The ruins of Les Renaudières
Nantes: I have been in this city for a little more than two months this trip and about six months in the past two years. While I do enjoy a squatter’s life style from time to time, I really yearn for a feeling of home. Nantes has provided me with that sense, and I am very grateful for it; HOWEVER, Nantes (the fifth largest city in France) is a much different place than the two other places I have called home, Swannanoa, NC and Sewanee, TN (two rural towns in the southeastern Appalachian Mountains). I have really enjoyed the city life, and I’ve learned to not stick out as much as the Beverly Hillbillies; but at times, I wish I could step outside my door and experience a more rural style of life. I wouldn’t call it homesickness, but rather home-convenience.
December 1st, I decided to make my new home convenient in this way—I hunted for nature. Flowing into Nantes, is the Edre River (an offshoot of the Loire). This river has some of the only trails I have seen in the city—granted paved trails but trails nonetheless. I have walked along this route for a few hours at a time enjoying the scenery and the brief moments serenity, but the Edre runs for 60 miles outside the city, so I was sure that there had to be more woods to be explored. With no map, no compass, and no inhibitions, I set out at 8 am on a chilly morning with water, food, and my five senses perked to go to Nort, a small town about 20 miles north of Nantes on the river. Did I know if there was anything to see in Nort? No clue…but I just wanted to see something that was different from what I had already known.
With a quick pace, my journey took me on beautiful trails filled with colorful leaves and scenic waters, a grand total of twelve small chateaux (two of which I accidentally trespassed on, and one that was in ruins), grassy fields, and a vineyard. I reached Nort, but in all honesty, it was kind of disappointing. It was a good thing in the long run, because it gave me the motivation to turn around and head back home before the sun started to set. On my way back though, I happened upon a short but steep rock formation that had a route to the top almost like a natural latter. To preface, I am by no means a rock climber nor can I ever claim to be, but I do enjoy the occasional bouldering. I ascended, and at the top, walked for a few yards. What should greet me but a field of what (at the time) I could only assume were yaks. No, that’s not a typo…Y-A-K-S. I take a few photos, and then a man in the field wanders towards me. Our brief conversation translated in to English for non-French speakers:
December 1st, I decided to make my new home convenient in this way—I hunted for nature. Flowing into Nantes, is the Edre River (an offshoot of the Loire). This river has some of the only trails I have seen in the city—granted paved trails but trails nonetheless. I have walked along this route for a few hours at a time enjoying the scenery and the brief moments serenity, but the Edre runs for 60 miles outside the city, so I was sure that there had to be more woods to be explored. With no map, no compass, and no inhibitions, I set out at 8 am on a chilly morning with water, food, and my five senses perked to go to Nort, a small town about 20 miles north of Nantes on the river. Did I know if there was anything to see in Nort? No clue…but I just wanted to see something that was different from what I had already known.
With a quick pace, my journey took me on beautiful trails filled with colorful leaves and scenic waters, a grand total of twelve small chateaux (two of which I accidentally trespassed on, and one that was in ruins), grassy fields, and a vineyard. I reached Nort, but in all honesty, it was kind of disappointing. It was a good thing in the long run, because it gave me the motivation to turn around and head back home before the sun started to set. On my way back though, I happened upon a short but steep rock formation that had a route to the top almost like a natural latter. To preface, I am by no means a rock climber nor can I ever claim to be, but I do enjoy the occasional bouldering. I ascended, and at the top, walked for a few yards. What should greet me but a field of what (at the time) I could only assume were yaks. No, that’s not a typo…Y-A-K-S. I take a few photos, and then a man in the field wanders towards me. Our brief conversation translated in to English for non-French speakers:
Farmer Brun: Hello…can I help you?
Me: Hello, I am sorry if I am trespassing. I just climbed the rocks to see what was up here.
Farmer Brun: Yes…I can see that…you’re not trespassing. We have visitors all the time, but those hours are passed.
Me: Oh I understand, I’ll be on my way…Hey um, are those yaks? (Thankfully, it’s the same word in French)
Farmer Brun: Yes…yes, they are. We raise yaks and highland cattle together here. (He points to where the longhaired cattle are)
Me: Hmm that must be a really rewarding experience (Resisting the urge to say, “Holy cow, that’s so freaking cool!”). Thanks for talking to me, and I hope that you have a nice evening!
Farmer Brun: You too. Come back and see us sometime, but next time use the road over there. (Gesturing to the simpler path)
The conversation was over. I went on my way, and I felt as if my journey was complete. Obviously this is a very short rendition of what was a longer adventure, but if for the sake of trying not to bore the majority of oddballs that read these blog posts, I try to keep things a little shorter. If you would like to hear more about these adventures, I am always happier to go into greater detail. Otherwise, know that I found what I was looking for and more, and as long as my legs don’t object, I think I am going to be getting lost around here a little more often. To get a sense of what the hike was like, check out this time laps montage of images taken at different time increments along the journey.
Me: Hello, I am sorry if I am trespassing. I just climbed the rocks to see what was up here.
Farmer Brun: Yes…I can see that…you’re not trespassing. We have visitors all the time, but those hours are passed.
Me: Oh I understand, I’ll be on my way…Hey um, are those yaks? (Thankfully, it’s the same word in French)
Farmer Brun: Yes…yes, they are. We raise yaks and highland cattle together here. (He points to where the longhaired cattle are)
Me: Hmm that must be a really rewarding experience (Resisting the urge to say, “Holy cow, that’s so freaking cool!”). Thanks for talking to me, and I hope that you have a nice evening!
Farmer Brun: You too. Come back and see us sometime, but next time use the road over there. (Gesturing to the simpler path)
The conversation was over. I went on my way, and I felt as if my journey was complete. Obviously this is a very short rendition of what was a longer adventure, but if for the sake of trying not to bore the majority of oddballs that read these blog posts, I try to keep things a little shorter. If you would like to hear more about these adventures, I am always happier to go into greater detail. Otherwise, know that I found what I was looking for and more, and as long as my legs don’t object, I think I am going to be getting lost around here a little more often. To get a sense of what the hike was like, check out this time laps montage of images taken at different time increments along the journey.
Thanks again for all of your support as I continue my adventure here. I hope that, wherever you are and whoever you are, your “No-shave November” was as pleasant and enlightening as can be imagined, and if you participated in the month long event and are contemplating returning to the realm of the clean shaven know this: the winter months are a lot colder without the fuzz on your face, and dudes without beards can’t chop wood (scientific fact). Just throwing it out there.
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