Since the record breaking heat wave is still happening here, this morning I want to get out in the countryside before it gets too hot. I plan a very simple 3.5km route up Le Cocon that will loop back at the llama. There is a small elevation change of 100m up and 90m down, broken into two sections at the start/end and the turn-around point. Most of the route is fairly flat. I don't even plan to blog this short unexciting route. However, as they say: "Best laid plans..." ;) I end up accidentally off-route, adding and extra 110m both up and down within the extra 2km, to make a total route of 5.5km with 200m total elevation change.
I head out North up Le Cocon from the gite. I am chanting along to the "Mantra of All Mantras" by Emmanuel Dagher that I have downloaded on my phone. I head up to the lookout above the gite. Standing up there it feels like I'm all alone on the top of the world. Even though I know my volume is set very low, I feel like the mantra is echoing out through the whole Azergues valley. As I turn to depart, a car approaches on the road. It's the owner of my gite, Alban, who gives me a wave. I guess I am not so alone out here after all. ;)
I pass the grassy path heading down the hill through the valley on my left to La Chapelle. It's less "grassy" now that the heat has dried the grass to a flattened crisp. It is a more direct route across the valley, and I have been meaning to try it, but it seems very steep at this moment, so I continue the round-about route of Le Cocon, which is mostly flat.
Further along on Le Cocon, where the road opens to the sky, the herd of cows who are usually on the hills to my left are right there beside me on the right. They seem really interested in my mantra. Perhaps because it mentions Lakshmi? ;) Then I notice a huge bull I haven't ever seen before with this group. He seems to be giving me the stink eye. I feel totally safe because there is a very thin blue string separating us and there is no way a charging bull would be able to get through that... um... maybe I need to start saying a mantra to Shiva or Indra? I pick up my pace and walk on the farthest side of the very narrow road.
A little farther along, one deciduous tree appears half dead in the heat. The leaves are all golden and dried as if it is fall. In answer to my thoughts, the wind picks up and blows many of them out over the valley. I can also see the hillside where the llama lives. It is dried and brown--so different from the first time we saw it. In fact, everything around here seems to be suffering from the heatwave. Alban has told us that all this brown dried foliage is not normal for this time of year.
The large tree at the bend in the road has fruit. I can't figure out what type. I head up the right fork at the Le Cocon intersection and am happily distracted by butterflies. (Perhaps this could be considered "Butterfly Gallery Part 2" lol.) I don't notice anything unusual until I realize I have somehow missed the turn at the llama's house.
I am now heading downhill on Le Tremblay towards La Chapelle. Having walked that route before, I had no urge to repeat that huge change in elevation on this hot day. The only way to get back to the gite from La Chapelle is to retrace your steps back up the hill you just descended, or keep going downhill to Chamelet and then climb the steep hill up to Le Cret and beyond. Neither sound good. My hope for today was a nice easy mostly flat little loop.
I pull out my phone and start googlemapping. I can't figure out how I missed the turn at the llama. I didn't see any road where it was supposed to be. The only two solutions I can see is (1) to simply turn directly around and go back exactly the way I came (not terribly appealing), or (2) to continue down the 800m of steep incline to Le Tremblay, then take a hairpin turn onto the Highway D157, and climb back up basically the same 800m incline to get back to the llama from below. By the time I figure it all out, I'm already half way down the 800m incline, so I decide that going ahead is better than going back. At least this way, I'll have explored a new route near our gite.
The hill down is very hard on the knees and hips. There is zero shade. I soon realize that I am walking downhill, parallel to the road I must soon ascend. That is frustrating, and I consider trying to shamble down the rocky-grassy divider. In the end, I am not steady enough on my feet for the attempt. By the time it is small enough to conquer, I am practically at the intersection.
I am soon at the hairpin turn to the left, which puts me on the Highway D157, facing the very frustrating parallel road situation yet again. The Highway is broad and flat. There is still no shade. I try to wipe the sweat off my face, but just end up smearing it around. It's so hot: at least 33 degrees. Colin was smart to skip this hike, I tell myself, although he didn't really have a choice: it's during his morning work hours. I see a buzzard circling overhead, and wonder if it is waiting for me to keel over. The church bells start ringing noon. They are preparing for my funeral. Yes, at this point I am feeling very morbid. lol.
I start to Rainier Wolfcastle myself, by mentally yelling encouraging slogans. After what feels like forever, I reach the house with the goats. Even the goats are smart enough to hide inside... Except one... I mentally say: "What are you DOING out here, little goat??" Then I realize who I am probably REALLY talking to. It's like he's holding up a mirror to me. In contrast, the llama is smart enough to go find shade, and is nowhere to be seen on his usual hill.
Meanwhile, I'm hopping from shade to shade, stopping to rest in each and every one and pouring water on myself, like that day walking back up the hill from Chamelet after the train from Lyon. Looking back the way I came, I can see the part I just walked. From here it doesn't look so steep! Why?!?!? At least the other grassy path heading to La Chapelle from Le Cocoon looks impossibly steep from this side of the creek. I don't feel any guilt for not going that way.
As I trudge along the unchanging Highway, I start humming to myself: "The roads go ever ever on...", which of course doesn't end up giving me any pep in my step, so I switch to something a little more motivating: "We're gonna march all day all day all daaaaaaayyyyy... Where there's a whip--WHITCHA!--there's a way!"
It takes me 20 mins from when the church bells sounded noon to get back to the intersection of Le Cocon and Le Cocon, but at this point, at least I am distracted by a curious little dried grass path running parallel to the road. It starts before the intersection, running off the right hand side of the road. It clearly passes a little shed and continues onward. I track it from end to end, and spot a little house barely visible in the brush below the road. Finally, the path comes out on the right of the big tree with fruit I saw earlier, right at the curve in the road. The grassy path seems to be the only way to access the little house. I feel like I learned a neat local secret, and wonder who lives in the house.
I start thinking about that pear gelato we have in the freezer, left over from when Colin's family visited... Maybe it's the thought of ice cream, maybe it's just that now that I'm back on Le Cocon, the rest of the walk seems doable. Ever notice that a hike seems like forever when you are unfamiliar with the route, but fast once you are familiar with it? Plus, this road has some shady portions and is fairly flat.
I see a flicker and some songbirds. One red-backed shrike is kind enough to pose for me. The cows are much higher up on the hill beside the road than before, and passing them now, I notice what looks like a car battery hooked up to the "blue string" I saw separating the bull from me earlier. Oh, this makes me feel SOOOOOOO much better... the tiny blue string is electrified with a tiny power source. That will CERTAINLY stop a raging bull, if he decides to charge me on the road. :p
Cheered by seeing a flicker, and my discovery of a "secret house," I run the last hill of Le Cocon and have a little fun.
I arrive back at the gite dripping wet in sweat, as if I’ve taken a swim. I take a cold shower and try to normalize my temperature. Colin is already asking about lunch and an afternoon walk. I am game, but decide it needs to be shorter than usual and somehow shady. Perhaps a walk in the woods?
Since we need to go to the Intermarché in Allières for groceries, we decide on a hike to nearby Grandris (population 1164). It boasts several well-established hiking and biking trails, and googlemaps shows a wooded area to the Northwest of the town called Cret de l'Ail. I plot a simple 3km loop around Cret de l'Ail and hope that it will provide us with some shade.
We park in the town parking lot, and walk up Highway D54 to the yellow and white Mairie to begin the hike. The Mairie has an "I am Charlie" sign in the front window.
At the fork in front of the Mairie, we take the left, up Highway D617. At the next fork, we continue right on D617, where there is a lovely looking Gite de France called Les Godillots.
A little farther along, we get a great view of the surrounding valleys to our left and of Grandris behind us.
Ahead, the clouds are starting to look quite rain-filled, and the clouds to our left are converging in some kind of iconic "good vs evil" battle formation.
We leave the Highway D617 and take the right fork onto Chemin de Goutel towards Plat Marsan. To my left, I can see cows sheltering from the hot sun under the trees. Passing the sign "leaving Grandris," it starts to rain lightly. It's a welcome relief from the heat.
Looking ahead, we can see a wall of rain approaching over the hills. Looking to the valley on my left, I see the cows are all heading in to the barn.
We stay right again, onto Plat Marsan. Heading into the woods, the trees catch a lot of the rain and shelter us somewhat. We also hope that being taller than us, they will catch any stray lightening strikes near us, as the clouds are alight with sheet lightening above us. We pass a neat tiny Cadole-shaped hut amongst the ferns. I stick my head in to determine it is actually an old well.
Next, we enter the little village of Le Plat Marsan, at the opposite end of the Cret de l'Ail Forest. While we have been experiencing wonderful cool gusts of air since the rain started, now I am getting hot gusts of air on my legs, as if I am walking by a space heater. I say: "You know when you get a cold gust of air out of nowhere and people say 'it's a ghost'? Well, what are hot gusts of air out of nowhere? Are they still ghosts?" Then we see the skeleton. I am not sure what creature this little skeleton belongs to, or why it is so prominently displayed in this person's yard, but I just hurry on my way.
At the centre of the little village, we take a hairpin right turn onto Vergombet road, which heads back towards Grandris. We soon re-enter the forest, but here the trees don't seem very healthy. Soon, we pass the remains of a clearcut.
Exiting the forest, there is one lonely house along the road, with a neat well. Again, I stick my head in to take a look.
When the road starts to head downhill to enter Grandris, we see the barkmulch hiking trail to our right, marked with the Grandris randonnée signs. The rain suddenly turns to near hail. It feels darn good. Colin dashes under the tree cover. I stand in the open with my arms spread wide, yelling: "Love it! Embrace it!"
The hiking trail cuts through the woods, and we are actually fairly sheltered for the rest of the way to town.
As soon as we step onto the pavement in town, the rain abruptly stops. The sun comes out and the sky clears. On our left is another Gite de France, the Azergues Plaisir de Vivre. By the time we exit Chemin de la Guille onto Highway D54, it is hard to believe it was pouring rain only one moment before. Except that we are just as dripping wet as I was this morning, but this time with rain. Our legs are also covered to the knees in the brown clay-colored dirt from the hiking trail, which the hail bounced up at us with force.
We could turn left, stay on D54, and go directly to our vehicle; however, instead we turn right onto Rue de l'Eglise and pass the church as we head over to the Pharmacy to buy me some more Advil for my injured rib. It is kept behind the counter and I must ask for it. The Pharmacist peppers me with questions: Why do I need the Advil? Is it for headache or acute trauma? Do I know the maximum daily dosage? At home in Vancouver Canada, Advil sits on the shelf beside the toilet paper; and just like the toilet paper, you don't need to explain to anyone what you might be using it for. ;)
(I really thought I took a photo of the church's baths and the pharmacy, but I can't find it.
Here's a google streetview. Bonus: It strangely looks like our camionette parked out front!)
Next, we loop around on Highway D54 to get back to the parking lot. By now all the roads are dry and it is as if the storm never happened. Time to go buy groceries! :)
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