Since I was a little kid, I’ve sprung out of bed in the morning, afraid I might miss something happening in the world.
|The view of our town from very high above|
I have proclaimed a few times that we should spend every minute of the day outside since we aren't allowed to wander during curfew.
So on Sunday, after a morning at the market with a coffee to-go and a pastry, then three hours working, I headed out on a walk. I wasn't sure where I would go, just exploring.
I started on a normal path up to Ginoles, stopping to feed some carrots to the two donkeys that graze there. The sun came out in the afternoon, but the wind was biting, so I wore a hat and a couple of layers. A lot of the time, I tied my jacket around my waist, but when I was hiking downhill, I got cool and felt glad for the jacket.
I pushed on the steep path up to Ginoles and did a bit of bushwhacking to arrive at the street above the church. Then I kept going.
A few times, I have followed the road to the Col, but this time, I followed the path, going down and up again rather than winding around.
|I reached the Col du Portel by path; not a bad route|
|A look back where I had come from|
Then, instead of running or walking down the twisting road, I continued to follow the hiking path through tall pine trees.
|I crossed a bridge|
|I had to shimmy through some prickly plants where the path narrowed.|
|The sign welcomes people to Quillan, but I appreciated the view of the faraway mountain between the peaks.|
A few hours later, I arrived safely home, a bit worn out, but not regretting the hours I spent walking through the woods before I shut myself indoors for curfew again.