My First Day on the Long Ways….

Four years ago I decided to take a hike on the Mont Blanc trail. Since then I’ve realized that this was probably one of the most addictive things that I’d ever do. It was, and I haven’t looked back since. Over the past 5 years, I’ve been going on a series of long hikes across the landscapes of Europe. Initially these trips were just with my son Devin, but later we added in one of my closest friends, Eric. The Long Ways Podcast is our attempt to revisit, relive, and most importantly, laugh about our adventures on these trails.

But before you proceed, a little warning. Here on my blog posts you will find the backstory behind the episodes in the podcast from my perspective. I’m pretty sure that my travel partners on these misadventures have very different opinions and recollections of the journey. However just for the record, their opinions and memories are irrelevant and honestly, probably wrong. Just getting that out there for full disclosure.

So, let’s start with the first day on the Tour de Mont Blanc.

Expectations Meet Reality

It was July 2018, and I’d never been on a long hike before. I love hiking, and since I live in the Appalachian Mountains, I’ve done lots of it. I’ve gone on several backpack trips, but they were usually of the short duration kind and often coupled with canoeing or car camping. In other words, I like hiking, but not backpacking. The idea of sleeping on the ground without a beer (or 6) at the end of the night is definitely not appealing to me. Not in my 20s and 30’s, and certainly not in my 50’s.

 Luckily, Devin had found a company, Macs Adventures, that excelled in site to site hiking – day hikes with nights at hostels,  BnBs, and small hotels.  Each day, all you had to do was get up, eat some breakfast, and prepare for a day on the trail. Macs set up you itinerary and moved your luggage. All you had to do was to day hike to the next stop. There you were rewarded with a shower, warm bed, and yes, beer.

 The Tour de Mont Blanc was the first of our long hikes. Devin had decided on it just a few weeks before our departure date and he had convinced me that it would be a great experience for us both. To be honest, I was looking for a break from my daily routine and wanted a physical and mental challenge to refocus. Of course, it would also be great to reconnect with my son in a beautiful European setting, and in case you didn’t guess, I really like European pubs.

In this case, I got everything I asked for. If only I had been prepared.

 When in France, Don’t Use 3x5 Cards

 On the day that our adventure was to begin, I arrived at the Charles De Gaul airport almost two hours early.  While you may think that this is a good thing, it only is if you speak French, and I don’t – not even a little. I speak a little Spanish, but the French were not impressed with my attempts to convert their language to Spanish.

 Luckily I’d written the address to the train station where I was supposed to meet Devin on a white 3x5 card. I flagged down a taxi, handed him my card. He stared at it, and then back at me…. and then asked me three questions in French. I stared back at the cabbie, he stared back at me, and after what I could swear was a “stupid fucking American” comment (no offense taken, he really was right), we headed off to a train station. At that point I realized it wasn’t smart to argue which one we were going to, and I was out of 3x5 cards anyways.

Having not read the French news the day before, I was unaware that the day I needed a train  to take me to the south of France was exactly the day that the French decided to strike against - yes, you got it - trains. It seems this is a regular occasion in France (such as Thursdays), but it did present a problem on how to get to our destination before we had to set out at 7am the next morning.

When Devin arrived and hour or so later, I figured we would be fine. After all, he had dated a French girl, knew French (or I thought he did), and could get us out of this mess. My hopes were dashed when after talking to a number of people at the station, all of which had the same look as my cabbie, he said “Let’s take this one”. Options limited, we boarded.

To give the French credit, it seems that train strikes are a well-coordinated thing in France. We spent the next few hours racing to the southern part of the country in a very high-speed train, which was super-cool in itself. Turns through the countryside at 140 mph… yes please! Of course, we were wondering how we would make our next two sets of connections. We formed all sorts of contingency plans, none of which were even remotely viable, for what we would do if we missed the next train..

However, the French are remarkably adapted to making sure that train strikes don’t impact their personal lives. So while we were delayed getting out of Paris, they had conveniently delayed all of the other connections across the country by the same amount of time. I must say, I really appreciate that level of ingenuity.

Les Houche

Over the next hour we transferred to increasingly smaller trains, until we arrived at the village of Les Houche. As you will hear on the podcast, that was an experience it itself. Finding no help at the train station (there were no people), we wandered into town and eventually found our first hotel. After a quick dinner and a few bottles of beer, we passed out in our room for our 6am local time wake up. 

The train station at Les Houche… if it looks deserted, well, it was

 Morning… Or for Me, Midnight

I woke up tired and completely unready to eat my much-needed breakfast at what my body thought was 1am. We packed our bags and packs, gathered our lunch and some water and walked outside.

 Towering above me was the Mont Blanc mountain range. Over the next 8 days it would challenge me on every level, and reward me with some of the best vistas, experiences, and companionship I’ve experienced in my life. 

 But first, I had to get my ass up that mountain. And hell, was it big.

 I will let the podcast pick up the story from there.