April 11
Cosne d'Allier
April 11th, 2009
Next week, I will be moving to the Pyrenees to a camp site called Les Monts d'Olmes. I was informed of this in the second floor of a French club where a two man band bluesed the night away in French, English, and scat. Indy was asking about the inevitable movement of the counselors and Oreo, our camp director, said that the new schedule was printed and upstairs at the chateau. I asked if I could also see it with Indy when we got back that night and she remembered that I was one of the few moving. So, that's that. I have little say in the matter but the mountains should be beautiful. Veggie and I will be going, so at least I'm not alone going to a strange new place. But I'm kinda used to the whole get-up-and-go thing. I have one more week of camp here with these great people and then I'm off to another site with other great people.
During my assigned week off, I did a lot of writing and walking. One day, I even walked in a creek. I was passing by a field, came to the creek (or river depending on who you talk to) and rolled up my jeans, sticking my sandals in the back of my pants. The water in mid April was cool but not at all freezing. I was going to just walk across and get to the other field but I saw how the brook twisted, meandering around fallen trees and over the sand and pebbles. The sun played against the moving water. It was too attractive. So for the next thirty minutes or so, I went upstream. This creek should work it way by the chateau, I figured. There was a bridge five minutes down the road by our camp site so this creek must be the same one.
Walking upstream is a bit of an exercise. The water constantly pushed against me and if I stepped on a dark rock, I would almost lose my balance. Sometimes, the sand would sink or I would keep walking deeper, expecting it to rise again so needless to say my jeans got a little wet with the natural spring water. But I figure if people can bottle this stuff then why not take a saunter?
I came to a tree, beautifully submerged just below the surface of the water. It was beautiful because it created a mini waterfall, the quick flow of the creek poured over the tree and appeared smooth, then crashed down against itself, white spray everywhere. When I put my hand on it, the tree was abnormally slick and even-textured. The bark seemed nonexistent. This tree was like the rocks on the floor, polished smooth.
The waters were getting deeper. I had yet to come across any fish, crawdads, or any creepy crawlies so I didn't fear the deep. This was definitely not a creek in Virginia in the middle of summer when snakes bask in the sun on logs. The deep parts were darker and I was always unsure of my footing. My rolled up jeans kept falling down over my knees and after several missteps, my jeans were completely soaked. My shirt was still fairly dry except for the bottom edge and my feet were starting to hurt after all of the pebbles and stones I had stepped on.
Looking out over the steep embankment, I decided I must be near the chataeu now so I planned on getting out. I came across some cows and a single line of electrical wire. Only one cow noticed me and then kept tearing the grass up.
A tree had fallen over the creek and its branches stretched up around the water. Just past it was a two foot waterfall, cascading over a small stone wall. I wanted to try to climb up the fast moving waterfall but the tree led from one side of the creek to the other. I needed to be on the left side so I climbed up on the tree and walked across the rough bark to the sandy and thorny shore. I walked around a bush and came to the electric fence. The cows were far enough behind me that they didn't care. Some sheep were across the creek and just noticed me. They didn't care too much once they realized I was walking away from them.
I ducked underneath the one electrical wire and slipped my sandals back on. The fragrance of fresh fertilizer stung my nose. I continued along the fence and made my way to a metal gate, hoping a crazy farmer would not see me, or that the cows would come running at me from way over there. Climbing up, I swung my legs over the gate and did the same at the next one across an empty field.
Now I was on the road. The chateau should be right.... where? Instead of a paved road, I was on a dirt one. Instead of seeing the steeple and chataeu's tower, I saw trees. And cows. Far to my right, across the creek and across the sheep field, I could see a busy road. That building there looked like the dancing hall that the girls were joking about going to. But that can't be right. The river was supposed to be going towards the chateau, not away from it. I started walking up the road, thinking fast.
I wanted this little stroll to be over. My jeans were soaked. My sandals were soaked from my wet dirty feet. My shadow was getting long and I had no idea where I was.
I stopped. If the chateau was where I thought it was, straight to the left of the creek, then maybe I should walk across the grassy field. It had a small fence but it looked like grass. Maybe the farmer that owned this place wouldn't mind. I planned if someone did ask me anything. I would just repeat in a question format: “Chateau du Petit Bois?” A smile is supposed to be an international gesture and a shrug seems to be as well, at least in Europe. I figured I could use my charm and wit and get out of any situation. Yeah right.
I stuck to the road and kept walking up the path. But what if this path that was parallel to the river did not go where I thought? If I remembered correctly that the chateau was to my left, than I might walk past it on this path that seems to be too far to the right. I tried to think directionally. The sun was setting too quickly to my right. The chateau was on the east side of town. The creek runs somewhat north and south. So I was ... going the wrong way. If the river and I went this far south, then I am going south but I should go... I turned around and walked north. The chateau should now be up to my right at an angle, the creek on my left. I was now walking in my heavy wet jeans towards the town, I hoped.
As I could see the river from the slanting hill the path was on, I could see the curves that I had just endured through. Walking on a path is by far faster than walking through water, especially upstream.
I passed an old man and an old woman, successfully saying Bonjour to them to which they replied the same. I suspect I should have tagged on the end a monsieur or madam but whatever.
The path I was on came to the field which I first walked by and saw where I entered the creek maybe an hour ago. I followed the path that I had been on before straight into the town Cosne d'Allier and back to the chateau. I set my jeans out to dry and washed them and some laundry later in the night.
It was a Friday night and everyone was done working, cleaning up from the week of camp, and doing some prep for the next week. So we all piled into the 9-seater van and went to Montlucon for the evening. Later, I was told I'll be going to Les Monts d'Olmes next Saturday.
Till then, I'll be at Cosne d'Allier one last week.
April 11th, 2009
Next week, I will be moving to the Pyrenees to a camp site called Les Monts d'Olmes. I was informed of this in the second floor of a French club where a two man band bluesed the night away in French, English, and scat. Indy was asking about the inevitable movement of the counselors and Oreo, our camp director, said that the new schedule was printed and upstairs at the chateau. I asked if I could also see it with Indy when we got back that night and she remembered that I was one of the few moving. So, that's that. I have little say in the matter but the mountains should be beautiful. Veggie and I will be going, so at least I'm not alone going to a strange new place. But I'm kinda used to the whole get-up-and-go thing. I have one more week of camp here with these great people and then I'm off to another site with other great people.
During my assigned week off, I did a lot of writing and walking. One day, I even walked in a creek. I was passing by a field, came to the creek (or river depending on who you talk to) and rolled up my jeans, sticking my sandals in the back of my pants. The water in mid April was cool but not at all freezing. I was going to just walk across and get to the other field but I saw how the brook twisted, meandering around fallen trees and over the sand and pebbles. The sun played against the moving water. It was too attractive. So for the next thirty minutes or so, I went upstream. This creek should work it way by the chateau, I figured. There was a bridge five minutes down the road by our camp site so this creek must be the same one.
Walking upstream is a bit of an exercise. The water constantly pushed against me and if I stepped on a dark rock, I would almost lose my balance. Sometimes, the sand would sink or I would keep walking deeper, expecting it to rise again so needless to say my jeans got a little wet with the natural spring water. But I figure if people can bottle this stuff then why not take a saunter?
I came to a tree, beautifully submerged just below the surface of the water. It was beautiful because it created a mini waterfall, the quick flow of the creek poured over the tree and appeared smooth, then crashed down against itself, white spray everywhere. When I put my hand on it, the tree was abnormally slick and even-textured. The bark seemed nonexistent. This tree was like the rocks on the floor, polished smooth.
The waters were getting deeper. I had yet to come across any fish, crawdads, or any creepy crawlies so I didn't fear the deep. This was definitely not a creek in Virginia in the middle of summer when snakes bask in the sun on logs. The deep parts were darker and I was always unsure of my footing. My rolled up jeans kept falling down over my knees and after several missteps, my jeans were completely soaked. My shirt was still fairly dry except for the bottom edge and my feet were starting to hurt after all of the pebbles and stones I had stepped on.
Looking out over the steep embankment, I decided I must be near the chataeu now so I planned on getting out. I came across some cows and a single line of electrical wire. Only one cow noticed me and then kept tearing the grass up.
A tree had fallen over the creek and its branches stretched up around the water. Just past it was a two foot waterfall, cascading over a small stone wall. I wanted to try to climb up the fast moving waterfall but the tree led from one side of the creek to the other. I needed to be on the left side so I climbed up on the tree and walked across the rough bark to the sandy and thorny shore. I walked around a bush and came to the electric fence. The cows were far enough behind me that they didn't care. Some sheep were across the creek and just noticed me. They didn't care too much once they realized I was walking away from them.
I ducked underneath the one electrical wire and slipped my sandals back on. The fragrance of fresh fertilizer stung my nose. I continued along the fence and made my way to a metal gate, hoping a crazy farmer would not see me, or that the cows would come running at me from way over there. Climbing up, I swung my legs over the gate and did the same at the next one across an empty field.
Now I was on the road. The chateau should be right.... where? Instead of a paved road, I was on a dirt one. Instead of seeing the steeple and chataeu's tower, I saw trees. And cows. Far to my right, across the creek and across the sheep field, I could see a busy road. That building there looked like the dancing hall that the girls were joking about going to. But that can't be right. The river was supposed to be going towards the chateau, not away from it. I started walking up the road, thinking fast.
I wanted this little stroll to be over. My jeans were soaked. My sandals were soaked from my wet dirty feet. My shadow was getting long and I had no idea where I was.
I stopped. If the chateau was where I thought it was, straight to the left of the creek, then maybe I should walk across the grassy field. It had a small fence but it looked like grass. Maybe the farmer that owned this place wouldn't mind. I planned if someone did ask me anything. I would just repeat in a question format: “Chateau du Petit Bois?” A smile is supposed to be an international gesture and a shrug seems to be as well, at least in Europe. I figured I could use my charm and wit and get out of any situation. Yeah right.
I stuck to the road and kept walking up the path. But what if this path that was parallel to the river did not go where I thought? If I remembered correctly that the chateau was to my left, than I might walk past it on this path that seems to be too far to the right. I tried to think directionally. The sun was setting too quickly to my right. The chateau was on the east side of town. The creek runs somewhat north and south. So I was ... going the wrong way. If the river and I went this far south, then I am going south but I should go... I turned around and walked north. The chateau should now be up to my right at an angle, the creek on my left. I was now walking in my heavy wet jeans towards the town, I hoped.
As I could see the river from the slanting hill the path was on, I could see the curves that I had just endured through. Walking on a path is by far faster than walking through water, especially upstream.
I passed an old man and an old woman, successfully saying Bonjour to them to which they replied the same. I suspect I should have tagged on the end a monsieur or madam but whatever.
The path I was on came to the field which I first walked by and saw where I entered the creek maybe an hour ago. I followed the path that I had been on before straight into the town Cosne d'Allier and back to the chateau. I set my jeans out to dry and washed them and some laundry later in the night.
It was a Friday night and everyone was done working, cleaning up from the week of camp, and doing some prep for the next week. So we all piled into the 9-seater van and went to Montlucon for the evening. Later, I was told I'll be going to Les Monts d'Olmes next Saturday.
Till then, I'll be at Cosne d'Allier one last week.
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