To Montvert with a sickening feeling

The view from my room window last night. 

But, as with anything in life it is not always a bed of roses and there are thorns and I awoke this day 19 after a fitful sleep with a very sickening feeling in my stomach. I had been up during the night visiting the bathroom several times. I managed to get a little breakfast down in spite of no appetite and headed out on the bike think that that would settle me down. 

The ride was beautiful although I had little appetite for that too. I followed the Tarn up toward its source. With the usual array of scenic old sights ...

I stopped at a little out of the way spot and met a vacationing mother and daughter. 

The mother was an opera singer who wanted to hear all about the Boston symphony and Tanglewood but I know she knew more about it than I did.

The teenage son of the owner of the Inn I stayed at the night before had insisted on my stopping to swim at spot along the river, that with some difficulty I found. What a spot!!!

The pictures cannot possibly capture it but it was a spot where the river funneled down between some cliffs. I know why he recommended it, because all of the locals were there including most of the youth. The macho guys could show off jumping from these huge heights that made the cliff jumping at Squirrel Island look small potatoes.

.....and the teenage girls were all there to watch ......

The tower is something they built to measure and document toe flood level.

Then i hope that Hannah sees this but here in this remote out of the way spot, what did I see on the head of a local kid .......

 ......yes a baseball hat that said BROOKLYN .... not America, not NY Yankees, or Boston ..... but Brooklyn. I don't think he really understood why this crazy American was so excited and needed to have a picture taken.

The day ended with a struggle with my stomach in an uproar and my body depleted to ride the last 10 miles up the river to the town of Montvert.

I met and attempted to have some dinner outside by the river and met of 2 nice Belgian guys on vacation, but I could not even finish half of the Belgian beer they insisted on buying for me.

I stayed the night at a Spanish type communal Alberge that was filled with French families that were doing some sort of famous hike with donkeys over an old mountain trail. I felt horrible and even lost at Hearts to a bunch of rookies and kids who were playing cards.

I felt sorry for them all though because I was up at least 5 times during the night to run and stumble in the dark from my upper bunk bed to sit on the toilet. 

I wish I could have enjoyed and had some pictures of this neat spot and the really cute donkeys that they used to carry their packs, but my thoughts were only on the seismic eruptions going on in my stomach.

....... later on I found a picture from an old postcard of the donkeys. Apparently they raised sheep up on the plateau and used the donkeys to bring the wool down to the valley to be spun and made into yarn.