Southwest France - end of our hiking

On this, the last hiking day, I slept reasonably well, awakening in darkness at 3:47 am.  What's with that? Back to sleep soundly, until the alarm, at dawn.

Sunrise over Collias

The breakfast here was the best yet.  Not only outside "en plein air," but Marie-Agnes offered good yogurt, the usual croissant and baguette, butter and homemade confiture, but also asked if we'd each like a boiled egg.  The unanimous answer was "Yes!"  She was very sweet and maternal and practical - saying we'd need that protein for our walk.  Of course, she was right.

Boiled eggs kept warm in the bell-shaped covers.

As we walked back through Collias to the trail, we passed a baker kneading bread in his store window,

I would have thought 9:00 was a late hour to be baking.

passed beneath the first arch of the Collias Bridge,

then walked away from the river onto tarmac, and after several right turns and going upward, walked a long way between forest on our right and cultivated land on our left, and a small mill dam.

Fairly high up on a ridge, between sizable estates, we passed a sign warning "swim at your peril" . . . Probably a reference to the river way down that lane on the right?

 There was also a ruined church, then a stone wall with a plaque marking the high point of the 2002 flood ("crue").

Finally, through the trees, we had a view of the grand Pont-du-Gard, along with a very welcome bench.

I think I was sitting on the bench.

At this ancient monument we were definitely back among the modern world now.  We walked past a large group of French walkers seated on the ground eating lunch.

There were folks down on the river bank lazing and lunching, kayakers in the river and on the beach.

My first few views of this beautiful monument after a two year absence made me tear up a little.  It was constructed some 2,000 years ago, by men who clearly knew what they were about.  It has remained intact and with us today.  There is beauty and elegance and grace in the way the arches diminish in size and increase in numbers from the first course to the third.

Funny thing as we approached the causeway to cross from the left bank to the right bank, a large man (whose friendliness reminded me of my brother Richard) spoke to us in English.  He was funny and bantering and spoke English very well.  And he is Belgian, from Namur.  We was with another man (brothers?) and two women, one of whom was filming us, and a small boy about the age of my grandsons (who are just five this autumn).  The youngster didn't want to be photographed, but I got the two guys to oblige with good humor.

The right bank has a quite nice restaurant beneath the plane trees (unless you order pizza with capers as my son did two years ago).  But we were too hungry for waiter-service.  We bought premade sandwiches and cold sodas, enjoyed our lunch beneath other plane trees.  I would like to make it known that it was here that I would deposit my 12-year-old, cracked, and no-longer-waterproof boots into the nearest "poubelle".

Boots that had served me well in many places on the towpath, the AT, and various trails in Scotland ended their useful life in a French trash can.

Pat wasn'd interested in getting her feet wet in the Gardon River, so she went off to see the view from on high while Barb and I went wading in the river. It's really easier to wade wearing Teva sandals, which I did. And wished at the same time that I could have donned by swimsuit and totally immersed myself.

As it was, I walked around close to shore, not eager to hike in wet hiking pants.  Lots of people were there, swimming, wading, kayaking, and watering their doggies.

We knew that we were well away from the route of  Enlightened Traveller's notes, and decided to visit the Visitor Information Desk to seek help in regaining our route.  No luck there, but we did run into two other C & O Canallers, Bill and Chris.  We planned to meet that night for dinner in Nimes as our hotels are not far apart..

Meanwhile we had to finish the hike.  Pat has some very good hiking instincts; I shall remember always to trust those.  She found a way back to either the GR without undue climbing; the ground was fairly level.  To my disbelief and amazement, we followed remnants of the ancient aqueduct for several kilometers.

What an unexpected thrill for me. I know, who cares about a bunch of old stone arches.  But the thought that they are still there, haven't been "recycled" into farmhouses or barns was striking.

Eventually after crossing a highway and back into the trees, we reached the town called "Vers Pont du Gard", where we were to meet the taxi at 17:15 hours.  Coming out of the woods, just about the first thing we passed was the medieval Lavoir, where women had washed clothing for centuries. Thierry was to meet us at a bar in the place d'Horloge, and he was right on time.  We drove back to Collias to pick up our luggage, then the long ride to Nimes and the Acanthe Hotel.  Hotel in a central location,inexpensive, very clean but slightly worn; but the manager - Eric - made up for it.  Plus there was time for a shower and short nap.

Bill and Chris were there at 19:45 sharp, and race-walked us to a nice place cross from their hotel.  The hostess was a large older woman with very little English but a great attitude and we had a decent 3-course, fixed-price meal.  Not one to linger over a meal when one is bone tired, we hurried back to the hotel for a fitful night.  This was the end of a hiking trip that I'd planned for months, and that I had hoped beyond hope would be a good one.  I thought it was grand, and I hope that my friends agree.