The mountains are calling (Dad)
The view from Pont Chretien
I have a little joke repeating in my head: we four are enrolled, this year, in a course called Being a Family (hat tip: Dan Kois). And we’re about to take the final exam.
Along our daily walk in Pont Chretien
In a few days, we’ll set off at the furthest eastern trailhead of the GR10. ‘GR’ is shorthand for Grande Randonnée, France’s share of the network of long distance foot paths that crisscross Europe. The GR10, as most of you already know (because we won’t shut up about it), runs through the French Pyrenees from the Mediterranean Sea to the Atlantic Ocean. The trail is more than 500 miles long and most walkers spend between 45 and 60 days traversing its length. We have accommodations in Port-Vendres up until June 6 and after that, a place in Bordeaux starting on August 1. So, somehow, we need to haul ourselves and our gear from one side of the country to the other in 56 days. More sobering than the length or duration: the overall altitude change across the hike is equal to several Mount Everest summits.
At Chateau Sarzay
I can’t even bring myself to say !too easy!
Joe tries on gear for several glorious minutes before being told to stop
The situation and specifically the tight sensation located in the center of my chest reminds me of a time years ago before I started medical school when a research partner of mine, already a doctor but looking for an exit ramp from clinical medicine, told me, a little ruefully: Hard work is more palatable in the abstract. And I think that’s also true about hikes that span entire mountain ranges: they are so much more palatable at the comfortable remove of continents and years, which is precisely the vantage point from which I’ve been squinting at this particular hike. Until now. Now we’re unpacking and repacking, weighing our gear and our options. We’re shopping and shipping supplies to our accommodation in Port-Vendres. (I have a new down jacket because the nights at higher altitudes will be near freezing and a new super technical raincoat because, reportedly, thunder storms are common along some stretches. OH GREAT. Today Brian asked me, do you want microspikes? Again: GREAT.) We’re downloading weeks’ worth of Kindle books. We’re looking at maps to see where, exactly, the ATMs fall along the route and asking each other, is it irresponsible to carry €1000 in cash? Or irresponsible not to?
More Chateau Sarzay
But even more than the walking and the weather, the climbing and the sleeping outside (and the eating … what, exactly? How much cured meat and fromage de brebis can one person eat? I’ll let you know), I’m wondering how this extreme form of family togetherness will land for us. Truthfully, we’ve mostly gotten along well this year. We have our moments, of course. But mostly, we get on. Even better, we’ve learned a lot about each other, certainly more than I predicted and maybe even more than I believed possible. I mean, I’ve known these people for between 10 and almost 29 years … how am I still learning about them? It’s incredible that there’s still more to learn about what they like and hate, what and how they think, how to make them angry and how to soothe them. That’s really the nut of it I think and it’s why my little joke about a final exam sticks with me: the intensity of this prolonged togetherness, relying entirely on each other for everything over these past ten months, has brought a new finesse to our mutual care. Will that hold, when we’re really stuck together with no escape except maybe falling off a mountain? Will it deepen?
The Berry countryside is spectacular
On a logistical note, we will have phones with us, but suspect cell reception, for the most part, will be nonexistent. Still, if you need to reach us, please continue to email or text, and we’ll try to check in whenever we pass through a sizable village. Also, we hope to be able to stay in mountain chambres d'hôtes every couple of nights; if these places have wifi, we’ll try to continue to share some pictures and (abbreviated) observations here. Basically, we’ll connect when we can! And most likely, in August, we’ll be back with tales of how we survived the GR10.
Our house in Pont Chretien used to be a mill and came with this sweet canoe
