Vive la solidarité!

Vaulnaveys-le-Bas, population 1000+, is a strange “village”, more a strung-out series of hamlets along the valley. The school is the source of connection for many. But we are not what I would call a community. A couple of years ago Juan and I responded to the annual call to action for the litter-pick-up and were the only inhabitants to show up, apart from the mayor and his entourage. In addition, through not having a regular job, I often feel on the edge of things. This feeling is exacerbated, of course, by only having my own company in the house for much of the week.

So recently, I've found myself reaching out in several different directions. Take, for example, the SEL (Système d’Echange Local), the service/object-swapping organization modelled on the UK LETS scheme. I did a delightful swap with someone offering a birch-sap “cure” (click here for the health benefits – from promoting liver and kidney health to reducing cellulite – you read it on Rebecca’s blog!). In return for 4 litres of the watery, subtle-tasting liquid I gave Jocelyne a shiatsu treatment, connecting with her in the deep and instant way that shiatsu allows.

Later in the week I put out an SOS to the SEL for a flower-bed retaining log to replace the one I’d obtained 6 years ago, now collapsed into powder. SEL member Gérard responded and, by bringing me what I needed, credited his SEL account by 60 "pips". Then, at the SEL monthly market, I traded 6 anemone and rudbeckia plants – spreading like wildfire in the garden and of no value to me – for the same amount. Account now squared. Gérard revealed that he often does DIY work. So I hope that he will put up some shelves in the garage and, in return, I will help him in the garden of his property near Corps, in the Dévoluy mountains.

Working outside is pure joy at this time of year. It is warm for the season – 22 degrees, but the greens are still fresh, the birdsong tumultuous. So, when I met English transition-coach, Caroline, via the WWNG (Working Women’s Network of Grenoble) recently and discovered that she runs Lauvitel Lodge...

at La Danchère...

on the edge of the Ecrins National Park – which Juan and I have walked past a dozen times on our walks up to Lac Lauvitel (last visited this January), and that she is writing a book on meditation for use in corporate training, teaches tai chi, and is interested in shiatsu… and needs help in the garden, the sense of synchronicity was strong. In March I drove out to the Lodge to give her a shiatsu session and have lunch. Now, a couple of weeks later, I am here for a 3-day “working retreat”.

Yesterday we despatched some piles of hedge prunings – larger branches stacked into a log pile, smaller branches fuelling a humungous bonfire that burned as rain fell steadily. In the afternoon the weather improved and we walked some of the tracks below the village, Caroline firing deep-and-meaningful questions at me the while. 

She certainly got to the heart of things, putting me on the spot as you might expect from a good coach. Standing on a bridge over the Venéon river, with the Aiguille du Plat de la Selle looming above, I hurled affirmations into the snow-melt roaring below us. Then scrambled up a slope to the road, and back down to the river, to feel whether or not it was right for me to stay in Vaulnaveys this weekend. It was. Decision made. 

So I've had a lovely time: working, experiencing the valley in a new way: the cloud-shrouded mountains a contrast to the sunny days normally chosen by Juan and I for our outings here, drinking abundant quantities of excellent wine, enjoying good company and laughs. And I've also had some insight into the reality of running such a place: the erratic hours, welcoming and orienting a group of university students in the middle of supper, who proceeded to make whoopee late into the night; the massive maintenance; being "hostage" to random events like the recent tunnel closure on the way to La Grave, which may disrupt the flow of tourists coming from Briançon; being one of only three households in the village inhabited during the long winter months...

Sanding woodwork in Bedroom 8

Yet another opportunity for a swap came about last week through the ongoing reconstruction of the Pommart Farm at Villeneuve d’Uriage. I think I mentioned in a post last autumn the fire that destroyed the grain store, the entire contents of the farmhouse, and the bread-/pasta-making buildings on 6 September. The farm, established 30 years ago by Alain and Marguerite Pommart, has been a centre for sustainable living, courses, organic products, monthly meals cooked by my pal Heinz, concerts, mid-summer celebrations… It is an extended community that lives its values to the full. The fire put a stop to all of this, and deprived five families of their livelihoods.

But, disastrous as it was, the event has provided a new way of bringing people together, this time through fundraising, and communal action in the form of working parties. The home page of the website has an aerial view of the site as it currently looks: the processing area in mid construction, the house tarpaulined pending the demolition of the upper storeys. There have been regular appeals for help. And it has taken until now for these to coincide with me being at the right place at the right time. But this week it worked out. And I joined a group of 10 people: dismantling floors, hurling the nail-studded planks from the window, taking out shovel-fulls of insulation material into bin liners, a wimpy mask no protection from the clouds of dust. Yuk.

While the reconstruction takes place Alain and Marguerite are housed in a bespoke-designed yurt erected on the edge of the village on communal land. They now have a to-die-for view across to Belledonne that is far more glamorous than the outlook from the farm. 

Regulations have been bent because they are agriculteurs. And a blind eye is being turned to the fact that this luxurious two-bedroom dwelling, furnished with Heinz’s lovely wooden cupboards and fittings, is anything but “impermanent”. In fact it will probably serve as a source of revenue, a self-standing “gîte”, in the years to come. Oh to be a farmer…

At 3pm I had to call it quits; I was just too physically uncomfortable. But I was happy to have contributed a little, to have shared lunch in the sun in the garden – the first time, for me, since the fire, and to see the family in such good spirits. Vive la solidarité!