Oh what the heck why not?

A few more pics from France and Tennessee.

Last after-climbing-session party before I left France, from left to right, Arnaud, JB, me Jeremy, Caroline, Laurent

My friend from Finland, Christina, and I in the metro of Paris.

One of my closest friends in France, David pulling up a problem on La Chemaine des Fontaines.

Arnaud trying the hard traverse along the same road in France, last outdoor climbing session.

Laura longing for the sweet nectar of Jack Daniels that she will never be able to have. Oh the sadness of gluten intolerance.

something new

Well I haven't done it yet, but here we go. Photos.

Nothing like a little sisterly love.

The Fam, complete with new sister-in-law (Erin) in California.

Little Afton in TN just after getting back from France

Playing in the dirt.

Almost thirty and still playing in the dirt. It wouldn't be so bad save that it is the way I am making my living here in good old Bellingham. The landscaping stuff is fun. I like washing up to my elbows at the end of a day, but I am ready for a change. I am ready to take a break from stressing about where my next paycheck is coming from. I just finished a flagstone patio for some friends, while being accepted for a volunteer position at the Bellingham Fire District 4.

What this means is that I have two twelve hour shifts twice a month and this fall they are going to send me to EMT school. I am excited. I have been going for training sessions each Monday for the last few weeks and in a classroom type setting we have been learning everything from infant triage to how to use the new radios. The best part though is to have a call and see the teams mobilize in a matter of seconds and be out doing cool stuff. So yes, I am excited and happy to be where I am and doing what I am doing.

Now I have found a job with a property management company here in Bellingham. They manage quite a few large buildings here in the city limits, including a few of the hospital buildings, so that will be a lot of roof time and learning what they have to teach me.

Hopefully within a few months I will be writing a bolg about how I am playing with fire... well putting it out at least.

Home

I am sitting Erin and Stuart's apartment, waiting to go on a ride with my uncle and dad. The sun is shining, the hiumidity is not as bad as usual for Spring in Tennessee and the slight breeze is inviting.

I am home.

I am with my brothers and sisters and nephew and parents for three full weeks. Already in typical Verner fashion we had a full weekend of cleaning, doing yard-work, biking, and eating great food.
Can't wait to see you all as location permits. Stories from TN to come.

Calanques

"Europeans are always on vacation" a direct quote from my brother as we talked after my trip to the Calanques. Southeast of France between the cities of Cassis and Marseilles is a beautiful stretch of land pleasing to the eyes, rough on the hands, and oh so good for the body.
Yes once again I was on vacation doing great things with friends from the CAF of Mazamet. We made the 'bridge' between a Thursday holiday and the weekend to climb for four days on the limestone big beautiful walls falling directly into the Mediterranean Ocean.
From the second day on my hands were screaming at me to take a break. It having been less than two weeks since i decided to start climbing slowly again, my tender tips begged and I promised to comply every morning, thinking that i would swim that day or just hang out near the walls taking pictures, but when we would arrive at the walls I broke my promise every time. Long route after long route with beautiful delicate slabs like i have never seen, huge juggy overhangs and everything in between. The third day was at a place called En Vau. A lagoon flanked by cliffs on either side, three hundred yards in length and maybe fifty yards in width. Each day was stated in the same manner, wanting to sleep, but the call of cliffs or Laurent calling us got us out of bed. Breakfast, and excited talk of the new sector and new climbs we were going to hit up. Riding or one day walking to the cliffs that beckoned us. Climbed all day mostly one or two routes of three to five pitches and then dive into the chilly water to let our bodies recoup.
Twenty-two routes total, from about 4c to 6c with the last being a beautiful 6c that went for one hundred and ten feet, two sections of bouldering and just a great one to end on. The last few of us who decided to climb until the last possible second got in the car at seven and at twelve were at the house ready to go to bed. Yeah my arm still hurts a little, i don't know what to do about it, but I am glad that i climbed none the less.

Vacations are over

A little more sun than I expected, a little more climbing than I expected, more food than I expected, and much more sore than I expected, but oh so good to be on vacation. Two weeks of reading, traveling, biking, climbing and all the other fun stuff that comes with the changing of the seasons.
The canal has been mentioned, but the rest has not. Because of not so good weather we had here in Castres when I got back I went on a reading spree where I read for six hours one day and four the next, lovely. Rain, coffee, and a book. It was great. The next week was more slow days at the apartment or on my new fixie. Sidenote: fixies are hot! The trad of climbing, the Shakespeare of literature, the Casablanca of film, possibly the Grand Cru chez Grand Cru of wines, it is rockin'. My gearing is a little low, so it makes me work harder on the uphills. Simple, smooth, quiet. I rode with a smile even in headwind and tired legs. I did a ten mile loop for the first time and never touched the breaks. And although I keep preaching the hotness of fixed gears to Laura, she tells me, " You know what is hot Hunter...gears!" I am determined to get her on a fixie at some point. So a challenge to you, yes you, find a beater and go to this site there and enjoy getting super strong.

Ok, so back to outings in France. Already planning good-bye dinners and having some talk time with friends. It came to last Thursday and because of the weather being better than rain the CAF ( Club Alpin Français) went to Les Gorges du Banquet, not very far from Mazamet, to get our hands on some real rock. Interesting gneiss routes and one roof route boasting a 6a+ (5.10)rating, while all of us sat grumbling at the bottom about how it should be more like 6b+(5.10d). When all the extra layers had been donned and it was more and more difficult to see our feet as we climbed, we headed for home.
The next evening at a dinner Natalia ( Spanish assistant) informed me that her brother Pablo was here from Spain, I climbed with Pablo over Christmas in Catalonia, and he had nothing to do. Again an entire day of climbing. First at Burlatz , close to the house with Nico and then only with Pablo again to Banquet to finish the day. With shoulders red and bodies tired he brought me back home to dinner and bed. Pablo doesn't speak any French and I don't speak Spanish, but his English is getting better and better and it is enough to communicate and enjoy one another.

The next day I struggled to get out of bed and onto the bike to head to Nataniel and Raphael's house to then head to the Pyrenees. 1500 feet of elevation gain, and I was feeling good, a hopeful and much anticipated nap was quashed by ants so we opted for another summit a little further away. And then the return. I feel like I am in pretty good shape, but the descent always kills me. Today it hurts to get out of the chair to go get more tea from the kitchen. Sometimes I stopped after a particularly steep slope to comment on something completely random in order to rest my knees and quads. Ouch. Back at the car we started up a conversation with one of the 'locals'. In reality, there are only three in the village who stay there all year round, but this one like many of the natives come back for the spring through fall. The next hour I must have looked very strange. A grin plastered on my face ready at any moment to burst into laughter. This woman and her husband told us about the village, who was doing what, who had moved, who had died, what the interior of a house that was for sale looked like, and when the neighbors came in from Toulouse, I just about lost all control. Too much to take in and experience, it was unforgettable. Such life in these four, all of them leaning with one or both elbows on the balcony, the two men cracking jokes about each other and looking down on us as if we were students in their class. I was very grateful to be there. They were happy to be in retirement, back at their place of birth with their only complaint being that their bodies wouldn't move as fast as their minds.

Thus concludes my vacations in France.

Canal du Midi

Vacation. Two weeks off. What to do? Why not ride along the Canal du Midi! Sure why not. A little history.

From 1667-1694 to open a passage between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, Paul Riquet conceived and realized this canal that connects the river Garronne, that goes from Bordeaux to Toulouse, to the city of Marseillan next to the sea. It is mostly flat and from Toulouse to Marseillan it actually goes down in elevation a little. Through a series of locks, boats pass all year round from one end to the other. Lakes were created in the Black Mountains to feed the canal during the summer months when the water lever would be significantly lower (average depth is 6 ft). Beside the river are planted about 60,000 plane trees. They were planted for shade, to reduce evaporation, to provide a layer of protection so that the water is not absorbed as quickly into the ground, and to strengthen the banks, but their roots come up on the path and make for some interesting speed bumps.

A fellow teacher, a real one, not like me, and her boyfriend decided to undertake this journey with enthusiasm. We initially wanted to do the whole thing in five days, that is less than twenty miles a day, and I was about as stoked on that as another year of teaching in France. This eventually evolved into 60 km (~36 mi) per day and the return trip as well. So about six days total. Four days in the weather changed, and we decided to head back.

Beautiful weather, between four and five hours of biking each day and plenty of singing and pedaling, and seeing this beautiful country and the people that make it. A typical day would be us getting up at about 9, eating some breakfast, which got bigger and bigger as the days went on, being on the trail by tenthirty and ridingandridingandstoppingandtalkingandridingsomemmore until lunch. That was always the longest part of the day. Mandatory two hour lunch and nap, and then back in the saddle. Another two hours or so, one day three until we arrived at our hotel, tired and happy and ready to eat everything in sight. The pace wasn't all that bad, a cool 9 miles an hour, but constantly getting out of the saddle or posting (fixie term meaning to pedal while lifting your butt off the seat, instead of coasting) to go over a root or rock in the path, that was the tiring part. But I found myself being very content most of the time as we rolled along each day. Saying 'bonjour' to i don't remember how many people and almost falling into the canal once.

The best was seeing this family of seven i think, i don't know if they were all five the kids of these parents, but they had all they needed strapped to their backs, and the kids would shoot off to the next bridge or lock and then wait for their parents who were carrying all the essentials, and rolling at a less than adolescent and pre-pubescent pace. Cheers to parents still getting after it with their kids!

Sign ups are available with me to come back and do it in a few years. Cheers.