After a week at Les Correns and the cliff Chateauvert, we said a sad farewell to our friends and headed for the airport in Nice, France.
The week had been full of climbing, food, markets and wine, but a few choice details stand out. The desserts that my friend Evan and I volleyed back and forth in our sweets celebration were incredible, and every morning he walked into town to bring back a bounty of pain au chocolat for the household because of his rocky sleeping habits. My daughter had two teeth coming in that week and somehow contracted hand, foot and mouth disease, which she kindly gave to me as well. She recovered quickly, after a few sleepless nights for all of us, and my feet looked even worse than normal for a week.
At the airport in Nice, we picked up our friend Teresa and drove south to our next destination, the Gorge du Tarn. We dropped down, braking through switchback after switchback on the tiny roads, snaking down into the deep river-worn limestone gorge and the tiny town of La Malene. Right before our eyes we went back in time 1,000 years to a town nestled into the sides of the cliffs, perched on the edge of the Tarn river. This town and the tiny rented house, or gite, was our home for the next two weeks.
With just us three and a toddler, no regular Internet connection and a tiny town whose commercial businesses had all shut for the winter, life became beautifully simple. I woke with my daughter around 6 a.m. and we creaked down the old wooden stairs to our kitchen, where I primed the coffee maker. After a diaper change, some overly strong coffee and a few chunks of banana, she and I headed out into the predawn blueness to explore the town, walk by the river and eventually circle back past the open bakery, where we continued the tradition of fresh bread and croissants.
Once the ladies of the house were up, breakfast and packing for the climbing day happened with the focus of 1,000 condensed samurai warriors. Soon we were off, heading for the climbing of the Gorge du Tarn.
The river Tarn and surrounding land make up a large protected park, which, other than the small towns, sees no development. The result is a Tolkien-esque setting where huge walls of gold and blue pocketed limestone rise above the river, tempting you to climb. Each sector we climbed had a different flavour, some with sweeping, gently overhung walls, caves rife with pockets and black streaks and immaculate blue faces of water worn grooves and tiny dishes. Our day done, arms struggling to hold the steering wheel, we drove home each day to incredible cheap wine, cheese and a meal created from whatever we could find at the local store or market. By 9 p.m. I was asleep on my guidebook, dreaming of the pitches for the next day鈥檚 climbing.
Having a toddler at cliffs with perilous drop-offs, loose rock, water, rocks, sticks and other people may sound daunting and perhaps downright irresponsible, but we found our daughter navigated it all pretty flexibly. With an adult watching over at all times and often actively engaging with her, she played, ate, sang, babbled and communicated with other climbers from other countries so naturally you鈥檇 have thought she was a local. The stimulation of being outside playing for most of every day and being with different trusted people meant she slept well every night and woke each morning ready to go back. Travelling with my partner and daughter to climb in France opened my eyes to the resiliency of kids. They quickly adapt to new situations, while we鈥檝e become too good at sticking to our ways.
The trip was an overall raging success, but that didn鈥檛 mean everything went smoothly. Anyone out there who鈥檚 travelled with their kids understands. At some point, regular gasoline was put into our diesel rental car, requiring a costly repair and providing the elderly gentleman in town who helped us with some good evening humour. Our second rental house didn鈥檛 have a second bedroom, so we all slept in the same big semi-separated room. (Sorry about that, Teresa.) The flight home was a day flight, so my daughter went on sleep strike and cried, ran up and down the length of the plane for hours and threw toys into the aisle. No one batted an eye.
While not everyone will think this trip sounded enjoyable, lots of sleep, good people, great food, a beautiful place and climbing two out of every three days for three weeks is my idea of a vacation. Once home I finally got a vacation from my vacation; family travel is tiring. Luckily, I have a very short memory, so we are already deeply into the planning process for the next trip 鈥� taking our little family into the wilds of the Utah desert next spring.
