Fay???

The vacation would have been perfect if not for the constant bickering between us. If I wanted to go to the beach, Jean-Pierre wanted to go hiking.  If I wanted to go to a restaurant, he voted for a picnic at the beach.  It had been that way for more than a week when we finally hit upon an idea.  One day was to be his, to do whatever he pleased, and the next day was mine.  


Today was mine and the first order of the day was to find Fay.  It had been twelve years since I last saw her, but now that we were in Prince Edward Island, her stomping grounds, I hoped to find her again.  I looked in the phone book for her number, but she wasn't listed...no one by that name!  What a shame.  We would be leaving in a day or two and I wouldn't get to see her.


Disheartened, but unwilling to waste my day, I dragged J.P. to Cavendish Beach. Normally the lover of long walks, he decided that he wanted to stop at the first cove. This was as good a place as any, he decided. Normally the sluggard, I was for going farther. "Uh uh. Not for me.  It doesn't feel right.  I'll know the spot when I find it."  It was my day, after all!


On we trudged, our cooler and beach paraphernalia getting heavier with each step. At the second cove, he asked if perhaps we might just 'put down'.  "Nope, not yet. Still not right."  The third and last cove!  It felt right.  That small mound of sand back there, that was the spot!  I spread my towel over it and plunked down contentedly. "Are you sure you want to stop here?  Why don't we walk a little more? Up the beach, up that way.  It looks nicer."  "No, I like it here.  This is the right spot! Right here!"


He conceded gracefully and arranged his towel beside mine.  We passed some time laughing at the antics of the two lively, young boys playing in the sand in front of us. When their mother leaned to the side to reprimand them, a perky, pink-tipped breast was exposed.  I nudged J.P.  "Look quick," I whispered.  He had been deprived of such sights in Canada.  On the beaches in France, half-naked bodies were a dime a dozen. Suddenly the woman turned even more.  Wait...was it possible?  Something about her reminded me of Fay.  No, it couldn't be, could it?  


The young woman and her husband started packing up to leave.  I had to say something...had to find out.  They started walking away...it was now or never. "Fay???" She turned and looked at me.  "Arlene???"

A little bit of heaven in France?

We went to Cirque de Navacelles in le L'Arzac because we saw a picture of it on the wall at the campground.  It looked like it would be a good place to visit.  We weren't disappointed!  It was wonderful; something akin to a very small portion of the Grand canyon, but with a small, very old village at the bottom, and I mean WAY at the bottom! Since we had gone about forty kilometres out of our way to visit the area, I thought we should continue on down the mountain so we could visit the village. Makes sense, no? Jean-Pierre tried to talk me out of it, declaring that it looked too dangerous, but I would have none of it!  I should mention that yours-truly was driving.  


Boldly I started down the very small road that led to the valley, the very, very, very small road!!!  In fact, at a certain point, the thought flitted through my not-so-bright head, that maybe, just maybe, the road might be just a trifle too small. It was a fine road for our camper, all by itself, but add to the equation another car, coming UP the road, and you would have a major problem.  And, that was exactly what happened.  At first, everything was great!  We were doing just fine. The camper fitted nicely between the rock walls that enclosed it on both sides; very snug indeed!  All systems were "Go" - for about one hundred metres, until, what's that approaching around the bend?  A car - no, two cars! Make that three!!!  Oh, crap!  Now what?  Can they back up? Don't be unreasonable, you fool!  There are three of them and just one of you and they would have to back up all the way down the mountain, but you've just started and are comparatively close to the top. Oh my Lord.  How did we get into this mess?  Whose idea was this anyway?  Oh, yeah.  It was, uh..mine.  


I was not exaggerating when I said that the camper fitted snugly between the rock walls. We had about two feet on either side to play with, on a very winding road! Picture us, Jean-Pierre outside, guiding from behind, yours truly driving, looking through the rear-view mirror, backing UP a mountain road in a huge camper.  A VERY small, VERY winding road.  

Take a deep breath, let it out - and here we go. O.K. back up straight.  Now turn to the right.  No! That's too far to the right!  You're going to hit the wall!  Forward again to get some leeway. O.K. back we go. Crap, too close again!  Get me out of here! Forward again.  We've got it now.  Fine, now straight back and to the left. Good. Good!  NO! Stop! Too close to the side.  Forward again, riding the heck out of the clutch.  Starting to sweat now.  How will we EVER do this?  What's that smell?  Burning rubber?  The clutch?  Hard not to ride the clutch!  Help us, Lord!!!  We'll never make it. Forward and back and forward and back - the cars in front of us crawling slowly forward as we continue to climb backward and up, nearly hitting the rock wall at each bend in the road.  Jean-Pierre running back a way to stop the people hoping to descend the mountain - signalling to them to back up.  I always enjoyed being the centre of attention, but this attention I could do without!  Jean-Pierre didn't seem to be relishing the attention he was receiving, either!  


Hours passed.  Well, in fact, it was probably only about fifteen minutes.  The walls were no more - the road widened.  There at the right side of the road behind us, was enough room for a camper to park!!!!  Hallelujah. We made it! The lady in the passenger seat in the car in front of us, gave me the thumbs-up sign, to let me know that I had done an O.K. job.  I didn't care to know what her husband, the driver thought. Seven or eight cars coming up the mountain and another four or five going down, were finally able to pass us. They had all been waiting for quite some time for an idiotic female driving a huge camper, to get the heck out of the way.  


Jean-Pierre approached my window with the very unwelcome news that there was still quite a way to go.  

"NO WAY!  I'M NOT GOING TO BACK UP THIS ROAD ANOTHER FOOT! I'M GOING TO TURN AROUND!!!"  

"You can't turn around! The road is too narrow!" 

"I CAN DO IT!"  

"You can't!"  

"WATCH ME!"  

Over to the right as far as possible - left, full rudder. Forward to the edge of the narrow road. No guardrail.  Back up. Quick before traffic starts piling up again. Forward again. There's the edge. Don't look down!  Back, turn the wheel, forward, back.  At one point perpendicular to the road, staring out into space over the edge of the mountain. We're going to die!!!  Back, forward, again and again - three or four inches at a time! VICTORY!!!  We were, at last, facing up the mountain in the right direction, happy to leave that adventure behind!