Glad we’re not somewhere high tonight. Tomorrow all that’s left is the trip home.

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Les Grands Lacs – Col du Galibier

→ 29 km ↑ 1601 m ↓ 1818 m

We get up at 8am. We slept over 10 hours. No rush this morning. Today’s the last full day of walking ahead of us. Breakfast is leek soup, which is about 42% mashed potato, with added pasta. Dark clouds are gathering over the hills behind us. We’ve got no signal, so we can’t check the forecast. For now, it’s sunny where we are.

We set off at 9:20am. First we descend into the valley toward the Refuge du Terre Rouge hut. They’ve got a small hydroelectric plant there, so Jozef explains to me how hydroelectric plants work and what we have back in Slovakia. This comes up on our hikes all the time, since we usually pass powerplants somewhere along the way. One of these days it’ll actually stick.

There are plenty of marmots again today, so here’s the next chapter of yesterday’s marmot facts. They have 4 fingers on their front feet and 5 on their back ones, since they only dig with 4 fingers and the fifth gradually shrank away to nothing. Most of their burrows are dead ends, only about 1.5 m deep, and serve as quick hiding spots. Then they have their actual home, a whole system of tunnels — one main chamber for hibernating, another for going to the toilet, and in winter even a ventilation tunnel, since they seal off the main entrance. In winter they need snow as insulation, otherwise the frost would get into the burrow and they probably wouldn’t survive it. And they’ve got this funny whistle — whoever’s on lookout duty warns the rest of the group about danger. This kind of thing I remember instantly. We’re walking through a green valley, climbing toward the Pas des Griffes pass (2548 m). The other side is a complete contrast — rock and sharp peaks.

It’s 350 m down and 350 m up to the next pass. We descend a bit and stop for lunch — a baguette with salami and cheese, plus a pain au lait. I catch up on yesterday’s blog while Jozef calls a colleague. He tells us we’re crazy, though I don’t really see it that way myself. Jozef sometimes calls me a crazy woman too, though I take that as a compliment. We carry on toward the Col de la Plagnette pass (2525 m). The map shows us joining a cycling route, so we figure it’ll be a comfortable climb. We were quite wrong.

We can’t imagine who could actually cycle up terrain like this, given how much we’re struggling on foot. On top of that, some storm has clearly wreaked havoc here, leaving behind a channel full of washed-up rocks. Marmots are everywhere as always, and we stumble on a proper marmot battle. They don’t pay us any attention, so we film them. Once the fight’s over, we move on. We cross the pass and a view of lakes opens up ahead.

If we weren’t at 2500 m altitude, we’d go for a swim — the lakes look so inviting. It’s getting fairly late in the day now and we should probably pick up the pace a little.

First we wind down the switchbacks to Les Mottets, where we grab a coffee, and then comes today’s main event: Col du Galibier (2642 m), a mountain frequently featured on the Tour de France. We first try the orange trail that mapy.cz marks as the Trail du Galibier, but we simply cannot find it anywhere. It’s supposed to link up to a yellow trail marker, so we just follow the contour line in that general direction.

Once we join up with it, there’s a nice path. From here we can already see the busy paved road that runs up to Col du Galibier. The weather looks a bit uncertain, so I check the forecast. I switch off airplane mode and a text comes through — someone from ZKW, where I’d interviewed before we left, had tried calling me over an hour ago. I open my email right away and find out I’ve been offered the project cost estimator position, starting 1 August, if I want it. My phone starts ringing right then, I pick up, but the signal is genuinely terrible and the call drops. I find a spot on a rock and try again, and it’s better there.

So I accept the offer, and we’ll sort out the rest on Monday. Marmots whistle away somewhere in the background. It starts drizzling lightly, so I put on my rain jacket. We keep climbing, climbing gradually through the road’s switchbacks. Marmots everywhere, still. The final stretch is genuinely brutal, to the point where I start asking myself why I’m even doing this.

We finally make it to the top, and people give us odd looks — why on earth would we walk up here instead of driving like normal people. We take some photos and head over to the viewpoint.

We don’t have a specific spot picked out for the night, planning to just settle down somewhere on the way down. As we descend, a stunning view of the glaciers opens up. We find a decent enough spot — tall grass, but it’s got a bench.

We pitch the tent, Jozef cooks dinner, and I go for a very light wash-up. There’s a fairly cold wind blowing, so it’s not the most pleasant. This is our last night out here beyond civilization. For the past few days, you find yourself looking forward to the end of the trip — but once it actually arrives, you realize how great it’s been and that you’d honestly stay a bit longer.

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