pocket-full-of-seaglass

-Côte Envers-

It was with a start that I awoke this morning – I had breathed a little too deep, slid down. It was 6.55am. I was wrecked. I had yet to have a good nights sleep this week, what with the writing until 1.00am most mornings, and after last night, it had all finally caught up. Happy week’s worth of walking! I was having a rest day.

But I couldn’t really, not here. Not on an uncomfortable hill, with a slightly barraged bright red tent, not in the daylight. And so I got up, pulled on my disgusting wet clothes, shivered, and began my morning. First job was repacking; wrangling all my various things into all their various compartments. A word of warning to all those considering the Camino – you will unpack and repack everything you own at least once a day. If you have a water bladder, I’d estimate a solid three to four.

The second was the one I was least looking forward to; packing the tent. It had calmed in the past few hours, slowed to a drizzle, but standing in the cold drizzle to pack a wet tent was not usually high on the list of things I want to do. But I did! And it sucked and by the time I set off walking downhill – I’d deal with hygiene when I wasn’t freezing next to a road thanks – I was positively vibrating.

I would soon warm up though, the walking ensured that. And I mean, hey, the upside to pulling on soaking clothes? No one can tell how much you’ve sweat.

This morning was another fog-filled one, and it was, like yesterday, gorgeous. It felt like something out of a film, some mildly uncanny mundane piece about nothing in particular – I loved it. Banshees of Inisherin without the missing fingers, and with a little more rain.

The walk to Saint-Genix-sur-Guiers was a brisk fifty minute wander through isolated houses in varying states of disrepair and fences leading into the ether.

Talk about a fucking story backdrop! My writer was going wild – magic and misery, fights and reconnection. What could the fog hold for the newest charcters? The lovers could safely be laid to rest in my mind, their conclusion reached after hours of obsession. Who was next?

-Saint-Genix-sur-Guiers-

Soon, I neared the outskirts, and again turned away from the shells. I wanted to sleep the entire day, and I didn’t care where – I just needed rest. I arrived at the campsite, finding it was directly near a small carnival being set up in the rain. Tired and numb, I did the tourist sin (it was a bigger town), and went straight to ‘Excusez moi, parlez-vous anglais?’. Thankfully, he did.

I had hoped to book a little one room pod for the night, but the last one had been reserved not an hour ago. Damn. Camping it is! The rain had really started to come down again, and he must have seen something on my face, because he told me to sit down for a few minutes while he checked something out. In the promised few minutes, he came back and waved me over. For €20, he explained, I could have use of the caravan in the back – it had a bed, and a roof. I would be away from the noise, and could leave whenever I felt like tomorrow. For only €3 more than a campsite, it sounded like a hell of a deal.

The caravan was small, but perfect. It had a bed. Nothing else mattered. Granted,,, it had hospital grade paper sheets but beggars can’t be choosers and by god was I begging. I put my bag down, flung my gross wet clothes to one side, pulled on my dry ones and went directly to sleep.

When I woke up three hours later, I was starving. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday at that bench and it had caught up to me. I finished off my juice, ate my apple, had a sandwich and a pastry. Finally, the growling stopped. Tomorrow I would need to restock on my way out of town, but for now I could rest. My plan was to do exactly nothing <33

I dozed on and off for a few hours, mentally listing the chores I would eventually need to do. I had seen that they had a dryer – I would be able to have warm, clean clothes!! But again, that could wait. I also needed to shower, get clean. But I was thinking maybe that could also wait. Until tonight, or maybe even the morning. I wasn’t sure yet, but I didn’t want to leave the caravan.

Eventually, I did wake up. I started one of my chores; catching up on the blogs. I had been too tired to write the past two nights, and my phone had been struggling with the heat and humidity. After a few hours, I was back to today, and the responsibilities that came with it.

At one point I pulled on my shoes, walked to the closest shops, found out that they were closed for the carnival, took it as a sign from God, walked back to the caravan, and went straight back to sleep.

I cannot explain just how welcome a bed was, but my bones were aching. Towards the end of the day I almost wished I had kept walking – I was bored. Not much story potential here (I tried). But! At least I could listen to music again :]

As it started to get dark, the noise began. Aah. The carnival. It was bigger than I expected, it’s cascading neons spilling over into the campsite. Louder too; I hadn’t realised how big Saint-Genix-sur-Guiers was, and it seemed like everyone was in attendance. I sat on the caravan steps and listened to the screams of people on rides, of the steady clunk-clunk-clunk of horrifyingly designed ferris wheels. It was like I could see the zip ties.

Eventually, when the nostalgia got a little too out of hand, I stood. It was time for chores. First up was washing – this place even had warm water! The first I’d touched in days; I wanted to curl up in the laundry sink and stay there forever. But I refrained, stayed shaking in the wind. I rinsed and rinsed and rinsed – the water stayed brown. The ups and downs of hiking! After a time, I decided they were clean enough for me, wrung them out and tossed them into the dryer.

After fumbling with my coins for what felt like an eternity, a lovely man named Sam came to help me. He was rinsing off his child in the sinks, and explained I had to t r a d e the money for a ‘coin’ (non literal). Aah. I made the swap, and talked with him for awhile. His kid was wide eyed in the warm water, chubby little hands grabbing at the tap water and the sky and me. I could fit in a sink once – how completely surreal.

He’d grow up and love and lose and give up and make art and be human – but for now he was a little humanoid blob overjoyed in a sink. Adorable. I love kids !!

Forty minutes later, I returned to wet laundry. The dryer had done almost nothing. Damn! Air dry it was – fingers crossed it was warm enough in my little caravan for it to work. As I walked back to said little caravan, the bangs began. Fireworks.

They were everywhere, arcing up through the night. The conversations fell silent, and I watched kids trickle out from cabins and stand open-mouthed, staring at the neon sky. The blues and greens and gold shimmer across their eyes, light up the ground. I’m laughing only because I know I do the same.

And it was here, in the campsite driveway, holding my wet laundry, watching the fireworks, that the distance really hit. I missed my partner so much it was unreal, missed lame adventures and getting to do the boring everyday things together. They were always on my mind, but this was like a gut-punch. December couldn’t come fast enough – I needed physical affection, needed subtle reassurance. Needed silly little carnivals with really intense French announcers.

To avoid actually crying in the middle of the street, I walked away and finished watching them from my caravan steps, all weepy and cold. But there was a temporary cure for the heartpain – Hozier. I listened to him on as I hung my washing out to dry, and ate dinner. Listened to him croon as I cut up an orange and tried not to think about timelines, and university. I’d listened to him for hours already today, and soon he was singing me softly to sleep.

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Day 7 – August 27th

Côte Envers to Saint-Genix-sur-Guiers

5.1km

~ 134km total

€24.00

~ €163.91 total