Cold feet & coicidences

Well I was never so glad as to be able to pull a pair of thick socks on and feel my feet thawing and slowly coming back to life.

This was our second day at Rocamadour  (the place grows on you.) The sun was shining and Tanya and I were off up the deep gorge to see how far we could get. Bike was unloaded and we set off with me in shorts and sandals in warmish morning sunshine. A fun time was had too. The good track soon petered out into footpath and then after the second set of old milll ruins into narrow and not very 'push a bike' friendly footpath at all. By this time shorts and all terrain sandals had really proved themselves crossing, (meaning wading plus carrying/pushing said bike) the swiftly flowing babbling brook type stream several times. The bike was finally abandoned and we gave ourselves fifteen minutes to walk on before turning back. We managed to reach the third and by far the largest of the old, ruined and abandoned mills.

The weather was by now changing. My feet, now in wet all terrain sandals and with prospect of further stream crossings ahead, were starting to feel 'not warm!'

Several times we crossed paths with a young Australian couple on one of these trecking holidays where your baggage is transported for you from hotel to hotel. The girl was Thai and did not want to get her new shiny boots wet. Crossing the stream was a problem. I helped her negotiate one crossing by wading in while holding her hand as she gingerly negotiated some rather widely spaced and slippery stepping stones. Great fun (she was very pretty!!)

They went on ahead as we reached where I had left the bike. I put my caggle on (thin waterproof) which helped as the weather was now distinctly cool and occasionally raining. The luxury of the steep but dry diversions were not available to me with bike so I had to push on and ford the stream several more times. Feet were now not part of this world. They definitely did not belong to me. I mean I've never had a set of feet that are so peely-wally white that the only respectable place for them is sticking out the end of a sheet in a morgue!

The final insult to them was wind chill. My exit route placed me at the top of Rocamadour with Sadie being at the bottom. Tanya and I both enjoyed that exhilarating ride down the twists and turns of the cliff hugging descent.

My feet?

Hmmmm! They gave, on the way down, some sort of sensation which, if translated into words, painted me in a very bad light and warned me that being footloose and fancy free was just about to take on a very different significance.

My poor old feet did finally respond to more suitable attire and were then placed in smart shoes which along with jeans and clean jumper rendered me a handsome boy indeed. I was now ready for a good dinner plus wine in a lovely little restaurant in Rocamadour. I had previously lunched there and Tanya was allowed inside.

On the way down I knocked on another restaurant window and pleasant waves were exchanged with the Australian couple I had met earlier. I did'nt go in as I figured their romantic evening would not necessarily be enhanced by the invasion of a sixty four year old male last seen with a small dog, looking like a wild man and who had weirdly coloured feet and insisted on carrying a bike across streams deep in a forested French ravine.

As I walked on I mused to myself on the fact this was the second meeting with a pretty Thai female. The day before I had been stumped by not having a two euro coin for the turnstile onto Chateaux du Rocamadour's impressive and vertigineous ramparts. A young couple behind me were not able to change a note for me but the charming and very pretty Thai girlfriend very kindly paid the two euros for me.
How do I know she was from Thailand you ask? Well we managed a limited conversation as we admired the stunning views from the ramparts.

I arrived at the restaurant. Excellent meal was consumed along with a small carafe of wine. I left the restaurant very pleasantly inebriated with two fellow diners Rick and Teresa. They were from South Derbyshire but Rick had lived and worked in Toulouse for ten years. Teresa was, and wait for it, Thai. Yes. My third encounter with Thailand in just two days. More musing upon 'meaning of coincidence' for later methinks! Teresa had a Thai mother, was born in the UK but had been raised in Thailand. They'd been married for twenty nine years and were on a weeks holiday to the area.

They were also convivially inebriated and a pleasant walk up the hill to their hotel was enjoyed. Much of it backwards as we viewed the illuminated Chateaux. Farewells were then exchanged and Tanya and I staggered on to Sadie, conveniently parked at the Chateaux, and a welcome comfy bed.

These things pay you back don't they! No headache but a bit tired and irritable on waking. Not the day to realise you only have one half full gas bottle. Plan A. Drive to nearest LPG outlet only to find they've run out. Plan B did work but a frustrating day comprising a big unnecessary circular main road route of eighty five km. Tanya's dis-approval of the whole charade was vomited up by the door half way round!

Hmmmm! Maybe stay clear of the wine for a bit me thinks.