Category Archives: Travelogs

“The last time I saw Paris?” – Just this past September!

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I didn’t see Liz Taylor, but there was lots of other lovely “passing scenery” in the city…

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Welcome to the “Georgia Wasp…”

This blog is modeled on the Carolina Israelite. That was an old-time newspaper – more like a personal newsletter – written and published by Harry Golden. Back in the 1950s, people called Harry a  “voice of sanity amid the braying of jackals.” (For his work on the Israelite.)

That’s now my goal as well. To be a “voice of sanity amid the braying of jackals.”

For more on the blog-name connection, see the notes below.

In the meantime:

My last post – on hiking the GR 70 in France – talked about my planning for and dreaming about the trip. (Hiking 150 miles on what’s also called the “Robert Louis Stevenson Trail.”)

It also talked of the difference between such dreams and how an adventure really turns out. (“Matching dreams and plans with reality, once you get over there.”) And finally it addressed the question: “Why would anyone in his right mind – especially at age 72 – want to go through such an ordeal?” Taking the last question first: One big reason is “I just love long walks.” I always have, and as a writer do some great thinking whenever I’m “out on the Trail.” And I’m not alone: Everyone “from Beethoven, Goethe, Dickens, Darwin to Steve Jobs took long walks:”

[W]alking holds just some of our attention, leaving a large segment to meander and observe. It’s this doing-something-but-not-really-thinking-about-it aspect of walking that might be most directly behind the ability of a good walk to stir up creative, new ideas.

Other reasons – with more detail in the Notes: Long walks help you become more creative, healthier and productive. (Not to mention “following in the footsteps of giants.”) Also in my case, long walks are a great way to get to know some intimate nooks and crannies of cities like Paris and Lyon. I’ll get to Lyon in the next post, but this one’s about hiking adventures in Paris.

In Paris I did a lot of meandering and observing, but first had to get over there. Which meant another red-eye flight from Atlanta, leaving at 6:30 Sunday evening and getting to Paris the next morning at 9:15. I guessed later that I got maybe 30 or 40 minutes real sleep the whole night. Mostly I watched a lot of old movies. The one I remember most was “Rocky Horror Picture Show,” mostly because I like the music. But on arrival I knew what to do. I’d made the same trip in 2021: From De Gaulle airport take the RER Train B to the Gare du Nord.

Which brings up navigating in a strange city. In my overseas trips so far I’ve relied on local “free” WiFi. There are portable hotspots you can use for European internet service, but they were something like $300 for 30 days the last time I checked. Instead, before leaving home I printed out Google maps of the route I was to take, from the train station to my hotel. I also wrote out and printed out written instructions, which were pretty clear. Up to a point.

I’d booked a place on Rue Sedaine, two miles southwest of the station. To get there (I wrote) “get on the Bd. de Magenta, which leads to the Place de la Republique.” On the other side of “Republique” the streets split, but I would get on the Bd. Voltaire. A little bit further down, once I saw the “Maze le Garage Electrique,” I’d know Rue Sedaine was coming up. And at the corner of Rue Sedaine I’d see a bar, “Le coup d’oeil,’ and turn right. So far so good.

The walk was pleasant, even carrying a 20-pound pack. I stopped just the other side of the Place de la Republique, at a Starbucks of all places. To rest, regroup, admire the passing scenery and ease into this strange new place with a little touch of home. Then, hiking further on, I discovered a quirk in my plans. After hiking what I reckoned to be about a mile and a half, right by the Stellar Restaurant Ephemera, the streets split. I stayed on the sidewalk I’d been hiking on.

And from there, on and on some more. “What was taking so long?” I kept thinking, “I should be seeing the Maze le Garage Electrique and Le coup d’oeil any time now.” Finally I tried asking directions from some locals. First a young couple, but they shied away like I was a strange man still grubby from a red-eye flight, or just wanting a hand-out. Then I asked a young Frenchman, sitting on a bench at what turned out to be the “Marche Bastille.” It’s another long, park-like area, like the Place de la Republique, between two busy streets, but skinnier and with more trees.

He was polite, and set me straight. So much for the city’s reputation for being so rude.

I found out later that the long narrow park I’d arrived at is also the site of “one of the biggest markets in Paris, stretching along the Boulevard Richard-Lenoir and across the Place de la Bastille.” As it also turned out, I had just hiked past Rue Sedaine, but on the wrong side. So as it also turns out, back where the streets split I should not have stayed on the same sidewalk I’d been walking on. Instead I should have crossed over, twice, past the “public toilettes” in a center traffic island. That way I’d get back to Boulevard Voltaire. Instead I’d been inadvertently shunted over to Boulevard Richard-Lenoir. And that’s how I discovered the Marche Bastille. What was interesting (to me anyway) was my handwritten route-notes. I later saw that they gave another way of finding the hotel. (And not get too lost.) I wrote that it’s on Rue Sedaine, “between the Marche Bastille Market and the Cemetary ‘Pere Lachaise’ where Jim and Oscar are buried.”

That’s Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde by the way. In planning my two days in Paris I noted two places I wanted to visit. One was the Basilique du Sacré Cœur de Montmartre, with it’s splendid hilltop view of the whole city. The other was “Pere Lechaise,” resting-ground of a great number of notables, French, American and others. I eventually did make it to that world-famous cemetery, but that’s a story for another time. Meanwhile I had to get to my hotel.

I did get to it, but from the wrong end of Rue Sedaine. And later that day I discovered that the Maze le Garage Electrique and Le coup d’oeil were right where they were supposed to be, on my printed out map. But first I checked in and got Room 14, four floors up from the street. And it was tiny. The twin bed took up half the first part in, and a quarter of the whole apartment. But it was home, and it was in Paris, even though the “WC” was outside, on a stair-landing between my floor and the next one up. With its window right next to my window.

Which made for some interesting listening later on.

I tried to take a nap, but soon heard a lot of hammering and other building sounds from across the alley. Later that night I woke up and looked out the window, to drink in Paris at night. Quiet and peaceful. I looked down to the left, across the alley to a one-floor-down apartment with an unshaded window open to the breeze. The guy who’d been doing all the hammering that morning was on a cot, sound asleep, half-covered with a light blanket, with a bright light off to his right, out of my sight. The whole place had the air of extensive remodeling. Or just being made move-in livable. I felt bad about some things I’d been thinking, earlier, trying to take that nap.

Back to that first-day Monday afternoon in Paris. (After hiking down “the scenic route” from Gare du Nord to my hotel, by way of Marche Bastille, a long narrow park on Boulevard Richard-Lenoir.) The following Wednesday I was scheduled to take an early train down to Lyon, from the Gare de Lyon train station. So that Monday afternoon – after trying to take a cure-jet-lag nap – I took a hike down to Gare de Lyon. I wanted to check mostly on how long it would take to get there. The train was to leave at 9:30 a.m., and I didn’t want any slip-ups.

The hotel had tolerable WiFi, so I could see I should take Avenue Ledru Rollin down the mile to the station. I did, and found the Lyon station. (It’s expansive and hard to miss, plus there were signs on the street.) The route crossed Avenue Daumesnil, so on the way back I stopped at a cute little bistro at the corner of “Daumesnil” and Ledru Rollin, a block up from the station. I had two beers and enjoyed the passing scenery, then on the way back to the hotel stopped at a French mini-mart. I wanted something to get me through the night, in case I woke up early from the jet lag. But the only food I knew what It was was a bag of croutons and some bottled water.

Then I tried taking another nap, starting about 3:30 p.m., and this one worked. Later, despite all the hiking I’d done already that day, I decided to take yet another walk. In part to make sure the Maze le Garage Electrique and Le coup d’oeil were still where they were supposed to be. They were, but then I hiked a bit more up Boulevard Voltaire, to where it split off from Boulevard Richard-Lenoir. (To see what I should have done.) On the way back I stopped off at Le coup d’oeil on the corner of Rue Sedaine, and had one more beer. (After getting to know some unknown-to-most-other-tourist intimate nooks and crannies of Paris.)

And there was (Sunday) evening, and there was (Monday) morning—the first day. My first day in Paris, in September 2023, that is. I’ll cover my second day in Paris in the next post…

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Place de la Bastille
The Place de la République, part-way to my last-September lodging on Rue Sedaine…

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The upper image is courtesy of “The Last Time I Saw Paris” – Image Results. See also The Last Time I Saw Paris – Wikipedia, on the 1954 “Technicolor romantic drama,” set in the city just as World War II was ending, and loosely based on F. Scott Fitzgerald‘s short story ‘Babylon Revisited:'”

The film starred Elizabeth Taylor and Van Johnson in his last role for MGM, with Walter PidgeonDonna ReedEva GaborKurt KasznarGeorge DolenzSandy DescherOdette, and (a then-unknown) Roger Moore in his Hollywood debut. The film’s title song, by composer Jerome Kern and lyricist Oscar Hammerstein II, was already a classic when the movie was made and inspired the movie’s title.

Re: Doing some good thinking while walking. See The Science of Why You Do Your Best Thinking While WalkingHow Walking Enhances Cognitive Performance | Psychology Today, and Why The Greatest Minds Take Long Walks – Canva, source of the quote, “Why everyone from Beethoven, Goethe, Dickens, Darwin to Steve Jobs took long walks and why you should too.” The Psychology Today writer said that “listening to audiobooks and walking is my primary method of learning about the world, specifically business, history, and society.” For myself, when at home I watch educational videos – Wondrium and Crash Courses – while stair-stepping 30 minutes at a time. (With a 30-pound weight vest and 10 pounds of ankle weights.)

Re: Hotspots. The article 6 best portable Wi-Fi hotspots for travelers in 2023 | CNN lists some alternatives, but they’re still pretty expensive, considering the probably add-ons.

Re: Rude Parisians. See Why are people in Paris so rude? – Paris Forum – Tripadvisor. On this trip I found the opposite to be true, as will be detailed in a future post.

The lower image is courtesy of parisinfo.com.

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Re:  The Israelite.  Harry Golden grew up in the Jewish ghetto of New York City, but eventually moved to Charlotte, North Carolina.  Thus the “Carolina Israelite.”  I on the other hand am a “classic 71-year-old “WASP” – White Anglo-Saxon Protestant – and live in north Georgia.  Thus the “Georgia Wasp.”    

Anyway, in North Carolina Harry wrote and published the “israelite” from the 1940s through the 1960s.  He was a “cigar-smoking, bourbon-loving raconteur.”  (He told good stories.) That also means if he was around today, the “Israelite would be done as a blog.”  But what made Harry special was his positive outlook on life.  As he got older but didn’t turn sour, like many do today.  He still got a kick out of life.  For more on the blog-name connection, see “Wasp” and/or The blog.

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On lessons from 2022, applied to 2023…

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The Basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi, the starting point for last year’s 150-mile pilgrim hike…

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November 16, 2023 – My last post talked about matching up Dreams, maps and reality, as applied to my recent hike on the Stevenson Trail in France. I also talked about “why such a fool” – especially an old fool, at 72 – would “put himself through such an ordeal.” I had some answers, but ended with a promise “next time” to talk about walking Paris and Lyon. Specifically:

…on exploring Paris and Lyon, on my own, “before even starting the hike.” Where I [will] describe things like getting drenched on arrival at the Sacré-Cœur Basilica in Paris, and finding out that trying to memorize a Google Map route, from Lyon Part Dieu train station to the HO36 Hostel in Lyon, can make you feel lost and in despair.

That second problem concerned me trying to use a memorized Google Map to get from the “Part Dieu” train station to the HO36 Hostel on 36 rue Montesquieu. But that post is turning out to be more complicated than I thought. Both cities were eventful for me, but since I last posted almost three weeks ago, it’s time to fill in with this post, on some lessons from the past.

Like last year (2022) we hiked 150 miles on the St Francis Way A pilgrimage route. But instead of hiking as most do – from Rome to Assisi – we went the other way, from Assisi back to Rome. And I can mention one mistake I didn’t make in this most recent trip: I didn’t get a &^%#$ ticket – costing 30 Euros – for not validating my bus pass, in Assisi, down by the train station.

It happened on the ride back from visiting the Basilica of San Francis … but it wasn’t my fault. Two knuckleheads in front of me had trouble making change (or whatever). A long line started forming behind me, so the driver told us – starting with me – to “go to the back of the bus.” That’s where, supposedly, there was another machine to validate your bus ticket.

I didn’t validate the pass, mostly because I didn’t see any such machine. But when we got back to the train station in Assisi – a short walk from our lodging – an officious-looking guy magically appeared and announced the aforementioned fine for failure to validate. I protested long, hard and loud – “the driver told me to go to the back of the bus!” – but to no avail. It was all, “No comprendo,” or however they say it in Italy. As I mentioned, that was “Not a good start to what was supposed to be a pilgrimage to enlightenment.” On the other hand, part of being enlightened could be not repeating mistakes of the past. So, “One lesson learned!”

One guidebook on the Way of St. Francis said the Apennine Mountain Range is “the thick spine of the Italian peninsula.” And that because of its “challenging topography, the Way of St. Francis is a challenging walk.” The book noted that veterans of the Camino de Santiago (like us) may compare several days walking on the Way of St. Francis “to a walk over the Route [de] Napoleón that crosses the Pyrenees. A daily climb of 500 to 1000 meters is not unusual.”

So I found one big difference between last year’s hike and the latest one. The Stevenson Trail wasn’t as full of “zig-zags, switchbacks and cut-backs.” I mentioned that my 8th grade math teacher had taught us the shortest distance between two points was a straight line.

However, that rule doesn’t apply to the Way of St. Francis. And that led me to wonder, “Why did St. Francis follow this ‘path?‘” Back and forth, up and down, full of zig-zags, switchbacks and cut-backs. And why wouldn’t he take the smoother route along the valley that beckoned down below? (The smooth path that the train takes from Rome up to Assisi and back.)

So one difference: The Stevenson Trail mostly goes “straight” north to south; not as many zig-zags. Though there were plenty of slippery boulders and rock-strewn paths to negotiate, at least we didn’t have to backtrack so much – or so it seemed – and pay for the same real estate twice.

One similarity between the two hikes? Many days on both trails there were few if any places to stop for refreshment during the day. It wasn’t that unusual to go a whole day’s hike, of 10 or 12 miles or more, without any of those stops so prevalent on the Camino Frances (French Way). On the other hand, in Italy you could still always look forward to a warm bed, hot shower and a cold beer at the end of the day. And the same was true of the Stevenson Trail.

But that leaves the question: Why would an old fool “put himself through such an ordeal.” That’s a question I asked myself quite often on the Stevenson Trail, especially during the early days of the hike. One answer I came up with? The idea that on such a trek the goal is to “push beyond your limits. To ask yourself at least once a day, ‘What the heck am I doing here?'”

And then keep going…

But once we got home my brother and hiking companion found another answer. “Rucking.” I just did learn that Rucking can help you burn fat, build muscle, and stay strong as you age. And here I’ve been rucking since 2016, back on the Chilkoot Trail, and didn’t even know it.

It seems that hauling big, heavy dead animals you’ve killed – “game after hunting trips” – or just carrying heavy things in general has been around a long time. That’s a trait unique to humans, a “foundational behavior throughout [human] history.” As in traveling long distances, moving whole families and their belongings, in search of a better life, more food or just to get away from hostile tribes looking to kill you. And as it turns out, in modern times such carrying a heavy weight over distances “is a great exercise for fitness and longevity.”

Which is a thought that came to me late on the Stevenson hike.

When exercising I track aerobic minutes, minutes of aerobic exercise. But to get credit for such exercise you need to go ten minutes straight, and that presents a problem on the Trail. Carrying such a heavy weight, and especially hiking uphill (and/or climbing over and around all those stupid rocks) means you need a standing-stop break several times in ten minutes. That meant theoretically you don’t get any “aerobic credit.” But I finally figured out – on the GR-70 – that hiking hours a day with a heavy pack combines two different exercises: aerobics and weight-lifting. Which is pretty much what “rucking” is all about. Problem solved!

I’ll be writing more about rucking as a good reason for my overseas hikes in a future post. And also get to the part about exploring Paris and Lyon, this year, on my own, “before even starting the hike.” And describe things like getting drenched on arrival at the Sacré-Cœur Basilica in Paris, and finding out that trying to memorize a Google Map route, from Lyon Part Dieu train station to the HO36 Hostel in Lyon, “can make you feel lost and in despair.” Until next time…

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“…here I’ve been rucking since 2016 … and didn’t even know it.”

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The upper image is courtesy of Basilica Of Saint Francis Of Assisi – Wikipedia – Image Results.

I borrowed much of the main text here from Getting ready for Rome – and “the Way of St. Francis, from April 2022, and Some highlights – Way of St. Francis 2022, from October 2022. Other past posts include On St. Patty 2022 – and the Way of St. Francis, from March 2022, One week away from a “Roman Holiday” from August 2022, and St. Francis, his birds and my Bucket List, from October 2022.

“One guidebook.” The Way of St Francis … to Assisi and Rome, by “Sandy” Brown.

“Pay for the real estate twice.” A quote from George Patton. See Not me. I don’t like to pay for the same real estate twice.

10-minute aerobic minimum. See Physical activity – World Health Organization (WHO), and The Aerobics Way, the 1978 book by Dr. Kenneth H. Cooper.

The lower image is courtesy of Rucking For Fitness Image – Image Results.

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Dreams, maps and reality – hiking in France, 2023…

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The kind of path we often had to negotiate on the GR 70, here on the second day’s hike…

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For months now I’ve been planning for and dreaming about this year’s overseas travel adventure: A 15-day, 150-mile hike on the Robert Louis Stevenson Trail, in the Cévennes mountains of south-central France. (Described in Stevenson’s 1879 book, Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes.) That process of planning and dreaming only ended when I finally flew into Paris last Sunday, September 10. Then it was time to start matching dreams and plans with reality.

I also planned for and dreamed about visiting Paris again, for the third time since 1979. And that’s not to mention heading from there down to Lyon, where I’ve never been. And where I planned to sample some Beaujolais nouveau (wine) for which the city is famous.

From there I’d take the train-and-bus to Le Puy en Velay and meet up with my brother Tom and his wife Carol, this year’s hiking companions. (Coming up from two weeks in Spain.) We’d spend Saturday, September 16, getting good and ready, then start our 150-mile hike the day after that. The ultimate goal was St. Jean du Gard, where Stevenson ended his hike in 1878. We’d arrive 15 hiking days later, mostly following the path Stevenson hiked. We’d arrive there – if all went according to plan – on October 3, 145 years to the day from when he arrived. (With two days off from hiking for us, at Brugeyrolles, east of Langogne, and Pont de Montvert.)

Tom had reserved each night’s lodging months before. (A lesson he learned back in 2017, from our first hike on the Camino Francais.) To help with navigation, he and Carol both had French phone coverage, which included online maps. For myself, I had no French phone coverage and no online maps. I chose to rely on their phone maps, along with “free” French WiFi. (Which I thought would be available in most cafes, and the places we’d stop at night.)

As for Paris and Lyon – when I was on my own – I printed out paper maps to guide me in finding my lodging, and some places to visit in each city. Like the Sacré-Cœur Basilica in Paris, along with the Père Lachaise Cemetery. And the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourvière in Lyon. The towers of both basilicas were said to offer spectacular views of each city.

Then came the process of “matching maps and dreams to reality.” Or as John Steinbeck once said, you don’t take a trip, a trip takes you. Which turned out to be at least partly true.

In hindsight the trip was mostly “fun,” though not according to everyone’s definition. The French food was tantalizing, even if you didn’t always know what you were getting when you ordered. But the hike itself was certainly challenging, in many ways. Mostly every day, in the form of miles and miles of rock-strewn paths. (Which we had to hike and sometimes climb over, often at the dazzling speed of 1.2 miles an hour.) That daily “challenging” led some back-home friends and family to wonder, “Why on earth would you ever do such a thing?” (“Especially now that you’re over the hill, at age 72?”) Or as I put it in An update:

The food was great [in southern France], as were the many spectacular views from the tops of all those hills in the Cevennes. Which is another way of saying I’m still looking for an answer for people who ask, “Why would anyone want to do that?

Aside from the many spectacular views and wonderful French cuisine, I had another good reason to put up with the “bunts and blunders” of hiking miles and miles over rock-strewn paths. I plan to write a book on this latest adventure, just like Stevenson did. And who knows? Maybe I can get some fame and fortune from this and other adventure books, just like he did.

All of which is a big reason why I write blog-posts. I plan to put them together at a later date – keeping in mind the need for that unity and coherence stuff – and make more eBooks out of them. And speaking of travel-ventures, I’ve had many in the past 10 years: Eight days canoeing 12 miles off the coast of Mississippi. Hiking the Camino de Santiago, three times, on various parts. Or the Chilkoot Trail, the “meanest 33 miles in history.”

Which brings up yet another good reason. I love long walks and always have. I do some great thinking on such long walks, especially “walking” five or six hours a day, with a 20-pound pack on my back. On the Stevenson Trail I spent a lot of time framing what I’d write on Facebook, hopefully later that same day. Then using those posts as notes when I got back home, to use in framing these blog-posts, and ultimately putting them together in an ebook.

But in the end, Stevenson may have said it best:

“For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move; to feel the needs and hitches of our life more nearly; to come down off this feather-bed of civilization, and find the globe granite underfoot and strewn with cutting flints.” (Emphasis added.)

And there was plenty of “globe granite underfoot,” on paths which often felt strewn with cutting flints. On that note, for much of the hike I kept reminding myself, “If you do fall, fall backwards. The pack will cushion you.” Much to my credit I didn’t fall at all… Until the last day, when I may have been in a hurry to get to the end, but that’s a story for later. Which I can also say about exploring Paris and Lyon, on my own, before even starting the hike. “That’s a story for the next post.” But first a foretaste of that “heavenly banquet of hiking,” from the second day’s hike:

…we now have two hiking days under our belts, with me only developing one big blister yesterday, on the ball of my left foot. Thanks in large part to hiking over slippery-rock trails like this, from yesterday. And today, tip-toeing – not through the tulips – but trying to NOT step down hard on that one blister-foot.

You saw what I’m talking about at the top of the page. And both that picture and the quote came from my Facebook post that day. (After a beerless night in Le Monastier-sur-Gazelle. It was Sunday, when everything shuts down in rural France. I had no WiFi that night either.) That second day – Monday, September 18 – we hiked 11.5 miles from “Le Monastier” to Bargettes. (A town so small and unknown that you get “baguettes” on a Google search.)

So much for the foretaste of “heavenly hiking.” (Irony or sarcasm?) It’s time to finish this post and start on the next, on exploring Paris and Lyon, on my own, “before even starting the hike.” Where I describe things like getting drenched on arrival at the Sacré-Cœur Basilica in Paris, and finding out that trying to memorize a Google Map route, from Lyon Part Dieu train station to the HO36 Hostel in Lyon, can make you feel lost and in despair. Until next time…

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Lyon-Part-Dieu: From here I tried to match a memorized Google Map” to reality…

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I took the upper-image picture.

Re: The 2017 hike on the French Way. I met Tom in Pamplona, 450 miles from Santiago de Compostela. See “Hola! Buen Camino!” – Revisited, and “Buen Camino!” – The Good Parts. In 2019 we three hiked from Porto, Portugal, back up to Santiago, and in 2021 we hiked from St. Jean Pied-de-Port over the Pyrenees, the part I missed in 2017. See Hiking over the Pyrenees, in 2021 – finally!

Re: Steinbeck on trips. The actual quote is “people don’t take trips. Trips take people.” John Steinbeck – Travel Quote of the Week – Authentic Traveling.

Re: “Bunts and blunders” of hiking. (For example.) See Practical Mysticism, by Evelyn Underhill, Ariel Press (1914), at page 177. True, it is said of the Shepherd that he carries the lambs in his bosom; but the sheep are expected to walk, and to put up with the bunts and blunders of the flock. It is to vigor rather than comfort that you are called.See also Evelyn Underhill – Wikipedia.

About that “unity and coherence.” See On George Will’s “Happy Eye.” There I noted Will’s saying a columnist needs three seductive skills, with the third being, “be gifted at changing the subject frequently.’” I said I’d “learned to change the subject so frequently that my family says my writing ‘goes all over the place.’” And that I would try to “improve my column-writing Unity and Coherence.” 

Re: Thinking while walking. See The Science of Why You Do Your Best Thinking While Walking, How Walking Enhances Cognitive Performance | Psychology Today, and Why The Greatest Minds Take Long Walks – Canva: “Why everyone from Beethoven, Goethe, Dickens, Darwin to Steve Jobs took long walks and why you should too.”

Re: The “travel for travel’s sake” quote. See Quote by Robert Louis Stevenson: “For my part…”

The lower image is courtesy of Lyon Part Dieu Train Station – Image Results.

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An update – Stevenson Trail “REST of the Way…”

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Is this what we’ll see, hiking into Saint-Jean-du-Gard after 15 days on the GR 70 in France?

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October 12, 2023 – My last post said I’d add updates – to that September 10 post – as I hiked the Robert Louis Stevenson Trail, in France. But alas, I never got the chance. The days were just too hectic, the “free” French WiFi was iffy at best, and most days it was enough just to shower, wash that day’s clothes for the next day, and get a good meal – at the end of the day. I also said I’d put those updates between two sets of asterisks (below), which is what I’ll do now, now that I’m back home in God’s Country, safe and sound. (As this first week back moves along. It’s taking some time to get over the jet lag and get back up to speed, like understanding what people around me are saying…)

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September 10, 2023 – In my last post, Stevenson Trail – from Le Puy to La Bastide-Puylaurent, I wrote about my upcoming trip to France, to Hike the GR70. (The Robert Louis Stevenson Trail, described in his 1879 book, Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes.) There I wrote about the first half of the hike. I wanted to do a second post to cover the rest, but alas, the time for doing that has run out: Today’s the day. Meaning later this evening I’ll be on my way, leaving the ATL on a red-eye flight. (And getting to Paris early Monday morning.)

The thing is, while I’m in France I’ll only have a tablet, not a laptop. With every thing I can call my own for a month supposedly weighing 15 pounds or less, all in one pack. So finishing another post while overseas will be problematic to say the least. So I’ll try this: Write up this post beforehand, then update it as I hike the Trail. (After enjoying Paris and Lyon.)

Then I’ll put in updates “on the road,” between these two sets of asterisks:

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And now for the delayed updates: For starters, I’ll have to update the Trail – from Le Puy to La Bastide-Puylaurent – my next-to-last post – in the post or posts I’ll do next. For one thing, the journey from Le Puy – pronounced “Le Pew,” as in Pepé Le Pew – down to Bastide turned out a bit different than anticipated. Different details, adventures and fill-in-the-blanks kind of stuff.

Like our first day’s hike on Sunday, September 17. We got to in Le Monastier-sur-Gazeille only to find the whole town closed for the night. Which made it the first of several “beerless nights.” (See the note below on my definition of a Camino hike.) And we did end up days later at Camping Nature Beyond the Clouds, “located on a volcanic plateau at an altitude of 1100m [3,600 feet] with an unobstructed view of all horizons.” That was the first of several “Kamping Kabins,” of the type featured at KOA Kampgrounds back in the states. But we had to wait until the next morning to see the low-lying clouds in the valley below to see why it got that name.

But mostly I remember rocks. Lots of rocks, strewn in, around and across the paths. And I remember thinking to myself, quite often during the early days of the hike, “If you fall, fall backwards. The pack will cushion you.” On that note I only slipped and fell two times, both on the last day. The second time possibly because I was in a hurry to get to the final destination. But the first time happened because of a particularly moist and misty early morning dew. It collected on some slick, shale-like rock, which made my left foot slip as I tried to climb up and over this particular rock… And I fell to the left, tweaking my left ankle.

I walked gingerly on it the rest of that day and well into the rest-day that followed.

But to do justice to the journey I really need to devote at least two more posts on it. Meaning, “so much for my experiment of thinking I could post updates while on an actual ‘Camino hike.’” Which I define as a hike where you don’t have to pack a tent, sleeping bag and all your food. Instead, at the end of each day you look forward to a room with a warm bed, hot shower and cold beer. And which also means it’s time to get back to the original post, which will cover me until I can get over my jet lag and back to my at-home rhythm. And share some of the inspirational lessons I learned along the way. After all, this Stevenson Trail hike was a pilgrimage:

A pilgrimage is a journey, often into an unknown or foreign place, where a person goes in search of new or expanded meaning about their self, others, nature, or a higher good through the experience. It can lead to a personal transformation, after which the pilgrim returns to their daily life

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Returning to the original September 10 post: So stay tuned! Meanwhile, for a preview of those last 50 miles I checked Robert Louis Stevenson Trail – Enlightened Traveller®. Here are the highlights. From La Bastide-Puylaurent, we climb to “Chambonnet Plateau, cross the Atlantic-Mediterranean watershed, and head down valley to picture-postcard Chasseradès.” (And enter “Cévennes proper,” to which the terms “rugged” and “mountainous” aptly apply.)

Then comes a memorable climb to Mont Lozère and Le Pic de Finiels, the highest point in south-central France. “A short and relatively-steep descent is followed by a gentle hike to Finiels. Then follow a picturesque trail into Camisard Country and Le Pont de Montvert.” Heading to Florac we’re supposed to see “memorable views over the ‘blue waves’ of the Cevennes hills,” with alternate views of Mediterranean and Alpine flora, “and back again.”

In the “steep-sided, red rock” Mimente Valley we’ll pass by “menhirs and chestnut groves, the traditional staff of life in the Cevennes.” Which leads to the end of the trip, at Saint-Jean-du-Gard. (After hiking up the Corniche des Cevennes, said to offer 360-degree “last-gasp photos.” See also Cévennes – Wikipedia: “The Corniche des Cévennes (the D 907) is a spectacular road between St-Jean-Gard and Florac. [Or vice-versa.) It was constructed at the beginning of the 18th century to enable the movement of Louis XIV’s troops during his conflict with the Camisards.”)

Anyway, Stevenson reached the town on October 3, 1878. We will reach it – if all goes according to plan – on October 3, 2023. 145 years to the day after Stevenson ended his journey. And sold his faithful donkey Modestine, then took a stagecoach to Alès. We will take a day off from our hikes. (Of four, six and five days hiking in a row, with two days off in between.) Then take a train to Ales, and from there head back to Paris and on home to the States.

In the meantime, if you’re interested check out Walking the GR70 Chemin de Stevenson – I Love Walking In France. I listed some of my own reasons for doing such hikes in prior posts, but mostly I do it for the adventure. And the challenge, and to get away from the rut of ordinary, everyday life. But I’ll probably add more reasons, while I’m hiking, in those updates from France. (Between the two sets of asterisks above.) In the meantime, wish me Happy Hiking!

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The hiking was mostly happy, but challenging, as I hope to detail in future posts. (While also commenting on upcoming Feast days, like October 18’s remembering St. Luke – physician, historian, artist. See also On Saints Luke, and James of Jerusalem – 2021.) The food was great, as were the many spectacular views from the tops of all those hills in the Cevennes. Which is another way of saying I’m still looking for an answer for people who ask, “Why would anyone want to do that?

The upper image is courtesy of St Jean Du Gard France – Image Results.

The lower image is courtesy of Pilgrimage – Image Resultswhich led me to Why the Oldest Form of Travel Could Be the Most Popular in a Post=COVID World: “Pilgrimages are the oldest form of travel,” from the start to go to shrines or temples and leave offerings, and/or connect to God or ancestors. Also defined as a “hyper-meaningful journey” or “sacred endeaver,” making it different from regular forms of travel or leisure; “it is the meaning or transformation that occurs.”

One pilgrimage that has exploded is the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage routes in Europe. There are many pathways, but one of the main pathways is the Camino Frances, which is a trail that goes from France to the Santiago de Compostela Cathedral in Santiago, Spain. 

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The Stevenson Trail – from Le Puy to La Bastide-Puylaurent

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A view of Le Puy-en-Velay
Le Puy en Velay, where “we” begin a 15-day, 150-mile hike on the Stevenson Trail, in France…

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After my last-post rueful meditation on a possible second Trump term, it’s time I turned back to some fun stuff. Like Walking the GR70. (The Robert Louis Stevenson Trail, described in his book, Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes.) For starters, I’ll meet up with my two hiking companions in Le Puy-en-Velay. (After two days in Paris and two days in Lyon.) Then, after a day spent in Le Puy we’ll start the hike, about which I’ve done some research.

One site said that for the first few days after leaving Le Puy en Velay, “the GR 70 passes through forests and farmlands and the countryside appears deceptively gentle (although your leg muscles will likely disagree!). This is quintessential rural France.” But then, days later, “As the path approaches Mont-Lozère and climbs Col de Finiels (the highest point on the walk), the vegetation – and the livestock – disappears.” Tall rock formations line the edge of the trail and “during the walking season, the path is open and exposed to fierce sunshine and biting winds.”

But that comes after 50 miles of hiking, and 26 miles after Langogne, of which more later.

Then, 16 miles after climbing Col de Finiels, we come to Cévennes National Park. Of which another site said: “Continuing south to the Cévennes National Park, the GR 70 returns to the shelter of the forest with occasional glimpses through the trees to the wooded hills beyond. As you conquer each ridge, you’ll be richly rewarded with panoramic views of a landscape that appears to have been untouched for millennia.” Something to look forward to.

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Our first night after Le Puy is in Le Monastier-sur-Gazeille. That’s where Stevenson met an old man, “Father Adam,” and bought Modestine. He needed a donkey to “carry his sleeping pack, food supplies and other essentials needed for his journey.” When we hike into that town we should first pass by “Le Modestine,” an eatery, then a bit further “Bar Snack le Stevenson.”

After leaving Le Monastier we “commence with a short and relatively steep descent into the Upper Loire Valley. Then climb over 400 metres, through charming hamlets and across volcanic plateau.” On the trail to Pradelles – one of France’s “most beautiful villages” – the ascents and descents are less steep, but the trail is “far from flat… Climb to the volcanic plateau from the Arquejol Viaduct before descending through forest to the granite ‘City of the High Prairies.'”

Whatever that is. Maybe the “camping beyond the clouds,” below.

Which leads to a side note: Some addresses on my brother’s spreadsheet are hard to find on Google Maps. Like, on leaving Le Monastier we hike 11.5 miles to some place I couldn’t find. (Which is why they call such activities “exploring.”) I’m thinking we end up in Landos, on the trail from Le Monastier to Longogne, of which more later. From there we hike 11 miles and end up at Camping Nature Beyond the Clouds. (So named because it’s “located on a volcanic plateau at an altitude of 1100m [3,600 feet] with an unobstructed view of all horizons.”)

And it’s still 35 miles before we get to climb the Col de Finiels.

So anyway, after “Camping Beyond the Clouds” we hike 9.5 miles to a place on Route de Brugeyrolles, in Langogne. Google Maps shows two routes, the shortest 10.2 miles. (The spreadsheet says 9.5 miles.) Either way, we take our first day off there.

In his book Stevenson described the countryside “but nothing on the town itself,” even though it was the largest town on his route. And speaking of Langogne, I mentioned it in last May’s Gearing up for the Stevenson Trail. I ended the post noting the “infamous Beast of Gévaudan.” The Beast was said to be a “man-eating ogre” prowling the area of Langogne. (“It” first attacked a young woman tending cattle in the Mercoire Forest near Langogne, in the early summer of 1764.) I said I definitely needed to do “more research on that topic.”

Here’s what I learned. Stevenson mentioned it in “Camp in the Dark,” in his Travels. It turns out the Beast terrorized the province of Gévaudan, which we pass through. But as it also turns out, it was apparently shot and killed by a local hunter, Jean Chastel, in 1767. The killings stopped after that. On the other hand, one theory said the attacks were really caused by wolves:

Attacks by wolves were a very serious problem during the era, not only in France but throughout Europe, with thousands of deaths attributed to wolves in the 18th century alone. In the spring of 1765, in the midst of the Gévaudan hysteria, an unrelated series of attacks occurred near the commune of Soissons, northeast of Paris, when an individual wolf killed at least four people over a period of two days before being tracked and killed by a man armed with a pitchfork. Such incidents were fairly typical in rural parts of western and central Europe.

One site said on leaving Langogne we pass through “forest and charming hamlet en route to the medieval village,” Cheylard-l’Évêque, where we’ll spend Friday night. (After hiking 10.5 miles.) From there we go off the trail, the 11.8 miles to Saint-Étienne-de-Lugdarès. (Arriving Saturday afternoon, we hope.) On Sunday we hike a long 13.8 miles to La Bastide-Puylaurent.

Stevenson stayed at a Trappist monastery a mile and a half east of town. He described his stay at Notre-Dame-des-Neiges – “Our Lady of the Snows” – in a chapter of the same name. Nearing it he described the weather as desolate and inclement, and that he experienced a “slavish, superstitious fear.” (For one thing, places to stay were much harder to find back then; thus his “camping”) Aside from the monks – generally sworn to a vow of silence – he encountered only two other boarders, retraitants. (A word that can mean “retreater,” retiree or pensioner.)

One was a country parish priest, the other a retired “old soldier.” (He first came as a boarder, then decided to stay on as a novitiate.) At supper the first night the talk turned to politics, which led to a brief flareup. Next morning over coffee they “found out I was a heretic.” (In his 20’s he rejected Christianity and declared himself an atheist.) What followed? “Now the hunt was up.” He tried to defend himself but got instead a long lecture on the “harrowing details of hell.” The haranguing went on until finally Stevenson protested against “this uncivil usage.” That led to a comment that the two had “no other feeling but interest in your soul.” All of which is a reminder: “Never discuss politics, religion or the Great Pumpkin” with people you don’t know.

With that comment, “there ended my conversion.” Stevenson waited until after supper to saddle up Modestine and set off for Chasseradès. That’s a former commune – which merged with Mont Lozère et Goulet in 2017 – some six miles southwest of Le Bastide. And we too will stop at Chasserades, on our way to Le Bleymard, after a “mere” 8.2 mile hike.

I’ll cover that “rest of the hike” in my next post, which I hope will be before I leave for Paris.

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Abbey of Notre-Dame des Neiges, where “retraitants” tried to save RLS‘s soul…

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The full link of the first source: Walking the GR70 Chemin de Stevenson – I Love Walking In France. See also Robert Louis Stevenson Trail GR70 – The Enlightened Traveller®. Both reviewers sometimes took different routes than those on our itinerary, so I’ll have to fill in those details in my After action report. (Compare that with an After-action review.)

For the “Great Pumpkin,” see Never Discuss Politics, Religion or the Great Pumpkin (ABC News):

Consider Linus, never without his blanket, as he philosophizes: ‘There are three things I’ve learned never to discuss with people: religion, politics and the Great Pumpkin…” [In discussing] the difference between believing in Santa Claus and believing in the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown observes, “We are obviously separated by denominational differences.”

(BTW: In Mont Lozère et Goulet we’ll still be 12.3 miles north of Col de Finiels.)

The lower image is courtesy of Abbey of Notre-Dame des Neiges – Wikipedia.

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On visiting Paris and Lyon in 2023

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Paris – note the Eiffel Tower – as seen from the dome of La Basilique du Sacré Cœur

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July 24, 2023 – It won’t be long now. Next mid-September, two companions and I will hike the Stevenson Trail in France, starting in Le Puy-en-Velay. But first I’ll have to get there, through Paris, then by train some 280 miles southeast to Lyon. (A place I’ve never been.) I’ll stay two nights in each place, then take a train-and-bus combo some 84 miles southwest to Le Puy. (Oddly enough, getting to Le Puy from Lyon will take about as long as from Paris to Lyon.)

Those two nights each – Paris and Lyon – mean I’ll have some time for sightseeing. But that also means I have to plan carefully, to get the biggest bang for my buck. (So to speak.)

But first, Paris. After arriving at De Gaulle airport – early in the morning – I’ll take the RER Train B to the Gare du Nord. (18 Rue de Dunkerque.) Then (as I wrote about the 2021 trip), “out the exit past the Starbucks, and take a left and onto Rue la Fayette.” That’s assuming I can find the exit. In 2021 I had a heck of a time finding how to get from the lower level up to the ground floor and then out into the sunshine. (And a sidewalk cafe.) Here’s hoping experience is a good teacher.

In Paris I booked a room near the swanky Hipotel Paris Voltaire Bastille. It’s about a two-mile hike from Gare du Nord, but I’ll have some time to kill. Check-in isn’t until 2:00. From there – barring jet lag – I’ll have some sights to see. In 2021 I wanted to visit a place on the outskirts, Choisy-le-Roi. On my first visit in 1979, a young lady-friend and I camped at a youth hostel there. In a little tent, “very romantic,” between the Seine and Marne Rivers. (“Is the hostel still there?”)

This trip too it would be nice to visit La Basilique du Sacré Cœur de Montmartre.

Shown at the top of the page, the Basilica is “at the summit of the butte of Montmartre.” Said to be visible from most parts of Paris, it also offers a great panorama of the city itself. Plus it would be nice to visit Montmartre, interested as I am in Impressionist painting and painters. But to get to either Choisy-le-Roi or Montmartre I’ll have to take the Métro, said to be the haunt of numerous Pickpockets and Scams. I’ll let you know how that works out. Or I may just say the hell with it and confine myself to walking tours based around the Île de la Cité.

On that note, it turns out my room is less than a mile from the Père Lachaise Cemetery, where notables like Jim Morrison and Oscar Wilde are buried. Plus it’s a nice shady place for a walk – without a pack – through its wooded 106 acres. And when it’s time to leave Paris, the room is a mere mile hike to Gare Lyon, for my train down for two nights in Lyon.

Speaking of Lyon, I once wrote that – as I once thought – hotels were cheaper there than in Paris. That turns out not to be true. For some reason, most places I checked added on either a hefty “cleaning fee,” or a hefty damage deposit. (Supposedly refundable but I hate paying “deposits.”) That routinely doubled the price of what I thought at first was an affordable room. I ended up paying more for two nights in Lyon than two nights in Paris.

I finally booked a do-able room just across the Rhone River from “Presqu’île,” the peninsula center-of-the-city formed by the confluence of the Rhône and Saône rivers. As in Paris, I’ll get to Lyon before noon, some hours before check-in. But the room is only another two-mile, 45-minute hike, from the Gare de Lyon-Perrache. And on the way is the Damn Fine Bookstore.

It’s billed as one of the few places to get books in English outside Paris. Plus it has a cafe, where I’ll spend some time between arrival and check-in. Then too, once it’s time to head down to Le Puy, it’s only a little over a mile hike from the room to the Lyon Part Dieu station, where I head southwest. Getting there on time won’t be a problem. I don’t leave Lyon until early afternoon.

Back to that room in Lyon. It’s less than a mile to Place Bellecour, third-largest public square in France. More important for me is it’s less than two miles to the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourvière. Like the Paris Basilique du Sacré Cœur, it too is said to offer a spectacular view of the city. And speaking of those two church towers – Paris and Lyon – the dome of the Basilica of the Sacréd Heart of Montmartre is said to have 300 steps to the top. The dome of the Basilica of “Our Lady” (the Virgin Mary) is said to have 287 steps to the top. With the other walking tours I’ll make in both cities, climbing those 587 stairs all the way to the top – and back down again – will be good training. Good training for that 15-day, 150-mile hike on the Stevenson Trail.

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The upper image is courtesy of View From Sacre Coeur Basilica Montmartre – Image Results.

In writing this post I used past posts like Countdown to Paris – 2021, Hiking over the Pyrenees, in 2021 – finally, A post-trip post mortem for “Paris – 2021,” and Gearing up for the Stevenson Trail.

On “Bang for buck,” see Wikipedia on the idiom of getting “greater worth for the money used:

The phrase “bigger bang for the buck” was notably used by U.S. President Dwight D. Eisenhower‘s Secretary of DefenseCharles Erwin Wilson, in 1954. He used it to describe the New Look policy of depending on nuclear weapons, rather than a large regular army, to keep the Soviet Union in check.

I didn’t know that last bit of history, one reason I enjoy blogging. Those “rabbit trails…”

For more the Sacré-Cœur Basilica see the Wikipedia article.

On the Paris Metro’s “Les pickpockets,” see How to Avoid Pickpockets and Scams in Paris, Pickpocketing Has Skyrocketed in Paris Over the Past Year, and The Paris Pickpocket: How to Recognize and Avoid Them. Or Google. The Eiffel Tower is said to be the place they like best.

On “15 days,” etc. That includes two days off, not hiking. My brother Tom figured 151.3 actual miles hiking, though with two question marks for miles figured for two days near the end of the hike.

The lower image is courtesy of View From Basilica Of Notre-dame De Fourviere Lyon – Image Results. See also Basilique Notre Dame De Fourviere, Lyon | Ticket Price, indicating a price of six Euros, and that the best time to visit is between 3:00 and 6:00 p.m.

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Still pushing the envelope, at “ripe old” 72…

At 72 I could turn into a crusty old curmudgeon, or still have Mountaintop Experiences…

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July 10, 2023 – In Gearing up … Stevenson Trail I noted that in September – a mere two months from now – I’ll fly back to Paris. From there I’ll join my two hiking companions and start the Robert Louis Stevenson Trail. (In Le Puy-en-Velay, 340 miles southeast of Paris.) Which brings up a post I did some time ago, on why an old guy like me would keep on doing things, like a multi-day 150-mile hike in a far-away foreign country. (Like Italy’s Way of St. Francis last year, and before that three separate hikes on the Camino de Santiago.)

John Steinbeck explained it pretty well. He began Part Two of Travels with Charley by noting the many men his age who – told to slow down – “pack their lives in cotton wool, smother their impulses, hood their passions, and gradually retire from their manhood.” (They “trade their violence for a small increase in life span.”) But that wasn’t his way:

I did not want to surrender fierceness for a small gain in yardage…  If this projected journey should prove too much then it was time to go anyway. I see too many men delay their exits with a sickly, slow reluctance to leave the stage. It’s bad theater as well as bad living.

In plain words he didn’t want to turn into just another old fart, and neither do I. (I.e., an older person, typically male, who holds “old-fashioned views.”) By the way, that Free Dictionary definition has a disclaimer, that the page “may contain content that is offensive or inappropriate for some readers.” To which I would say, “Get over it, Nancy!”

And speaking of old farts, Steinbeck was 60 years old when he wrote Travels, including that stuff about Old Age. To which I would say, “Punk! And young punk at that!” (Oh to be 60 again… Not!)

But we were talking about 150-mile hikes in foreign countries, and why an old guy would still do them. Partly because they are pilgrimages, giving us a break from “real life,” from the rat race. That last part doesn’t really apply to me; I’m retired and can enjoy life. But as we started to say on the Way of St. Francis last year, “It sure beats playing bingo at the Senior Center!” Aside from that, a pilgrimage can be “‘one of the most liberating of personal experiences.” And on a Camino hike that hot shower, warm bed and cold beer at the end of each day helps too.

Beyond that, I wouldn’t want to be guilty of Bad Theater. Then too, my brother Tom – one hiking companion next September – reacted to a past-pilgrimage blog-post and had this to say:

Read your blog on the trip and I think there is one point where you give [undue] credence to the view of the “pat-pat” people of the world. The issue is the idea that only people, “not in their right minds,” would go to places (or do things) that are unique experiences – ones that most others never have. In my mind, this is exactly what people in their right mind should be doing. I pity those who don’t.

Which mirrors what Stevenson said in Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes. (On his 12-day, 120-mile solo hike through sparsely populated, impoverished Cévennes in south-central France.) He described one night setting up camp in a place “black as a pit, but admirably sheltered.” He ate a crude dinner – a tin of bologna and some cake, washed down by brandy – then settled in, despite the tempest around him. As he put it, “The wind among the trees was my lullaby.” He woke in the morning “surprised to find how easy and pleasant it had been … even in this tempestuous weather.” He then waxed poetic, in part about seeking such adventure all his life:

Alas, as we get up in life, and are more preoccupied with our affairs, even a holiday is a thing that must be worked for. To hold a pack upon a pack-saddle against a gale out of the freezing north is no high industry, but it is one that serves to occupy and compose the mind. And when the present is so exacting, who can annoy himself about the future?

On a Camino hike today you focus, you concentrate solely on getting up in the morning and reaching that day’s down-the-road destination. On how good the fresh-squeezed orange juice and Café Crème taste now, and how good that first cold beer at the end of the day’s hike will taste. You are mindful. You experience the eternal now. In plain words you don’t give a rat’s ass about the future and what problems it might bring. That in itself is liberating.

These days we have plenty of future to worry about. (Things that might happen but hopefully won’t.) So it’s rewarding to take a break from the nowaday sleepless nights and concentrate on reaching today’s destination, everything you own on your back, and looking forward to that hot shower, warm bed and cold beer. Or it could come down to this basic lesson in life: “To have a mountaintop experience, you have to climb the &^*@$# mountain!

I dread the day when I have no more mountains to climb…

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The upper image is courtesy of Jeff Dunham Walter – Image Results. Jeff Dunham is a ventriloquist with puppet characters including “Walter.” See Walter | Jeff dunham Wiki | Fandom: “Walter is a retired, grumpy old man with arms always crossed in discontent… He has a brash, negative and often sarcastic view on today’s world.” For a live version see Some of the Best of Walter | JEFF DUNHAM – YouTube, about “your favorite opinionated, gray-haired grump in the trunk.”

Re: Curmudgeon. Per Wiktionary, an ill-tempered person, usually old, full of stubborn opinions or ideas.

Re: “Nancy.” I was thinking of “walk it off Nancy,” something like “rub some dirt on it” in a sport setting. Meaning to “be strong,” “be tough” or “stop complaining,” as when you suffer and injury. See also Urban Dictionary: Negative Nancy, referring to a killjoy, someone constantly negative about everything in life, and also referring to “Nancy boy” as an effete male. Or someone “uncomfortable in their own skin,” in the world around them or with social situations around them. Who knew?

Re: Stevenson’s book, considered a “pioneering classic of outdoor literature.” See also my post On donkey travel – and sluts.

The lower image is courtesy of Mountaintop Experience – Image Results. See also I’ve Been to the Mountaintop – Wikipedia.

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Gearing up for the Stevenson Trail in France…

http://walkinginfrance.info/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/Travels1.jpg
The book that inspired our next hike, 150 miles in France, coming up this September…

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To get to the hike on the Stevenson Trail in France, I have to go back to Paris – again!

This will be my third time back, actually. I first visited the City of Light in 1979, in the company of a young co-ed named Janine. When she finished a semester abroad in London, we toured Europe via Eurail Pass. (Including two days in Paris.) The second time was in 2021, when I met up with three hiking companions. They were going to hike the full Camino de Santiago, starting from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port on the French side of the Pyrenees. I only hiked as far as Burgos, in Spain, for reasons explained in Countdown to Paris – 2021. (I’d already hiked to Santiago twice, but hadn’t hiked over the Pyrenees. And felt guilty about missing that.)

Next September, 2023, two of those hiking companions* and I will hike the Stevenson Trail, starting in Le Puy-en-Velay, 340 miles southeast of Paris. But first comes Paris. More specifically, first comes the half-hour train ride from De Gaulle airport to the Gare du Nord. As noted in the ’21 post, “I’ll take the RER Train B to the Gare du Nord. (18 Rue de Dunkerque.) Then out the exit past the Starbucks, and take a left and onto Rue la Fayette.” And by the way, in 2021 I had a heck of a time just getting out of the Gare du Nord, up one flight to the streets of Paris. I didn’t see any clear exit signs, but hopefully this time “experience will be the best teacher.”

In 2021 I had a list of things to do in two days on my own, including a visit to Notre-Dame:

But there is one place on the outskirts that I definitely want to visit… As I recently learned, Choisy-le-Roi is where Henry Kissinger conducted secret negotiations … to end the Vietnam war, in 1972. But back in 1979 it was also home to a youth hostel, and on the grounds of that hostel [Janine and I] camped in a little tent, between the Seine and Marne Rivers. With the moonlight shining through the tent flap… (Can you say, “romantic interlude?”)

I didn’t get to see Choisy-le-Roi in 2021, but maybe this time…

Back to the September trip. Early on, getting ready for that hike, I thought of visiting Arles. (In the south of France, of Vincent van Gogh fame?) I checked and saw a Grande Vitesse high-speed train connection for $43.87, from Paris to Arles. (Second class, Senior discount. A first-class ticket is $50.80, as best I can tell. Paris to Arles by Train from € 25.70 | TGV Tickets & Times.) But the trip from Arles to Le Puy-en-Velay cost almost the same, $48.60. And while it’s 471 miles from Paris to Arles, it’s 132 from Arles to Le Puy-en-Velay, where the hike starts. (Go figure.)

Or I may just take a Grande Vitesse from Paris to Lyon, for a couple of days there. I’ve never been to Lyon, and besides, hotels are a lot cheaper there than in Paris.

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More about that 150-mile, 15-day hike. It follows the trail Stevenson followed for his 1879 book Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes. The first of five chapters is titled Velay, referring to the township in south-central France where our hike will start. Known these days as Le Puy-en-Velay, it’s famous for its cathedral, a special kind of lentil, and lace-making. It’s also the starting point of the Chemin du Puy, one of many pilgrimage routes of the Santiago de Compostela. And finally, it’s known for its green liqueur “Verveine du Velay,” flavored with verbena. (A liqueur “normally taken after a meal as a digestif, but it can also be used in cocktails.”)

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Another note to get out of the way. This next hike may have been “preordained before the beginning of time.” Or at least strongly foreshadowed by a post I did in February 2015, On donkey travel – and sluts. (A heads up: Stevenson’s word “sluts” had a different meaning in 1879, explained in the notes.) The post started off saying Stevenson’s 1879 book inspired the theme and title of John Steinbeck‘s 1962 travelog, Travels with Charley. (Steinbeck called Stevenson’s 1879 book “One of the single greatest works of English literature.”) But mostly the Sluts post talked about why Stevenson, Steinbeck and other “old people” like us would put ourselves through such ordeals. (Mostly it’s because it “beats playing Bingo at the Senior Center!”)

So anyway, Travels with a Donkey recounted a “12-day, 120-mile solo hiking journey through the sparsely populated and impoverished areas of the Cévennes mountains in south-central France in 1878.” The book itself – considered a pioneering classic of outdoor literature – describes some of Stevenson’s trials and tribulations. (Which seem part and parcel of pioneering: “One of the first people to do something.”) One such trial involved what a pain it was to get the donkey – “Modestine” – to move at anything more than a virtual crawl. (She was, said Wikipedia, “a stubborn, manipulative donkey [Stevenson] could never quite master.”) Incidentally, hikers today can rent a donkey, for something like $1,000, but we chose to forego that option.

Another trial? The whole idea of “camping” – especially while hiking – was totally new:

[Travels with a Donkey] is one of the earliest accounts to present hiking and camping outdoors as a recreational activity. It also tells of commissioning one of the first sleeping bags, large and heavy enough to require a donkey to carry. Stevenson is several times mistaken for a peddler, the usual occupation of someone traveling in his fashion. Some locals are horrified that he would sleep outdoors … because of wolves or robbers.

But here’s a news flash. Wolves and robbers aren’t such a problem any more. (I hope.) Plus, the area is no longer sparsely populated, hikers aren’t seen as strange “peddlers,” and you don’t have to camp outside as Stevenson did. See Walking the GR70 Chemin de Stevenson – I Love Walking In France. Stevenson “could not have imagined that one hundred years later, thousands of walkers would be inspired to follow in his footsteps.” Also, “There are plenty of options for overnight accommodation* on a long-distance walk along the Chemin de Stevenson.”

Getting back to the sluts. In the part, “Upper Gevaudan – A Camp in the Dark,” Stevenson wrote of trying to get to Le Cheylard l’Évêque, “a place on the borders of the forest of Mercoire.” There was no direct route, and it was “two o’clock in the afternoon before I got my journal written up and my knapsack repaired.” Besides – he was told – it would only take an hour and a half to get there. But he got lost, and finally “rejoiced” when he found Sagne-Rousse.

He went on his way “rejoicing in a sure point of departure.” (He knew where he was on the map.) In the meantime it rained and hailed alternately, and the wind kicked up. Two hours later he ended up “tacking through” a bog when he finally found a village and a crowd of locals, including children. But when he moved toward them to ask directions, “children and cattle began to disperse, until only a pair of [12-year-old] girls remained behind.” The local peasants were – he said – “but little disposed to counsel a wayfarer,” and one “old devil simply retired into his house, and barricaded the door.” That left only one source of guidance, but:

As for these two girls, they were a pair of impudent sly sluts, with not a thought but mischief. One put out her tongue at me, the other bade me follow the cows; and they both giggled and jogged each other’s elbows.

So he proceeded on. He finally found another village, but no one answered when he knocked on doors seeking shelter for the night. Finally he had to set up camp in the pitch-black night:

All the other houses in the village were both dark and silent; and though I knocked at here and there a door, my knocking was unanswered. It was a bad business; I gave up Fouzilhac with my curses. The rain had stopped, and the wind, which still kept rising, began to dry my coat and trousers. ‘Very well,’ thought I, ‘water or no water, I must camp.’ 

So much for being a pioneer. And incidentally, at the end of “Camp in the Dark,” Stevenson brings up “the infamous Beast of Gévaudan,” a man-eating ogre said to prowl the area. (Gévaudan, 48700 Monts-de-Randon” is 54 miles southeast of Le Puy-en-Velay.)

I definitely need to do more research on that topic before starting the hike, and maybe for my next gearing-up post. But in the meantime, “First comes Paris – Again!

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Next September I’ll be hiking Robert Louis Stevenson Trail, but – FIRST COMES PARIS! 

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The upper image is courtesy of Robert Louis Stevenson Trail – Walking in France. I used it as the lead image for the February 2015 post On donkey travel – and sluts, in my companion blog. I did a follow-up post on the Trail – kind of – in March 2015’s On “I pity the fool!”

Re: “City of Light.” Something I didn’t know, all those lights were installed to prevent widespread murder. “In the 1660s, Paris was Europe’s murder capital. Even senior police and bureaucrats were being found in pools of blood… To prevent Paris’ violent crooks” – and murderers – “from hiding in shadows, the king ordered almost 3,000 street lanterns be erected to light Paris brightly at night, making it the first large European city to have evening illumination and earning it the City of Light title.” From the link, Paris’ Nickname ‘the City of Light’ Has a Gruesome Backstory.

Aside from posts noted elsewhere, the bibliography for this post includes, beginning with my own Countdown to Paris – 2021, from this blog: Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes – Wikipedia, GR 70 – Wikipedia, Robert Louis Stevenson Trail GR70 – The Enlightened Traveller, and Stevenson Trail Gr-70 – my 11 days hike through France. See also On donkey travel – and sluts, February 2015, On “I pity the fool,” March 2015, On St. James, Steinbeck, and sluts, from September 2016, and On Saint James the Pilgrim – and “Transfiguration 2021,” from October 2021, all from my companion blog.

Re: Companions. In September 2021, the hiking companions were my brother Tom, his wife Carol, and Carol’s brother Ray. I hiked over the Pyrenees with them, and through Pamplona to Burgos in Spain. The full Camino route they took was the French Way. In September 2022, Tom, Carol and I did a 15-day hike in Italy. See Some highlights – Way of St. Francis 2022.

Re: Plenty of options for overnight accommodation. See the I Love Walking In France post:

There are plenty of options for overnight accommodation on a long-distance walk along the Chemin de Stevenson… The longest section, from Le Pont-de-Montvert to Bédouès-Cocurès, requires a walk of 23.5 kilometres (14.7 miles) or, if you wish to spend the following night in Florac, you will need to cover an additional five kilometres (three miles) of walking. To avoid this, a shortcut along the GR 68 will allow you to reduce the walk by six kilometres.

(Click the link to see the full list of possible places to stay for the night along the Trail.)

For the last part of this post I borrowed extensively from The Annotated ‘Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes’/A Camp in the Dark. Also, Sagne-Rousse is a “hamlet in LozèreOccitanie … situated nearby to the localities Lou Debarras and Gourgouline.” As to Fouzilhac, see GR®70 Segment 4 : From Langogne to Fouzilhac – AllTrails. From Langogne to Fouzilhac: “Head out on this 7.8-mile point-to-point trail near Langogne, Lozère. Generally considered a moderately challenging route, it takes an average of 3 h 18 min to complete.” 

The lower image is courtesy of Paris City Of Love – Image Results. Or Google “paris city of lights.”

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The Okefenokee – “Haven of Serenity” or Deadly Swamp?

“Man overboard!” – My brother paddling over to help two Scouts whose canoe capsized…

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This post presents the second half of my account of paddl[ing] across the Okefenokee!

In Part One I wrote about finally bisecting the Okefenokee Swamp, eight long years after I first got the idea. I wanted to paddle a kayak – or canoe – all the way across, from east to west. From the east entrance at the Suwannee Canal Recreation Area, near Folkston, then from the west entrance at Foster State Park, near Fargo, Georgia. And “meet in the middle.*”

Part One included background, like how I got so fascinated by the Swamp in the first place. It went on to describe my brother Tom and I starting the trip. We put in at the SCRA east entrance last February 14, a Tuesday. (And Valentine’s Day.) We made it down to Monkey Lake camping shelter. But that Tuesday is pretty much as far as I got in the post. I told of the first day’s paddling, and how I “slooshed” the dinner dishes that night, leaning over into the water. (With an eye out for lurking gators, lest I be “surprised”) And of closing the day with a shot or two of O-be-joyful, which itself has a fair amount of American historical precedent.

Briefly, in my first attempt in 2015 – paddling an eight-foot kayak, towing a small “tag-along” rubber dinghy – I got as far west as Coffee Bay shelter. In my second try – in the same kayak and tag-along – I made it as far east as the Canal Run shelter. For this last try Tom and I each had a canoe, which gave us a lot more room for traveling supplies. My goal – at least – was to close that wide gap between the Coffee Bay and Canal Run shelters.

And with that, to finally say I’d paddled all the way across the Okefenokee, east to west.

Moving on, to Wednesday, February 15 – On this second day of the trip we paddled the seven water miles from Monkey Lake back up to the Cedar Hammock shelter. That’s the shelter where I camped, alone, eight years before, my first overnight trip into the Swamp. We saw a local gator lurking, looking for handouts, but I doubt it was the same one I’d seen back in 2015. Plus, back in 2015 I had a small “two-man” tent, along with a camp chair and two beers in a cooler. But the mosquitoes were so bad – that 2015 October – that I didn’t get a chance to enjoy the camp chair much. I had to retreat to that tiny tent way early in the evening.

This time I had a new, bigger “six-person” tent. Big enough to fit a cot, camp chair and all my five days’ supplies inside. Also on that Wednesday paddle up from Monkey Lake, Tom tried paddling while standing up in the canoe. I never tried that; for much-needed “butt breaks” I’d paddle while kneeling in the bottom of the canoe. Incidentally, the next Thursday, February 16, paddling over to Canal Run, we saw a guy coming the other way. He paddled standing up, with his long white hair and long white beard. He and the canoe looked “as one,” as if it was a part of him. And they both looked like they’d been in the Swamp a long, long time.

Which brings up a word about the Okefenokee type of swamp. The Suwanee Canal – where we started on Tuesday and spent all day Saturday on, heading back – runs through the swamp, east to northwest. It’s lined with lots of trees – cypress, mostly – along with downed trees, underbrush and lots of developed “trembling earth.” (Okefenokee means “Trembling Earth.”)

Along the Suwanee Canal there there are some places to stop and get out, if you check those places carefully and wear rubber boots. (At least up to the knees.) But most of the rest of the swamp – including the way up from Monkey Lake – is made up of “prairies.” Unlike the Canal and its tree-lined banks, the prairies offer no place to stop for a butt-break. (Unless you stand up in your canoe.) And they have nothing to block the wind.

We learned that lesson on a windy Thursday, February 16. We “played bumper cars.” The wind bounced us from one side of the eight-foot channel to the other. (And tangled us up in water lilies, small bushes or swamp muck.) The prairies also have lots of swamp grass, for lack of a better term. It looks very dry, even though it’s rooted in water – and that muck. But the gators love it; they love to sun themselves on the matted-up grass that lines most prairie channels.

Thursday, February 16 – This was our first long day, 11 miles paddling to get up to the Round Top shelter. Probably for that reason I didn’t write anything in my journal that evening, after our first day of paddling 11 miles. (Instead of the previous seven miles each, Tuesday and Wednesday.) But that gap gives me a chance to explore the issue, Why? “Why would anyone in his right mind paddle into the Okefenokee Swamp for five days?”

I offered some ideas in March 2015’s “I pity the fool!” Starting with a combo-quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson and Mr. T: “I pity the fool who doesn’t do pilgrimages and otherwise push the envelope,” even at the ripe old age of 71. (In my case.) Also in my case, a quote from when I paddled my kayak miles out into the Gulf of Mexico, to achieve some much-needed closure:

Every once in a while I’d pause, turn off my stop-watch and just enjoy the feeling “of being somewhere, someplace that no one else in his right mind would ever be.” I imagine the explorers back in the olden days had something of the same feeling.

I had other quotes from Emerson and John Steinbeck, on how most people give up and slow down as they age. (While a limited, feisty few don’t.) But maybe the best answer came from our hike on the Way of St. Francis 2022. We’d say, “It beats playing Bingo at the Senior Center!” 

Back to Friday, February 17 – Our original plan for today was another 11-mile paddle, ending up over at the Canal Run shelter. The actual distance from Round Top shelter to Canal Run would make a very short day, so we planned a scenic detour. We’d paddle up to Floyd’s Island and then back down to Canal Run. But some time on Thursday afternoon – paddling those 11 miles – we came up with a Plan B. “The heck with Floyd Island, let’s just paddle straight over to Canal Run.” (“Straight” being relative, as in “relatively straight.”)

I say “relatively” because the National Geographic map shows open water straight west from Round Top over to Canal Run. But the touristy canoe trail – the one you’re supposed to use – shunts way up to the northwest, then trickles back down southwest. (Effectively doubling the paddle-time.) But since discretion is the better part of valor – so they say – we decided to follow the boring canoe trail. Which turned out to be not so boring, and brings up the fact that it’s actually pretty hard to get lost in the Okefenokee. The Suwanee Canal is well marked, as are the canoe trails leading off from it. (Mostly, except for one exception detailed in the notes.) 

In other news, tonight the local gator at Canal Run got a bit too close, so Tom whacked him on the head with a paddle. He still hung around, but stayed just out of paddle-whacking distance.

Saturday, February 18 – This morning came after the coldest night of the trip. It got down to 38 degrees. I had the same sleeping bag I used canoeing 440 miles down the Yukon River,* but it was still hard to sleep. In the morning, first getting up, I stumbled around like the proverbial drunken sailor. I wasn’t drunk. My feet were just that numb from 12 hours of cold. But we started that cold morning knowing that at the end of the day we’d have a hot shower, a cold beer and a warm bed to look forward to. (“Straight” down the Suwanee Canal.)

This was the second-longest day, 10 miles from Canal Run back to the SCRA east entrance.

We made it to the Coffee Bay shelter for lunch, and there ran across a Scout troop. Five adults and seven teenage boys, with lots of horse-assing around. (By the teenage boys.) They eventually left, but we kept running into them on the way back. The last time was almost back to the SCRA take-out. As shown in the picture at the top of the page, that’s where two young Scouts managed to capsize their canoe. This was 15 or 20 minutes after I’d taken the picture of the gator shown at the bottom of the page. (15 or 20 minutes earlier, I think.)

But Tom paddled over and helped them get back in. (With no appearance from the local gator who I’ve heard hangs around SCRA waters.) Incidentally – and on that note – it was only a day or two after we got back that I read about the 85-year-old woman killed in an alligator attack at a Florida golf course. (I’m glad I didn’t read that before we started.)

But seriously, that brings up the question: “How did the Okefenokee get such a lousy reputation?” Is it a Haven of Serenity or a “Deadly Swamp?” Some Okefenokee devotees “swear by its ability to envelope visitors in a haven of serenity.” So there are devotees of the Swamp, and I count myself one of them. I found it a haven of serenity, even with the gators, mosquitoes, and butt-numbing paddling. But offsetting that was the peace and quiet, and a chance to get away from the phone and internet agitations that are so big a part of modern life. Then too:

Alas, as we get up in life, and are more preoccupied with our affairs, even a holiday is a thing that must be worked for. To hold a pack upon a pack-saddle against a gale out of the freezing north is no high industry, but it is one that serves to occupy and compose the mind. And when the present is so exacting, who can annoy himself about the future?

Which is pretty much what I found, paddling away for hours in the quiet marsh. My mind “occupied and composed,” so much so that I wasn’t annoyed by future problems. Or by the problems of our “now” outside world for that matter. (The quote is in 2015’s “I pity the fool,” from Robert Louis Stevenson‘s 1879 book, Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes.) 

On the other hand there’s the negative image from that 1941 movie Swamp Water. I’ve noted how watching it back when I was 11 or 12 got me so fascinated by The Swamp in the first place. Especially watching in horror the scene where Walter Brennan gets bitten in the face by a smiling, evil-looking Cottonmouth. And I think a lot of the Okefenokee’s bad reputation stems from that movie. So “what I’m gonna did” – as Justin Wilson used to say – is review that movie in my next post. I’ll also explore how “Hollywood” can often distort reality.

In the meantime, I enjoy the feeling of accomplishment now that I’ve finally paddled across the Okefenokee, east to west. I’ve crossed that off my Bucket List. (Gators and all.)

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I photographed this gator a mile west of where the two Scouts went into the water…

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I took the picture at the top of the page. The “scout overboard” incident happened the last of five days canoeing around the Okefenokee. Also, for this post I borrowed from past posts like Getting back up to speed – for canoeing and Another paddling adventure – January ’23. And it all started in 2015 with Operation Pogo – “Into the Okefenokee:”

“Meet in the middle.” Coming from the west, to get to the shelter I’d reached heading in from the east.

Re:  “Two-man” tent. I put the term in quotes because one person can barely fit into a two-person tent. As far as the “six-person” tent, Tom and I shared mine after his tent got trashed by the 80-mph windstorm on the Missouri River. It was a tight squeeze with two people, along with their cots.

Re: The second (2016) trip in, to the CANAL RUN shelter, nine miles in from Foster State Park. Among other things I saw 50 alligators in the first hour of paddling. After that I stopped counting.

O-be-joyful” is a code-word for ardent spirits. We brothers – originally four of us – started packing samples in past canoe trips, like down the Missouri River from Fort Benton, MT. That was a way of following in the footsteps of Lewis and Clark, and other American pioneersBack in the old days of our country, whiskey – for example – was used instead of hard currency:

One of the first media of exchange in the United States was classic whiskey.  For men and women of the day, the alcohol did more than put “song in their hearts and laughter on their lips.”  Whiskey was currency.  Most forms of money were extremely scarce in our country after the Revolutionary War, making monetary innovation the key to success.

See Why Whiskey Was Money, and Bitcoins Might Be.

Re: “Trembling earth.” See Floating Peat Islands: The Land of Trembling Earth: “Methane gas under decomposed organic peat causes peat blowups, forming mud peat batteries where herbs and grasses grow. Okefenokee means trembling earth, because of these peat islands.” The article quoted a book on the Swamp, with its “mass of floating vegetable forms, intermingled with moss drift and slime.” The mass formed a “compact floor,” capable of sustaining one character’s weight. But he saw that although the mass “did not at once break through beneath him, could be seen to sink and rise at every step for twenty feet around.”

Re: 2015’s “I pity the fool!” I’ll be updating it after my next post, a review of Swamp Water.  

Re: “Mostly,” as “detailed in the notes.” And on it being hard to get lost in The Swamp. It’s well marked, including the canoe trails that go off from Suwanee Canal. But there was one time when we got near the Suwanee Canal, heading to Canal Run. It looked like the powers-that-be had cut off access to the shelter I was aiming for, “just to piss me off.” I paddled a ways up past the “area closed” sign but didn’t see any way through. When I got back Tom had checked his map, always a good thing to do. The lesson? In my case don’t over-react and assume people are out to piss you off for no good reason. And by the way, I kept this out of the main text in the interest of UCC, “that unity and coherence crap.” My family tells me my writing “goes all over the place,” and I’m trying to fix that. Also, the episode was mostly just embarrassing to me, though it did provide a bit of extra exercise.

Re: Canoeing 440 miles on the Yukon River. See for example, “Naked lady on the Yukon.” For another canoe adventure, this time in Canada, see “Naked Lady” – on the Rideau Canal?

The Okefenokee quote about its being a “haven of serenity” is from an article in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, Sunday, February 5, 2023, page B5. My brother Bill gave me that story a week or so before I left to head down to Folkston.  

Re: Alligator attack. For further reading see An alligator killed a Florida woman. It doesn’t happen often, but here’s what to do if a gator attacks. Among the nuggets of wisdom: “Predators want easy meals, not battles.” Adult humans are normally considered too big for an alligator, but “a child or small animal — those they’re going to want to go for.” Also, “the sound of dogs playing or barking can actually attract alligators to an area.”

Re: “Donkey in the Cevennes.” Our next big adventure, coming up this September 2023, is hiking the Robert Louis Stevenson Trail … in France. See also GR 70 – Wikipedia. We’ll travel without the donkey.

Re: Hollywood distorting reality. Google “hollywood distort reality,” or see 6 Ways Movies Subtly Distort Reality | Mental Floss, or A Few of the Many Ways We Distort Reality | Psychology Today.

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I paddled across the Okefenokee – finally!

“Man overboard!” – My brother paddling over to help two Scouts whose canoe capsized…

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My last two posts* talked about Finishing Some Unfinished Business. The unfinished business was paddling a kayak – or canoe – all the way across the Okefenokee Swamp, from east to west. I first got the idea of doing that back in early 2015. It took awhile – eight years in fact – but just this past February 2023 I finally got to say, “Mission Accomplished!”

But first I need to apologize. It’s been over a month since I last posted, on Getting “ready, for the Okefenokee.” And we finished the job on February 18, well over three weeks ago. But since I’ve “mission accomplished” – and so likely won’t be going back into the Swamp again – I wanted to make this my magnum opus on the subject. And to explain why anyone in his right mind would go into such a place. A Swamp that’s been called “sinister,” “mysterious,” and full of lurking dangers beneath those seemingly tranquil waters. (Gators, cottonmouths and the like.)

As explained in 2015’s Operation Pogo, it all started when I was 10 or 12 – I’m 71 now – and saw the movie Swamp Water. (That would be back in the early 1960s.) In one scene I watched in horror as Walter Brennan got bitten on the cheek by a smiling – and sinister – water moccasin. (As he knelt over to part some bulrushes and get a drink, of “swamp water.”)

I’ve been fascinated ever since…

I suppose it’s a matter of “that which horrifies us also fascinates us.” (Kind of like how I used to feel about visiting New York City.) But back to the subject at hand…

My first time in was a simple day trip in September 2015. I paddled in from the east, with no supplies. The trip took about two hours. I just wanted to get a feel for speed, to see how long it might take to cover the water miles from east to west. Based on that limited first outing, I thought I could bisect the Swamp in two overnight trips. (One from the east entrance and one from the west.) That didn’t happen, not for another eight years anyway, and took this year’s extra five-day trip. But as it turns out, if you can paddle two miles in an hour, you’re doing good.

My first real try came weeks later, in October 2015. I put in at the Suwanee Canal Recreation Area (SCRA). I had the same kayak, with a “tagalong.” (A small rubber dinghy, towed and holding camping supplies and cooler, complete with two cold beers.) Unfortunately, that time of year is popular, so most platforms were already reserved. The only shelter available was Cedar Hammock, a mere three miles in from the SCRA. Paddling to Cedar Hammock didn’t take long, so I headed down toward Monkey Lake, for exercise. But I had to turn around early and paddle back to Cedar Hammock, in the dark. (Complete with slews of grabby water lilies to paddle through.) The second day I made it as far west as the Coffee Bay day shelter. (No camping allowed.) Bottom line: I didn’t make much bisecting progress on that first trip. 

Then in June 2016 I kayaked in from the west side. I put in at Stephen C. Foster State Park, east of Fargo, Georgia. As noted, my original plan was to bisect the Swamp, east to west, and this time I made it to the CANAL RUN shelter I’d reserved. (Nine miles in from Foster State Park.) That was still an all-day paddle, and it still left a big gap between Canal Run and Coffee Bay.

But finally, last February 2023 and eight years after my first attempt, I closed the gap between Canal Run and Coffee Bay. I had finally bisected the dreaded Okefenokee Swamp.

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I never let the dream die, even as years passed. Then came a boost from my brother.

Last September (2022), Tom, his wife Carol and I hiked 150 miles on the Way of St. Francis, in Italy. Somewhere hiking in the Appennine Mountains I mentioned this “Unfinished Business.” (Possibly over a cold beer at the end of a long day’s hike.) A bit to my surprise, Tom expressed interest, possibly at the prospect of enjoying a break from “icy arctic blasts” such a part of winters in Massachusetts. We settled on a tentative date, in mid-February 2023.

The result was a plan to take five days, using Tom’s two canoes, instead of one eight-foot kayak. (Towing a rubber-dinghy tagalong.) I’ve done two earlier posts* on preparing for the trip, and closed the last one saying, “I’ll keep you posted.” So, here’s that final report.

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For starters, on Monday February 13, we met up at the Newell Lodge, northeast of Folkston. As it turned out, Folkston was halfway between the Lodge and the east entrance (SCRA). That night we packed up what we could. I had my last shower and last cold beer until the following Saturday. Four nights without a beer or shower. Not a real shower anyway; I brought along some Dude Shower Wipes. (One of many alternatives, I just learned via internet.)

The next morning, Tuesday, February 14, we put in at the SCRA boat ramp about 10:30. Our goal for the day was Monkey Lake shelter, seven miles away. (The Monkey Lake I tried to reach back in 2015.) Along the Suwanee Canal, and up until the turnoff to Monkey Lake, we played paddle-tag with a boat full of tourists, complete with a guide yakking on a bull horn. He’d stop and talk awhile and we’d pass him, then he’d motor by and get up ahead of us, then stop again. It was annoying in a way, but we heard some gems along the way. Once he pointed out the plentiful Spanish moss lining the Canal, and said that such “moss” is related to pineapples. (?)

We got to Monkey Lake by 3:30, after five hours on the water. (With breaks and a short Lunchables lunch.) Two breaks involved standing up in the canoes. Very carefully. (I call them “butt breaks” because paddling five hours without changing position really gets to you.) At the shelter we first unloaded the canoes, then set up our tents. For supper – the one hot meal of a typical canoeing day – we had hot dogs and baked beans, with crackers and a fruit cup dessert. After that I washed the dishes and enjoyed a shot or two of “O-be-joyful.”

Which brings up a word about “washing those dishes.”

The first step involves “slooshing” the sticky stuff off plates, pans and dinnerware, followed by a real wash and rinse with hot water from the camp stove. And two of the shelter platforms were heavy-duty plastic going all the way down into the water. But the other two, Monkey Lake and Canal Run, were raised wooden decks. They left a gap between the bottom of the deck and the water, and with my active imagination I could just see a gator lurking underneath that deck. (Attracted by the slooshing and food particles.) Nothing ever happened, thankfully. On the other hand, I did “sloosh” those dishes very quickly on the two wooden-deck camping platforms.

That gap between the water and bottom of the deck reminded me of my 2016 second trip in. Because it was so early in the season, the canoe-only trails were much vegetated-over. Which meant that many times I had to “butt-scootch” the kayak over a barely-sunken log. Sometimes I also had to stick my hand out, grab another branch and finish pulling the kayak over. The last time I reached my left hand out I saw a patch of white.  It turned out to be a gator – a small one, but a gator – “smiling” nicely at what he thought was a tasty snack.

That memory came back as I slooshed the dinner dishes at Monkey Lake camping shelter.

But, dishes done and O-be-joyful enjoyed, that first day ended with dusk and a chill setting in at 6:15. I’d brought along a head lamp, and stayed up – in the tent, away from the mosquitoes – reading and also writing in a journal. I actually sat in my camp chair, beside the cot, inside the tent. That brings up the fact that I love my new bigger “six-person” tent. Even with its bent support-pole, courtesy of an 80-mile-an-hour windstorm on the Missouri River back in 2020.

We retreated to our tents that early the next three nights as well; in our cots and at least trying to sleep for the next 11 or 12 hours. Much different than my daily routine back home.

Also different from my daily routine back home: Seeing so many alligators sunning themselves on the banks of the Suwanee Canal, and also in those Okefenokee “prairies.” But my magnum opus is getting way too long for one post, so I’ll have to continue it in a “Part Two.”  

In that Part Two I’ll describe the last three days of our Okefenokee adventure. That will include the climax – the denourment if you will – of the trip: Where a canoe with two Scouts in it capsized, not far from where I photographed this gator. Stay tuned!

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I photographed this gator a bit west of where the two Scouts went into the water…

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I took the picture at the top of the page. The “scout overboard” incident happened on the last of our five days canoeing around the Okefenokee. Also, for this post I borrowed from past posts including Getting back up to speed – for canoeing and Another paddling adventure – January ’23. And it all pretty much started in 2015 with Operation Pogo – “Into the Okefenokee” and following.

The descriptive terms “sinister” and “mysterious” came from the cover of the Swamp Water DVD I just got from a local library, based on the original movie poster.  

Re: Cottonmouths. See Agkistrodon piscivorus – Wikipedia, on the “pit viper in the subfamily Crotalinae of the family Viperidae … one of the world’s few semiaquatic vipers … and is native to the southeastern United States. As an adult, it is large and capable of delivering a painful and potentially fatal bite.” I didn’t see a single cottonmouth in any of my four excursions.

Re: The Canal. The Suwannee Canal was dug across the swamp in the late 19th century in a failed attempt to drain the Okefenokee. After the Suwannee Canal Company’s bankruptcy, most of the swamp was purchased by the Hebard family of Philadelphia, who conducted extensive cypress logging operations from 1909 to 1927.” Okefenokee Swamp – Wikipedia.

Re: Tom’s two canoes. The same canoes we used for the the July 2020 trip down the Missouri River. (Sioux City to Omaha.) See On my “new” Missouri River canoe trip. Apparently I never did a post-mortem on that trip, even though it featured us surviving an 80-mph windstorm that obliterated Tom’s tent, and left my tent with a fractured support-pole that I had to repair with a lot of duct tape. The COVID outbreak had just started, so the post included a lot of detail about how to stay healthy on the up to and back from the trip. We used the same canoes for a trip from Kingston Ontario up to Ottowa in 2018. See The “Rideau Adventure” – An Overview.

Some nuggets about Spanish moss. It has been used as building insulation, mulch, packing material, mattress stuffing, and fiber. In the early 1900s it was used commercially in the padding of car seats. In the desert regions of southwestern United States, dried Spanish moss is sometimes used in the manufacture of evaporative coolers, “colloquially known as ‘swamp coolers.'” Wikipedia. See also The Antioxidant Benefits of Spanish Moss – WholisticMatters.

Re: The second (2016) trip in, to the CANAL RUN shelter, nine miles in from Foster State Park. Among other things I saw fifty alligators during the first hour of paddling. After that I stopped counting.

O-be-joyful” is a code-word for ardent spirits. We brothers – originally four of us – started packing samples in past canoe trips, like down the Missouri River from Fort Benton, MT. That was a way of following in the footsteps of Lewis and Clark, and other American pioneersBack in the old days of our country, whiskey – for example – was used instead of hard currency:

One of the first media of exchange in the United States was classic whiskey.  For men and women of the day, the alcohol did more than put “song in their hearts and laughter on their lips.”  Whiskey was currency.  Most forms of money were extremely scarce in our country after the Revolutionary War, making monetary innovation the key to success.

See Why Whiskey Was Money, and Bitcoins Might Be.

I also took the Gator picture at the bottom of the main text. But he was a good mile or so away from the capsized canoe. (I’m pretty sure…)

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