France'99 - Day 4 (Saturday, Aug 21)

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We get up nice and early (ok, so it wasn't THAT early), and after breakfast we gather our bearings a little and decide to go for a walk in the surrounding bush, up to beautiful lookout over the camping. We end up clambering through thick bush and underscrub to get there, and have to practice our climbing skills already to get over a few obstacles. On the way back down, we discover a perfectly good goat path leading to the also perfectly good road down. Ahum. Oh well, it was a great view, so it was worth it. Ya. Anyway.

Back in the camp, we meet three of the five other group members, who have since arrived. It's only a small group of seven, being the end of the season, so it looks like it's going to be a lot of fun. We decide to do our cooking together each night, and start by all throwing 200 Franc into the kitty. We also settle on a basic schedule of cooks for the week, and armed with a purpose, we all set off for the local supermarket to stock up for the week.

Wine is (as expected, I guess) ridiculously cheap - a plastic 5 liter pack costs 139 Francs. They have something called Lapins (rabbits?) lying in the freezer, which - apart from the lack of ears - indeed look very much like skinned rabbits. They look back at us, what with the eyes still being present. Hmmm. Look away. We settle on chicken instead.

Our shopping completed, we decide now is a good time for a quick swim in a small lake nearby. The lake is almost perfectly circular, and unbelievable cold, despite the full force of the sun blasting on it all day. I suspect a small glacier hides at the bottom of it. The swimming part of the outing doesn't last as long as the sunning part. And of course, since there are guys, water, and stones, all assembled in the same place, the ancient ritual of proving ones manhood by skipping stones across the lake is dutifully enacted, as it has been for hundreds of years. No sir, no sissies amongst us. Nope.

Our masculinity estabished, we return to camp. As it turns out, Jiroen, one of the group members, is a chef in real life, although he hadn't intended to tell anyone that. He decides to do something simple as he's on holiday, but when he starts to talk about "... chicken fillet in a white sauce...", and goes on from there, it becomes apparent that his idea of "simple" doesn't coincide with ours. As a result, not only is dinner superb, but a standard has now been set for the rest of us to try and maintain.

The full group consists of seven people - Lucinda and myself; Jiroen, also from Groningen; Ellis (Groningen), Stephan and Henriette; and Alex, the last three all from the south of Holland. Crux is represented by four people - Jan Willem, Barry, Roel, and Willemina. It is to be Jan Willem and Barry who will accompany us to most of the sites, althought on the climbing days we end up with everyone present.

Alex arrived on his motorbike a few days earlier, and has already seen a few of the local sites, including a trip to the local Marmot population - small animals who apparently stand on hind legs to accept food right out of your hands (wild animals indeed). It sounds like a cool thing to go and see in spare time, and we hesitantly decide to go see them on our Wednesday half day free time. In the end, we miss them altogether, as Wednesday everyone's just too knackered to take another step, but it was a great plan, I felt. Had real potential. Still, I saw a picture of one - hell, even bought the postcard.

<-- Marmot!

After dinner, we light the camp fire in the half oildrum, and tell tall tales till two in the morning. The half bottle of whiskey someone's provided is helping. Interestingly, on the second night the fire is deserted at just after midnight, and the third night I retire at about 9:30pm. Could be it's an active week. Could be my watch stopped. Who knows. My body ached.