Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things – air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky – all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it.
Mr Google was telling us we had a very long drive to reach Calais. 870km, to be precise. And after that, we’d still have another 200km to get home from Folkestone.
A grand country house belonging to a member of the French aristocracy, which has now been converted into a museum celebrating the Revolution.
You can’t beat a fortress on a hill. That’s why they used to build them up there. Anyway, Grenoble has one that’s on top of a mountain.
We left [[Vallon Point d'Arc]] at about 10am after a very leisurely start to the day. Kas ducked out of running as it was a "moving" day and we hadn't packed the night before. We made one final run down to the bakery to buy fresh pastries and then had a quick...
Sur le Pont d’Avignon, l’on y danse, l’on y danse. Sur le Pont d’Avignon, l’on y danse tous en rond.
Whatta lotta notta lot
Open the photo gallery >> After a relaxing day the day before, we decided it would be a good day to go and do something a bit more active. Before we got around to doing that, we had a team breakfast. Kas was too tired for a run so didn't bother going, so we sat...
Open the photo gallery >> The day started off (for me) rather slowly, as a result of having had too many beers too quickly the night before. Kas went out to Intermarche in [[Vallon Pont d'Arc]] to get some provisions and came back wishing she'd taken someone...