It’s another weird week: erratic email contact with Juan, crazy-hot days and the laid-back ambiance that goes with them, and the usual uncertainty re my Berlitz hours. But I’m feeling more mellow, putting pedagogic aims on the back burner, and making relaxation the key aim of every lesson. It’s certainly less tiring!
I have perfected Brian and Helena’s oatcake recipe and now have a no-pastry-cutter technique that results in completely miss-shapen biscuits of all sizes but, with no need to roll out a second time, and zero wastage, I am now on a roll. Running the oven when it’s 30 degrees outside is not brilliant. But, at 10pm, I’ve just done a couple of batches and
ça marche plus ou moins. Thus have I kicked my dependency on UK supermarkets - and will travel lighter in future.
More seasonally, this is also the year of basil. It’s Kelli, once again, who is my inspiration, growing it in giant flower pots. And I can’t keep up with production, sending Juan back to Yverdon every week with a pot of pesto.
22–23/7/12
After a blue few days – Juan’s longer-than-usual absence and incessant mental churning – friends responded to my appeal, "qui voudrait sortir?". I had a great couple of days: an open-air concert at Uriage, a party, open-air cinema at Bresson (an abominable Woody Allen film which reached new heights of cliché but the screen, with a backdrop of distant Grenoble downtown, was something to remember) yoga (Kelli) and the annual Bastille-day fireworks at Vizille (Serge and Véronique). Every man and his dog was there – to see a display that sometimes looked as though the choreographers weren't entirely in agreement. But I had been starved of fireworks for years so was enchanted. Vizille is a die-hard Communist town and people are serious about the revolutionary celebrations. Many dress up in 18th century costume. (I elected not to go see a recreation of the Battle of Valmy at another part of the 3-day festival). The raggle-taggle groups of café-cruising soldierly youth were curiously authentic at midnight.
I was now set up for 2 days on my own, choosing an Ecrins valley that Juan and I have ignored since being memorably drenched there in 2006 with Nuala and Paul: Valgaudamar. Here's a shot from that 2006 walk (has France really aged us that much?!):
Juan had driven back to CH with my walking boots (instead of his!). So my stomping was necessarily curtailed. This was great. I had the perfect excuse for idleness – finding a shady spot in a wood near St Maurice en Valgaudamar to start
Reindoor Moon (my visit marred only by leaving my prescription reading glasses there – aiee…). I had planned to bivvy but at La Chappelle en Valgaudamar I fell in love with an idyllically situated campsite with views up and down the valley, and overnighted there.
I enjoyed watching how we all escape to the countryside and then create our personal domestic space. My favourite was this group of camper vans, parked in a square formation to create privacy. In the evening they sat in their "courtyard", enjoying the sun - with the vans excluding all view of the gorgeous scenery. They could have been anywhere.
Meanwhile, yours truly enjoyed her own brand of squalor:
The following morning I enjoyed having no agenda, driving up to Gioberney refuge – stopping at every bend to enjoy the sumptuous views. Taking photos from one of these I fell on a prime blueberry spot, and then spent the next hour or so doing what we never have time to do on walks – picking.
I had associated Gioberney with hardcore mountaineering and hadn’t realized what a family-oriented base the refuge is. It’s at the centre of a network of paths that ascend and weave around the cirque valleys. In July 2012 it looked like this (looking up the valley from where 2006 photo taken):
My inadequate footwear was no barrier – in fact I was in company with hundreds of similarly clad (Dutch) holiday-makers. The little loop to the Lac du Lauzon was perfect, giving fabulous views towards the Aupilous and Condamine glaciers. (It was funny to think that Juan’s and my recent walk up the Muande valley – see last post – was just the other side of the ridge, but over 120km by road.)
So my “no mountain” weekend ended up being one of the best mountain weekends ever. The valley is a sublime blend of wild Ecrins peaks, hay meadows and ancient, unspoilt villages. Ideal for families. I think of Mum and Dad's visit in August and start planning.
