A Slow Drive Home

We left Briancon on a clear bright morning, heading along the Serre Chevalier valley towards the Col du Lautaret. Heading along the valley we found ourselves surrounded by the mountains of the Parc Naturel des Ecrins, a national park renowned for its wildness and beauty. I had walked here in February with a friend, Pete, just scratched on edge. This part of the trip was a recce for me as I want to visit again next year. We weren’t disappointed b y the weather either, clear and bright, no haze to disturb the views of the peaks as we passed.

Serre Chevalier Valley in the morning

Views from the car park at Briancon

Briancon a memory we drove the steadily climbing road to the Col du Lautaret. 2058m.

On the Road

First look into the Ecrin Massif

Every where we looked we saw fantastic sights and as we climbed more was revealed. We found ourselves playing leapfrog with other motorists who like us kept stopping to take pictures of hill big and small.

Little Hills

Clear skies and glorious sunshine.

La Mieje as we head to the Col du Lautaret, 2058m

La Mieje, from the Col du Lautaret.

A big hill, La Mieje, a place I intent to visit one day soon.

As we arrived at the Col, La Mieje showed up as a huge lump in the background, glaciers hanging down and snow-covered well down her shoulders. At just under 4000m not the biggest in the Ecrins, but certainly no slouch.

Because I was passing

Mountain views

It’s all downhill from the Col, still plenty to look at though.

Mountain views, the reason Jane is driving

Sun over the mountains

Next to slide into view was Lac Chambon, pure green and looking splendid.

Lac Chambon

Surrounded by the beauty of the mountains

We misjudged the timing as one of the tunnels was being worked on, which meant closure for the first half of each hour. Except during lunch break. We arrived, had a quick stop to see if the cafe was open, only to see the tunnel close, and the cafe was shut. We had a drive to the next village, it too was closed. Sometimes you just need to sit and enjoy the view.

Cliff structure

Passing on, we left the high places and headed towards Grenoble. Once we hit the city it was a straight (sort of) run home and a night in our own bed.

On the way down now

Italy and Venice

After leaving Balaton and Hungary behind, we crossed Slovenia and returned to Italy. Our final destination, Venice. We arrived a about 6 in the evening and started hunting for a hotel. Maybe we should have booked something? In the end it was OK as we found a hotel just of the causeway. A bit old and careworn but still enough glamour to make you feel good. Then a bus in to the centre for a stroll round Venice by night and some Italian spaghetti. It was a lovely warm night calm and with none of the hustle of the day.

Venice by night

Sunday on the other hand was not a day of rest, we started with a water bus trip around the outside of Venice, to see another side, where the sea and the city met. Getting off at St Marks Square we hit the mass of people, queueing standing taking pictures, and of course spending money. There is without a doubt some beautiful buildings there, and walking of the main streets is the best way around. Forget the maps and get yourself lost. Find some small coffee shops, some obscure squares. That is where you see Venice for what it is.

St Marks Square, detail.

Venice, detail.

Venice Architecture.

We did of course take a water bus along the Grand canal, walked across the Rialto Bridge, and had ice cream. All the things a proper tourist should do. On a hot day, the crowds and the noise. We wandered and strolled through a city of history. Soaking up the ambience found there.

Small Square in Venice.

Back Streets

Café Culture.

It is coffee that we crave though, so we sat a while and watched everyone on their way somewhere else. Dinner by the canal, and a look into some bookbinders and paper-makers. Beautiful leather-bound notebooks, diaries and address books. Made by hand with care and such attention to the finish.

Handmade books

After a long day in Venice it was time to head off again, we drove through to Milan, on route to Briancon, in the Alps. A boring Sunday night made exhilarating by the Italian drivers who all want your space, your car, and treat the motorway as a personal challenge to get to the head of the queue. It was a shell-shocked pair who pulled of the road to sleep in a small hotel seen from the motorway. We were well on our way home, and still having fun. Next up will be mountains and passes and a town called Briancon, a fascinating walled town, overlooked by several forts.

Walking in Hungary

Friday I set of for a stroll in the hills above Balatonfured. On a warm day with the hint of a breeze I walked through woodland to the Summit of a hill called Tamas-Hegy, the first climb on the way to Recsec-Hegy. I didn’t know what to expect so just going for a walk to clear my mind and lungs was the worst I could get.

At the top there is tower, built for tourists like me to get a good view of the area. A great idea as without it all views wood be hidden in the woods. The strange thing was the silence at the start. No birds to hear, nothing rustling in the undergrowth. No other walkers. I’m not used to such isolation as well marked and easy to follow trails.

It was apparent by all the hunting towers that this was a popular area. For food or sport. Luckily today all was quiet. It wasn’t until I stopped for lunch, up the tower at Recsec-Hegy, that I heard the call of a stag in the woods. After that, there seemed to be things hiding everywhere, and as I turned into a valley for the homeward leg I startled a small deer. The only four-legged creature I saw, but the birds had found their voice and the woods had woodpeckers, chaffinch, a strange crow like bird, and other small winged creatures. Normality returned, perhaps they had a tough night?

At about 12 miles, and at best 400m it wasn’t the most strenuous of walks, but very pleasant and with plenty of greenery, and animal life to see in the end. Well signed by the National park, and open tracks mostly, which I’m glad of as in the narrower sections the spiders were doing their best to trap me. countless cobwebs and spiders, all of course becoming attached to me. I love an optimist. And they did work hard to try to slow me down. All in all a good day out. I’ll post photos in another post tomorrow.

Today, we have hit the beach again and done nothing except sit and read. I have finished John LeCarre’s Smiley series this holiday. An excellent read, I would recommend them to anyone. While watching, I found this little idea, watching the watchers so to speak.

Just called Touch.

Touch

A brush of a finger on a forearm,
a hand, reaching out, the turn of a head
to find the touch.

He sits, watching, smoking,
towel spread out, book,
waiting to be read.

All the while, someone leans across a table,
touches fingers to the curved neck beside them.
A gentle drawing under, skin to skin.

While he waits,
watching,
smoking.

Lake Balaton

Another slow day at the lake, we managed to finally get out of the hotel today at Eleven. Far enough to reach the Café. We have started a life of shambling from hotel to café to food and back. Interspersed with sitting around reading, and watching the foreign tourists, by foreign I of course do not include us, we are travellers, not holidaymakers. So why is the language so strange, why can we not understand even the smallest words? I have mastered Thank-you, an achievement I think, phonetically kuh-suh-nuhm. So, I have made a start. Though I wonder what they think about a random English couple sitting reading and chatting for hours in their café, while watching all the comings and goings and smiling enthusiastically when spoken to. Really they could say anything – we wouldn’t have a clue, unless they thank us of course but I think that is unlikely. We hardly bring much prosperity to where we place our largess, only make the place look untidy.

Tomorrow, I am off for a walk. Finding a map was interesting, including in our searches, the library, the tourist offices, bookshops, and supermarkets. Finally in a Bucket bookshop in Tesco’s Superstore mall. Hungary – Tesco gets everywhere. But anyway it does mean I will know where I am headed, and have a reasonable chance of returning. I’ll report back later.

Last post was I am told by WordPress, who keep score of this sort of thing, my 50th. A milestone, my half century, since I only signed up for postaweek I am ahead of the game and can rest on my laurels for a while. I hope everyone else on this postaweek trip is doing as well as they would like, or better. It has for me meant sitting and writing on a regular basis. Prose sometimes as well as poetry and I also have many new correspondents that without this I would never have found. Thanks to you all for the support.

A piece of work I have for hotels and strange towns. As we see others, in airports, on boats, in hotels. And all we see is a fleeting glimpse of them. Who are they and why are they here? We will never know.

Touching In Passing

This traveling transient beauty,
human, natural. Individual
in the traditional sense,
and the unusual that lets
human nature free
to roam for a short time.

To see a fraction of a story,
a glance through a door,
opening and closing
as someone passes through.
Touching us finely, touching
others and we are changed.

Paris

Paris in two days
Is the tower
the arch
the shhh of the metro
the coffee in the bar
the boulevard walk.

The art and architecture
the traffic and noise
the beggar with a rose.

The standing still to stare
at the view from the steps
and where to go next
to tick the box
of we’ve been there.

Paris Metro
Between the noise, the shake and the doors
opening and closing, between the silence
and the noise of a thousand strangers

in the space of a step in a corridor
on the way to somewhere or back
there was the music we heard,

the singing of strings and movements
of arm, elbow and long fingers dancing
where we waited a moment and listened

as the noise of the people and the doors
and the trains and the rush of the air
became background to the music

and time was for a moment unimportant
for a few like us two, who stood together
watching and listening until time broke

like a spell and as silent as we came together
we left again and joined the trains and noise
and closing doors and lives with things and

places we needed to be as the lights flashed
in the tunnel and somewhere behind us all
a string section played on in a different time

with others like us, who though we were gone,
each kept a moment to use when we closed
our eyes and the noise was too much.