Setting off from the Chapel of Notre Dame
Leila the dog did about three times the distance that we did
The massive blocks awaiting the cutting saws
Our reward at the end of an excellent walk
We did it. We walked our 12 kilometres in company with some friendly cheerful people who had gathered from the surrounding villages, and by the end of the day, (and after a good snooze this afternoon) we can now stand up without clutching at our hips and hanging onto the furniture.
To be honest, it was a lot less arduous than we had anticipated, and in many respects, it was a bit like being part of a very pleasant moving cocktail party. As the winding paths through the garrigue narrowed, I would find that a conversation about the research science behind vetinary medicine had suddenly turned into a horticultural discussion about the surrounding vegetation. Although most of the party was French speaking, those that did speak English were generous and included me, and after a while, I found that the combination of laughter, exercise and sunshine combined to create a sort of lingua franca.
The route wound around the collosal quarries that encircle Beaulieu, and it was frustrating to see the most perfect chunks of rock just lying about, apparently for the taking. But despite Jean carrying a fairly capacious backpack, I just couldn't get him to load a couple of neatly cut cubes with which we could build a stone bench next to the water garden.
We were led by an energetic gentleman who carried a GPS system and despite one or two small detours and a few mild rumbles from the rear of the party, he sheperded his flock safely back to our starting point. The sheer bliss of sinking into the comfort of a car seat can never be underestimated, but the best was still to come.
"Bring along something for a picnic lunch" had been the directive and I had produced some barbequed chicken pieces and a rather tasty seafood taboule but this was boring by comparison with the variety of dishes that appeared on the table at the home of one of the walkers. The gentleman with the GPS changed roles and became barman, and within moments, everyone was provided with drinks ranging from sweet Muscat, Pastis, Martini and wine. We had all walked up an appetite and we feasted on such remarkable treats as pear and goat cheese flan, boulot cheese from the north of France, home made pizza and a positive smorgasboard of delicacies.
No bendy sandwiches and warm fizzy drinks while sheltering from the inclement weather that accompanies English rambling clubs. Sunshine, laughter, delicious food and excellent wine was the order of the day.
Was it worth having knees that feel like an elderly racehorse and hips that are going to give me grief tomorrow - absolutely. Will we go again - you bet, but it might not be the four star, twenty kilometer hike up the Cevennes Mountains - I think we'll leave that to the gentleman with the GPS.
