A little light climbing

Cor, I'm not sure what's going on - only one post in months and now he's got Red Bus syndrome, you know, you wait ages for one and then two come at once.  

As you'll see I got over all my injuries and made it to the Lake District with himself, Bill and John.  We all stayed in a cottage and they seemed to spend a lot of time holding up glasses and laughing a lot. (I'm not sure what you're talking about. What's a few beers a couple of bottles of wine and the odd whisky between friends on a hot sunny weekend?)  Well, I don't know I didn't get to share much of it, so the truth will out. (Telltale!) Am not. (Are so!) AM NOT!!! Let's not fall out over it but maybe you'll give me a better share next time.  (Well ok then. I know blackmail when I see it.)

The rest of the time we went walking.  As you can see I had some difficulty with my rucksack, so I hired a porter to carry it for me ('Scuse me, you hired a what?... You rode in MY rucksack in a nice poistion with a good view!) Well, it sounded good didn't it? 

Anyway back to the story.  The road goes ever onwards as anyone who has read The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings will know. 

In this case it was up into the hills above Braithwaite and the day was good. We went up Grisedale Pike, Hopegill Head, Grasmoor, Sail and Causey Pike, walked 17km and climbed 1500m or maybe more.  Aren't the names of the hills wonderful.

 Himself seems to be a bit quicker than the other two, so I hopped out of the rucksack and did some mountaineering practice. I chose a suitable precipice and got climbing.

When I got to the top I sat down and had a great rest.  The views were wonderful and because it was so stremely high I sat and had a well earned fruit pastille just to keep up my energy levels you know.

(Excuse me bear I think it wasn't that high, but it was a good try.) Well, it felt high to me.  I only have wee legs (and a big tum.)  That's a very tummiest remark.  (Sorry, you did really well. Shall we start calling you Sherpa?) Maybe not.

Eventually we stopped for lunch and it was time for a group photo even if John held me up ouchily.

After lunch there was time to chill and enjoy the view.  This is looking north towards Skiddaw and Blencathra.  Then it was onwards and around and up and down and down and down until we got back home. In Braithwaite there was time for a beer (rehydration being very important) and then back to the cottage for dinner and wine and maybe a bit more beer.  Then there was lots of laughter, eventually followed by snoring and other noises. (Too much detail, I think).  Only reporting what I saw and heard.

Next day was another good one - even better weather than the last and we set off from the carpark at Ennerdale Water to  Great Bourne; Red Pike, High Stile and High Crag. It were a very long way and we climbed a lot too. In  fact it was 1220m climbing and 20km walking - the last 7 of which we did in 1hr 30m

On the way up above Ennerdale water we met some woolly friends.

Here I are whistling away while some of the humings catch up.  You can just see Bill and his hat coming on the right of the picture.

It was a hot day and a big climb so I sat on this stone in the middle of the stream to cool off. (It must have been really hard, all that climbing.) Oh yes it was really was. At times it was a scramble with all paws in use. (Fibs, fibs. Who was scrambling and puffing and panting?  Me I think.  You had a grandstand view!) Yeah, yeah, yeah, stop complaining.

Can you see me?  This is the summit of Great Bourne.

Here I am, silly Billies if you couldn't see me. Time for lunch.

On the top of Red Pike the view to Crummock Water. Can you see Scotland in the distance? Neither can I, but it is there!

Your intrepid splorer sitting in front of the view

Just before we came down we saw this set of fields. It looks just like a butterfly from up on high.

Well that was it, a long route march back to the car at express speed. Just time for a last look back along Ennerdale water, before he dragged me back to more food and wine. (And beer, don't forget the beer.)  As if I would?

See you soon

Hugs,

Jock

King of the Road,Ventoux and bust!

So he's got his mojo back and after a huge gap he's going to tell you all about how I went up Mt Ventoux and came back down again in triumph. (Hi, sorry about that. Are you sure it was triumph?) You're forgiven and yes it was triumph. (Hmm, we shall see.)

It all started when Jack and I had a wee drink.  It was a lovely mango smoothie thingy, and, as you can see, we were fairly prostrated when we'd done - it was a big glass for little bears.









So I said, "I'm off for a wee ride on my bike. Up Mt Ventoux!" Well, there was some consternification, and cries of, "Are you sure?" and, "It's a long way for a wee bike." and stuff... "Boff!" as the French would say.

Ah, the smell of the open road, the singing of the tyres on tarmac, the funny signs people write on the road. (They do?) Yup, they do, well at least they do there.

 The road was steep.












And I saw some interesting sights.  This big man on his even bigger bike thought I was funny until I zoomed past him leaving him in a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes. Pah, peasants. (Heh, hang on a minute.  I ride my bike a lot and I don't like people who do that to me. Or bears for that matter.) Don't care, he shouldn't have smirked.

I like this sign - it says The only way is up but it says it backwards if you know what I mean, and what if you want to came back down, as I did?  Then the only way is down.  Then it would read "Is up, way, the only?" And of course then the answer is "It isn't."

Soon enough I reached the top, and my little bear bot was fairly throbbing after all the bumping on the road. So off I hopped and a kind personage took my photo as I was right on the tippy top of the mounting. 6,273ft up I was - that's 1912m for those of you who are metric - so I didn't run about too much as it was quite puff making.

Soon it was time to go, 'cos dinner beckoned down at the gite.

Most of the road was clear though sometimes there were some cars to avoid.

Here I am back at the bottom of the mounting. Can you see me?  I'm almost all the way over to the left of the picture - 'cor this is like spotting Sebastian.










I was whizzing along, not a care in the world, admiring the scenery when...................











I didn't see a big clump of lavender and next thing I was sailing over the handlebars.

There I lay, groaning and wondering where I was, when a kind somebody (Let's call him Alan) came along and said, "Hello bear what rare you doing there?"  What a STUPID question. I ask you.

Still, he picked my bike up and me and carry us gently back to the gite, where I got all bungaged up.

Then I got my ear bashed by Bearacht.  "There, I told you little bearie, nay crash hat and nay sense.  You'll be more careful next time."  Yeah, yeah yeah. Who need friends like that?  (Well you do, it may have been hard to hear, but better that it came from another bear and not me.)  Well, I aspose so.

There was a silver lining 'cos Ann and Jack got me some yummy cherries and a macaroon and I felt ever so much better afterwords.  I won't do that again in a hurry.


Hugs to all,

Jock

Bonjour and all that

Hi all, they’ve taken me on nolerdays to France.  All very well you might say, but I hardly saw the light of day for almost a week.  I’ve got some ‘ceeding ‘citing news, but you’ll have to wait until the end of the report to find out what.

First Bearacht, the help and I went on a great big boat, and all we bears saw was the other cars all parked up for the night. Then it was off for a couple of nights in Beargundy (Burgundy or Burgogne – home of fabulous wines!) I might have guessed you’d chime in sooner or later. If I say it’s Beargundy, then it is, so there! (OK keep your hat on.)  Ann and the help had a big blow out at a fantastic restaurant called Le Montrachet, but we stayed in the digs, clearly bears weren’t welcome. (Maybe next time.) Hmph.

Meeting up with Jack.

On Saturday we plied back into the car and set off for our real holiday In Provence near a village called Bédoin. We arrived in the late afternoon, and guess what Travellin’ Jack appeared about 20 minutes later hauling LT in tow.  

It was great to meet up again and even better when Alan said, ”How about a pair of teeth?”  So we bears thought “What is he on about?  We don’t need teeth!  The help and Ann have teeth so why a pair of them?” Jack and I went outside and hopped onto the table where there was a glass of what they call a “Bonsoir.” Smelt more like pastis to me. Tasted more like it too and Jock and I had a good slurp.  (You’re right it was pastis. We call it a bonsior ‘cos one evening Alan said to Ann, “What would you say to a petit pastis?” Well she said, “Bonsoir petit pastis.” So any pre-dinner pastis is called a Bonsoir.) Well that’s too confuddling for a bear, but it tastes nice anyway.

Then we noticed little cheeses in a tray and well you know, being bears we just had to sample them and very nice they were too.  We’re still waiting for those teeth though his nibbs has had several since. (It’s an aperitif Jock, a drink one has to set oneself up for a meal, and those wee cheeses are called amuses bouche by the French. That means “A little something to amuse your mouth,” more or less.)  Well it sounded more like a pair of teeth to me, though I like the idea of having my mouth amused.  It’s a smiley sort of thing to say.

Drumming our heels

Then nothing; nada; rien; not a damned thing.  We were left to drum our heels – well Beracht and I were – jammy Jack got to go out on Monday and Tuesday but I stayed at home. So, nothing to report – boo hoo! (Sorry!)  I should think so.

Things are looking up

Nothing much happened on Wednesday morning except that Ann had cards and pressies to open, ‘cos it was her bearthday.  Apparently it has a two on the end and a multiple of decades first. I ‘spect it’s two or maybe three before the two. (Flatterer.) Who me? (Yes you.) Moi? (Toi.)  Well, whatever, she’s still only young.

Come the evening the humings all got spruced up and Jack and I were picked up and off we drove to the Mas des Vignes, their favourite eating place in Provence where you can sit out on the terrace in good weather and watch the sun go down as you eat.  Sadly we only sat out for our pair of teeth as I was blowy and looking as if it might rain.  So Alan says we'll just have to go again next week - well you've got to try haven't you?

Jack and I had Champagne cocktail with our first amuse bouche – tee hee – and then we had another amuse bouche – ha ha – with a shiny spear through it.  

Jack and I liked those because we could have pretend jousts afterwards. 

We did get to share some of the dinner, but the best bit was at the end when we got loads of sweeties – marshmallows as big as us and then some round, yummy chocs to follow.  My, my, we slept well.

Vroom, Vroom

Thursday was a red letter day – well YELLOW in my case a RED in Jack’s, but we didn’t know it when we left home.

We went to Vaison la Romaine, a fine town not far from here – indeed a very EXCELLENT TOWN not far from here.  It has three towns in one.  First, and much of it under the modern town, is the Roman town from, oh,  ages ago, before even Alan was bearthed. (Watch it!) It’s ruins and there are some columns still standing.  We looked in but didn’t visit.  Down at the bottom of the town there’s the Roman bridge – still in use all these years later – Alan thinks it’s a bit like the road-sweeper’s broom it never wears out. It’s only had three new arches and four road beds – whatever; the bridge really is old.

On the way we passed some lovely shops and there was one we all liked. LT went in and got herself a wee VW car, and while she was doing it Ann saw some cars on a stand. “Do you think that this was would do for Jack?” she asked.  Alan was a bit dubious but I insisted that we should try it.  

You can image how sad I was when I couldn’t reach the pedals or the steering wheel.  I cried, and Alan said, “Never mind Jock, we’ll keep looking.”  He took out his hanky and wiped my eyes and on we went to the pretty medieval part of the town on the other side of the bridge.

We had a good wander around and a nice galette (savoury pancake to you) for lunch and that restored my spirits a little.  Then we wanted to look at more shops back in the modern town, so we tripped over the bridge and Alan and LT had a little discussion.  I heard things like, “..that shop – other cars Jock’s size? What d’ye think?” and “Hmmm, it’s worth a look, but he might be disappointed.”  “well, nothing ventured and all that…”

So in we went and it was a really mixed up place with lots of things EVERYWHERE.  We looked here – no – and there – NO – and…gulp, there – NOPE – and then suddenly, there on the floor was not one, but a selection of the perfectest (?) ok the bestest vehicles a bear could ask for.  Not only were there three things, they were Jock or Jack size!  We tried them out for size and I decided on a lovely yellow chopper motorbike, while Jack settled for a red scooter.  

We thought we looked really cool, though the lady in the shop actually laughed when she saw me on my mean machine. I didn’t care; I was one of the two luckiest bears in France or anywhere and I was hopping about asking Alan if I could have a go, and he said we’d have to wait until we got back to the gite.  

To ease our tocitement we went and had an ice cream in a lovely shop.  I had guava flavour and Jack got some too and he'll tell you all about his. We got all sticky but it was worth it.

Here's me with my lovely new machine. I think it's just splendid. When Sebastian comes over he can go out in his mini and I can follow him on my motor bike.

When we got back to the give Jack and I parked our steeds neatly beside Alan's car. Can you see them?

ZOOOOOM, ZOOOOOM

Ah, the smell of the open road, the wind in your fur…the great big cars, the even bigger camper vans and the HUGE lorries. “Boff!” as the French would say, it’s so good to get out on my own set of wheels.  

Jack and I had great fun, and he even let me have a ride on the back of his scooter. 

The best bit was zooming up on that Beetle thingy and making it jump. (Now Jock, you really are getting to be a bit naughty – we don’t need roadhogs.) Yeah but he’s so very slow, and jumps at the slightest noise, and we didn’t mean him any harm.

Then we met up with Bearacht. Good old dependable Bearacht. “Well, hello laddies, what’s this then – new wheels?” 

Jack and I chorused “Yes, aren’t they great?”

“Aye they ur, but you’ll have to be careful – you havena any crash hats. Ye ken that you really ought to have them?”

“Ah go on with you big B, we’ll be fine without.”

“Just take care wee bearies. I’m really fond of you, ye ken, and I’d hate for anything to happen to you.”

“Alright Bearcht we’ll take care.”

But once he’d gone, Jack and I fell about with laughter. We’ll be fine won’t we?