It's true. It' s my "dirty" little secret. Just dig a little hole, drop my drawers and let it go just like a blissful cow, pure and simple, the way nature intended. Public toilets are nasty. But I'm afraid I will soon need to resort to a real commode soon once I hit the flatlands of eastern Italy. It is more crowded and built up there and more open. Not like the mountains with trees and twists and turns and many a hiding place. And so, a new challenge shall await me. I've had a little taste of what's to come (sorry, maybe not the best phrase to use) once I hit the base of the Alps. There was one longish stretch of flat and it threw me off. It was like hitting Nebraska coming out of the Rockies. A great expanse of flat earth is not something I have encountered yet. Behind me the mountains stretched into a jagged, panoramic spine of white pinnacles as far as the eye could see. I'd walk for miles and turn around and those mountains did not seem to recede. Sometimes they seemed to be getting closer and then I figured it out: they were following me! They wanted to go to Istanbul too, been sitting in one place too long.
Which reminds me, when I stop walking and sit to do anything, like write a blog, I get all stopped up and find it hard to think straight. Confusion sets in. When I'm walking I write these beautiful blogpost paragraphs in my head and then forget them when I sit down. I'm surprised I make any sense at all. It reminds me of the writer, Bruce Chatwin, who, during the time of his untimely death, was working on a book about nomadism and how genetically we still have ties locked in our cells to the days before we were sedentary and agrarian, when we were still hunters and gatherers and followed the seasons and the animals by foot. How we are carried in motion inside our mothers moving around for 9 months before we are born. Sure, I love my nest. My tent is my nest and I know where everything goes at night inside it. But I think I am clearer when I am motion. So if my blog ever sounds weird you will know why.
Since I know a number of folks are mapping out my trajectory I'm gonna go way back to a time back in France which seems like very old news to me now. My last quaint, white roads in France went through the adorable villages of Villedieu and Mirabel before I got on primarily red roads to the border. I was bracing for a lot more traffic but it turned out not to be the case. Near Nyons, a very charming place, was some traffic but that was because that Monday was a holiday in France ( I was in France for less than 3 weeks and they had three holidays and no one knew what they were for. I think if I lived in Europe I could actually get a 9 to 5 job because you never work it!) But all the way to Gap the road was fairly peaceful. There was a bit more vehicular movement around Gap but things really simmered after Barcennolette. In fact, it got so quiet on my last day up into the Alps and over the pass that I questioned the road I was on and wondered if anyone was coming or going through Italy. Believe me, I loved it.
A French national was returning from an extended bike trip and had 200 km left to get home. He stopped and asked me questions about my trip. He asked where I slept at night and I said most nights my tent. He thought it was a shame because I missed out on getting to know the locals more. He apparently asks to sleep in their fields or yards when he bicycles. But ya know, it's not my thing. My favorite book is WANDERING by Herman Hesse, and it's like one long extended poem. The original version has simple watercolors that Hesse painted himself. But like the main character, I am content to peer into the lives of strangers for brief moments, see them at their place of work, see them in their yards or the window of their homes. Snippets of their cozy, secure, lives and then go on my way. I really get a lot out of these shorter slices.
There were a few small and simple last day impressions in France aside from the grandeur of the mountains. I found another 50 cent piece and then used it towards a glass of fresh oj that a woman made for me in a tiny cafe that was open in Larch, way up in the Alps. The other was of a couple that stopped their car to ask me what I was doing. The woman was animated, but could only speak french so her husband translated for her. She was very excited about my journey & it brought back for her memories of walking that famous trail in Spain, the El Camino Santiago (I swear, LOTS of people have done that walk, a lot of women, and all with very fond memories).
At the top of the Alps, ahhhh--- those glorious mountains. What a sight. What an incredibly beautiful sight. Sublime. When I reached the pass I twirled around and did my Julie Andrews impersonation and then went for the border. But there was nothing there! A welcome sign but not much more. No fanfare. No passport control, no shop, nothing. Only some marmots and the snow. So I took in the moment and then dropped into Italy. It was strange how eerily quiet everything was. Very mellow, very still. The drop on the Italy side was much steeper than my climb up. I watched spring in many stages as I decended from no buds on the trees to just little buds, etc etc. It was like walking a time lapse camera through spring over the course of two days.
My first night was spent in a ghost resort village. The place appeared to be in stages of being built, and not even on my map. And deserted. I knew it was gonna be a cold night because the winds had picked up and there was still snow on the ground so I ducked inside an unfinished resort and slept in a room that will be charming when completed but was very cold and hard while I was there.
The next morning I awoke to a few fluttering flakes in the air and could see that the peaks I had crossed were getting a bit of snow. I had had terrific weather for all my days leading up and over the Alps. But my time ran out. It snowed harder as I continued down, then turned to slush stuff and then cold rain. I went into my first Italian restaurant, a very cute little place in La Planche, and had my first in-country meal. The only non meat item on the menu was a ravioli so I ordered it to warm me up and then a hot chocolate too. The food came out great but my drink was a mug of thick goo requiring the spoon it came with to eat\drink it. I sat by the fireplace and escaped the rain for an hour until it stopped. Locals have told me it's been the coldest, rainiest spring in more than 30 years. I haven't minded the cold temps so much because they are easier to walk in. But the rain just sucks and I hope those days are gone soon.
Italy is different. Immediately. The foods, the towns, the customs. So far I have not been impressed with the towns, they are more spread out and not as compact and historic as in Spain and France. But I really love two things so far. The people. So much more gregarious, inquisitive, friendly, and apologetic for their "poor" English which I personally think is quite fine. I'm grateful that so many CAN speak english. I find myself speaking four languages in one sentence these days: english, spanish, french and now italian (thank you Bob for your help with some of the words). It's a wonder anyone understands me but they seem to. Either that or they PRETEND to understand cause when they talk back I pretend to understand them. I have been offered many rides already (one by a little, old, white- haired lady in the mountains), have had people stop to shake my hand after asking me what I am doing, have heard "bravo" and "complimento" much (and my first "you are crazy" from a woman in a grocery store). One lady in Borgo San Dalmazzo who I asked directions for insisted on giving me a ride to my exchange and when I said no she opened up the trunk of her car refusing to take NO (to place my backpack). But I firmly reiterated 'no' so she took it upon herself to drive a mile to the roundabout I needed to reach and waited for me to make sure I found it. When I finally arrived she yelled out from her window, "bravo!" and then drove off with a huge smile. So much kindness here.
The other thing I love in Italy so far, is YOMO yogurt. It's local and incredibly delicious. Just three ingrediants. I have to have my YOMO fix everyday now.
A month ago I bought my first pair of shoes on the road in Tereul, Spain. I was to ease in the new pair and "use up" the rest of the original pair. Well, a month later and I have just thrown out that original pair a couple days ago. It seems that by alternating it's use, I got more mileage out of it because it had a chance to relax a little. That means I carried THREE pairs of shoes for a month with me. My original pair, the other pair I carry for days of rain (or snow) and then the new pair. Now I'm back down to two.
I skipped going to Cuneo ( I wanted something less busy) and headed towards Boves cause I heard it was cute. Somehow I walked right through Boves and missed the quaint part. At least the roads were quieter . (And sorry Diego I missed you in Torino....next time). Then I went for some white roads through Santa Margheria and San Biagio, Carleverri and then to Carru. From Dogliani I was in the Langa which are hills and low mountains, partly wooded, partly cultivated with smatterings of nice homes and some cute little villages with castle ruins or lovely churches. It's a bit more subtle than some things I've seen but still quite nice, softer, like a visual lullaby. I went to Cissone and Cerretto Langhe, Cravanzana and Cortemilia where I briefly blogged yesterday. And now I am in Acqui Terme and heading towards Ovada, Castagnola and on and on. Still not flat. Still good poo places. But I know those days are numbered.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
You Call That A Croissant?
I do not know how you can go from France, which makes the most flakey, light, buttery, not-so-much-chocolate, melts-in-your-mouth, croissants, to Italy, just across the border, and find a chocolate croissant which looks like a kindergarten, playdough, art piece and is as inedible.
So yes, I am in Italy but have virtually no time to blog and lots to say. It is hard to find a terminal to write but for this brief moment I have been gifted a gracious person's office computer. So I will save what I have to say until I can find a place to write it at length.
At the moment, I am in Cortemilla, in what is referred to as the Langa or Alba, a bunch of hills and low mountains and traversing quiet roads. I will be in such terrain for several days and then hit the big flat expanse of the east.
One thing I will say: sometime towards the end of this week will be my unofficial halfway point. I brought that up last blog and then forgot to add that, for those of you who asked if this walk would be more or less miles than my walk across the US, it may be that my miles are the same as the US walk or even more. Originally I had said it would be less but once again, if I could read a map I might be able to judge these things better but such is the way of the happy wanderer who blissfully goes....an goes and goes. (My US walk was roughly 3,150 miles).
Anyway, time is up so I gotta go and hope to bring more news soon.
So yes, I am in Italy but have virtually no time to blog and lots to say. It is hard to find a terminal to write but for this brief moment I have been gifted a gracious person's office computer. So I will save what I have to say until I can find a place to write it at length.
At the moment, I am in Cortemilla, in what is referred to as the Langa or Alba, a bunch of hills and low mountains and traversing quiet roads. I will be in such terrain for several days and then hit the big flat expanse of the east.
One thing I will say: sometime towards the end of this week will be my unofficial halfway point. I brought that up last blog and then forgot to add that, for those of you who asked if this walk would be more or less miles than my walk across the US, it may be that my miles are the same as the US walk or even more. Originally I had said it would be less but once again, if I could read a map I might be able to judge these things better but such is the way of the happy wanderer who blissfully goes....an goes and goes. (My US walk was roughly 3,150 miles).
Anyway, time is up so I gotta go and hope to bring more news soon.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
It Would Really Help If I Could Read A Map
Seriously. Or should I say, Serre-ly, since that is where I am.
I am in the foothills of the Alps and was all day yesterday too. I should have realized that had I looked at the map correctly. But the real trouble came a few days ago. I had left the very charming St. Victor La Cross with it's castle atop the village and meandered towards a little 12th century hermitage called St. Mayran. From there my map was sketchy with only a series of little unnumbered roads or paths. So I decided to freelance it with backroads, then trails, then train tracks, and thought I was doing great and going to La Doise. And I did kind of make it there only into some obscure industrial area of the town. It was Sunday so NO ONE was around and it became very frustrating. Then I found a sole soul who told me I had passed the town. The city is where I thought I would be taking a bridge over to Caderousse only my map didn't really show that; I think I wanted it to be so. Instead, the local told me I needed to walk further north away from town to a place called Codolet and cross the bridge there and then go back south and over A DAM [which is what I guess I saw connect to La Doise even though it wasn't clear on my map....or in real life]. I got so super-heated and was not a happy camper. Fortunately, I found two locals roadside who could speak English who were dumping a giant carp down a hillside into the river because it had become too big for their home pond. They explained the route I needed to take and drew me a map which was very helpful because it was otherwise all super-confusing. But it meant an extra 5 or 6 miles out of my way when my initial poor map reading led me to believe it were to be just an easy jaunt over a river. I did not cool off for miles until I got onto a quiet bike path that took me straight into Caderousse.
After Caderousse I went to Orange, which is renowned, not for their castle or cathedral but an ancient, 2,000 year old Roman theater. I was curious but not willing to pay 10 euro to see the inside. The woman at the museum said it included the museum plus a movie and some 3D show. Sounded like fluff. So I asked a couple who had been inside if it was worth it and both agreed it was although the guy said it was too pricey. Bingo. Then the woman said she had seen some folks on the hilltop behind the theater where I might be able to see inside from there. So I dumped my bag at a little cafe where I'd bought some food [the guy working there called me Indiana Jones, because of my hat. I only hope he meant the '80s Indiana Jones] then climbed the hill to see the ruins. Very impressive, indeed, but not worth ten euro.
What WAS worth a lot of money was a hotel room in Pouzilhac. I had left my camp spot the morning after I had gone thru Uzes which was atop a hill above St. Hippolyte de Montage [ if i had a kid I would so name him Hippolyte. Hey Hippo, time for dinner! ] and no sooner had I packed and left when it started raining. Then harder. Then torrential. It was all so absurd all I could do was laugh. I put "on" my blue plastic ground tarp [for my tent at night] and walked in the monsoon all the way to Pouzilhac. It was Saturday morning and nothing was open. Even the church was closed. Then I found one little place that was open and walked in wrapped in this plastic veil. I asked the woman if there were a restaurant or cafe in town. She told me I was in her cafe. So I asked for food but all she served was coffee plus she was selling three cans of beans on a shelf. She said there was no food in the village except at the restaurant in the only hotel on the edge of the hamlet along the main route. So I ventured back into the downpour, up the road, and into this rather nice hotel lobby with water squishing out of my shoes and this blue plastic shawl draped around me. I asked for breakfast. The young woman working there said breakfast was finished but took pity on me and gave me coffee and croisants. The weather outside was frightful. I was drenched. I inquired about a room and they had only one available and it was ready right away. So I took it. And was so glad for it monsooned for about 7 more hours turning the parking lot into a lake and the road a river. It took all day, and three heaters to dry out my shoes and clothes but I was grateful to be inside watching the BBC on the telly and watching the rains drop outside.
The next morning I continued into the foothills, the scenery became more stunning, and the wineries, very picturesque. Wineries are to southern France as to what olive trees are to southern Spain. They are everywhere. But less in these mountains. There are actually more fruit trees if anything. Last night I camped in the gorgeous gorges of St. May. So beautiful. And next I am off to Gap and then....Italy.
This past Sunday, at the end of the day, would have marked the mid point on my USA trek....day 50 [ I walked it in 100 days]. But I have about 2 more weeks [a little less] to go before I hit that halfway mark this time. All is good. A few rough moments but I'm trying to always remember GRATITUDE. What, I ask myself, despite the troubles I've encountered, can I still be grateful for? And when I start thinking about it, there is always much to be grateful for.
I am in the foothills of the Alps and was all day yesterday too. I should have realized that had I looked at the map correctly. But the real trouble came a few days ago. I had left the very charming St. Victor La Cross with it's castle atop the village and meandered towards a little 12th century hermitage called St. Mayran. From there my map was sketchy with only a series of little unnumbered roads or paths. So I decided to freelance it with backroads, then trails, then train tracks, and thought I was doing great and going to La Doise. And I did kind of make it there only into some obscure industrial area of the town. It was Sunday so NO ONE was around and it became very frustrating. Then I found a sole soul who told me I had passed the town. The city is where I thought I would be taking a bridge over to Caderousse only my map didn't really show that; I think I wanted it to be so. Instead, the local told me I needed to walk further north away from town to a place called Codolet and cross the bridge there and then go back south and over A DAM [which is what I guess I saw connect to La Doise even though it wasn't clear on my map....or in real life]. I got so super-heated and was not a happy camper. Fortunately, I found two locals roadside who could speak English who were dumping a giant carp down a hillside into the river because it had become too big for their home pond. They explained the route I needed to take and drew me a map which was very helpful because it was otherwise all super-confusing. But it meant an extra 5 or 6 miles out of my way when my initial poor map reading led me to believe it were to be just an easy jaunt over a river. I did not cool off for miles until I got onto a quiet bike path that took me straight into Caderousse.
After Caderousse I went to Orange, which is renowned, not for their castle or cathedral but an ancient, 2,000 year old Roman theater. I was curious but not willing to pay 10 euro to see the inside. The woman at the museum said it included the museum plus a movie and some 3D show. Sounded like fluff. So I asked a couple who had been inside if it was worth it and both agreed it was although the guy said it was too pricey. Bingo. Then the woman said she had seen some folks on the hilltop behind the theater where I might be able to see inside from there. So I dumped my bag at a little cafe where I'd bought some food [the guy working there called me Indiana Jones, because of my hat. I only hope he meant the '80s Indiana Jones] then climbed the hill to see the ruins. Very impressive, indeed, but not worth ten euro.
What WAS worth a lot of money was a hotel room in Pouzilhac. I had left my camp spot the morning after I had gone thru Uzes which was atop a hill above St. Hippolyte de Montage [ if i had a kid I would so name him Hippolyte. Hey Hippo, time for dinner! ] and no sooner had I packed and left when it started raining. Then harder. Then torrential. It was all so absurd all I could do was laugh. I put "on" my blue plastic ground tarp [for my tent at night] and walked in the monsoon all the way to Pouzilhac. It was Saturday morning and nothing was open. Even the church was closed. Then I found one little place that was open and walked in wrapped in this plastic veil. I asked the woman if there were a restaurant or cafe in town. She told me I was in her cafe. So I asked for food but all she served was coffee plus she was selling three cans of beans on a shelf. She said there was no food in the village except at the restaurant in the only hotel on the edge of the hamlet along the main route. So I ventured back into the downpour, up the road, and into this rather nice hotel lobby with water squishing out of my shoes and this blue plastic shawl draped around me. I asked for breakfast. The young woman working there said breakfast was finished but took pity on me and gave me coffee and croisants. The weather outside was frightful. I was drenched. I inquired about a room and they had only one available and it was ready right away. So I took it. And was so glad for it monsooned for about 7 more hours turning the parking lot into a lake and the road a river. It took all day, and three heaters to dry out my shoes and clothes but I was grateful to be inside watching the BBC on the telly and watching the rains drop outside.
The next morning I continued into the foothills, the scenery became more stunning, and the wineries, very picturesque. Wineries are to southern France as to what olive trees are to southern Spain. They are everywhere. But less in these mountains. There are actually more fruit trees if anything. Last night I camped in the gorgeous gorges of St. May. So beautiful. And next I am off to Gap and then....Italy.
This past Sunday, at the end of the day, would have marked the mid point on my USA trek....day 50 [ I walked it in 100 days]. But I have about 2 more weeks [a little less] to go before I hit that halfway mark this time. All is good. A few rough moments but I'm trying to always remember GRATITUDE. What, I ask myself, despite the troubles I've encountered, can I still be grateful for? And when I start thinking about it, there is always much to be grateful for.
Friday, May 17, 2013
You Can`t Judge A Road By It`s Color
I have chosen my route[s] randomly. I knew I was to start in Gilbraltar and end in Istanbul, I wanted to see Granada, Venice and a Ntl. Park in Croatia but besides that, avoid big cities and busy roads. From road atlases and maps I picked lines going in a primary W to E direction. Little black lines usually mean train trax or very obscure roads and the little white ones are very small back roads. These have proven to be true. Next up are the yellow roads and sometimes they have been as vacant as a white road, sometimes busier than I expected. Many times they are very light with vehicles. Red roads are next and these are more primary routes. But I have been on some very quiet red roads and some much busier ones. I never know. Then there are the motorways which are blue or orange and I avoid them altogether. Lastly, the green roads are scenic byways and I try to pick as many of those as possible. The green roads have been fantastic and there have been many roads not designated as green but should be. Such incredible scenic beauty. Overall, I have picked very well with minimal disappointment.
In France I have traversed some sheer spectacles already beyond the Pyrenees, mostly in other mountains. Drop dead gorgeous landscapes and devastating vistas. Enough to fill you with so much bliss the eyes well up with tears. The forests on this side of the Pyrenees are so much different too, denser, greener, darker. There is birch, oak, sycamore, firs even some redwoods. I have seen some weeping willows in the villages. And of course spring is in the air and there are purple trees, tulips, roses, plus the intoxicating scents of lilac and honeysuckle. I have not had such intoxicating aromas since my first days in Spain going past the orange orchards with their blossoming flowers.
When I left Carcassonne I slipped out early morning on a trail that curved around the canal, quiet as a mouse. From there I hit a stretch that was kind of Napa-esque with lots of wineries [ Sseth, if you had been doing this you would of stalled here and visited them all]. Eventually, I reached a road that zigzagged and squiggled up high into the mountains, through charming hamlets like Citou and a favorite, L Espinassiere with it`s dominant 13th century "chateau feudal" commanding the small cluster of stone homes beneath it. In the middle of the mountains, this amazing little place in the world. I am still stunned and have to pinch myself. Heavy fog one morning and then a hawk and rainbows.
I was lucky to receive a tip about a converted rail line ( like our rails to trails program) and walked from Courniou to Bedarieux in solitude. Only bikes and other walkers and not much of any. I stopped in Olargues for water and heard music so I went to investigate. The town was having its once a year province fete with live musicians in costume and the townsfolk dancing in the square. The instruments were interesting and it was all pretty jovial but also kind of Wicker Man-ish [and not the Nicolas Cage Wicker Man....do not see, but the Christopher Lee Wicker Man....SEE SEE SEE].
Lunas reminded me of some Hollywood set for a quaint European village. But this is the real thing, the inspiration. I also camped atop a mountain and got up early to walk with the stars. I love walking early morning when I can catch the first hints of dawn and watch the day slowly unfold.
I skirted backroads around Lodeve to Soubes and then got on a couple roads that were some of my favorites yet. I walked through St Etienne De G, and St Pierre de… something or other and then hit my longest stretch of straight road and it was gloroius and quite pretty too. In St. Maurice I ate lunch under trees at a snack cafe. A French woman there told me she took seven months to travel with a donkey to Spain from Nimes in France to do that famous spiritual walk.
From St Maurice I descended steeply into this fabulous canyon. Donkey lady had told me rains would be coming the next day so I sniffed at the canyon floor for a suitable dry spot going past lovely little villages on the bottom, especially Madieras. Through the trees I spotted a camper that looked uncared for so I checked it out and lo and behold it was available. It was a bit messy but I just moved the kids toys, swept away the dirt and flicked the dead bugs off the bed and voila, home sweet home........for two nights. The rains did come and I was camper bound during the deluge but at least I was dry and next to the river which sounded nice to sleep with at night.
Finally I left the narrow canyon and got to Ganges [looks like the River Ganges in India but is pronounced more like a French Rastafarian saying "ganja"]. I bought a ton of food at the market and then carried on. Sauve was a darling town with, you guessed it, a medieval town center going back to the 12th and 13th centuries. I explored a little but it started to rain again and since the town had no reasonable place to bunk I went searching for a place for the night about 4 miles away. Well, I found this abandoned work trailer with a window that could open so i hopped inside only to find the floor covered in, I swear, about 5 to 10,000 dead flies. Flies or rain? I swept me a clean spot for the night (totally gross, i know, like gag me with a fly swatter).
France has mostly litter free roads, they have been mostly clean. But today I have found my first euro coin [about a dollar 25 in US money] and was pleasantly surprised. The only coin I have found here so far has been one very dirty American quarter which is all I thought the French would leave me. Then I found a pair of legs. Those of you that followed me when I walked across the US know I collected debris along the way. I decided against that in Europe which is fine because the Europeans have not left much fun stuff on the road worth collecting. But I could not resist a pair of plastic legs from a doll. They are petite with purple shoes. And legs on a long walk are always a good omen to find.
It has been a lot of medieval villages today. But with the fog this morning it was very medi-eeeeeeeval. Places like Logrian, etc. I am in Uzes now and it is very lovely here, I like the place a lot.
And that is it for now. Off to Pouzilhac and then Caderousse and then Orange and Nyon. And by next weekend I should be in the Alps.
In France I have traversed some sheer spectacles already beyond the Pyrenees, mostly in other mountains. Drop dead gorgeous landscapes and devastating vistas. Enough to fill you with so much bliss the eyes well up with tears. The forests on this side of the Pyrenees are so much different too, denser, greener, darker. There is birch, oak, sycamore, firs even some redwoods. I have seen some weeping willows in the villages. And of course spring is in the air and there are purple trees, tulips, roses, plus the intoxicating scents of lilac and honeysuckle. I have not had such intoxicating aromas since my first days in Spain going past the orange orchards with their blossoming flowers.
When I left Carcassonne I slipped out early morning on a trail that curved around the canal, quiet as a mouse. From there I hit a stretch that was kind of Napa-esque with lots of wineries [ Sseth, if you had been doing this you would of stalled here and visited them all]. Eventually, I reached a road that zigzagged and squiggled up high into the mountains, through charming hamlets like Citou and a favorite, L Espinassiere with it`s dominant 13th century "chateau feudal" commanding the small cluster of stone homes beneath it. In the middle of the mountains, this amazing little place in the world. I am still stunned and have to pinch myself. Heavy fog one morning and then a hawk and rainbows.
I was lucky to receive a tip about a converted rail line ( like our rails to trails program) and walked from Courniou to Bedarieux in solitude. Only bikes and other walkers and not much of any. I stopped in Olargues for water and heard music so I went to investigate. The town was having its once a year province fete with live musicians in costume and the townsfolk dancing in the square. The instruments were interesting and it was all pretty jovial but also kind of Wicker Man-ish [and not the Nicolas Cage Wicker Man....do not see, but the Christopher Lee Wicker Man....SEE SEE SEE].
Lunas reminded me of some Hollywood set for a quaint European village. But this is the real thing, the inspiration. I also camped atop a mountain and got up early to walk with the stars. I love walking early morning when I can catch the first hints of dawn and watch the day slowly unfold.
I skirted backroads around Lodeve to Soubes and then got on a couple roads that were some of my favorites yet. I walked through St Etienne De G, and St Pierre de… something or other and then hit my longest stretch of straight road and it was gloroius and quite pretty too. In St. Maurice I ate lunch under trees at a snack cafe. A French woman there told me she took seven months to travel with a donkey to Spain from Nimes in France to do that famous spiritual walk.
From St Maurice I descended steeply into this fabulous canyon. Donkey lady had told me rains would be coming the next day so I sniffed at the canyon floor for a suitable dry spot going past lovely little villages on the bottom, especially Madieras. Through the trees I spotted a camper that looked uncared for so I checked it out and lo and behold it was available. It was a bit messy but I just moved the kids toys, swept away the dirt and flicked the dead bugs off the bed and voila, home sweet home........for two nights. The rains did come and I was camper bound during the deluge but at least I was dry and next to the river which sounded nice to sleep with at night.
Finally I left the narrow canyon and got to Ganges [looks like the River Ganges in India but is pronounced more like a French Rastafarian saying "ganja"]. I bought a ton of food at the market and then carried on. Sauve was a darling town with, you guessed it, a medieval town center going back to the 12th and 13th centuries. I explored a little but it started to rain again and since the town had no reasonable place to bunk I went searching for a place for the night about 4 miles away. Well, I found this abandoned work trailer with a window that could open so i hopped inside only to find the floor covered in, I swear, about 5 to 10,000 dead flies. Flies or rain? I swept me a clean spot for the night (totally gross, i know, like gag me with a fly swatter).
France has mostly litter free roads, they have been mostly clean. But today I have found my first euro coin [about a dollar 25 in US money] and was pleasantly surprised. The only coin I have found here so far has been one very dirty American quarter which is all I thought the French would leave me. Then I found a pair of legs. Those of you that followed me when I walked across the US know I collected debris along the way. I decided against that in Europe which is fine because the Europeans have not left much fun stuff on the road worth collecting. But I could not resist a pair of plastic legs from a doll. They are petite with purple shoes. And legs on a long walk are always a good omen to find.
It has been a lot of medieval villages today. But with the fog this morning it was very medi-eeeeeeeval. Places like Logrian, etc. I am in Uzes now and it is very lovely here, I like the place a lot.
And that is it for now. Off to Pouzilhac and then Caderousse and then Orange and Nyon. And by next weekend I should be in the Alps.
Friday, May 10, 2013
You Gotta Fight For Your Right To Polly Vous Francais
Or however you spell it.
When I was in Andorra I met a Chilean Man who had traveled in France and said I could get by with my spanish in France as long as I knew a couple simple phrases which he helped me with phonetically. Later, I met a French woman who confirmed that I could get by easily with english and spanish. So when I came into my first little hamlet in France, L Hospitalet, I asked in simple Spanish to two older women if they had any food to eat inside their little bar/restaurant [ practically half the village] and they looked at me as if I were from Mars. They responded in french and I in turn looked at them as if they were from Venus. And that, my friends, is about how well I have been getting through France. To be fair, the French have been very patient and try to help as best they can. In one town, a young woman walked me from her home to a restaurant in the town center where the staff spoke some english [ and she then kissed one of the handsome waiters which I assume was either her boyfriend or the treat she got for luring in another customer]. One advantage is that when the locals can speak spanish it is on a par with my own.
The climb out of the Pyrenees was marvelous and I had terrific weather the whole time. My last two nights in the mountains were in nice forests with the snowy peaks around me and were as superb as my first night in the Pyrenees on the Spain side [ I was on a mountain slope with this incredible sunset beaming orange dusk into the valley below and when I turned around from my campsite I noticed, on the mountain behind me, castle ruins all gilded in golden light].
I came into Aix Les Thermes and hit culture shock. BIGTIME. Their were homes with yards, individual trash cans out on the drive, a postman, weedwackers, even a merry go round in the town center. Where was I? In Spain, I had become so used to the unfamiliar that the familiar now seemed very strange. In fact, that which is OUR world seems very much an oddity. Before I had gotten on my last principle road to Andorra I had found one last small, one-lane road which brought me past two tiny villages like the Spain I had come to know. In the second village, Sero, I had to get water so a man got me some from his stone dwelling since the village fountain was not working. On the way out their was an older man sitting on the ground working on his old garden tool that he had probably made himself. I just looked at him and thought, I may not see that anymore on this trip. And so seems so far....or, ce la vie. France is a very different place.
But I am coming to love France for what IT IS.
In a cruel twist, when I left Aix L.T. I had to climb back up about 3000 feet to snow levels again after having descended the entire morning out of them. But at least the curvy road was very quiet, albeit steep. At the pass I was afforded my last panoramic view of the very snowy Pyrenees.
I dropped through cute villages like Prades and in Belcaire found a patisserie that had the best things to eat. And then I eventually really dropped more into Quillan which was like descending into a large, expansive valley on the island of Kauai. Very lush, verdant, breathtaking. Fortunately, it was a long drop so I had time to enjoy the views.
I took backroads from there through Campagne and Esperaza, Alet Les Bains, and Pomas. Really lovely places with roads that were either one laners or dirt tracks and even a skinny trail at one point. The land here is different. Different plants, trees, flowers. And less cultivated than Spain. My walk has been very quiet and bucolic.
I have made my way to Carcassonne and it is AMAZING. And it is amazing because I have gotten to take a hot shower and wash my clothes in a washing machine both on the same day. Oh sure, the city has this famous citadel and castle that dates back a thousand years, blah blah blah, but I am CLEAN. I am clean clean clean. And I feel ready for the next thousand miles. The last time I bathed and washed clothes at the same time was back in Granada. In Spain I could not find machines; I think they all wash by hand still which is what I have done. But I hate hand washing clothes [ I would have made an awful peasant] .
But the truth is that Carcassonne's citadel is a UNESCO World Heritage site and it is astonishing. Such a magnificent structure which site's dates to Roman times. It is something that looks like a dream. A large, astonishing structure of fictional proportions.
[ Michale, I had spaced before. This was something I had been looking forward to seeing]
So here I have taken the day to rest and see this amazing ancient site. And tomorrow it is off again NE towards Caunes Minerva and a little twisty road that eventually will hook me up with St. Pons [ or something like that, the map is not in front of me].
I am grateful to smell decent again. Not drenched in parfum like the french but enough to pass as clean [ there was some guy in galoshes and shorts with a bucket working the land one morning and he smelled like he had just left Macys….what's up with that?]
Adieu
When I was in Andorra I met a Chilean Man who had traveled in France and said I could get by with my spanish in France as long as I knew a couple simple phrases which he helped me with phonetically. Later, I met a French woman who confirmed that I could get by easily with english and spanish. So when I came into my first little hamlet in France, L Hospitalet, I asked in simple Spanish to two older women if they had any food to eat inside their little bar/restaurant [ practically half the village] and they looked at me as if I were from Mars. They responded in french and I in turn looked at them as if they were from Venus. And that, my friends, is about how well I have been getting through France. To be fair, the French have been very patient and try to help as best they can. In one town, a young woman walked me from her home to a restaurant in the town center where the staff spoke some english [ and she then kissed one of the handsome waiters which I assume was either her boyfriend or the treat she got for luring in another customer]. One advantage is that when the locals can speak spanish it is on a par with my own.
The climb out of the Pyrenees was marvelous and I had terrific weather the whole time. My last two nights in the mountains were in nice forests with the snowy peaks around me and were as superb as my first night in the Pyrenees on the Spain side [ I was on a mountain slope with this incredible sunset beaming orange dusk into the valley below and when I turned around from my campsite I noticed, on the mountain behind me, castle ruins all gilded in golden light].
I came into Aix Les Thermes and hit culture shock. BIGTIME. Their were homes with yards, individual trash cans out on the drive, a postman, weedwackers, even a merry go round in the town center. Where was I? In Spain, I had become so used to the unfamiliar that the familiar now seemed very strange. In fact, that which is OUR world seems very much an oddity. Before I had gotten on my last principle road to Andorra I had found one last small, one-lane road which brought me past two tiny villages like the Spain I had come to know. In the second village, Sero, I had to get water so a man got me some from his stone dwelling since the village fountain was not working. On the way out their was an older man sitting on the ground working on his old garden tool that he had probably made himself. I just looked at him and thought, I may not see that anymore on this trip. And so seems so far....or, ce la vie. France is a very different place.
But I am coming to love France for what IT IS.
In a cruel twist, when I left Aix L.T. I had to climb back up about 3000 feet to snow levels again after having descended the entire morning out of them. But at least the curvy road was very quiet, albeit steep. At the pass I was afforded my last panoramic view of the very snowy Pyrenees.
I dropped through cute villages like Prades and in Belcaire found a patisserie that had the best things to eat. And then I eventually really dropped more into Quillan which was like descending into a large, expansive valley on the island of Kauai. Very lush, verdant, breathtaking. Fortunately, it was a long drop so I had time to enjoy the views.
I took backroads from there through Campagne and Esperaza, Alet Les Bains, and Pomas. Really lovely places with roads that were either one laners or dirt tracks and even a skinny trail at one point. The land here is different. Different plants, trees, flowers. And less cultivated than Spain. My walk has been very quiet and bucolic.
I have made my way to Carcassonne and it is AMAZING. And it is amazing because I have gotten to take a hot shower and wash my clothes in a washing machine both on the same day. Oh sure, the city has this famous citadel and castle that dates back a thousand years, blah blah blah, but I am CLEAN. I am clean clean clean. And I feel ready for the next thousand miles. The last time I bathed and washed clothes at the same time was back in Granada. In Spain I could not find machines; I think they all wash by hand still which is what I have done. But I hate hand washing clothes [ I would have made an awful peasant] .
But the truth is that Carcassonne's citadel is a UNESCO World Heritage site and it is astonishing. Such a magnificent structure which site's dates to Roman times. It is something that looks like a dream. A large, astonishing structure of fictional proportions.
[ Michale, I had spaced before. This was something I had been looking forward to seeing]
So here I have taken the day to rest and see this amazing ancient site. And tomorrow it is off again NE towards Caunes Minerva and a little twisty road that eventually will hook me up with St. Pons [ or something like that, the map is not in front of me].
I am grateful to smell decent again. Not drenched in parfum like the french but enough to pass as clean [ there was some guy in galoshes and shorts with a bucket working the land one morning and he smelled like he had just left Macys….what's up with that?]
Adieu
Monday, May 6, 2013
I Thought I Was High Before But I´m Sooooo High Now
I know I just blogged earlier today. But in Soldeu I thought I had nearly reached summit after climbing so high. Ha! Afterwards, I went so much higher, switchbacking up the most glorious road with the most spectacular views, nothing but mountains and snow. In fact, up towards the top of about 8,000 feet the snow was 4-6 feet along the road. But the remained sun warm and the sky was so blue. Simply STELLAR!!!! One of the best walking days yet. If yesterday´s somewhat lacklustre entrance into Andorra and up to Andorra La Vella left me a bit ho hum, today totally rectified things.
Plus, in my two days here I´ve already found $2.25 on the road. Much better than the $6.25 I got in Spain after 5 weeks (and most of it from a $5 note on a sidewalk in Granada).
Well, I am very close to France now. At the moment I´m in Pas De La Casa and when I finish, I´m heading to the border.
I know I am not doing much personal emails now or any FB. But I do appreciate & read all your comments. So thank you.
I want to slip a few quick messages to those that may be reading this. If your name does not appear don't take it personally. I love you ALL!
Gini: I have given second looks to several beautiful things for you.
Aunt Pat: You know I´m seeing it all for you
Stacey: Hope you´re keeping up the mile a day
Jeff:Your name was definitely shouted out today
Heather: Do you realize YOUR significance in my blog name? Think your last visit to SF & your gift to me
Ari: If you are not ready to quit, DON´T
Phil G: Thank you thank you thank you
Theresa: I hope you & your Mom are plotting my course
Rachel & Mark: Can´t wait to have a meal in your new place. Congrats!
Andy & Ryan: School´s almost out! YAY!
Doug V: Never got the Aguirre helmet. But some days I definitely feel like Kinski!
Mom: Before the mountains I started seeing roses. I smell them & say HI to you. I love you.
Plus, in my two days here I´ve already found $2.25 on the road. Much better than the $6.25 I got in Spain after 5 weeks (and most of it from a $5 note on a sidewalk in Granada).
Well, I am very close to France now. At the moment I´m in Pas De La Casa and when I finish, I´m heading to the border.
I know I am not doing much personal emails now or any FB. But I do appreciate & read all your comments. So thank you.
I want to slip a few quick messages to those that may be reading this. If your name does not appear don't take it personally. I love you ALL!
Gini: I have given second looks to several beautiful things for you.
Aunt Pat: You know I´m seeing it all for you
Stacey: Hope you´re keeping up the mile a day
Jeff:Your name was definitely shouted out today
Heather: Do you realize YOUR significance in my blog name? Think your last visit to SF & your gift to me
Ari: If you are not ready to quit, DON´T
Phil G: Thank you thank you thank you
Theresa: I hope you & your Mom are plotting my course
Rachel & Mark: Can´t wait to have a meal in your new place. Congrats!
Andy & Ryan: School´s almost out! YAY!
Doug V: Never got the Aguirre helmet. But some days I definitely feel like Kinski!
Mom: Before the mountains I started seeing roses. I smell them & say HI to you. I love you.
I´m On Top Of The World Looking Down.....
I am in Andorra and going up up up. The town is Soldeu and in a few hours I will be in France. There is snow all around but the weather and temperature is quite agreeable.
I left Spain yesterday. It took me 5 weeks plus 2 and a half hours to cross the country from Gibraltar. And I miss it already. But time to move on. I have left the place where time stands still and have entered the modern world in a big way. I saw my first disposal diaper roadside three days ago. What does that tell you? And I feel like a neanderthal walking into these much more spic and span places. I will get over the self consciousness.
Andorra Le Vella, the capitol, was all shops and people, malls and neon, etc. Just too much for me after where I had come from. The mountains and the views and the smaller places here are much better. Especially the views.
Just a short update. I will soon be twisting DOWN the roads as I wind into France. But right now I am very much on top of the world.
I left Spain yesterday. It took me 5 weeks plus 2 and a half hours to cross the country from Gibraltar. And I miss it already. But time to move on. I have left the place where time stands still and have entered the modern world in a big way. I saw my first disposal diaper roadside three days ago. What does that tell you? And I feel like a neanderthal walking into these much more spic and span places. I will get over the self consciousness.
Andorra Le Vella, the capitol, was all shops and people, malls and neon, etc. Just too much for me after where I had come from. The mountains and the views and the smaller places here are much better. Especially the views.
Just a short update. I will soon be twisting DOWN the roads as I wind into France. But right now I am very much on top of the world.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
The Easiest Part May Be Over
I hated to leave you hanging last time but for whatever reason the town I was in (Gandesa) took siesta at 1:30 instead of the traditional 2pm. So they booted me out of the library before I could finish.
I left Horta De Sant Joan that next morning & quickly found a bike trail that took me all the way through Bot and into Gandesa. The mountain scenery near Horta & Bot, esp with a sun coming out & mists swirling in & around the slopes, was incredible, very dramatic. I just kept looking at them and feeling like I was in one of the foreign movies I used to drive from the west side of Cleveland to the east to check out at the Mayfield theatre. I was breathless. Having the path all to myself (I think an old rail line....number of tunnels thru the mountains) was truly a treat too.
By early evening I was looking for a place to camp because some nasty clouds were brewing & then discovered a cabin nestled in the trees but not too far from the road. I undid the wooden latch, pulled the lever on the door & it opened---not locked. It was very nice & clean inside too with kitchenware neatly cleaned & stored & even a small bed in the corner. I put my sleeping bag on it & had a good night's sleep with rains never materializing but a bright moon instead. I left the place spotless except i spilled my cut toenails all over the floor. Gross, I know. I think I picked up most.
Yesterday was amazing. After going thru Asco & Flix (both in nice locales but marred by industry, the former with a nuclear power plant in the front yard and the latter with polluting businesses along the river) I found the day dead quiet only to realize.....another holiday-holy day (fiesta). I asked one woman, did you not have a fiesta last week?" She shrugged her shoulders and said, "It's Spain."
I then got on this small, rural road, very idyllic with stunning scenery. It was quiet the whole day. The towns were not much to speak of like Bovera or Granadella but the surroundings were precious. With the sun out (and my sun bonnet on again, and no jacket) on my silent, twisty road, I could've walked forever. It was very special.
At one point resting, I saw a wolf. Now locals say there are wolfs, but I had read in a guidebook before leaving that there are actually no wolves, only foxes. I saw a fox later in the day & have seen a number of dead ones. What I saw was a wolf! It was huge and for 5 seconds it stopped to look at me before it continued into the mountains. The largest four-legged critter outside of deer & bighorns I have seen traversing in these mountains with me.
I had a great campsite on a hill slope last night with views of the....Pyrenees!!! Finally I have seen the mountains I am about soon to climb. These formations will rival everything I have climbed to date.
What that means is I am about to leave Spain and bid a big adios! Spain has left such an incredible impression on me. I have seen little of Europe in my past always opting to travel in countries my mother has never heard of. Up til now I have only known London, Amsterdam, Brussels, Zurich & Paris and the last time I was on the continent was over 15 years ago.
Spain also has had an advantage. I will have spent 5 weeks walking through the country and every country henceforth will be less time. So Spain has had more time to showcase it's wonders to me. I wonder how the other countries will hold up.
Which brings me to what I have to look forward to. The summer heat has not yet set in, the tourist season has not started, prices are sure to go up and worst of all, I cannot speak any of the languages I am about to enter. I could get by well enough in Spain with my Spanish. In fact it improved. But in French I know three phrases:
How are you?
Where is the toilet?
I want to wrap you in barbed wire. (it was a line I learned from a friend who was a French major in college. Sue, I'm sure you're laughing if reading this)
My friend Fari has given me some needed phrases but I'm afraid for how I will do.
French has seemed to creep into the language here in the last two days with more LES and BON in the signs. It's actually Catalan (a fusion of French and Spanish but more Spanish, and regional). It's getting me ready.
I'm in Les Borges Blanques at the moment, about to hit rural FLAT roads thru Arbeca, Tornabous, & Mafet before beginning the slink ascent up the Pyrenees. And if all goes well, I will exit Spain on Sunday and start week 6 with my 66th country---Andorra, a small place at the top of the mountains sandwiched between Spain & France.
So that's it for now. It's sunny & warm and all is well. The towns are changing in character. I'm seeing Senegalese folks here. More people speak a little English. It FEELS more French. But I know what's on the other side of the mountains. Or do I?
I left Horta De Sant Joan that next morning & quickly found a bike trail that took me all the way through Bot and into Gandesa. The mountain scenery near Horta & Bot, esp with a sun coming out & mists swirling in & around the slopes, was incredible, very dramatic. I just kept looking at them and feeling like I was in one of the foreign movies I used to drive from the west side of Cleveland to the east to check out at the Mayfield theatre. I was breathless. Having the path all to myself (I think an old rail line....number of tunnels thru the mountains) was truly a treat too.
By early evening I was looking for a place to camp because some nasty clouds were brewing & then discovered a cabin nestled in the trees but not too far from the road. I undid the wooden latch, pulled the lever on the door & it opened---not locked. It was very nice & clean inside too with kitchenware neatly cleaned & stored & even a small bed in the corner. I put my sleeping bag on it & had a good night's sleep with rains never materializing but a bright moon instead. I left the place spotless except i spilled my cut toenails all over the floor. Gross, I know. I think I picked up most.
Yesterday was amazing. After going thru Asco & Flix (both in nice locales but marred by industry, the former with a nuclear power plant in the front yard and the latter with polluting businesses along the river) I found the day dead quiet only to realize.....another holiday-holy day (fiesta). I asked one woman, did you not have a fiesta last week?" She shrugged her shoulders and said, "It's Spain."
I then got on this small, rural road, very idyllic with stunning scenery. It was quiet the whole day. The towns were not much to speak of like Bovera or Granadella but the surroundings were precious. With the sun out (and my sun bonnet on again, and no jacket) on my silent, twisty road, I could've walked forever. It was very special.
At one point resting, I saw a wolf. Now locals say there are wolfs, but I had read in a guidebook before leaving that there are actually no wolves, only foxes. I saw a fox later in the day & have seen a number of dead ones. What I saw was a wolf! It was huge and for 5 seconds it stopped to look at me before it continued into the mountains. The largest four-legged critter outside of deer & bighorns I have seen traversing in these mountains with me.
I had a great campsite on a hill slope last night with views of the....Pyrenees!!! Finally I have seen the mountains I am about soon to climb. These formations will rival everything I have climbed to date.
What that means is I am about to leave Spain and bid a big adios! Spain has left such an incredible impression on me. I have seen little of Europe in my past always opting to travel in countries my mother has never heard of. Up til now I have only known London, Amsterdam, Brussels, Zurich & Paris and the last time I was on the continent was over 15 years ago.
Spain also has had an advantage. I will have spent 5 weeks walking through the country and every country henceforth will be less time. So Spain has had more time to showcase it's wonders to me. I wonder how the other countries will hold up.
Which brings me to what I have to look forward to. The summer heat has not yet set in, the tourist season has not started, prices are sure to go up and worst of all, I cannot speak any of the languages I am about to enter. I could get by well enough in Spain with my Spanish. In fact it improved. But in French I know three phrases:
How are you?
Where is the toilet?
I want to wrap you in barbed wire. (it was a line I learned from a friend who was a French major in college. Sue, I'm sure you're laughing if reading this)
My friend Fari has given me some needed phrases but I'm afraid for how I will do.
French has seemed to creep into the language here in the last two days with more LES and BON in the signs. It's actually Catalan (a fusion of French and Spanish but more Spanish, and regional). It's getting me ready.
I'm in Les Borges Blanques at the moment, about to hit rural FLAT roads thru Arbeca, Tornabous, & Mafet before beginning the slink ascent up the Pyrenees. And if all goes well, I will exit Spain on Sunday and start week 6 with my 66th country---Andorra, a small place at the top of the mountains sandwiched between Spain & France.
So that's it for now. It's sunny & warm and all is well. The towns are changing in character. I'm seeing Senegalese folks here. More people speak a little English. It FEELS more French. But I know what's on the other side of the mountains. Or do I?
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