Still running...

I set out around 5:45pm to complete a loop described to us by THE leader of the leaders here in Europe. She is a trip leader at heart and she gave step by step detailed directions complete with a highlighted route map. It sounded perfect. 4 miles with a small climb on a low traffic, well shaded road that opens up to a great view of the mountain and a loop back to the canal.

I was off to a good start and every time I crossed an intersection I would think to myself, "there's that tree she was talking about so I must be on the right track." Somewhere at the top it all went downhill. Literally and figuratively. There was supposed to be a 4-way intersection and my route dead-ended into a 3-way intersection...hmm. Oh well, turn right.

Now I'm supposed to pass a road on the right called Chemin du Velo. Velo = bikes. Easy enough to remember...although I'm not really seeing any Velos. About 10 minutes down the road (a bit over a mile at my lightning speed) I decide I should really have passed it by now and I need to turn right at some point. Sense of direction says turn away from the mountain.

I passed an older, fairly robust lady tending to her horticulture shop in her apron (a nursery in the states) so I stop:

"Excusez moi...uh...(gestures + pointing) a le canal?"

French sigh in response (This is common here. It consists of a little lift of the hands, shrug of the shoulder's, tilt of the head, lower lip pokes out like a pout, and a little noise squeeks out that sounds like a little flatulence)

"uh...no je parle pas francais, parle vous anglais?"

Another sigh.

"uh...a Carpentras (+ more gestures and waiving)"

"oh. OH. (now I get my first french lady tisk. tisk. tisk. complete with finger shaking)" insert MANY french words here...NONE of which I understood. I did however understand that I was really far and I had to go straight and at some point turn right.

"uh...oui. Se bon. Merci."

So I ran. and ran. and ran. and ran some more. I finally found my way back to a much busier road, but at least I knew I was on the right track to get home based on the signs pointing to Carpentras.

By the time I got home it was 7:15. I had been running for an hour and a half. I would guestimate that my 4 miles somehow doubled. Could be worse...I could be somewhere less pretty. Here are some more pictures from along the way.