Back home

Sometimes you adjust to the unknown quicker than the known.

At Carcassonne airport you're in the plane one minute and spat out onto an empty road (entre midi et 14h) the next. 

I crossed the empty road and found my car where i'd left it, parked up on a pavement.  I stripped myself of my coat and my jumper and my snow boots and socks.  Barefoot I pedaled my way home through the plane avenues, up to Montréal, down to La Force, up to Fanjeaux and from there on to one of my favourite places where the road rises and the mountains appear and you're back in the Ariège.

But I was bothered by the light.  It was cartoonishly glary, over the top, pure bling.  The greens were too light and young , the sky too deeply blue, the sun too bright.  My hand kept reaching to the left to change gear but I kept to the right and was happy to get home.