You know, I think the Aborigines are on to something. Walking from dawn until dusk, day after day, does something weird and wonderful to your brain. And no, there's been no ocre body paint or didgeridoos so far, but we have been experiencing something like, erm... dreamtime?
Leaving behind the week-one sting of sore feet and the niggles of bearing our bags, our bodies are starting to toughen-up: we've got the right balance of biscuits-input with gradient-output and a certain rhythm is emerging to our days (more on that later). Miraculously, rather than having to spend 95% of the time willing our body to keep going, amongst the chatter of route-finding (and, more importantly, bar-finding), we are now able to gently ponder all those things that you never really get chance to think about. I'm talking about totally mindless meditation. Just letting you noodle unravel and re-organise all that interconnected nonsense that usually fills your days...
And, we discovered, this doesn't stop when you stop walking. No! Get your head on the pillow at night and that hyperactive little machine creates all sorts of crazy stuff. Dad spent last night battling a planet of 'Matrix'-style rats, while I was busy fistfighting with some nocturnal creatures with hands made of jelly. You'll note from Mum's earlier blog entry that Dad has also made recent cameo performances as a forgetful one-legged corpse. It's safe to say that neither of us have ever dreamed so much in our lives...
In fact, if your mind needs a spring clean or you want to discover the frontiers of your own imagination, maybe you should go 'walkabouts'. Despite the physical effort, it's actually incredibly good for the soul :) You can check our 'route' page (above) for details of our whereabouts this June - we are currently one day ahead of schedule, so bear that in mind if you fancy joining us for a few days on the trail! Click here to access the page: http://doinganelliott.blogspot.com/p/our-gr10-route.html
And, just so you know what you're getting yourself in to, here's a typical day:
6am - Alarm sounds. Listen for rain outside tent.
6.05am - Discuss dreams from last night. Attempt to analyse dreams as a method of delaying inevitable getting up process.
6.15am - Rock, scissors, paper to decide who gets up first and makes coffee.
6.30am - Open tent flaps to discover blue skies and jaw-droppingly good views. Feel smug and congratulate each other on fabulous adventure
OR
6.30am - Open tent flaps to discover ferocious drizzle and a collection of black slugs climbing over your boots.
7am - Break camp and stow kit in rucksacks. Breakfast on porridge doused in jam and lots of sugary coffee. Plan route, including frequent sucking in of breath as you discuss the day's climbs.
7.30am - Foot clinic - examine blisters and patch up the damage. Bravely put boots on again without wincing, remembering that they'll be numb in about half-an-hour anyway. Final checks: barometer, altimeter and stopwatch (we are serious hikers you know!). Put on packs. Remember that you left your suncream in the bottom of your pack, take off pack, locate suncream, apply liberally. Put pack back on.
7.45am - Begin walking!
8.30am - Snack stop: load up on biscuits.
10am - Second breakfast: bread, jam, cheese, chocolate.
11am - Muttering and cursing as sun gets hotter and sweating begins in earnest.
12.30pm - Hopefully reach the day's summit by now, anything from a modest 500m up to a lofty 2,500m monster complete with snow and ski-lifts. Lunch here: more bread, spicy french sausages, lots of biscuits.
(2pm slot reserved for possible second lunch if required later in the trip)
3pm - More biscuits. Conclude that its still jolly hot and wonder how far until the next refuge/gite/bar/stream.
4.30pm - Spot the tiny village on the horizon as you descend from the ridge... cheer, whoop, etc.
5pm/6pm/7pm - Arrive at the cafe/bar/restaurant/gite/campsite and shrug off the rucksack heroically...
There then follows the glorious process of the first icy-cold beer, then perhaps a shamelessly large mess tin of macaroni cheese with chorizo (camping option) or perhaps some hearty French country fare (rabbit stew, chunky pate, creamy local cheeses and thick slabs of 'Gateau Basque' - rather like a Bakewell tart, with layers of cakey, almondy goodness sandwiched between crumbly pastry and sticky jam). And an occassional bottle of red wine, of course :)
If you are tempted to try trail life then get in touch, either with Sue at mission control Harrogate (you can reach her via this blog - for the latest on our whereabouts), or with Rick and Sarah on our french mobile: +33 6 64 99 60 26. Alternatively, keep on following the blog and we'll bring our tall tales to you in the comfort of your office/home/iPhone.
Until the next internet cafe,
Bisous!
Sarah and Rick
Leaving behind the week-one sting of sore feet and the niggles of bearing our bags, our bodies are starting to toughen-up: we've got the right balance of biscuits-input with gradient-output and a certain rhythm is emerging to our days (more on that later). Miraculously, rather than having to spend 95% of the time willing our body to keep going, amongst the chatter of route-finding (and, more importantly, bar-finding), we are now able to gently ponder all those things that you never really get chance to think about. I'm talking about totally mindless meditation. Just letting you noodle unravel and re-organise all that interconnected nonsense that usually fills your days...
And, we discovered, this doesn't stop when you stop walking. No! Get your head on the pillow at night and that hyperactive little machine creates all sorts of crazy stuff. Dad spent last night battling a planet of 'Matrix'-style rats, while I was busy fistfighting with some nocturnal creatures with hands made of jelly. You'll note from Mum's earlier blog entry that Dad has also made recent cameo performances as a forgetful one-legged corpse. It's safe to say that neither of us have ever dreamed so much in our lives...
In fact, if your mind needs a spring clean or you want to discover the frontiers of your own imagination, maybe you should go 'walkabouts'. Despite the physical effort, it's actually incredibly good for the soul :) You can check our 'route' page (above) for details of our whereabouts this June - we are currently one day ahead of schedule, so bear that in mind if you fancy joining us for a few days on the trail! Click here to access the page: http://doinganelliott.blogspot.com/p/our-gr10-route.html
And, just so you know what you're getting yourself in to, here's a typical day:
6am - Alarm sounds. Listen for rain outside tent.
6.05am - Discuss dreams from last night. Attempt to analyse dreams as a method of delaying inevitable getting up process.
6.15am - Rock, scissors, paper to decide who gets up first and makes coffee.
6.30am - Open tent flaps to discover blue skies and jaw-droppingly good views. Feel smug and congratulate each other on fabulous adventure
OR
6.30am - Open tent flaps to discover ferocious drizzle and a collection of black slugs climbing over your boots.
7am - Break camp and stow kit in rucksacks. Breakfast on porridge doused in jam and lots of sugary coffee. Plan route, including frequent sucking in of breath as you discuss the day's climbs.
7.30am - Foot clinic - examine blisters and patch up the damage. Bravely put boots on again without wincing, remembering that they'll be numb in about half-an-hour anyway. Final checks: barometer, altimeter and stopwatch (we are serious hikers you know!). Put on packs. Remember that you left your suncream in the bottom of your pack, take off pack, locate suncream, apply liberally. Put pack back on.
7.45am - Begin walking!
8.30am - Snack stop: load up on biscuits.
10am - Second breakfast: bread, jam, cheese, chocolate.
11am - Muttering and cursing as sun gets hotter and sweating begins in earnest.
12.30pm - Hopefully reach the day's summit by now, anything from a modest 500m up to a lofty 2,500m monster complete with snow and ski-lifts. Lunch here: more bread, spicy french sausages, lots of biscuits.
(2pm slot reserved for possible second lunch if required later in the trip)
3pm - More biscuits. Conclude that its still jolly hot and wonder how far until the next refuge/gite/bar/stream.
4.30pm - Spot the tiny village on the horizon as you descend from the ridge... cheer, whoop, etc.
5pm/6pm/7pm - Arrive at the cafe/bar/restaurant/gite/campsite and shrug off the rucksack heroically...
There then follows the glorious process of the first icy-cold beer, then perhaps a shamelessly large mess tin of macaroni cheese with chorizo (camping option) or perhaps some hearty French country fare (rabbit stew, chunky pate, creamy local cheeses and thick slabs of 'Gateau Basque' - rather like a Bakewell tart, with layers of cakey, almondy goodness sandwiched between crumbly pastry and sticky jam). And an occassional bottle of red wine, of course :)
If you are tempted to try trail life then get in touch, either with Sue at mission control Harrogate (you can reach her via this blog - for the latest on our whereabouts), or with Rick and Sarah on our french mobile: +33 6 64 99 60 26. Alternatively, keep on following the blog and we'll bring our tall tales to you in the comfort of your office/home/iPhone.
Until the next internet cafe,
Bisous!
Sarah and Rick
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