Sweetwater Journal

South Eastern Gulf country

2008-07-02T17:58:00.005+10:00

Another trip - this time into the south eastern Gulf country - 5 hours west of Cairns is the little town of Georgetown, in the middle of northern cattle country. I based myself in the Georgetown pub for a week. The properties here are smaller and the country much harder - the big companies are not interested in this area, the soil is lighter and there is a lot of rock in places. Trees, anthills, long dry grass,rocks and red sand. The countryside is much more heavily forested with a highly diverse forest, natural pastures are less nutritious and the performance of the cattle herds is not as good as in the more western parts of the gulf. Improved genetics, supplementation and the live export market have changed the economics of cattle production in the north and family businesses can survive. Hard country however breeds hard people but people are still very friendly and welcoming to a stranger arriving to ask questions. Family size properties here are still huge and run between 5,000 and 10,000 head over a wide expanse of land. The water is wonderful with spring fed creeks and rivers flowing through hard rocky country. It is always a surprise in Australia when you are travelling through hard, dry country to suddenly come across a crystal clear creek running through the rock or the sand.

Southern New South Wales

2008-06-25T09:26:00.006+10:00

The week after travelling in North Queensland I drove south, deep into New South Wales, over 800 klm, so more than 2500 klm south of where I was in the Gulf. The countryside is noticeably different, the light is softer with the southern latitude and cooler climate. The imprint of "civilisation" is everywhere, country is cleared of trees, planted to crops and pastures, there are more towns, more houses, tractors,silos and sheds and many more visible people. There are quiet places but the country does not have the stillness that infuses everything in the north. The trees are different and the colours are more muted - greys and greenish greys, straw colour of winter grass and more clouds in the skies. The country in the south has a softer feel, less elemental, less wild, still dry - at this time in the south the land is waiting for rain after a dry summer, in the north, the summer rain is finished and the dry season is beginning.

Cattle North Queensland

2008-06-24T12:04:00.009+10:00

This is big country here in Far North Queensland, the cattle are tall, lean Brahmans and they are here in big numbers, the properties are huge, the trucks are big (130 head in each truck) and there is a lot of money involved. The Gulf has had a good season and the cattle look wonderful, this is not the case all through the north, however. The largest breeding area in Northern Australia - the Barkly Tableland is disastrously dry after missing a wet season, so the big cattle companies are moving huge numbers of cattle - The Australian Agricultural Company (AACo) have supposedly moved 80,000 cows and the Acton family over 70,000. With fuel prices like they are - that is a major expense and they will all go back when (if ?) it rains. The roads in North Queensland are full of cattle trucks heading east with cattle and returning west empty. Apparently it is impossible to hire drovers - the few that are left in the business are flat out. It will be interesting to watch the changes to the industry as fuel prices continue to climb and the climate changes.

Downs Country - Far North Queensland

2008-06-11T21:14:00.006+10:00

Driving across the downs in Far North Queensland - open flat country with the horizon running forever. A pure, blue enormous sky above the pink of Flinders grass, straw of Mitchell grass, the occasional Yellow wood, Whitewood and clump of Gidgee against the skyline. In the sky, like swarms of insects are the flocks of budgerigars, flashes of green when the light catches them, they move through the sky like schools of fish, turning together on an invisible signal, alighting all along a fence then in the air wheeling, circling, chattering, then on the ground, in the air again. I stop the car and walk amongst them entranced by the colour, the spontaneous movement, the surprising sound of frantically beating wings as the whole flock turns above me. I have a flock of hundreds, maybe thousands above and around me and in the distance I can see three, four, five more smudges of other flocks, turning and moving through the clear air, above the flat, flat land. It has been a good season in the Gulf, the grasses are seeding prolifically and the birds are multiplying and moving constantly. There are Plain Turkeys, Wedge Tail Eagles, Hawks, Pigeons, Galahs, Corellas and the occasional stately Brolga. Mostly, however, I am left with the impression of the budgerigars, green and swirling above the pink and straw of the grasses, the stillness, quietness and sheer vastness of the timeless landscape - flat and forever.

Far North Queensland - Dry Season

2008-06-04T18:56:00.005+10:00

Arriving in Mt. Isa, a two and a half hour flight from Brisbane, I find my hire car and head out of the dusty, mining town and into the magnificent landscape of far north Queensland.
It is the colours that strike me first, then the stillness - on a grand scale, then the movement - on a small scale.
The colours, the stillness, the movement are all sublimated, dominated by the sky - the vast expanse of blue, shades of blue, but nothing else, no clouds, no mountains, no jet trails or buildings, just endless blue ! Against this is the red of the rock and the dirt, clean white trunks of the gums, straw coloured grass and spinifex and the grey green of the eucalypt leaves. At first the stillness is so powerful and complete it is awe inspiring, no apparent movement in the sky and none on the ground. After a time I sense and see little birds move amongst the trees and shrubs, ants and lizards on the ground, in the distance cattle and kangaroos.
Later, on the downs, a full moon setting in the west and in the eastern sky, yellow and red on the skyline as the sun rises above a dead straight horizon. The moon is white and clear against a deep blue line of sky on the horizon, above that pink then the grey of early morning, cloudless sky. Below the blue a line of grey green foliage, straw coloured grass then the magic pink of ripe Flinders grass, black dirt of the downs. I gaze and gaze.

SNOW REFLECTIONS

2008-03-29T16:13:00.020+10:00

Growing up in north and western Queensland did not prepare us very well for understanding or knowing snow - heat, dry, floods and droughts maybe, clear dry skies, flies - but snow no. We thought there was just snow !! Now we know there are many different snows - dry snow, powder snow, wet snow, hard or soft, safe or dangerous - snow you can pack into a snow ball or snow man and snow that just doesn't pack. There is fresh snow and old snow, solid, cold snow and melting moving snow, snow that is safe to walk, ski or climb on and snow that is extremely dangerous and to be avoided at all costs. Most of all we found that snow is just beautiful and a wonderful new experience for all of us. We walked in the melting snow of spring and the fresh snow of autumn and winter, skiied, tobaganned, built snow men and had many, many snow fights. We experienced snow falling gently, softly and so, so quietly, snow blowing into our faces so hard it hurt as we struggled to the Col Frontiere at Peyrelue. Fresh snow resting on every surface so that touching a branch would result in an avalanche, snow on your face and and all down your back. Walking through the forest three days after heavy snow we were absolutely stunned by the beauty of randomn snow falls - big lumps of snow suspended high in the trees would suddenly and soundlessly drop and fall to the ground hitting lower branches all the way down - the result was a shower of snow particles catching the sun - just magic !! The sheer beauty of the landscape under a layer of snow has delighted and moved us deeply - edges are rounded and softened, sounds muffled and colours while reduced in number almost to white, black and blue have an intensity that is stunning at any time of the day. Waking up and going outside the cabane de Cherue surrounded by deep snow and apparently little else but blue sky, the only sound a little wind through the valley is an experience which will stay with us all.

Easter

2008-03-29T15:35:00.009+10:00

Easter this year was a traditional Australian easter for our family. We stayed at home, a number of visitors called in and stayed and we played cricket in the garden, rode horses, walked in the Bald Rock National Park and ate some chocolate. Easter was early but cool and a bit wet, so cricket was good, but swimming was out the water at Stanthorpe is a bit cool in this weather !!!. Walking in the National Park was excellant, one of our favourite walks is to South Bald Rock, a couple of hours along the old state border fence, open views and cool, forested tracks. The border fence runs along the watershed of the Great Dividing Range so the track is high with slopes to the east and the west. Granite country is endlessly fascinating with changing colours, shapes and textures and a huge array of vegetation - ferns and mosses in profusion this year after a wet end of summer and beginning to autumn. The huge granite boulders at South Bald Rock are spectacular and provide a wonderful landscape in which to lose yourself wandering, gazing and imagining. The water pouring off the rocks over the ages has left little stream beds and coloured tracks across the surface and there are gardens with stunted trees and shrubs scattered across the huge open spaces on top of the rock. Massive boulders balance unbelievably and threaten to topple at any moment. The gorge through the middle of the rock provides habitat for remnant rainforest species and caves if we can ever find them.

Healthy horses

2008-02-19T16:33:00.003+10:00

Re-Acquaintance with friends

2008-02-19T15:02:00.005+10:00

We have very much enjoyed becoming reacquainted with our animal friends. Zephyr, the Kelpie is fit and totally overjoyed to see us - dogs are wonderful !! The horses are a bit more reserved as they sense our return may mean the end of an extended holiday ?? They are all full of feed and fresh grass and look soft and round and beautiful, it will be a shame to re-aquaint them with the world of work, but necessary for them as it is for us.

Back in the country

2008-02-08T12:41:00.000+10:00

We are very fortunate to be arriving back in the country after good rain. Dams are full, creeks are running and the stock are happy and well. The rain continues and in good Australian fashion the drought may well be broken with floods !!

Dams are full

2008-02-01T12:13:00.001+10:00

Impressions on arrival

2008-01-30T13:38:00.000+10:00

Back in Australia - in Brisbane at 8-00 am we emerge from customs and the airport, blinking like moles into the bright sunlight and I am struck by the smell of the tropics and the verdant growth of trees, shrubs and grass around the airport. The green is vivid, all encompassing and incredibly striking after winter in France. It is sunny and humid, you can smell and feel the growth happening. There has been very good rain and after a long time without, everything is a riot of growth - luxuriant, humid, tropical growth, it feels as though everything is a part of this growth, even the air which is heavy and growing itself.

The casualness and the space are immediately apparent, it is rush hour at 8-00 am and waiting in the sun for a train is a very relaxed process, the train arrives and there is plenty of time to stroll on and find a place. A little further on the train stops while a couple buy tickets from the stationmaster and after the purchase is complete and they board the train, the stationmaster emerges from the ticket office, glances up and down the track, blows his whistle and we move on - a far cry from taking the metro in Paris. The clothes people are wearing are casual in the extreme, sloppy at times - summer in Brisbane !!! and the pace of everything is relaxed. After a while it occurs to me that if someone from Paris arrived like this at this time they would think - " How does anything ever get done around here !!" Things do get done and the train and the bus run on time with a minimum of fuss and stress.

Overweight people - the number of overweight people is an immediate impression, very rare in France but disturbingly common here. One can see fast food being consumed and sold in the streets and the cafes - a big part of the problem ??

No smoking, very few people smoking and absolutely no smoking in public places.

After Paris and the north of France the space is overwhelming, space between people, between cars, between houses and as we leave Brisbane - between towns. The roads seem empty by comparison and the pace is slower, pressure is less - life slows and flows.

Mango trees with mangoes ripening, huge luxurious figs, tropical grasses bursting out of the ground and hiding fences, Bos Indicus cattle with humps and long ears, rivers with big beds and river banks and small flows, signs of recent flooding, eucalyptus trees and space.

At home, the peace and quiet, the type of peace that comes with hearing only bird sounds and the wind in the trees - a deep, deep peace !

There is however, within me a feeling of dislocation and a strong feeling of sadness after leaving Laruns and the Vallee d'Ossau. I feel we have travelled far and fast and not all of me has moved, there is a significant part of me still in the valley and the mountains. I find myself later looking up the Meteo site for a bulletin on the weather in Laruns and the condition of the snow in the surrounding mountains. I look for a boulangarie as we pass through the towns or a sign saying - Vente Fromage de Brebis.

Winter Trees

2008-01-04T18:09:00.000+10:00

The trees have been almost as surprising as the colours in their winter beauty.

Leafless trees form clear distinct outlines against the sky, the mountains, the white snow and the brown fields. Loss of leaves reveals varied craggy shapes, twisted branches and filaments of twigs with buds already waiting - confident of the ever recurring cycles of nature. Should we tell the trees about Climate Change or perhaps if we listen they are telling us now !

The trees form a dominant presence and in many ways are emblematic for me of the winter landscape. Skeletons of trees dominate ridge lines, bare branches frame landscapes. In a forest without leaves the mossy trunks and lichen covered branches are the main features above the ground. The trees are powerful reminders of the regeneration process of winter as they stand dormant, but with tiny buds already swollen and prepared for warmer, sunnier times.

The bare branches make long lean shadows on the ground and individual trees form a screen through which glimpses of background can be discerned framed by brown and black twigs and branches. The shape of the tree, the colour of the trunk with its associated lichens and mosses are revealed for all the world to see - or for that part of the world that is prepared to brave the elements to see a world presented bare, cloaked by winter, occasionally by snow but always by the blanket of winter light - the result of a sun low in the sky, of cold moist air.

When the trees are covered in snow another type of beauty altogether appears - from a distance it is a white veil below which the shape and the colour of the trees can be seen. In the forest it is a magical world of white, branches hanging low with the weight, snow on every horizontal surface and piled up against the trunks, the trunks grey and black against the white, bursts of silver and white as a clump of snow falls and catches the sun.

Winter colours

2008-01-03T09:13:00.000+10:00

The colours of autumn took us quite by surprise - the variation, richness and vibrancy combined with the ever changing nature of the season were awesome and filled each day with an appreciation of the wonder of the natural world. Winter has left me equally moved, the soft light and more muted colours, the overwhelming feeling of stillness and repose, of regeneration and rest. The colours, while soft and muted are incredibly striking, always harmonious.

In the distance grey cloud forever, below the grey - white ridges stark against dark timbered slopes, ridges and valleys deep in snow, white and pure above and alongside timbered slopes bluish in the afternoon light. In the mid distance the brown of dry grass and fern on the lower hills - dark green pines, greys, browns and black of the leafless lichen covered trees, bright white snow on the track, deep footprints casting shadows in the slanting winter sunlight, reddish, russet brown leaves on the ground and light brown grass on the near slope.

The colours are slightly muted and within a limited range of blues, dark green, brown, black and grey - all complimentary and cohesive - calmed by the soft light, powerful and and dangerous, blanketed with winter, stillness and cold.

Winter

2008-01-02T18:16:00.000+10:00

Winter is coming fast and the beauty is awesome !!

Camping in the snow

2007-12-24T05:31:00.001+10:00

Camping in the Fresh Snow

2007-12-24T03:24:00.001+10:00

Big snow falls overnight - in the morning the snow was the lowest on the surrounding mountains we have seen and deep, so deep. The weather prediction is for the clouds to clear in the afternoon and clear skies but cold for the rest of the week - absolutely ideal for a few nights in a mountain cabane. We put together some provisions, packed our packs, borrowed snow shoes and off we went to the Cabane de Cherue - a shepherd's cabin that is also used by walkers. It is just above the tree line, beside a little creek and just below the Crete de Lavigne (Crest) from which you can see pic du Midi and the Valle de Magnabeight.

Sue drove Skye, Hadley and I to a little car park where ordinarily the track can be seen winding up the mountain. Today the snow is so thick there is no track in sight and everything is covered in beautiful white snow. We fit our snowshoes, wave goodbye and up into the trees, the track is a little difficult to follow but the indentation can be seen and with care we can follow it. We are the first to walk through the new snow - so exciting, fresh, clean, pure snow. The ground is covered in over two feet of snow, all the trees are covered, even the bare branches hold snow all over the upper surface - all is white, pure white except for the occasional rock and the trunks of the trees which are black and grey. It is as if the world is now in black and white. Everything is muffled and still - another world - white and silent. Branches weighed down with snow block the track and if you bump them going under there is a mini avalanche of cold snow. The snow is soft and for the leader it is very hard work, even with the snow shoes with big packs we sink up to 10 inches into the snow - going up steep slopes is difficult and we change the lead regularly. It is not too bad for the second person and for the third it is possible to stay on the surface for most of the time. Slowly and steadily we zig zag up the slope - it takes about 2.5 hours to do the walk Sue and I did in 1 hour, 10 days earlier with no snow.

We cleared the tree line, up one more steep slope and there is the cabane in a protected valley deep in snow, the mist is beginning to roll in from the valley so we are just in time. Izard bound away up the slope as we approach, quickly gaining height through the deep snow, then they pause on a rock outcrop or ridge to gaze at us - their favourite position, looking down from a position of height. How do they survive when any feed is covered in snow ? We watch while an Izard digs at the snow with a foot and nibbles on the bush it uncovers - a tough life. As it gets colder they descend into the trees but obviously they think it is still ok in the open mountains for now.

The cabane is a stone structure with a concrete floor - one room, two beds, a triple bunk, a table and benches and a cast iron stove - a couple of old saucepans and a fry pan and a small supply of wood. The windows leak a little and there is a wind rattling the shutters - cold !!!! We get a fire going and search for more wood. Smoke is a big problem as the wood is green and wet and to get rid of the smoke we need to open the door - outside it is well below zero with a cold wind, so our choice is smoke, or cold. We opt for variations and spend a cool night having dinner and playing cards until it is time to hop into our very warm sleeping bags and listen to the mountain mice scratch around the cabin all night.

The next morning is clear, blue and cold. The sun hits the hut about 10-00 am and warms it for a couple of hours before disappearing behind the mountains. Sue and Ash climbed up with snowshoes for a quick picnic before returning through the snow with Skye. Ash is light and with the snowshoes floats on top of the snow - he is having a ball, for Sue it is a bit harder but the snowshoes are wonderful, without them it would be impossible. The snow is just spectacular, there is so much and it is deep, soft, clean and so, so white.

Had and I spent the afternoon collecting firewood and spent another night in the cabane. The next morning, clear and still, we walked through the snow to the Crete de Lavigne. The deep snow makes it possible to go anywhere without the need of a track - it is impossible to find the track anyway, all features are muffled, rounded and disguised. We know roughly where to go and find our way to the crest reasonably easily. It is possible to use the snowshoes like crampons and we climb up some very steep slopes, slow work but exhilarating. The snow breaks up as we climb and pieces fall and slide down the slope 100 - 200 metres without stopping - time to take care !! The view from the crest is stupendous - we can see across the Vallee de Magnabeight to the Pic du Midi in all its winter glory - black and white against the dark blue of the sky. Beyond the Pic du Midi is the Pic d'Ayous, the Col d'Ayous, then the peaks of the Vallee d'Aspe and beyond that the Pyreneean mountain chain runs all the way to the Atlantic. A clear, clear morning, we stand on the crest and look across the peaks, everything is still and very, very quiet, no wind, no people, the bears are asleep. There are Izard moving slowly across a ledge below. The landscape is sleeping under the snow, beautiful, cold, still and resting - a time of repose, of rejeuvenation and regeneration, absorbing moisture and light in preparation for the growth of spring and summer. We sit, eat mandarins and absorb the peace and subconsciously some of the energy as well. Eventually and reluctantly, but refreshed we turn and follow our tracks back to the cabane.

It is important to have the beers cold

2007-12-21T16:47:00.000+10:00

Some people will go to any lengths to ensure the beer is cold.

Winter is here

2007-12-21T16:42:00.000+10:00

Sunday afternoon in Castet

2007-12-04T22:23:00.000+10:00

We sat one Sunday afternoon on the little hill that rises above the Plateau de Castet, in the afternoon sun of a perfect still blue November afternoon. Below the small green fields gradually whiten towards the northern edge of the hillside and the tree lines until at the edge of the trees it is pure white and frozen as it must have been all day where the sun doesn't reach. Above the green and white fields rises the dark forest. In full shadow the grey and white trunks standing out now among the bare trees, the occasional dark green of a pine, grey of rock. Above the forest the white snow and black rocks with the pure blue sky above that and floating in that perfect blue is a clear white half moon. A wet moon, standing on its side, so the water could flow out across the sky - more snow or rain coming soon. The sound of cow bells drifts up from the plateau below as the cows move trying vainly to keep ahead of the lengthening shadows and the cooling afternoon.

A late autumn landscape with a little colour left in the trees, the white frost, bare trees and long shadows have a distinctly wintry feel, the air is clear, still and sharp. The high landscape, the ridges and the peaks appear perfectly still in the distance, immovable and eternal against the blue.

The Plateau de Castet drops in the western sun into the Vallee d' Ossau, across the valley is the village of Bilhere catching the late sun and above the village the Plateau du Benou with a snow capped ridge above the plateau. Many of the trees have lost all their leaves and their shadows are skeletons marching across the fields, browns, greys and blacks, the colour in the landscape is provided by yellow left in the birches and blue smoke rising from a chimney. A very still quiet afternoon, time to reflect on the changing season, the coming winter.

Laruns - livestock in the village

2007-11-28T01:59:00.000+10:00

Laruns and the Vallee d'Ossau

2007-11-27T21:43:00.000+10:00

We have been very fortunate to have landed in Laruns or we have followed powerful, accurate instincts which have lead us to a valley of spectacular natural beauty with a very strong regional culture and an intact local community. Our observations need to be tempered naturally by the fact that we are outsiders, from outside the village, outside the valley and even outside France. Our ability to understand and observe is therefore limited.

Laruns (popn 1700 ) seems however, to be a strong functioning community and the inhabitants of the valley lead lives that are less complicated by material desires and wants than many others we have encountered in Australia and other places. We have encountered many acts of generosity in our time here - the boys at the Auberge left us with the keys and said we could stay while they went away for a holiday, Gi Gi and Jean Luc from the Hardware shop have lent Ashur a bike and add little gifts when we buy things, Emily from the Real Estate Office has lent Sue and I a very good bicycle, Jean Pierrie regularly won't let us pay for saucisson or cakes we buy from his shop and introduces us to everybody, Anna, the shepherd sells us beautiful cheese and under charges massively, Marco offers walking shoes to Ashur and snowshoes to us, Bernard managed to fit twelve rowdy Australians into his tiny kitchen for a wonderful Pot au Feu. People don't appear to be materially needy or greedy and are happy to give generously when they can and what they can. There are hardly any big flash cars in the village and we have seen no widescreen TVs in French houses, the goods in the shops are basic and the food is simple. Perhaps other more important needs are being met and there is no great gaping hole clamouring to be filled with material goods or wealth.

The community is strong and supportive, families stay in the valley so family networks are intact. The whole community is very proud of the schools and a number of the teachers including the Directrix are local people. Hadley, Ashur and I helped at the market one Saturday morning cooking chestnuts to raise money for a school expedition to the beach. The interaction was wonderful - everyone was having a good time and we ate fresh roasted chestnuts.

The valley abounds with spectacular natural beauty, clean and fresh. The incredible power and majesty of the mountains are a constant reminder of scale and of the place of human beings on this planet. The closeness and the very real significance of the elements - snowstorms, avalanche, sudden changes in conditions ensures everyone is aware of the power of forces non-human.

The closeness and everyday encounters with animals are also a powerful influence. There are sheep walking through the streets every day, so there is manure everywhere and the whole place smells of livestock. One shepherd waters his sheep in the village fountain every afternoon on their way back to their warm shed, probably below his house. It is lambing time now and there is a small window low down in the street past the church that we can peer through and see new born lambs and their mothers in the warm straw. There are little paddocks throughout the town and the valley with cattle in them and from our terrace we can generally see at least five mobs of sheep grazing in terraced fields in the valley and the mountainside. We know when the shepherd decides it is time to head for the warmth of the grange because we can hear the bells ringing as the sheep trot along behind. We can hear sheep bleating to their lambs and the lambs replying, dogs barking and horses whinnying. At any time in the village you can hear, smell or see livestock - there is no way the people of the village are going to grow out of touch with their roots, where their food and fibre comes from of with the very soil itself.

All this, we believe leads to the maintenance of a strong community where other things are more important than material goods - a community we are very fortunate to be able to join for a brief moment.

Autumn - final stages

2007-11-27T01:25:00.000+10:00

Autumn continues to amaze and delight us all here in our little house in the Vallee d'Ossau. Every day is a little different as the vegetation, the weather and the climate all change, interact and produce a continuing display of altering colour, shape, shadow, light and atmosphere. Leaves are falling quickly now, each snow fall and windy day brings them down in masses of colour. Consequently the colour is lower down now - on the floor of the forest and it is brown with a deep layer of soft leaves. The trees are skeletons and the forest is becoming transparent, other colours appear through the bare trees. Frost and snow add another dimension. The fresh, cold weather has ensured that frost keeps the ground white all day on the northern slopes and close to the edges of tree belts. The sun is lower now all day and the light on some days is soft, edges are indistinct and shadows are long.

The shadows of the trees are lines on the ground, well gone are the full dark shadows of summer that so delighted us on warm days. The autumn shadows are colder and longer, traces on the ground of the bones of the trees. The sun follows the peaks across the sky, staying low and ensuring the bases of the northern slopes never see the sun. The frost stays here all day and in the late afternoon as the sun is setting the frost here is still glowing white - cold places, the northern slopes. The stock naturally move to the southern slopes.

The sheep are only in the fields during the middle of the day now, they are taken out in the morning and return to their warm granges in the mid afternoon. A large mob of horses came down from Col d'Aubisque and through the streets of Beost across the valley yesterday. The horses are the last to leave the mountains as the snow settles.

Shearing on the Plateau du Benou

2007-11-15T17:20:00.001+10:00

There is plenty of time to talk and discuss.

Shearing on the Plateau du Benou

2007-11-15T17:15:00.001+10:00

In with the lambs ewes and all

Shearing on the Plateau du Benou

2007-11-15T16:58:00.001+10:00

Ash blissfully played with the lambs and pups all day.

Shearing on the Plateau du Benou

2007-11-15T06:41:00.003+10:00

Each sheep is a joint effort

Shearing on the Plateau du Benou

2007-11-15T06:41:00.001+10:00

Men, women and sheep in the straw

Shearing on the Plateau du Benou

2007-11-15T00:37:00.000+10:00

The day of the shearing at Jusef and Anna's, we have been invited to come and participate if we like and are very much looking forward to another new experience - It is a beautiful clear, cold morning in the valley - we had to wash ice off the windscreen before we could go anywhere. A quick stop at the Boulangerie for bread for our picnic and off up the white, white valley floor, frost on all the bushes and fence posts, all the pastures white, the air still, sky blue. As we wound our way up to the plateau we left the white valley below and climbed into the sun, warmer already but still cold and frosty in any shaded spot. At Jusef and Anna's place there were already a few cars and from outside the shed we could hear the click of shears and a quiet murmur of voices. We walked into the warm wooden shed and a completely different shearing scene greeted our eyes. A long wooden feed trough runs along the middle of the shed and on each side of the trough is an open area covered in straw where the sheep live in winter. In varying positions all over the straw were about eight men and women cradling sheep, lying on sheep, standing beside sheep, clipping the wool with hand shears, chatting, laughing and calling across the shed. There is no great attempt at speed, plenty of conversation and discussion, time to talk and provide encouragement and advice. The variety of positions and holds is enormous - sheep sitting on their tails, lying on their sides with the shearer spreadeagled all over the sheep, sheep on their backs, legs in the air while someone clips off a bit of belly wool, some just lying peacefully on their sides chewing their cud while a shearer clips wool off a hind leg, one sheep standing on all fours while the shearer quietly works away. All is very quiet, no struggling or complaints from sheep or shearer, no swearing, no cuts, no blood, no engine noise. A moving mass of men, women and sheep rolling around in the straw in a warm old wooden shed while the frost stays white on the ground outside. The wool is long and stringy with very little weight and when the fleece is all off it is dumped in a wool pack - no skirting or classing, no pressing and Jusef says it is sold for very little.

There is a range of dogs outside, little black and brown Labris all spikey and cheeky, enormous white mountain dogs, happy looking Border Collies, every now and then there is a ruckus and a bedlam of barking breaks out. Smoko arrives and everyone stops to eat, drink and smoke - there are baguettes, cheese, saucisson, pate, beer and wine. The people are an interesting mix, about half men and women, long hair, beards and berets, an alternative feel. This is the traditional way of shearing the Brebis, all the Bergers gather at one person's place and shear the sheep and another day at another place. It is a social time, an opportunity for exchange as well as a practical way of getting a hard job done. There are also a number of young people who come in at smoko time, take up a pair of shears and slowly but surely shear a sheep. The young people look rather urban and alternative. We talk to one young man as he watches us, he is a cabinet maker from a nearby town and is training to become a mountain guide, mid to late twenties, he says he had an earlier life in marketing but left that in order to work with his hands and to be involved in something truthful and real. He is a friend of Jusef's daughter and will come back next year, attracted perhaps to an authentic way of life. The mix of traditional rural and urban, old and young must promote sustainability of a way of life that every one here is working to maintain.

We watched for a while, then Jusef handed us a pair of shears and we started. I catch a ewe, not difficult as they stand quietly at one end of the shed. I have selected a very big sheep, heavily pregnant and have some trouble tipping her over, but manage eventually to get her into position and start slowly. The shears are sharp and cut well, the ewe is in good condition with a bare belly and there are no wrinkles, the wool comes off easily. She doesn't struggle and is content to lie down quietly for the long blow and any other blow for that matter, a milking sheep, she is accostomed to being handled. The old techniques come slowly back, it is a logical process, a sort of a slow dance, moving constantly with the sheep. As my back gets tired Sue takes over, then Hadley and between us we finish the job without too much hassle. There are rather odd tufts and lumps of wool left all over her but she doesn't stand out particularly as a pink skin ad no second cuts are not so important in this shed. We watch the others and talk with them and they are very happy to help and give advice. They do as little bending as possible, hence the sheep is often lying on the floor and the shearer lying on the sheep. As I catch my next Brebis and attempt to tip her up I stumble backwards and fall flat into the straw to everyone's amusement. A young woman is struggling so Had goes to help, they all end up on the floor in the straw, calls of encouragement from every quarter. After smoko we get a bit organised and there are six or so shearers on our side and a catcher who brings the sheep to us. The cabinet maker has a go as well - we are flying through them and do another three, a grand total of five for the morning - this is not Jackie Howe type speed ! One of the girls is consistently doing two or three to our one. While we are shearing, Ashur has spent the morning in the lamb pen, blissfully playing with the lambs, carrying them, cuddling them, sitting with them. When he wasn't playing with the lambs he was having wild chasing games with the little black dog or talking to the big white mountain dog. The lambs are all healthy looking, with curly white coats, big roman noses and bellies full of milk.

All done except for a few in the lamb pen, two shearers are working away in there so we hop in and catch the last ewe, tip her up and begin. This really is different, as soon as she is tipped up a couple of lambs dive in for a free feed, there are lambs milling around, nibbling on our jeans, sucking and nuzzeling our legs, when we we lie down in the straw with the ewe, there are lambs climbing all over us and the sheep, chewing and nibbling on everything. Here we are, rolling around in the straw with a huge tranquil Brebis, lambs climbing all over us and the ewe while we slowly clip her wool with a pair of handshears - a little unorthodox for a couple of Australians who grew up with merinos in western Queensland !! Eventually they are all done and the shorn sheep let out of the shed. The shearers wash under a tap outside in the frost and stand around in the sun talking - the same as shearers anywhere.

A lovely relaxed atmosphere to the entire day, many things remniscent of the shearing sheds of Sue's and my youth - the smells, the sounds of sheep and dogs, the feel of greasy wool, men standing around at smoko talking and smoking but at the same time so different with the relaxed pace, the co-operative approach, the sound of shears clicking, conversation and laughter, a complete lack of struggling or swearing, smoko of baguettes, cheese, saucisson, pate, wine and beer, men and women shearing. The image of men, women and sheep rolling around in the straw in a warm wooden shed with the frost on the ground outside will remain with me.

Autumn feelings

2007-11-09T19:57:00.000+10:00

There is a feeling which comes over me on autumn days - days with clear blue skies, cool breeze, puffy white clouds, warm sun on my face, soft light and lengthening shadows. A sort of an aching melanchology, a sense of loss or losing perhaps, something is slipping inexorably away. Is it a primeval understanding of the death of summer, the loss of warmth and sun, growth and the simple living of warmer seasons ? A sense of valuing the time I am within, a knowledge deep inside of the brevity of the seasons, the brevity of the moment. Is it a gift from a time before, when winter was indeed a primeval force to contend with, a commmunication with the plants and animals for which winter is a very real threat to survival, or a matter of growing to understand the Vallee d'Ossau where the seasons determine all activities.

Whatever the reason, I appreciate it on these glorious autumn days as a gift, a gift that helps me to appreciate the beauty of the moment.

I sit in the high Pyrenees with a gurgling stream beside me - pure, cold, clear, water running through mountain pastures shortened by the summer grazing, warm sun on my face, a light breeze through the valley. Purple crocuses carpet the glades along the stream, snow on the high peaks and soft white clouds in a blue, blue sky. This won't last forever, winter is fast approaching, but it is wonderful now.

We walk on the steep side of a valley with a stream running noisily at the bottom, terraced pastures across the valley, cow bells ringing. The steep mountainside is multicoloured with dark green pine, bright yellow birch, golden, brown and red beech, brown oak and the odd bright red of an unknown tree - (perhaps Ash), grey rocks and white peaks in the distance. As we move up the valley we can see the floor brown with leaves, a splash of silver water running through the middle. The bracken on the hillsides is brightly coloured - red, orange and yellow - a wide mass of colour against the blue as you look up. The sun drops and the light through the leaves is golden and soft, the air is cool and so, so crisp

Autumn colours

2007-11-09T19:25:00.000+10:00

The colours of Autumn are absolutely stunning, we are continually amazed as we walk or drive through different parts of the valley - the variety of colours and the different stages of autumn, the varying effects of altitude and time provide a constantly changing show for us all. The locals say some autumns are more colourful than others and this autumn is a colourful one - we are lucky.

First Snow

2007-10-31T18:05:00.000+10:00

First snow in Laruns for the Autumn - we are absolutely entranced by snow - the way it falls and appears in the morning, the way it transforms the landscape in appearance and in the dampness of the soil, the growth of the plants, the water in the streams and rivers.

We had Hadley and his mates Elliott and Harry with us, fresh from a camel safari in Morrocco, so we went straight up into the snow - up to Bious Artige and walked up the Valle de Bious. As we drove higher our excitement mounted - we reached the snow line and snow is everywhere - on all the trees, the ground, the rocks, the logs - the entire landscape is softened and rounded. The outlines of the rocks are smoothed, rounded and whitened with inches of snow, the leaves on the trees are laden with bright, white snow, hanging low, every now and then a large soft lump falls to the ground and blends with the thick snow on the ground. Sounds are muffled - a soft white world, clean, clear and cold. We could see a little bridge over a creek all white with snow, the stream running clear through the white.

As we came into the valley we came across a shepherd coming down with a troupeau of sheep - it turned out to be Anna, the shepherd we walked with on the transhumance in July - time now to descend. I spoke with her for a while and the sheep moved on and grazed, I said do you need to go with the sheep and she said no they will stop and feed, they follow me. A little further on we came across Joseph with his lyre horned Bearnaise cattle also descending - time to move lower down into the valley.

We walked up the valley all covered in snow and climbed the little hill at the top of the valley, following the tracks left by Anna and Joseph's sheep and cattle. On the edge of the gorge an Izard leapt out and bounded through the snow up the hill, a few bounds and it was well away and watching us, just as we exclaimed and excitedly followed its progress another appeared and we watched them both move quickly and easily up the slope, both with short summer coats, dark and shining. Is it my imposition but I imagine the Izard surprised by the deep, fresh snow.

We had a cold lunch in the snow with swirls of hard sago snow flying around us, by the time we had eaten patches of blue were appearing above the mountains and there were shadows on the bright white snow - white snow, grey rock, green and brown trees with patches of yellow, red and gold, blue sky above - moments of beauty, spellbinding, indescribable - the power, wonder and pure magnificence of raw nature.

The snow was already melting as we walked back across the valley floor and when we reached the trees large lumps of snow were dropping from the tress, the entire forest was dripping with melting snow, mossy rocks and logs were reappearing, pools of snow melt on the track.

patches of blue
sharp shadows on bright white snow
grey rock rising straight
trees green and brown
with patches of autumn - yellows and reds
white snow, deep, clean and pure

The landscape is completely transformed in shape, texture, colour and sound by the snow and as the snow melts it is transformed again, not quite back to the way it was as the memory of the cold remains as the onset of winter, the loss of another fragment of summer.

Autumn - Amazing Autumn

2007-10-16T01:15:00.000+10:00

What can I say about Autumn ?? Except that for an Australian the experience is entrancing, absorbing, awe inspiring. We have been watching the trees gradually change colour, the flocks descend, snow fall and the days shorten, but nothing can quite prepare us for the experience of walking in the forest on a sunny day after snow on the peaks and rain in the valleys. A brilliant blue day, with the air so sharp and clear it hurts your eyes, distances are shortened and colours brightened, hard against each other, stark in relief. The forest - beech, pine, oak and ash, an awesome display of colour - yellow, gold, brown, russet, red and green, the ground covered in a deep, soft layer of leaves. Rocks and logs, covered with moss, bright green, almost iridescent in the sunlight, appear through the omnipresent leaf fall, every now and then through the trees silver water appears shining in the sun as it tumbles down the mountain. All the time, through the trees the peaks stand clear, white and close. If you stand or sit still you will see leaves falling softly and ever so quietly through the forest, leaving the branches high up, fluttering and floating silently to the ground.

High up above the tree line, where we walk the snow has melted and frozen again to cover the grass in clear cold ice. Izard are bounding above us as always and today, below us as well, they are moving down toward the forest as the snow arrives.

We come down later through the trees, the forest floor and the sound of our passing softened by the deep layer of leaves, afternoon sun slanting through the coloured trees bathing all the forest in a gentle golden light, long shadows, green, green rocks, water falling noisily through the trees - the whole forest is alive with the rain, the sun, the fresh, cool air and the change of autumn. I can feel the change as well, somewhere deep within and part of me is hurrying, seeking acorns to stash somewhere or at least firewood to store for the winter, attempting to take advantage of the dying light and the warmth.

Had's 20th birthday

2007-10-12T15:36:00.000+10:00

It was Had's 20th birthday so we went for a walk in the mountains - fresh snow on the peaks, autumn colours, water everywhere

Travelogue - Florac

2007-10-09T19:11:00.000+10:00

Travelogue - We came across Florac - a Tarn River town

By good luck we came to Florac, a pretty little town on the Tarn River in the heart of the Cevennes. Florac is an ancient livestock centre built at the meeting place of the flocks as they moved up to the high pastures and then down again at the end of summer. Now, there are very few livestock and the main industries are tourism and recreation. Florac has the headquarters of the Cevennes Parc National and is a walking, climbing and water sport base for people from all over France. The streets are full of young people - walkers, climbers, cyclists - a one time rural centre now given over to other means of enjoying and utilising the outdoors - primarily recreational uses, but there are also co-operative shops selling produce and craft from the small lifestyle farms such as cheese, honey, timber and chestnut products etc. Perhaps it is a town that has made somewhat of a transition from an agricultural to a mixed base but still built around appreciation and utilisation of the outdoors and the natural resources. It still appears to be an authentic place - we have our aperitifs in a cafe full of locals drinking pastis, cars stopping in the street while the occupants have conversations with a group of men at a sidewalk table - lots of handshaking and cheek kissing - perhaps the local mayor- certainly an important person in the community.

The town has a clear mountain stream meandering happily through the middle, tumbling over mossy stone walls, crossed by small, incredibly picturesque stone bridges and full of trout - large and small that have either escaped or been released from the fish farm above the town. It is situated in a steep valley dominated by the limestone cliffs of the Mejean Plateau to the west and to the east and north by the Chestnut and Pine clad slopes of the Cevennes. Our hotel room is on the third floor with wide windows overlooking the shadey avenue through the centre of town - tables and chairs set up under the plane trees and over the roofs, views of the tree clad hills. During the day sounds of conversations rise from the street and the tables and pass our window on their way into the blue, blue sky and the sounds of clinking glasses and late night discussions follow the same path into the night.

One day, after walking all afternoon through the mountains in the steps of Robert Louis Stevenson we strolled back into Florac to find the town gripped by the drama of the annual cycle race. The streets were all blocked to cars and the main promenade lined with people talking excitedly and listening to progress over the loudspeakers. Every now and then we hear a loud whistle and a motorbike appears, the rider wearing a flourescent jacket and followed closely by a frenzied peleton of cyclists flying around the streets at high speed. We change quickly and head up to one of the village squares - all through the town wherever there is a major intersection there is a person stationed with a whistle and when he sees a peleton appearing he blows the whistle loudly - a signal to get off the street or to flatten yourself against a wall as a peleton rounds a corner and speeds past. By now the race consists of a number of groups and the speed with which they fly through the streets and around corners is to us, astounding. There is one spectacular crash as a cyclist fails to take a corner and ends up piling at high speed into the announcer's podium - he rises to his feet and pulls his damaged bicycle off the street while the rest speed by. With a certain amount of good luck we reach the little square, find a table, order beers and a pineapple juice and settle in for a sublime French moment. We sit in an open square with a bubbling fountain in the middle, the setting sun striking the mountains above the town, an African band doing sound checks as they set up to play in the square, a group of backpackers cruises through the square - dreadlocks, a guitar slung over a young shoulder- every few minutes a loud whistle and a peleton flies frantically past and - through all this, every half hour the church bells toll the time.

Village square, tables, beer and wine, a mossy fountain, cyclists flying past, mountains over slate tiled roofs, long twilight with clear skies, blue then indigo then black, church bells and a band playing.

The band consists of a lead black african guy in a cut off t shirt and a peaked cap, a large black guy in a fish net shirt, a very black drummer wearing a red bandana and a white bloke christened - "the Australian" - by Ash as he appeared to be doing nothing much but looking cool and very relaxed. The band have set up outside the Mairie (town hall) which is a big old stone building with very modern large glass windows and doors with roses climbing up the walls. They eventually play some very cool Afro/French music as the night moves slowly in.

Autumn is coming to the Vallee d'Ossau

2007-10-06T01:23:00.001+10:00

Autumn is coming slowly but ever so surely to the Vallee d'Ossau. Changes, some small and subtle and others less so can be noticed in the trees, the air, the people and the animals. Across the mountainside one can see a faint hint of colour in the green, green forest - a yellowing on the edges of some trees and an occasional tree all brown or russet. The silver birch near the house changed colour slightly to brown and then dropped most of its leaves with an overnight breeze. There are fresh leaves on the ground in the forest and the tracks are softer now. Days are shorter, mornings darker as the sun takes longer to climb the mountains to the east.

Flocks of sheep and herds of cattle have begun to descend from the high mountain pastures and most evenings a troupeau will clamour its way through the streets of the village. The tall buildings and narrow streets amplify the sound and we hear every mob that passes through our village and through Beost on the other side of the valley. The stock are being brought down to lower pastures for autumn before moving into sheds for the winter - long wooled sheep trotting obediently along the roads and through the streets always accompanied by the Berger and his dogs and any number of assorted helpers. Some stop in a communal field below the house and the shepherds separate the mixed flocks by catching the sheep one by one until eventually one little flock trots off. The remaining sheep call to their friends as they disappear until next summer. At night the bells tinkle softly as sheep move about but mostly they are still and quiet till morning- exhausted by the long walk.
Cattle move more languidly with a different note and head on down the valley.

The fields have been mowed a last time. A period of intense activity - mowing, conditioning, raking, baling and carting hay to the sheds. Small fields are mown and raked by hand - every small bale of hay is important for the winter. Manure has been spread on the fields and it is as if they are ready for the long sleep of winter.

Trees are changing - colour and shape
subtly at first but fast gathering pace,
leaves falling softly through the forest
the mountain paths coloured and softened
Birds appear around our windows
migrating cranes are heard at night
Days are shorter, mornings cooler
Hay is cut and gathered in
manure spread - fields laid to rest
The troupeaus descend
bellies full of soft summer grasses
with them bergers and dogs
The valley is drawing in
coming home for winter
For warmth, for safety, companionship and renewal
the cycle continues

Where did summer go ???

2007-09-28T06:51:00.000+10:00

Climate Change continues to confound us all. We spent a day in the wonderland of fresh snow in the mountains. Snow is not particularly unusual at any time in the Pyrenees, but as much snow as this in September is surprising the locals a little.

Travelogue- Millau

2007-09-23T17:02:00.000+10:00

Travelogue - We climbed to the clifftops and through the caves of the gorges of the Tarn, the Dourbie and the Jonte, relaxed in the shade in Millau and investigated the intricacies of Roquefort cheese.

We met Hadley and his cousin Elliott, and their friends, Harry, Aden and Lucy in Montpellier and headed up to Lozeres looking for a quiet spot to spend some time together. We were very lucky to find a wonderful hostel in Millau, a refreshing, relaxed town at the confluence of the Tarn and Dourbie rivers. This is the area of the Grand Causses - three large, arid plateaux, largely limestone and separated by three deep limestone gorges - an area of cliffs, caves and rushing rivers, sheep, goats and cheese. Millau is also the paragliding, rock climbing and white water rafting capital of France. The hostel is on the bank of the Tarn, set among shadey trees and adjacent to green sporting fields - a wonderful place to relax for a few days.

We walked in the Tarn Gorge, amongst an array of the most fantastic limestone cliffs and eroded shapes, a deep valley with the Tarn river running clear and strong at the bottom, little villages built into the cliffs, terraced gardens, vultures wheeling overhead. In the Gorge of the Dourbie we found caves and explored the larger ones. The caves further south are the famous Roquefort caves where the sheep's cheese is kept for months in order to develop the famous blue of the Roquefort cheese. The particular conditions of the caves, the temperature and the draughts flowing through the caves result in the process which makes the most delicious cheese. The milk comes from sheep grazed in a particular area under prescribed conditions- it is all strictly controlled, so production is limited - demand is growing - so it is a good business and is all part of the French understanding and love of local, regional produce. When McDonalds attempted to build an outlet in Millau the local farmers lead by a Roquefort producer called Jose Bove dismantled the building piece by piece handing out Roquefort chees to the onlookers and assembled media - it was a masterpiece of collective action against globalisation. Unfortunatly the McDonalds has been rebuilt but Roquefort cheese holds a very important place in France and the action has resulted in serious anti globalisation campaigns in France.

Millau is also the place where English engineers and French builders combined to build the Viaduc, an incredible bridge across the Tarn Gorge - it is a masterpiece of modern engineering and a combination of grace, beauty and functionality - it says a lot about modern France.

Shepherd

2007-09-20T18:11:00.000+10:00

"We caught this morning, morning's dauphin" Hopkins

We came across a shepherd ( Berger ) yesterday morning on a walk in the mountains. We were following a noisy, rushing creek, fresh after rain, up a steep mountainside. As we came out of the thick forest there was a mob of sheep on the other side of the creek - a dog barked - to warn us to keep our distance or to keep the sheep away from a cliff we weren't sure. There were 200 or more in a mob making a symphony with their bells as they slowly made their way across the steep mountainside. The sheep are a wonderful local breed, all with horns, pronounced roman noses and long rough looking wool, mostly white but a few black and brown ones as well. Full of character as sheep are - they will stand on a ridge and gaze at you as you struggle past, with an amused, aloof sort of air, unafraid and completely at home on the mountainside. They are all milking sheep, producing the milk that is used to make the delicious Brebis fromage we eat on all our walks. There were two big, white Pyrenean mountain dogs with the sheep keeping a watchful eye on us across the creek. We rounded a corner and there was the berger lying on the grass in the morning sun with another mountain dog and a smaller cattle dog - a Labris - the local working dog - an endearing, scruffy, untidy looking breed, rather self contained but as tough as nails and friendly once they get to know you.

We said "Bon Jour" and he came over and we stood in the warm autumn sun, the air fresh from the rain and the cool morning and talked as his sheep crossed the creek and moved over to us, all around us and past us, on up the mountain grazing the last of the summer grass. He said they follow his scent around the mountains. He comes from Oloron St Marie, a town about 1 hours drive away down the valley and lives in a little cabin in this beautiful valley for the 3 months of summer - July, August, September. He milks the sheep twice a day for the first 4 to 6 weeks and makes cheese, then they are dried off and roam the mountains higher and higher until the first snows arrive. He stays with his sheep the whole time and brings them back to an enclosure near his cabin at night. We were told there are bears in this valley and when we ask him about bears, he says yes, they are about and he points to a very large white dog and says "This is my protection".

We talked about the price of wool and meat, as you do, and prices are down, as they inevitably are, but cheese is good ! He said he will descend from the mountains on Sunday. He is possibly in his late twenties, a quiet, comtemplative person, comfortable with silence, as you might imagine. We say "Au Revoir", he hoists a good sized pack onto his back and moves away up the mountain close to his sheep and sits down on the grass in the sun with his bear protection and the little cattle dog - the other dogs are on the edge of the mob watching.

Much later, on our way down the mountain we hear and see the mob and the berger on the steep valley side above us returning slowly to the cabin, through the trees and the lengthening shadows - the bells, sheep, dogs, a man with a pack on his back, dying light - we stand and watch -silent in the late afternoon.

Walking again

2007-09-18T18:08:00.000+10:00

We wasted no time in getting out into the mountains again - we headed for our favourite valley on an Autumn day that was made for walking - pure blue skies, warm in the sun, cool in the shade, a gentle breeze floating through the valleys from the north. The first part of the walk, low in the valley is through thick beech forest, along the Risseau de Pombie (Pombie Creek), an enchanting walk through shady, mossy forest with little grassy glades from time to time, the creek gurgling happily and tumbling down over rocks a few metres away through the forest. As we came out of the forest at the limit of the tree line we crossed a small stone bridge and came across a flock of sheep (Brebis) all with bells on making their way noisely across the mountain, looking for the remaining summer feed - no shepherd in sight. At this stage late in the season the sheep are all dried off and are allowed to roam high up in the mountains unattended. Apparently there is usually a shepherd in one of the mountain huts who will keep an eye on a number of mobs and the owners visit regularly to check. There are lots of stories about bears !!

We walked then through a wide open valley with a hint of the desolation and cold of winter whistling through - up to the Lac de Pombie and a mountaineering cabin on the lake at the base of the Pic De Midi ( the highest peak around here - 2884 m ) There were people swimming in the lake - how, we don't know as the water is very cold, but it was a beautiful warm, sunny day. After the Lac we continued up to a high pass from which we had a stupendous view down our favourite valley - the Vallee de Magnabaigt. We walked through hard, rocky country with the Spanish peaks in the distance - all brown and rocky with bare peaks all around, when we reached the pass, the view down the other side goes forever along the Vallee d' Osseau to Pau and possibly Paris - the Vallee de Magnabaigt in the foreground is a high suspended valley, green with a clear stream running all the way through the valley, trees, dark green on the western side, blue peaks in the northern distance and a massive drop at the northern end to the Valle d' Osseau. On a small ledge just below us there was a little mob of horses, bellies full of sweet summer grass, dreamily standing in the sun, one sat down slowly and rolled luxuriously on this little, grassy ledge above the world - what would we have given to swap places !! The Vallee d'Osseau beyond was full of white fluffy clouds with sharp blue peaks poking up through the soft bed of cloud - absolutely stunning !!!

The walk back was equally memorable, the clear, clear blue sky framed by peaks and ridges - brown, grey and yellow ridges stark against the blue, and so many different blues !! As the light changes toward late afternoon the mountains change as well, shadows move quickly across, the forest becomes darker and the sky above stays blue, blue, blue. The air so clear everything is sharp and distinct, ragged ridge lines against the sky. A mob of sheep high on a peak above us, the sound of their bells floating across the valley - a walk like this makes our hearts sing and the reverberations stay with us for days after !!!

" I gazed and gazed, but little thought what wealth to me this show had brought" Wordsworth.

Port Vendre - fishermen

2007-09-14T19:33:00.000+10:00

Travelogue - Port Vendre and the Mediterranean

2007-09-14T18:10:00.000+10:00

We bathed breifly in the brisk Mediterranean at Port Vendre, sped down to Spain and met Hadley and his mates in Montpellier.

From Cathar country we drove south east past Perpignan to the area where the Pyrenees meet the sea - a rocky coastline with little coves and stoney beaches, fishing villages and the blue, blue sea. We spent a night in a laid back little fishing village called Port Vendre - it is a working fishing village and we were able to watch boats coming in and out of the harbour, fishermen mending nets, smoking, talking and unloading their catch, wonderful to walk around, smell the sea and hear the sounds of French, Spanish and I guess Catalan. There are also a number of large very expensive yachts tied up in the harbour and plenty of tourists on any available beach. This part of France considers itself to be Catalan, their French has a different accent and there are signs and posters talking about a separate Catalan. We watched a large group of people dancing folk dances to a small orchestra under the plane trees in the main villlage square - lots of fiddle and accordian and a few brass instruments. Folk dancing is one of the ways the Catalan traditions are maintained in a French society.

Ashur plunged bravely into the cold water and we drove back up the coast to Montpelier -flat, sandy beaches, stunning, still blue water but incredibly crowded in the middle of the tourist season and some awful looking coastal developments - units and small houses, no high rise.

We spent a night in Montpelier and met Hadley and his cousin Elliott and their mates there. They arrived from Paris on the Very Fast Train looking a little shocked but enjoying themselves in a new country - Wonderful to see Had again after 7 months in the wilds of South Africa.

Montpelier is a beautiful city, lots of young people, warm climate and a feeling of excitement and space - the centre has been largely pedestrianised so it is hell to find somewhere to park near an inner city hotel or even to unload gear but a wonderful place to walk around. We parked our car overnight in a city car park and in the morning when we attempted to leave we arrived at the pay station without having paid for our ticket and there is no place to pay at the exit barrier - cars started to build up behind us and the toots started, panic !! - Sue pressed the "appelle" (call) button and a voice came out "oui" - Sue stuttered with some French - saying how do we pay ? Or something like that - there was an inaudible sigh from the disembodied voice and the gate just lifted - obviously the powers behind the machine thought this is not worth the hassle and we parked for free.

Travelogue - Cathar country

2007-09-11T21:42:00.000+10:00

Travelogue - We scrambled over Cathar strongholds in Languedoc, marvelling at the madness that must have existed to make people build and live in places like the castles we visited.

We headed to Carcassone from Toulouse. Carcassonne, the famous walled city is breathtaking from afar as it stands on a hill above a river in the middle of a valley. The walls are entire and there is a whole village inside the walls. Once you get inside the walls it is a bit of a different story - tourist heaven, heaps of small shops selling STUFF and hordes of tourists - it resembles a medieval village but the shops are horrendous. We had a walk around, bought a very over priced beer and left. We spent a few days visiting other Cathar castles and strongholds. ( The Cathars were a religious sect against which a pope declared the only Crusade to be conducted within Europe - it was of course really a conflict over land and power and the Cathars were practically wiped out with a great deal of bloodshed and ash - the believers who refused to convert were burnt en masse.) Queribus, the last stronghold to fall (in 1255), is an isloated fortress built straight up out of the rock dominating the valleys which run to the Mediterranean and to Spain. For a long time it was a French outpost guarding against Spanish incursions. From Queribus we could see Peyrepetuse, another cliff top castle which fell years before Queribus. We were there late in the afternoon alone with the dying sun. You can't escape the powerful feeling which remains as you gaze over the walls and wonder what it must have been like to be there surrounded by a ruthless enemy knowing all the other strongholds had been captured and the Cathars slaughtered. Like Montsegur, a clifftop fortress we viisited earlier in the Pyrenees Queribus resonates still !

The countryside is dry with small trees and rocky hills, grapes in the valleys and tree lined streams and rivers. The area is called the Ariege and is very different to the softer, moister country to the West.

At Puylaruns we visited another hilltop castle that had been occupied by Cathars and used by the French for centuries to guard against the Spanish. We spoke to some Spanish visitors about this and they smiled and said barriers are built these days in other ways and for other reasons.

Back in the Vallee d'Ossau

2007-09-11T21:26:00.000+10:00

We have been fortunate to here when the beautiful autumn weather has arrived and are attempting to take full advantage of it. The days are splendid - incredible blue skies framed by the peaks, the air is cool and fresh - just cool enough to make it enjoyable to sit in the sun for a picnic. The forest even in the middle of the day is dark and cool and the trees are in full leaf with just a hint of a change happening. Stock are fat and shining and pastures in the high mountains are drying off and looking as though they are in need of a rest. Walking is brilliant and we are recovering our mountain legs, slowly and painfully at times as we are inevitably either climbing up or scrambling down !!

Toulouse

2007-09-06T23:01:00.000+10:00

TOULOUSE AND ALBI - We tarried in Toulouse on the banks of the Garronne, tippled with Toulouse- Lautrec in Albi and trod on the banks of the Tarn.

Toulouse is a large, working city with a sizeable student population and a cosmopilitan feel due to the aeronautical industry which is based close to the city. It is a no nonsense sort of city, grimy but laid back and lively at night time. The city is spread along the banks of the Garronne with beautiful old pink buildings and some wonderful churches. The river in the long summer evenings is a place to relax and stroll and generally has a gathering of young people enjoying the slow sunsets on the terraces, making music, conversation and playing petanque.
The churches are amazing when you consider the time they were built, 11th and 12th centuries. Built to impress, convert and subdue, the size, architecture, stained glass windows and impression of power and wealth must have had a powerful effect on a population that was largely living in mud and stone houses- they are impressive to us today. A visit to the town and the cathedral on market day would have had most of the population quaking in their shoes and prepared to toe the line for the rest of the week at least.

Travelogue - Gers

2007-09-06T22:51:00.000+10:00

We have spent 2 months or so wandering around the south of France and over the next few days I will briefly describe the journey and deal with some places in more depth at later times.

GERS - We gathered strength in the Gers, arming ourselves with Armagnac - soft, rolling country with vines, corn, sunflowers, ducks and geese, large splendid farmhouses and hilltop villages.

Laruns again

2007-09-06T21:34:00.000+10:00

We are back in Laruns after some travelling through the south of France. It is wonderful to be back and we will now be able to post to the site regularly.

Back in the Vallee d'Ossau

2007-09-06T21:32:00.000+10:00

Arrival in the mountains

2007-07-13T01:06:00.001+10:00

Transhumance

2007-07-13T00:26:00.000+10:00

Each hung bell's bow swung
finds tongue to fling out broad its name
I am me - for that I came -- Hopkins

Bells are all around the Valle d'Ossau - it is the time of the Transhumance and bells are ringing all across the lush pastures of the Plateau du Benou as the stock gather there in preparation for the the summer migration. As the movement begins bells are ringing all along the roads and echoing along the narrow streets of the villages - sheep bells, cow bells and horse bells - a multitude of sizes, sounds and tones. Walking along with the troupou I have sheep bells ringing with a rapid beat of sheep's feet in front of me, the slower tones of the languid cows behind and echoes bouncing off the rock walls of the cuttings, the steep sides of mountains and the stone walls of houses in the villages - stars above me and the company of centuries of shepherds walking along with me - What a night !!!!

Ashur and I started on the Plateau with a shepherd and her sheep and cattle and a tribe of helpers. We walked under clear blue skies with the mountains in the distance through the early evening. People lined the streets of the little villages - old shepherds with their berets on, women hanging out of windows, children in doorways - all offering encouragenment anmd adding to the feeling of celebration and anticipation as the stock and their shepherds set off on a 14 hour, 35 klm journey to the summer pastures in the mountains. After a rapid downhill walk of about three and a half hours to Laruns we spotted Sue's smiling face in the crowd, Sue joined the troupou for a while as we changed gear and then she and Ash stopped for the night - Ash would have liked to keep going but Anna the shepherd said it is a bit tricky in the night, not to mention a long way, so I went on into the night.

After Laruns it is all uphill - we followed a little track out of the vilage - up a steep hill and through a narrow rocky cutting - a dark night with the stars above, sheep bells in front of me, cow bells behind, rock on either side, striding along with a stick in my hand keeping the stragglers going - I could have been at any moment in time over the last 500 years.

After a few hours I was invited to hop on one of the horses and spent most of the rest of the night on a huge, wide French horse. It was a long night, constantly moving at a pace directed by the stock. a few short rests during which other troupous would move past and then off again passing mobs of cows standing quietly resting in the night. We went through a village around 3-00 am and there were people standing outside the restaurant waving and cheering - they should be in bed I thought !!!

We stopped for breakfast of Garbure, a traditional Bearnease soup at around 5-00 am, a little rest and on the move again as the sun came up on a very cold morning. Another couple of hours and we were at the hut at the base of the Pic de Midi. A small stone hut at the opening to a valley with a clear stream running past it. We left the sheep to their own devices and everyone busied themselves preparing the hut for occupation, building a sheep yard, a pergola materialised, four pigs appeared from somewhere and the sheep took themselves around behind the hut and to a ewe fell on the grass and slept. Anna and her husband Joseph will be here for the next three months, milking the sheep twice a day, making cheese and I suspect enjoying the absolutely magnificent mountains and countryside- no wonder the cheese is so good !!!

I stayed to help for a while and then walked down the valley to meet with Sue and Ash - what a wonderful night - to be a part of a such a powerful tradition - part of the essential rythm of life in the mountains - a little weary but buoyed by the experience, the bells still ringing in my ears.

On the road - Ashur the Shepherd

2007-07-13T00:24:00.000+10:00

Paradise

2007-07-13T00:23:00.001+10:00

Arrival at the hut

2007-07-13T00:21:00.000+10:00

A long night

2007-07-13T00:17:00.000+10:00

Lunch in the desert

2007-06-28T19:37:00.001+10:00

Spanish shepherd

2007-06-28T19:35:00.000+10:00

MIDSUMMER

2007-06-28T18:58:00.000+10:00

We have just spent the midsummer riding horses through the arid desert country of navarra in Northern Spain. We went on a ride with a French family we had met earlier and a French guide. The horses were excellant and the countryside quite amazing - the following is an account of the 22cnd June - the second day of the ride.

The day was spent in a fantastic landscape of eroded stark hills and gullies, flat topped mesas and deep canyons. Very few trees and those that we did see were generally a very sparse looking conifer, the ground cover, however was wonderful, a mixture of Rosemary, Thyme, Spinifex and a wonderful array of desert flowers and prickly bushes. We constantly had the aroma of dry fresh herbs with us as we rode. We climbed on the horses to the top of a high rocky mountain with stomach churning cliffs all around - made a little more interesting by the presence of horses and unpredictable movements - views forever across the dry Spanish countryside. After that some excitement riding up and down through a hidden world of deep gullies and canyons - the horses are very sure footed thank goodness - all the time topped by a skye of startling blue -" Velasquez blue". A gallop across a wheat field and to the shepherd's hut which was our accommodation for the night.

After feeding and watering the horses we all climbed a little mesa behind the hut to enjoy the everlasting sunset of midsummer. Sitting there quietly we saw coming in the distance a large mob of sheep and goats. Two shepherds striding out in the lead with walking sticks and small back packs, a couple of dogs with them and a mob of over 1,000 sheep and goats following, bells ringing a multitude of different tones. Every now and then a few sheep would try some succelent pasture off the track, look up and see the mob moving off and gallop to catch up. The shepherds stay in the front calling the stock and if too many stray off the track they send the dogs after them. A wonderful timeless scene, our horses grazing below, the sheep and goats with the shepherds and dogs, sunset over the mountains in the distance and jet trails in the reddening sky - timeless and yet located in a multitude of times and places. The mob gradually disappeared over the nearest hill and the sound of the bells and the calling of the stock continued while the dust settled and the sun finally set, the moon and the first stars appeared.

The next morning I was sitting on the mesa again enjoying the early morning, clear skies and the clean air of the morning in arid country. Another shepherd came past with his mob of sheep and goats following - a smaller mob but the same effect - the shepherd in front with his dogs calling continually and the sheep and goats following, tinkling bells and bleating sheep. Looking over them to the endless desert and mountains I am reminded of the pace of change and at the same time the lack of change. They too disappeared over the hills followed by their sounds - shepherd calling, bells tinkling and sheep and goats calling.

Below I could see hungry horses and the camp beginning to move - time for another day on horses in the Bardenos desert.

Riding in the Spanish desert

2007-06-28T18:57:00.001+10:00

Lauzerte

2007-06-20T16:22:00.001+10:00

A French Experience

2007-06-20T15:57:00.000+10:00

Ashur and I are sitting at a table in an arched arcade facing onto the square of a medieval town in Quercy in south western France - the long, soft evening light is slowly fading. Lou Reed is playing and we are sharing the cafe with an eclectic mix of young dreadlocked hippies, artists, down and outers, religious pilgrims, travellers and wealthy retired Europeans.
As you look down the arcade through the curved stone arches you can see across to the other side of the valley and the red, red sun setting above the thickly forested hillside. We have the Macbook connected by WiFi and are checking emails.

We chanced on the beautiful, medieval village of Lauzerte and booked into the Hotel du Quercy - our room is all white with a tall window looking over the valley to the south - wheat fields turning gold, fruit trees and vines, oak forest on the hills. The village was founded in 1000 AD and is set on a hill at the confluence of two valleys. It is apparently one of the "Plus Beaux Villages de France"

Ash and I made our way to the top of the village from our hotel along a road winding up under the ancient city walls, tree lined with walnuts, chestnuts and figs, with views down the valley. At the top we walked through narrow streets decked with flowers in pots on the cobble stones, hanging from windows, above doors, in windows, to the town square - a cobbled area surrounded on three sides by buildings built out of a creamy stone with an arched arcade under the buildings around the square - on one side is the church with a clock in the bell tower - the bell rings every half hour. In the square are two shady chestnut trees with chairs under them and in one corner is the cafe with chairs under the arcade and spilling onto the square. Once again there are flowers, predominately red, in pots everywhere.

Lou Reed still playing and Ash and I having a glasses of Rose and Apple Juice, checking the net and watching the sun set.

Lac d'Isabe

2007-06-13T02:48:00.001+10:00

Lac d'Isabe

2007-06-13T02:10:00.000+10:00

I had to include a small note on our walk to Lac d'Isabe. Lac means lake as I am sure you will have already translated.

We had a day when the Meteo predicted a fine morning and possibly storms in the late afternoon so we decided to take on our most challenging walk. The weather prediction is posted each morning in the village square in Laruns and they are quite accurate on a short term - we have a few translation problems from time to time but they are gradually disappearing. The weather is described in poetic from so we have - "the peaks will appear in a sea of clouds" - and - "a veil of mist will descend in the heart of the afternoon" and so on.

We headed off and after a short drive left the car in a deep gorge and hit the track. We were lost for a while at first - the track notes also have to be translated and the odd navigational/translation error does occur - and made a steep ascent for 30 minutes only to have to retrace our steps - a good warm up for what was to come. On the right track we followed a beautiful, rushing, river through mossy gardens and dense forest. The river was up so we made a few tricky crossings and then left the river for what turned out to be a continuous steep climb. The total climb for the day was 1,000 metres which is quite a bit when it is almost straight up. We walked up through thick beech and conifer forest for the first hour or so, hearing the bells of cattle and horses through the trees. Eventually we reached the limit of the tree line and climbed up through scree and rocks and over a number of small streams tumbling down the mountainside - drinkng the clear, fresh water whenever we could. We could see the Cascades de Isabe a little way over across the slope - the water falling down out of the lake.

Climb, climb, climb - when you go straight up you can gain a lot of height very quickly - not without pain however and it was hard work. Sue and I carry the food and the jackets etc and Ash scampers up unhindered by weight or fear. He is light and quite fit and doesn't think about the consequences of a slip or a tumble. After another hour or so, not far from the top Sue's good walking boot gave out and the sole slipped right off - we stopped for some lunch on the side of the mountain and Sue and Ash decided to head down - a long walk with one bare foot didn't sound like a great idea although they were so close to the top. I couldn't resist and continued on - another 20 minutes and I reached the lake and found the most spectacular place I have seen in the Pyrenees.

A still, deep, blue lake backed by tall dark cliffs ,with water tumbling down the cliffs in 4 or 5 major falls and a myriad of smaller cascades, snow above the cliffs and more peaks in the clouds above the snow - the only sound the roar of the waterfalls and the water running out of the lake. An absolutely stunning place !! Snow down to the water in many places and perfect reflections of the snow and the waterfallsin the still dark water - a place of incredible power and beauty. Deep blue-green water and every now and then a ripple would appear in the water - fish or a monster - I wasn't sure. Time disappeared and I stayed there forever. I was the only person there with the sound of the water and the stillness of everything else, very aware of the raw power of the place and the smallness of myself.

I was about to leave, reluctantly, and I looked up and saw an Izard high on the cliffs above the falls, sillouhetted against the snow - perfectly at home !!!

I will attach some photos although they are only a poor representation of what you can see and feel.

People

2007-06-12T18:07:00.001+10:00

People

2007-06-12T18:05:00.001+10:00

People

2007-06-12T17:42:00.000+10:00

We have been constantly surprised/reassured by the friendliness of the people we have come across as we have travelled across the country. Surprised by the generosity and welcome and reassured about human nature. We have already had many wonderful experiences and been shown great kindness by many people - French and Etrangers. At the moment we are staying in a hotel in Pau and the family who run it have two kids - a boy of 11 and a girl of 8. Ash and I played soccer with Richard yesterday and will again this afternoon and we will stay in touch. The mother - Aude rides and has just purchased an Anglo Arab stallion and we will meet the stallion soon.

In Laruns at the Auberge the boys who manage it - two young brothers took us fishing, organised WiFi connection at the Auberge and after two weeks said they were going on holidays and would we like to caretake the Auberge for 10 days. Our friends in Alsace took us in and worked steadily through the French beaurocracy to help us buy a car, get it registered in our name and organise insurance - no mean feat in France where the "functionaires" run the show !!

Charmie, Julian and Judy and the English mafia in the Gers have been wonderful and have passed on many valuable tips about how to thrive in France as well as taking us into their houses.

Yves and Chantal welcomed us with our limited language and we feel we have friends there and much in common as well as many differences that will be interesting to explore - many other instances of welcome and help freely given which have greatly helped to make our stay so far very enjoyable and rewarding !!

The horses are magnificent !!!

2007-06-11T17:02:00.000+10:00

Cheese making

2007-06-11T17:01:00.000+10:00

Dogs and kids

2007-06-11T16:59:00.001+10:00

Farmers

2007-06-11T16:29:00.000+10:00

We have met a very interesting farmer in the Valley. He was a recommendation from the local cheese merchant, so we went to visit him. No English at all, of course, so we stumble along in our developing French. People are very kind and helpful and every conversation turns into a French lesson. After our first meeting Yves pointed to the shed doors and said "see those big doors - they are always open for you." - So, we have some farming friends in the valley.

Yves and his wife Chantal and their little daughter Claire run about 100 cows for meat - Blonde Aquaitaines, and milk about 50 goats to make cheese - the goats are a French Alpine breed. He markets all his own produce. The meat is sold in 10 kg boxes which we understand he delivers himself around the valley and much of the cheese is sold into Spain, he also delivers the cheese. They also have 5 mares which are used to breed horses for meat - beautiful horses - big and wonderfully proportioned - Yves says they need the same conformation charasteristics as beef cattle !!!. Yves says horse meat is good for the health, but he says the main market for horse meat is now in Italy. They also have 5 dogs much to Ashurs delight - 2 Pyreneean Mountains dog pups and their mother, a Border Collie and a local stock working dog.

They live in a house next to the house where his parents live and where his grand parents lived, in a beautiful little village in the valley. The bottom floor of their house was recently flooded in a big storm, so unusual weather is a constant theme.

The goats spend their time in a shed or on pastures nearby and the cattle are in a shed during winter and in summer go to the mountain pastures. We have been invited to go on the Transhumance, which is when they shift all the livestock up to the summer pastures in the mountains. They move over 2,00 cattle, many more sheep and goats and lots of horses over 2 or 3 days. All the stock have bells, different sizes for each breed and especially big ones for the leaders, so a moving mob is an orchestra. At the moment all the stock are gathering on a big flat plateau in preparation for the move - the plateau is village land - no fences and all the stock are mingling. In the mountains they graze on village land or in the national parks. (There will be plenty of opportunities to look at and talk about land use agreements, multi level land use and common property management I am sure.)

WE spent an afternoon with them one day watching the cheese making process - all by hand with unpasteurized milk and then visited the plateau with the local horse reproduction technician, pregnancy testing and insemminating mares. All very interesting - no doubt there will be much more to report on Yves and Chantal and Claire.

Horses

2007-06-04T22:28:00.000+10:00

We have had an experience with horses which emphasises the different understandings you can have in a different culture

For quite a while as we have travelled through the country we have marvelled at the beautiful horses - big and imposing looking, extremely well fed and beautifully proportioned. Much heavier than our horses and built more like draught horses - obviously very well cared for. There are lots in this valley and we have been discussing how they must uses horses to carry the cheeses down from the mountains and provisions up to lonely shepherd's huts - a lovely image - for us.

We recently met a farmer who told us the real story - the horses are for eating and the very well proportioned horses are the breeders which are used to breed horses for meat. It gives a different perspective, however they are still beautiful horses. The shepherds use four wheel drive vehicles - as you would !!

Snow climbing

2007-06-04T18:06:00.000+10:00

Ashur - the climber

2007-06-04T18:04:00.000+10:00

Snow and more snow - perhaps the climate is changing

2007-06-04T17:53:00.000+10:00

We have been having snow in the mountains here which everyone says is very strange for this time of year - almost summer and after a winter with very little snow!!. However, we have been enjoying it and have been toboganning in a snow storm, building snow men and having lots of snow fights. Walking in the mountains, we are always at risk of a cold ball of snow hitting us in the face or the neck and sliding down inside all clothing - you look around and there is Ashur grinning happily.

The snow has added a few challenges to the walking but it has made the mountains absolutely spectacular - the fresh snow is beautiful and we have been walking in the forest with snow falling softly and all the trees carrying snow on their leaves. On some mornings we look at the mountains and they have a fresh dusting of snow - just magnificent !! On the sides of the mountains it is a bit tricky as the snow is slippery and it is impossible to tell how deep it is - we are working it out and it adds another dimension of excitement.

Pyrenees

2007-05-25T17:56:00.001+10:00

Times are tough

2007-05-25T17:55:00.001+10:00

Mountain walking

2007-05-25T17:43:00.000+10:00

We have been walking in the mountains whenever we can -- the weather is unpredictable at this time of year and I am practising my French by translating the weather predictions -- they are published every morning in the village square.

Three days ago we went on a fantastic walk among the peaks -- we walked all around a huge peak called the Pic de Midi d'Ossau - you can see it in the background of some of the photos. We really feel as though we are on the roof of the world -- there are snow capped mountains all around.

We take a picnic of local sheep's cheese (Brebis), bread (baguette), saucisson (Salami), salad and walnuts and usually find a spectacular site for lunch. Ash is doing very well and we have done some good long walks with plenty of climbing. Yesterday after another wonderful picnic we walked into a storm with rain, hail and thick mist -- we lost the trail and ended up descending a very steep, slippery, densely forested mountainside. Luckily we had plenty of daylight left and we knew roughly where we were -- we just didn't know where the track was. At one stage Ash slipped and grabbed a hazel branch, the branch broke and Ash landed in the mud and rocks -- he bounced up with the branch in his hand saying "He cut and peeled a hazel wand" -- a line from a W B Yeates poem we read together.

We found our way down eventually a bit wet and muddy.

Water - beautiful water

2007-05-25T17:39:00.001+10:00

Lavage - village washig place - Pyrenees

2007-05-25T17:38:00.000+10:00

Irrigation - Alsace

2007-05-25T17:37:00.001+10:00

Snow melt - Massif Central

2007-05-25T17:34:00.000+10:00

Water

2007-05-25T17:12:00.000+10:00

Have I mentioned the water here in France ?? There appears to be water everywhere -- perhaps that is an Australian perspective ! and it could also be the season -- Spring with snow melting everywhere and unseasonal spring rains and storms.

However, I do think it is one of the big differences we are observing. In Alsace there is the Rhine, a huge river and in many places in Alsace there is water a few metres below the surface. Farmers use this for irrigation and have wells everywhere, a big pipe in the ground and they have portable pumps which they move around and connect up to irrigate. The village fishing clubs have little dams which are really a hole with the water table exposed and village water supply comes from wells not far below the surface. As we travelled from Alsace down to the South West we were amazed by the number of large flowing rivers, streams and creeks. In the mountains here in the Pyrenees and in the Massif Central there is water everywhere, just pouring off and out of the mountains, out of the ground, between the rocks, out of the grass -- all into streams then into big gurgling rivers that are running to their banks all the time at the moment. The snow is melting and the ground must absorb a lot of moisture during the winter -- now it is all released and is running happily downwards whereever it can. There are waterfalls everywhere !! We drink the water in the mountains -- fresh and cold and clear.

The water is used here in the mountains for hydro electricity and there are hydro stations regularly. There are also channels throughout the towns and villages and you can hear urgling water as you walk through the villages. The water is diverted higher up and runs through the village, there are public taps and in the old villages here there are old public laundries -- the water runs into a big long trough/wash basin and out the other end. The whole structure has a roof and the trough has a sloping side -- that is where the washing was done in the old days. They must have been tough -- the water is freezing !! Stock watering troughs are similar -- they are in the villages as well and throughout the mountains -- a trough with water running in one end and out the top at the other end.

The snow melt must support an enormous amount of the water requirements for agriculture and urban use as France has mountains all around -- the Pyrenees in the south and the Alps in the north east and the Rhine in the North.

I will attach some water photos to demonstrate.

Week-end at Laruns avec Charmie, Julien, Hugo & Olivier

2007-05-21T22:11:00.000+10:00

Ian's cousin Charmie, her husband, Julien and their two children came on Friday for the week-end. It was looking good for a while with clear blue skies welcoming them to Vallee d'Ossau all the morning and then the afternoon skies clouded. They were busting for a good trek on the mountains with Hugo keen to play Hide and Seek in the clouds. His wish was fulfilled as the mountains offer a constant changing pattern of mists, clouds, patches of warm sun, all in rapid succession. (Ian is studying French, also, via the weather report. He considers it very poetic.) After lunch of Pyreneen brebis (sheep) fromage, salade et pain avec un verre du vin rouge in the sunshine overlooking mountains shining with their remaining snow, we enjoyed exploring up a rocky stream bed overhung with thick, vivid green Beech trees and some tall, beautiful conifers. Lichens and mosses clothed the branches, tree trunks and rocks. We climbed steeply, hoping we would break out into a high mountain field from which we may look out. The trek for that was longer than time permitted so apart from the leafy forest floor opening out from the top of the stream bed and a small clearing the boys discovered with a cave or two, we had to return to meet with an extremely English Australian we first met in Pau. This man has a delightful story of how he came by the house he lives in overlooking the valley. It is for another day. Suffice to say, Ian, Ashur and I had a most relaxing evening the previous night sipping French wine by his fire in "the library", marvelling at his impressive book collection.

A wonderful noisey night together with the walkers, the bikies and the bycycle riders at the auberge. The easy, friendly atmosphere is uncomplicated by any "precious" menu. In my opinion, it is best to go for the traditional thick soupy stew of harricot beans and a little duck for interest and flavour. The two brothers who run the auberge are young and avid lovers of fishing in the local streams for trout and skiing when they can. They cater without any visible stress and keep things tres facile. I am going to try to learn from this! (Perhaps those menus created for the week-end workshops are a little more complicated than they need to be!)

Saturday morning -- wet with rain -- how else does a place like this stay so green?! We swapped stories before Charmie's delicious carrot and potato soup, warmed with ginger. The plan was a mountain hike so we headed out on a goat track that led us high up the mountain overlooking Larens. We climbed up through the cloud in our cars until the passengers collectively and individually decided it was time to walk. The kids were out in a flash, hiking up the steep, grassy slope way beyond hearing or any adult fun squashing behaviour. Distant bells floated out into the mountain air, there was a mob of cattle grazing high up above us. The cloud below us broke up and moved away revealing a breathtaking view through air clear as crystal after the rain. We hiked on along the track marvelling at vistas of windswept oaks, fresh rushing waterfalls streaming down steep slopes and the valley below. As the afternoon progressed, misty clouds came in once more, swiftly swirling into the mouth of the valley and upwards to envelop us. The cows were coming down the mountainside, mellow bells clanging like a melody as they moved. As they passed above us, cloud swept around us, obscuring them from sight. It was time for Hide and Seek in the clouds!

Sunday, we are off on a drive to St Jean de Luz, by the ocean, to have lunch with some French people we have been fortunate to meet. Afterwards the children run on the beach, the water is cold and clothes are soon wet! We promenade above the beach and Cattarin graciously helps us with our French as she shows us the old parts of St Jean de Luz. Ian works very hard with his communication with Gerard who vows that his head is too full now that it cannot take in English as well!

The Laruns Valley

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The fresh snow is disappearing rapidly - we are very lucky to be here at this time.

More snow

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Our hostel

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This is the view out the window of the hostel. the sheep come through the street every morning and evening.

The hostel is full of people doing things in the mountains - walkers, cyclists, bikers and tourists. The French just love the mountains and getting out in the fresh air. The cyclists are obviously completely crazy, everywhere we go and in all types of weather you will see groups of cyclists and individuals, it seems that as the roads get steeper there are more cyclists. All ages especially older men and do they look fit !!

We have some beautiful days here and some not so good - as the photos show we walked up into the snow - there was plenty of fresh snow and we had snow fights - and just looked at it and wondered at the beauty of it all. It is fantastic in the middle of Europe to be able to be alone in the mountains.

This is the mountains

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Ash in the daffodils

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I wandered lonely as a cloud when all at once I saw a crowd, a host of of daffodils

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How lovely it is to be able to say that !!!

No.2 Greetings from Sue 15/5/07

2007-05-16T20:28:00.000+10:00

We are staying at Laruns now having had a riding experience of perfection on the weekend in the Gers with Gerard, Harold, Cattarin and Harold’s wife, Helene and kids, Delphine et Tahice. We were introduced to Gerard by Judy, a dynamic and unstoppable whirlwind from Canada who has been living in France for quite some time now. She is a restauranteur of note and whips up a sumptuous feed in no time. She loves to network, introducing people who seem to have similar interests or aspirations. Charmie, Ian’s cousin living near Toulouse, put us in touch with Judy and we house sat her little place and dog, Pebbler, for a week in Vic-Fezensac. It was time to settle after being busy with getting on the road with the help of our French families, sightseeing and farmworking in the Alsatian countryside and from there driving down to stay with Charmie and Julien, Hugo and Olivier (11 and 7 yrs) all the way down near Toulouse at Fabas where we stayed for a week doing markets, mountain forays to the Pyrenees, dance class with Olivier, lovely lunches with Charmie, internet and some French language practice, some writing and drawing.... life goes on where ever we are.

One of the highlights of this time with Charmie and family was the week-end we headed to the Pyrenees via St.Mantory, Foix, etc. to Montsegur, one of the last stands of the Cathars. It was built out of the rocky pinnacle that rose out of a steep sided mountain overlooking the village of Montsegur itself down below. The feeling of the place was moving. We hiked up at about 6pm, risking that the advertised closure times that may lock us out, tours in French and entry payments absent, happily. The kids were like mountain goats and I just had to trust that their natural senses kept them from slipping and falling down the steep rocky paths. With the inspiration of the company of other children, Ashur was filled with enthusiasm and energy. The light at this time of day goes on for hours, not like our quick dive into darkness where we live in Australia. We were delighted to find ourselves alone on the mountaintop with just a sprinkle of young blood on an adventure of camping in the fort, having hitched from the south of Germany for just that.

The village of Montsegur itself was a dream with curved pathways between the houses paved with river stones. It was washed clean and everywhere there was the sound of water running. Water gushes out everywhere in the mountains. The energy of it is palpable, enlivening. The clean, fast water, the green mystery of the mountain forests, the awesome mountains themselves, snow adding light when the deep valleys cast shadow and the deep green of the mountain sides brings their presence close and massive. The streams are crystal clear, bubbling, cold, good water. In Spring it is like this with the melting snows but I can imagine there is always water coming out of the mountains, it must sink in deep to be released over the hot summer.

If only we could read French !!

2007-05-16T17:56:00.000+10:00

Pyrenean Heaven

2007-05-16T17:55:00.000+10:00

Back in the Mountains

2007-05-16T17:24:00.000+10:00

We are back in the mountains and it is almost indescribably beautiful. We are staying in a small simple walking hostel in a small village called Laruns, south of Pau right in the mountains. The hostel is run by two laid back young brothers, one of whom made it possible to connect the laptop by WiFi for the first time in France and the other promises to take Ash (and Sue and I if we wish) trout fishing in the local streams. Sheep walk through the streets every morning and evening on their way back from pasture and possibly for milking. The sheep and goat cheeses are just delicious. We can cook for ourselves or they prepare meals and at the moment I think we are the only people here - apparently that will change over the weekend. There is a hot water pool here in the town and we can just walk into the mountains.

Yesterday, the weather was absolutely glorious after rain and fresh snow on the mountains, so we spent the day walking. We were on a relatively small mountain with sheep and cattle around us with bells around their necks and stone huts and fences, the peaks feel so close and clear you could almost touch them. The higher passes are closed with the snow, which is late. There was hardly any snow during the winter, a warm winter, but now there has been quite a lot of late snow - climate change is everywhere ! We walked through a couple of beautiful old villages, with carved marble doors, stone houses, steep roofs. The houses everywhere are made of the local stone and as a consequence seem to just rise out of the soil and fit perfectly into the surroundings - they have a lovely feeling here.

It seems no one in the village speaks much english so we are forced to practice our french which is very good. If you try the people are very helpful and continually complement us on our french, especially Ashur who of course has - an "accent impeccable !!" - French immersion on a range of levels - which is wonderful

Spring is later here than in the Gers where the wheat is now in head - here there are still flowers on the wisteria and some trees are only now getting their leaves, there is water running off the mountains everywhere, icy, rocky, gurgling streams and every thing is a vivid green. The mountains are just spectacular - full of mystery and promise of adventure, the snow gives the relief added detail and beauty and we can just gaze at the peaks for ages. We intend to be here for a week or more this time. We have a walking guide in french which I am attempting to translate and understand and have a number of walks planned. If we disappear it will be because of a translation problem - the book is very good, the french love walking and rambling. There is a well presented National Parks Office in the town with maps, displays and movies - lots of information. Of course, we are hoping to come across one of the remaining pyrenean bears and we may be lucky.

Rape flowering

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Spring flower market

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Spring walks

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SPRING

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Spring is highly dramatic here, everything seems to be in an enormous hurry. The land has had a long sleep during the cold winter and the next winter won't be far off. The trees get greener by the day, wheat leaps out of the ground and goes to head, flowers appear, vines sprout from dead looking stalks, the rape flowers, a bright yellow and goes back to green.

When we first arrived in Paris and travelled to Alsace there were no leaves on the trees, buds were just begining to appear. Two weeks later in Alsace it was green everywhere, you could virtually see a change every day. As we travelled south through different altitudes and climates we went further into spring -- luscious green with all the cows appearing, blinking and jumping in the sun, dirty from being in the sheds, manure being spread in the fields, wisteria hanging over doorways. Then back into winter in the mountains in the Massif Central and the Pyrenees -- very few leaves, stock all locked away, little pasture growth.

Here in the Gers spring is well advanced, the rape has almost finished flowering, wheat is in head, green but changing colour, pasture growth is incredible, bright green, diverse, thick and full of clover, some has already been cut for hay. The oaks are out and the vines have leaves and little grapes on them, everything is rushing headlong into summer. The roadsides where we walk are like our child hood stories, a range of grasses, herbs, plants we try with difficulty to grow in Australia (why bother when they grow so well here), flowers everywhere and all blending perfectly -- a northern hemisphere European spring -- very different from our Queensland experience !!!

Walking in the Pyrenees

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you thought sheep had it tough in the Traprock

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Gers - Le Vieux Presbetere

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We are staying in an old building in the Gers region. It is the original house attached to a church in a tiny little village -- the house is about 400 years old. It has been done up by an English couple who also rent out two Gites (holiday accom) in an old barn. They are away for 10 days and we are looking after the house and two large, undisciplined French hunting dogs. The countryside is quite beautiful and we take the dogs for extended walks (attempting unsuccessfully to exhaust them) -- it is rolling countryside with a variety of crops and small areas of forest, vineyards, wheat and ground being prepared for sunflowers or maize.

I saw a deer in the forest yesterday -- wildlife sightings are rare especially something as large as a deer -- squirrels are a little more common. The countryside is very civilised with villages everywhere. The farmers live on their farms here in large complexes of house, barns, shed etc. A lot of these farm houses are in disrepair and the English are buying them and renovating them, sometimes quite beautifully. There are quite a few English and Dutch people here, apparently not nearly as many as in Provence, but still quite a few. This has good and bad aspects -- they save the buildings but this also puts the prices up and the farmers now can't afford to buy houses in the area. A lot of the English refuse to learn to speak French, and some of them are retirees who don't spend money or participate in community life -- this naturally causes resentment by the locals.

The English people we have spoken to say England is too crowded -- the English ruled this part of France for hundreds of years before the 100 years war, so they have a long association and it is probably part of a continual shifting migration. They say there is currently a real brain drain of French people into London -- better opportunities and you can work for longer than 35 hours a week in England -- it is illegal to work longer than 35 hours a week here -- unless you are a farmer of course or self employed. That rule was brought in to attempt to maintain a quality of life and to protect family life -- it seems there are a range of unforseen consequences and the current presidential election could be a real turning point depending on whether the right or the left candidate gets in.

We are learning that participation in community life is essential here and it opens all sorts of doors. The bureaucracy is incredible but if you know people there are many ways around it. We are getting to know a Canadian lady who has lived in France for 20 years and worked as a Chef and Restaurant owner. We looked after her house and dog for a week -- in a small village called Vic Fezensac. She is introducing us to different aspects of community life as did our friends in Alsace -- finding a car, insuring the car, getting it registered, finding a house, a school. Doing all these things as an outsider can be very very difficult, but if you know someone from a tight knit community it can be quite simple. Not so different to Stanthorpe really !!!

2007-04-27T06:33:00.000+10:00