Off kilter

26/11/12

I've been naughty. Really the Aires de Camping Cars are not meant to replace campsites. They are a one night stop over unless they have some signage to indicate otherwise; and I've only so far come across 48 hour stops. But tonight I'm at Chambon sur Lac for a second night. It wasn't the plan and it isn't important. I checked out Mont-Dome but my meagre understanding of written French suggests you're welcome to use the service point (which is closed) but don't hang about overnight. I checked out Le Bourboule which has an Aire which seems to have migrated to Murat le Quaire, but this is now a weird semi closed thing with barriers and a menu of costs including showers, and all a little uncomfy feeling. I also checked out Super Besse because I liked the name. It's enormous but also incredibly windy and again as that odd barriers up, barriers down thing of the semi closed going on. So I came back here because it felt right. Not doing anyone any harm. Again, no facilities but I have no need of any for I have a bucket.

Because it was rainy today I nearly did nothing. I contemplated finding a nice view (all the nice views were in cloud) and sitting with my Open Uni books and my unfinished poetry and cracking on with it, but somehow, and I couldn't defeat the idea, that felt like failure. The Alison of early May wasn't that woman, and the Alison of late November shouldn't be either. I'm a little nostalgic for the woman who was so happy she said right, I'm going to get out there, enjoy the world, be me, the sparky, funny, adventurous, forthright, happy, bouncy, mentally amazingly strong me with her feet firmly on the ground and her head happily at the top of mountains. I'd forgotten about her. So I spent sometime remembering her, and putting my head back on again. What, I wondered would she do in this situation …

Which diverts me to one of my most joyful periods. I live life with these little mantras from time to time. The ones which say “in a hundred years we'll all be dead” or the “I'm better than this”. There's a mantra for every occasion. There was a hugely enjoyable period when I lived with “what would a grown up do in this situation?”. I loved it because it acknowledged the naughty child in me, and it let the childlike side have its head and feel the joy, but at the same time acknowledged that I did actually know what a grown up would do because I kind of knew I was one, and gave me a channel for that too.

The Alison of Spring time would, it turned out, not let a day go to waste, and she would grin and produce ideas of interesting and fun nature. It turned out she'd go fell running, so that's what I did. The Lac, on the face of it, could have provided a simple flat circuit with no options for going astray. But Lacs do tend to be at the bottom of something or other, and can be made to go gnarly off road and up. So, that's what I did, started flat then climbed and climbed. Tried to keep my efforts measured and paced, remembering what 40% felt like, what 50% felt like, and acknowledging when an ascent was near enough to vertical and rubbly underfoot and noting how it felt to go into the red. A few times. Then the joy of the descent. Now proper real fell runners descend like gazelles, long and graceful strides. I descend like a flat footed penguin. But at least I try to do more than a walking speed. Running is quite funny. You don't take much with you. I have a rather wonderful running jacket (best item of clothing ever) . It's a make called “allseasongear”, it's lightweight, you don't sweat overly, it keeps the wind off and in rain it beads like a beauty. It has lots of very bright yellow in significant places, and little zips to hold the sleeves snug around your wrists. It also has a small bijou pocket, just big enough for the car keys, the camera and the garmin. Which is probably at least one more thing than I really ought to be carrying. And it's really weird how much more ground you cover than walking. And how you don't bother with extra layers, water or food (maybe a gel or a chewy bar but not today). Makes me wonder why I don't run everywhere. Except tomorrow when the legs stiffen I expect I will have my answer.