A pilgrim & a Retreat

So there I was at 'Vers' enjoying helping my friend Mike move house. Only he then turns up with Adrian, a 23yr old German lad who just happened to bump into Mike one evening after I had returned to Foxy10. He asked Mike if there was anywhere to sleep in the village plus where he could forage for food.
Errr! 'Forage did you say?'
Turns out this young man just happens to be walking from the Black Forest in Germany to Santiago de Compostella. The 'St Jaque's' Pilgrim trail. Only he is doing it with no money. He explained further of how he is an activist and involved in the green sharing/bartering movement. Well he was about half way through his 3000 kilometre pilgrimage. He was lean, fit, good company, a harmonica player and Dharma practitioner too (Buddhist). He also plunged with me into the icy cold water of the Vers river for a welcome swim after a very hot and busy day.

Mike took him in and fed him that first night and I was introduced to him the next morning. As we all worked together moving Mikes furniture I offered to take him with me to Plum Village for a few days. Adrian eagerly accepted while I pondered on the fact I'd just agreed to feed and finance him for the duration. However; there was not too much pondering. When Madame Universe decrees and clearly presents the path who am I to argue. He was very good company and also a very hungry young man.

Plum Village, for both of us, was true, deep retreat experience. Meditative calm and peace, excellent veggie food, beautiful walks and meaningful sharing with like minded retreatants. We made new friends plus I met again friends from my past visits. On one 'Dharma sharing' workshop there were people from twenty seven different countries in attendance.

I could not finance the two of us for the whole retreat but we stayed for five days with one of those days so kindly paid for by 'Dirk', a very special man from Dusseldorf who was also in a motorhome.

Finally, a week after our first meeting, I watched Adrian, now well fed and with his huge rucksack stuffed full of food, set off once again on the 'St Jaque's' route. Go well young man. We shared a special week together. I will not forget.

Poor Tanya did not fare quite so well. She was attacked by an alsation on one walk. Unfortunately he got his teeth into her shoulder before my foot connected with his head making him back off. Plenty of antiseptic and a lot of TLC and she seems fine. There is a bit of a lump and some swelling of which she was initially very touchy. Pleased to report she is now much better but we are both suffering in the very hot weather just now.

I shouldn't complain as we are slowly headed North now. UK bound but in no particular hurry. I usually, when it is really hot, do most travelling in the afternoon, the hottest part of the day. Driving with Mrs SatNav set to 'meander along smaller roads' and the air conditioning keeping us cool is really rather pleasant. Unfortunately, we don't do many kilometres per day so I will probably, and reluctantly, switch to main roads next week.

We're Dordogne at present, out in the countryside well away from the tourist mayhem of a Bank holiday weekend. I will hold onto, for a few more days, Plum Village's mindful and peaceful mindset.

Moments & Mike.

Snow covered Pyrenees fill my distant view. Rolling forested hills dotted with attractive villas and vineyards are my near view. To the right, and below, of me a shuttered up small holiday home or someone's much loved weekend retreat. If there had been signs of occupation, then out of respect, I would not have parked here in this conveniant little pull in by their entrance gateway. As it is I can see no one else as Foxy10 sits neatly in her wee saddle on this ridge of hills between 'Oloron st Marie' and 'Pau' here in SW France.
I'm sat next to wildflowers with the only sound being the buzz of myriad insects as they pursue their daily business. Which; by the way entails a nasty nip at one of my ankles causing the usual swelling and itching.
Wild camping spots such as this are precious. I never hurry and always give time for reflection. Time for reflection on my good fortune, family, health and sufficient wealth. All, plus more, the ingredients granting me in this my third age, such precious moments.

No more so than this very moments contemplating of distant snow covered peaks reflecting the sun which warmed both Tanya and I as we basked in its bright healing rays. The thought popping up in such moments is always, share; share this moment in all its awesomeness. This blog entry is an attempt at that sharing, which of course it can never be. As a photograph only ever captures a specific nanosecond of part of the whole picture, so also my attempt at sharing. I can only give you an approximation of my 'moment'. You can only relate to it by recalling similar, and by definition, different, from your own store of 'moments'.

One of the joys/gifts of my life has been an ability to listen to others as they recount their own moments. Those listening skills were honed and had a keen sharp edge during my years as a mental health wellbeing practitioner (Counsellor). Even now I still love to listen but have noticed that now I no longer enjoy the continuous professional training and support, the bubbling up of my own 'need to tell of my moment' , is harder to supress.

For me, these precious and joyful moments contain strong connecting energy and value. They demand I give due time, consideration, reflection and meditation to them. If I don't I feel I am not honouring or respecting previous generations who gave so much to enable my present 'moments' fortunate circumstances. Nor am I honouring or respecting those present generations who are, for whatever reason, suffering bleak, joyless moments.
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Well that was reflection and now its cutting hedges and shifting furniture. After a slow meander across this most beautiful part of SW France I am at 'Vers'. It is a gorgeous and very small French village right on the banks of the River Lot where it  conjoins with the 'Vers' tributary. There is a lovely, laid back, Aire here and also, if you want to pay a bit more money, a Municipal, and also laid back, campsite right on riverside. I'm here helping Mike, whom I met earlier this year in Spain. He has just signed on the dotted line for a ridiculously cheap, but liveable in, typical old style French village house. The place is huge and on three levels with the main two bedroom, bathroom, living room, kitchen and terrace at the roadside level with multiple rooms and potential below. I helped yesterday by trimming his roadside hedge and firing up his quite modern hot water/heating system. Boy was that cooling swim in the deep pools of the Vers welcome in the 31°c heat of the day. Today it's moving furniture down from his temporary rented Jite. However; he needs very little as at some time the house must have been rented out as a Jite with all the furniture, pots and pans, white goods and even a car trailer included in the purchase. And the price? About the same as I paid for Foxy10 in pounds Sterling. I am tempted, really tempted and one day...... well who knows. My wandering lifestyle suits me just now whereas Mike has family, friends and his artistic community in this area. For him a good and financially sensible move. For me another good friend and beautiful place to visit.

Virgins, millponds & a love affair.

Alone by the side of a track in the rolling plains overlooking 'Segovia' and its magnificent cathederal.

"Ahhh; that's better Tanya, peace and quiet with nobody to bother us".

It was not long, Tanya had only just finished her tea and I had just sat down with my cup of tea, before my peaceful illusion was shattered. A young child came whizzing by on a bike as an adult stationed himself immediately outside Foxy10 and directed the other twenty or so children on bikes down the rough track to the front of us. There is just no peace for this 'wicked' motorhomer not even in the high plains of mid Spain.

The spot is beautiful though and earlier I was watching thru binoculars a solitary high flying Stork being harrassed by a group of beautiful soaring Buzzards (might be wrong on that one as I am not the best at knowing my Eagles from my Buzzards)

My wild spot of two nights ago was also 'a crowd' one. I'd arrived in 'Badajoz' at the free Aire for motorhomes. It was nearly full and the only spot available was tight between a French and a Spanish motorhome. We squeezed in. Tanya and I then exited and headed across the road in the thirty degree heat for a walk in the park by the river. I inwardly cursed as we entered. The place was loaded with geese who upon spying Tanya set up an unholy racket, lowered their heads and made sure, in no uncertain terms, that one step nearer meant goose invasion.

"Sod it" I said to Tanya. "It's stinking hot, a rubbish camping spot and your walk is blocked by bloody geese; we're leaving!" and we did.

Ten minutes later I was parked up by an old mill which I'd spotted, by chance as I glanced between two tall disused buildings. I'd also caught the briefest glimpse of someone swimming. "Now we're talking." I muttered as I negotiated Foxy10 down a rough but short track and stopped right by the old mill and under a tree too, a real bonus of some much needed shade for Foxy10. There was group of about eight local lads and girls plus various tattoos, smokes and states of undress. They were an alright group though and despite no language commonality they acommodated /tolerated me well and pointed out where to dive in and more importantly where not to. There was one girl in particular dressed only in bra, pants, tattoos and purple Mohican haircut who while swimming around showing me "Nada, nada" (no) or "Bally, bally" (ok) kept one hand and her ciggy above water at all times. Most impressive; but I chose not to follow her as she slid down the slippery and green slime covered weir into the froth below. Neither did I see whether the ciggy survived that one as by then I was too busy enjoying my own cooling and unexpected bonus swim around the satisfyingly deep green millpond.
..........

"If I'd read the rough guide properly I'd have known it closes on Lunes (Mondays). Ah well tis their loss not mine".

Foxy10 was parked on the steep uphill roadway right outside the locked gates to 'Numancia'. This Iberian Celtic stronghold was one of the last places to resist the advancing Romans. Finally in about 334bc Scipio, erstwhile Roman General, sorted em out. Quietly mind. He just built a bigger stronghold all round them and waited till they all starved or did themselves in rather than be slaves. Nice guy, would make an excellent politician today don't you think?

However; I did leave my mark. Foxy10 being at just the right steeply backward angle of repose had her waste tank tap opened. A satisfying gurgling rush of shower and washing up water gushed down the grassy slope and disappeared within seconds into the arid dry ground. Naughty I know but I felt much better after that, and anyway the Romans are long gone by now, wasn't a sign of them guarding the gate, so no harm done.

The secondary road onwards took me over the high Sierra toward 'Tuleda' and 'Rioca' country. High, wide, empty and somehow I just love it. Maybe it's my agricultural history in and around the wide open Cotswolds that instilled in me a love affair with such places. Who knows; what I do know is you could pick the Cotswolds up and tuck them into a neat corner of these vast low density agricultural Spanish Sierra's so I truly was 'ensconced in my affair' today.

We stopped for lunch at one of the many 'Ermita de la Virgin.... of whatever/wherever'. There seems to have been a preponderance of historical saintly virgins all with their own hermitage in this area. Can't say I see many about just now. I blame t'internet and social media myself. But who knows. Maybe that group of female teenagers who nearly mowed me and Tanya down in Segovia, because they were all heads down and two thumb texting, were all busily texting their daily devotions to the... 'Become a saintly virgin and claim your own hermitage' social media site?
Hmmmm: I wonder!