The Alps Ⅰ

We've arrived in the Alps. After two weeks of rest at Lake Geneva — new shoes, new backpack for Malou, new sleeping bag — we begin the first Alpine section: 155 kilometres from Thonon-les-Bains to Les Houches, at the foot of Mont Blanc.

It never gets old. Every col reveals a new, unknown valley, every bend offers a breathtaking view. We discover that Alpine kilometres go much slower than lowland ones. At the Portes d'Oche at 1,937 metres we stand above Lake Geneva with Mont Blanc on the horizon. At night ibex graze next to our tent — first one majestic male silhouetted against the sunset, then ten females with young passing at arm's length.

We get caught in a storm while cooking on a mountain pass — Mark sets up the tent alone in the dark, in the rain, in the middle of the path. The only flat spot. We learn to collect and purify rainwater, and slowly become "real scouts."

At Le Brévent (2,525 metres) we stand face to face with Mont Blanc — tourists in sandals take selfies next to us, sweaty mountain hikers with backpacks. The 1,500 metre descent is merciless: Mark's toes turn blue, new shoes are a must. Three American hikers ask for a photo and call us "my heroes forever."

At Les Houches we look back at Mont Blanc. The first Alpine act is done. The next one will be even more intense.