I arrived in Grenoble with the vague hope that my waterlogged phone could be fixed, but fairly resigned to the financial pain of having to buy a new one. Thus followed over 2 weeks of daily (sometimes x2 or x3) trips to a backstreet call centre / come internet cafe to find a new problem had arisen - 'demain - je suis certain'. (Thank god he wasn't Spanish because that many 'mañanas' would have meant a century!)

But the huge plus side was spending more than my customary one night with my host. A huge thankyou to Xavier and his family for making me feel so welcome, even when I kept not leaving! My 2 weeks were entertained by paddling on the mountain lakes, watching films on the home cinema screen (i hadn't seen a film in months), wine, beer, trying to teach myself Italian and cycling round the city. Not to mention making a time lapse video of us trying out Xav's new inflatable kayak and my 4 day amble in the mountains / dice with death! Needless to say the latter was a rapid lesson in mountain walking difficulties and the most scared I've been on this trip. I'll leave it to your wild imaginations but the words "torrential rain, steep drops, crumbling paths and alone" should paint a picture.

And then, on the day I had decided to cut my losses with my phone and fork out for a new one - a miracle. Instead of saying 'tomorrow' he said 'voila'. My phone had been fixed. I cycled back to Xav's with a bottle of celebratory cider; although it was tinged with sadness at having to say another goodbye.

I set off again, into the stunning but demanding mountains between Grenoble and Briançon. In Bourg d'Oisans I felt a bit out of place; it is a cyclists' mecca and the place was teeming with lycra-clad enthusiasts (predominantly Dutch). They passed me in a steady stream as we all toiled our way up the legendary Tour de France climb to Alp d'Huez. I say 'we' - there are 21 switch back bends climbing 1100m, happily my route veered off after 5 bends. It took me along a cliff side road and across a scree covered mountain path where a signpost warned me "dangerous path, falling rocks, never remain stationary", which was reassuring. No problem for the wildlife though, halfway along a chamois came hurtling straight down the loose rock falls and across the path 15m ahead of me!

After a night in the timelessly picturesque alpine village of Besse I continued climbing to the Plateau d'Emparis and the Col du Souchet. After several days of blazing sunshine (and more awesome thunder storms - you haven't been in a real thunder storm until you've experienced one bouncing round the mountain valleys) the weather waited until I was at 2365m to change its' game. I struggled over the plateau, sinking in soft snow upto my knees (which were bare - it was sunny in the morning!), crossing snow melt torrents (one I had to ditch my shoes for as it was too deep and there was no way across) and eventually being stung by pin-like hailstones and a chilling wind. Atleast the marmots kept me entertained, hurrying to their burrows and squeaking warnings of my presence to their friends. As I descended to the ominously named village of La Grave, a flash of lightning was followed by a crack of thunder loud enough to make me jump and send my heart racing.

My route to Briançon took me over the Col du Lautaret and down past the valley to the Serre Chevalier ski resort. I was last there 2 years ago on a snowboarding trip. It brought back good memories (except for Paul's broken shoulder) and I had no idea at the time that my path to Istanbul would cross the pistes I was riding. Or that I would spend the night camping on the mountainside with the fast flowing torrent as my bath room! The sound of rushing water is everywhere in the mountains and I've passed plenty of stunning waterfalls and picked my way across streams and torrents several times.

I've always loved the mountains when I've been snowboarding in the winter and they are perhaps more stunning in the summer. However, the chairlifts change everything! Huffing and puffing my way up endless climbs under the weight of my rucksack I would wonder what the f#%! I was putting myself through. Some of the paths are downright scarey, unstable and huge drops to the side. It's not only physically draining but mentally exhausting too. Even with my walking poles, my balance is compromised by my heavy bag and I have to concentrate on each step. But just when the suntan lotion sweat is stinging my eyes and my legs are screaming, I am rewarded by a breathtaking (if there is any breath left) view and a sense of achievement. And the final reward of these mountains will hopefully be my next country. After a short rest in Briancon I am off to Italy.

Merci beaucoup la France et tous les gens qui j'ai rencontré. C'était inoubliable et l'accueil toujours chaleureuse. Je part avec des souvenirs très fort.