"Why don't we hike in Europe?" Wait, did I just hear my wife ask me if I want to go to another country? Sure, the thought of backpacking in a part of the world that both of us have never been to certainly has its perks, but could I really pull it off? My internal judge (the glass-half-empty curmudgeon) screamed, "You're not strong enough," followed by, "Get real, you're barely a year out from chemotherapy and a major surgery!" Doubt ensnared my dream, leaving me to question if I'd ever make it to Europe mind any other outdoor adventure in the near future. I began to wallow in a pool of negative emotion; my free spirit and adventurous self paralyzed by these venomous jabs of internal pity. Jen, undeterred by my doubt, showed me webpages of top hiking destinations in the Old World. What really got my attention was The Alps and the famed Tour Du Mont Blanc, a 110-mile saunter around the summit of the Mont Blanc massif through France, Italy, and Switzerland. One hundred ten miles didn't sound bad, heck, Jen and I hiked double that on the John Muir Trail in California, but this time things were different—or so I thought. Planning a trip such as this requires a great deal of effort, and after a year of being dragged through hell, I was intimidated by the thought of leaving the comforts of home. Things were so tumultuous for me earlier in the year with doctors' appointments, lab tests, CT scans, surgeries, and an arduous recovery that the thought of leaving the country, albeit temporarily, had never crossed my mind. What if something happens while I'm backpacking? I thought. No one in Europe knows what I've been through, has my medical records, or can understand my eighth-grade-level French. "Are you going to let this stop you?" Jen asked, bursting my bubble of indecision. I knew she was right. I couldn't let my worries earn my attention. I would never get anywhere if I did.

We're always changing—every day of our lives. No matter if it's a new job, school, or lifestyle, change is never easy; yet it's during these difficult times when we learn the most about ourselves and what we're capable of achieving. This year, Jen and I endured the toughest change—the kind that barges into your life unexpectedly. It was unwelcome and we wanted it out of our lives immediately. We were impatient and we struggled to allow time to heal. We knew we'd have to change ourselves, especially our mindsets, to make progress. We actually employed a mantra we learned from our early backpacking days to get us through some challenging times: A step forward, no matter how small, gets you that much closer to your goal. Instead of being held back by doubt, we would take steps every day to leave our struggles behind.

When it came time to go all-in and make the decision to buy plane tickets to Europe, I fought the urge to cancel the order and hole up in my house where I felt safe and away from the dangers lurking in the world. But after we purchased the tickets, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. This time, my willingness to change was in my control. If I was ever going to regain the adventurous self I was before this medical catastrophe, I was going to have to fly away and effect the change I wanted to see.

It's not easy deciphering train schedules, especially when everything is in a foreign language. Here, Jen double-checks that our train to Chamonix is à temps.

Exhausted, Jen and I set up at a hiker campground in Chamonix. There's a lot to do before we start the 110-mile Tour du Mont Blanc in the morning.

One of the more popular villages to start the Tour du Mont Blanc, Bellevue, France, offers breathtaking views and a taste of what's to come on our trek.

There are no shortages of places to eat lunch along the trail. Cattle fields at the base of glacier valleys were top on our list.

Jen and I were often stopped in our tracks by the stunning beauty surrounding us.

Hiking in the springtime afforded us opportunities to connect with, as John Muir would say, "nature’s beauties."

We met many hikers from all over the world, including a younger fellow from Germany.

It took three days of rigorous hiking for me to regain my endurance and mountain legs. I felt defeated early on, but began feeling stronger and stronger as time went on.

From efflorescing mountain meadows to frozen snowfields, we experienced a variety of microclimates along the way.

We struggled to find an unsuitable place to take a photo in front of the Mont Blanc massif in Italy.

Courmayeur, Italy, as seen from Mont De La Saxe. We took a day off in this quaint mountain village to rest our sore muscles, sample local food and spirits, and tour the outfitters and galleries.

The Tour du Mont Blanc meanders through high-mountain cow fields where the residents show little interest in foreign onlookers.

We gazed down Val Ferret, reminiscing at how far we've come, as we neared the Italy–Switzerland border.

Many people from Israel hike the Tour du Mont Blanc and the surrounding Alps region in summer, including a father and son from Tel Aviv.

Digital cameras are worth their weight when you’re rewarded with compositions like this one in Switzerland.

Back in Chamonix, after ten days of incredible weather and memories, Jen and I celebrate our accomplishment by sharing a cold bière with hikers from Germany and the UK.

Until next time, peace and love,

Coming Up:

December 2018: Adopting a New Direction

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