Knackered

This morning I agreed to be the beta tester of S's new path. Decades ago, the population of the village used to walk up the mountain behind the village to pray for rain at the chapel of St Michel (this custom has long been abandoned and villagers now routinely use their cars for any journey of more than 100 metres). S decided to rehabilitate the route, and for the last few weeks has used any free day when it's good weather to head out there with mattock and secateurs to sculpt the path into something manageable by any reasonably fit person.

He has now decided to test that it's fit for public use. Sadly, I failed the test. The first third was OK, but as the sun rose higher and the path got steeper, with added challenges of fences to climb over, rocks to scramble up, tree roots to trip the unwary, and slippery pebbles to twist ankles on, my progress got slower and slower. Eventually, after about 300 metres of climbing,  it was clear that I wasn't going to make it to the top in time for S to get back for his 2 o'clock meeting. Plus I was not enjoying it. At all. And I was almost as slow going down, my knees protesting at the steep gradients even with the aid of two sticks. So here's the view from about halfway up, with Canigou's snowy cap gleaming in the distance.

Although this isn't a great photo, it's the most representative of my day. Extras: one of the bottle-fed lambs enjoying the early sunshine, and a tiny bee orchid that I found while slogging up the mountain, giving me an excuse to stop and photograph it.