How the heatwave disrupts our plans

In Toulouse, we discover the city's rental bikes, which can be used for free for the first half an hour. And so we ride through all corners of the city, passing by red brick houses or old boats on the Garonne River that are used as homes or restaurants. Unfortunately, we both caught a stomach flu and we are stuck in the small room for a few days. A predicted heatwave of 40 degrees in Europe surprises us and jeopardizes our plan to continue hiking on the long-distance trail E4. After much deliberation, we decide to abort and find a lake to make the heatwave period more bearable. We go to Aix les Bains. A quiet, chic town, with many older tourists enjoying the large lake that borders the Alps. After an evening swim in the lake, we set up our tent in the large park, a bit away from a parking lot. No one bothers us. The next morning, we move to the nearby campsite. While our neighbors from Hamburg arrived in a powerful 200 PS Sprinter van and enjoy their dinner on the camping table while sipping wine glasses, we don't know what to do with our spot and sit somewhat lost next to our tent on the ground.

We also want to cook and prepare the camping stove. When Jakob tries to light the burner, the flame rises higher than planned and it makes all of us, including the Hamburgers, laugh, and we spend the rest of the evening talking to the self-employed couple who could not have more different ways of vacationing - and yet they ended up in the same campsite as us. They offer us wine and are interested in our journey.

Our destination remains Lake Maggiore, where we will meet our families at the end of August. We want to hike towards Lake Maggiore on the Grande Traversata delle Alpi. The GTA connects old mountain villages in the Italian Alps that are located in high valleys. Thus, gentle tourism is intended to reach the local people and support them in continuing to live there. What we underestimated is that the path therefore leads over mountain ridges from valley to valley. Each stage involves at least 1000 meters of ascent and, of course, 1000 meters of descent again. Rarely does it go straight. With our heavy backpacks, we struggle uphill for a few hours, then our knees suffer when running downhill. We have magnificent views, enjoy the silence and solitude, the meadows are blooming, and the water of the lakes and rivers is incredibly clear. Marmots emit their warning calls, chamois jump away, and huge flocks of sheep have to make way for us. They are protected by large white dogs, which also look a bit like sheep or white bears. We buy homemade alpine cheese, walk through forests charred black by forest fires, and there is snow on the mountain peaks. At a reservoir, we find a free camping site with a beautiful view, a waterfall, tables and benches, and two nice Italians.

We share our supplies. Of course, they show us how to cook pasta properly ;) and since one of the Italians is a botanist, we pick some herbs that we later add to the pasta (and of course - as is usual with fresh herbs - they are not cooked with). Since the two of them are not continuing the next day, they leave us their provisions: much to Jakob's delight, including a delicious canned fish.

Miriam's muscle soreness gets worse and Jakob has problems with his left shoulder, so one day we only walk a comfortable 3 hours to the next town. We swim in a mountain stream, set up our tent in the park of the small town of Ussgelio, stock up on plenty of food, and rest our tired legs. After a good night's sleep, we go uphill again the next day by a whopping 1200 meters. Thunderstorms are predicted. After 2 hours of ascent, a German couple comes towards us. They tell us about a bivouac hut on the mountain ridge and leave us their remaining supplies: apples, peanuts, fruit bars, and bread. What luck, otherwise we wouldn't have had enough. The thunderstorm spares us and the shelter is equipped with mattresses, blankets, and candles. It is clean, warm, and cozy.

For dinner, we have toast with tomato and mozzarella, and for dessert, the peanuts and fruit bars. We drink the clear water from the mountain stream. The night is wonderfully quiet and dark. When we reach Balme, we make the decision not to continue on the GTA. As beautiful as the trail is, our energy reserves are depleted. Balme is a small secluded mountain village, so we hitchhike: surprisingly, it works quickly, and we need three rides - and the life of a squirrel - until we can take the bus to Turin for the last leg of our journey.

In Turin, we meet a friendly Italian who works for Nike, and he invites us to a cafe while waiting for the bus. We don't even realize that the bus is not coming at all and that we are at the wrong stop - and the streak of bad luck continues, as we miss the bus three times in total. Our landlady is originally from Argentina, and the fact that we now speak a bit of Spanish lightens the mood a lot, and our delay is quickly forgotten. In Turin, we drink one espresso after another and stroll from cafe to cafe. We let ourselves drift.

We continue to Ivrea by train and a ride share, a small town with a gigantic wide waterfall that cools the entire city.

An Italian who has lived in Germany for a long time, and whose German son is currently visiting him, gives us a ride and recommends a hostel right next to the whitewater course in the city center, where professional kayaking takes place. We are moved to the girls' room, as there are no more beds available, which we share with a German youth team for kayaking. Unfortunately, we also unintentionally witness some teenage drama.

In the city, we meet a refugee who is asking for money on the street to earn a little extra. He comes from Nigeria and tells us about how he came to Italy across the Mediterranean Sea. When we meet him later by chance in the city, he is repairing his rickety bicycle. We help him thread the chain back onto the sprocket and invite him for a coffee. He tells us that he no longer has family in Nigeria and that nothing is keeping him there anymore. He doesn't get along so well with the other refugees and he tries to stay out of trouble and focus on learning Italian. We hope he will get his work permit and that the populist Salvini will not be elected to the government through forced elections. We will not forget his name 'Frank Peter' so quickly. The next day, the hostel is full and we once again sleep in the park, where the mosquitoes bite us. Actually, we wanted to hike to the next town, but since we are enjoying hitchhiking so much and have become a bit lazy in carrying our heavy backpacks, we take two rideshares to the next town of Biella, where very nice people (an IT specialist and a scout) take us.

We make our way to Lake Maggiore via Novara, where we will spend the summer vacation with our families!