Back to earth

Calls this her 'Calvin and Hobbes' face

Well. Venice feels every one of its 750 kms away, because since we returned it's been work, and rain, and public transport, and nothing very interesting at all - except Rosalie's 12th birthday!

As we no longer have any money left whatsoever after all those $20 hot chocolates in Italy, we thought we'd play this one close to our chest - so after the obligatory pastries from the local bakery up the road, we packed a picnic and headed up into the mountains. One of the things about living here is that the mountains are rather close and impossible to avoid, and in 15 mins we were 1,000m up on a long plateau which just sort of drops away into thin air if you're not careful.

Up the hill

You look out across the Gresivaudan Valley, and can see the French Alps from left to right for hundreds of kilometres. You can also see - much closer to hand - mad men and women launching themselves into space off the cliff with little more than skimpy parachutes of flimsy looking stuff to keep them alive. Sometimes, the madder ones of them find warm thermals and go UP instead of DOWN. That way they get to stay suspended in the air, thousands of feet above the ground, for hours, sometimes. This is behaviour I find utterly incomprehensible ...

Don't look down!

But the picnic was rather good, and much closer to the ground. Once we'd finished, Em suggested I might like to walk down and meet them at the bottom of the cliff. Turns out there is a path which winds its way rather steeply down those bits of the cliff that are vaguely accessible. For some of the way it follows the funiculaire de St Hilaire de Touvet, which runs straight up the mountain. This thing is remarkable: starts off steep, and just keeps getting steeper until it's virtually vertical as it approaches the top of the cliff after a climb of a kilometre or so. I have taken this thing once, and remain amazed that it gets up the hill without falling off, just as I am always surprised that the wings stay on jets when we fly.

I have never been much of a one for heights. My daughters still find it amusing that I had to crawl walk down from the first stage of the Tour Eiffel (while they wanted to head straight to the very top), and I still recall having to lie down on the viewing platform lest I fall off the top of the Gloucester Tree in Western Australia (mind you, that had something to do with the - frankly - ridiculous 'ladder' you climb to get to the top of that beast). Whatever, she was a bit steep getting down the cliff the other day - the photo here doesn't quite do it justice, but that iron bar you see is to stop you hurtling into space should you slip. I did not need it, largely because of the extreme lack of speed with which I descended.

Thin air

Cake

Then it was home to Les Eymes, to cake, and dinner, and bed ...