(more pics of St. Cézaire et Pont des Tuves)
On Thursday we took the bus to St. Cézaire and went for a hike down into the gorge to Pont des Tuves. Pont des Tuves is a beautiful ancient bridge spanning a river as clear, green, and refreshing as a bottle of Heineken. If it was a hot summer day, it would be the perfect spot in the world to go for a swim. Unfortunately, it poured rain on us most of the day.
The rain didn't really bother us that much. We don't get out of the city that often and it was nice to be somewhere green. It brought back memories of my old treeplanting life in a kind of bitter-sweet way. In particular, I remembered one very cold and wet day on a similarly steep mountainside somewhere in B.C.
It was snowing that day rather than raining and I had a desperate need to pee. I was wearing fairly heavy rain gear -- the type with bib overalls -- and I knew that in order to pee, I'd have to take it all off and expose myself to the freezing wind and snow. My hands, in particular were absolutely frozen. I was finding it difficult to stick the trees in the ground because they were so numb. But I knew that the only way to stay warm was to keep working and generating warmth. The only problem with this plan was that working hard meant planting trees which meant bending over which meant putting pressure on my bladder.
Finally, I could take it no longer and I dropped my bags, undid my bib overalls and let the front flop down in front of me. I unzipped my jeans and forced my barely functioning hands to manipulate my block and tackle into a suitable direction. Despite the blizzard swirling around my plumbing, it felt fantastic. It wasn't just the reduced pressure on my bladder that felt so good. For the first time in hours, my hands began to unthaw.
I stood there looking out over an absolutely stunningly beautiful mountain valley, and kept my hands where they were for far longer than absolutely necessary. I was mesmerized by the thought that for the first time in my life I was fondling my genitals because it made my hands feel good.
This thought entertained me so much that it completely changed my mood and I soon found myself belting out the Christmas carol "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire…"
Fortunately, it wasn't nearly that cold at Pont des Tuves and we knew that once we climbed back out of the gorge we could warm up with coffee in a lovely little bar. No singing was required.
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