10/29/10 Day 10
This morning I woke up on a floating dock. The dock, a short leap
from a fisherman's pier, was designed for jet skis and had a very low
edge with wheels to facilitate jet ski take outs. This also made
it super easy to roll my kayak out of the water.
The night before I had made enough food for two meals. As soon as my
food was ready I siphoned half of it off into my Nalgene bottle and
threw the extremely hot container into my sleeping bag, to preheat
the toes section.
Now, ready for breakfast, without getting out of my bag, I rooted
around for the leftovers. There was also a bottle of water just a few
scoots away. Having woken up at ten to six, I was on the water with
all my morning obligations taken care of by 7:15, before even a hint
On top of my T-shirt I was wearing the fleece vest I had been given
the night of my swamp walk and on top of that my spray top (shell).
Leaving the marina, the water was glassy flat, calmer then anything
I had seen yet. Their was a deep fog. I paddled close to the shore,
quickly leaving town and watching cars drive in an out of the fog just
above the beach. Their was no sunrise but gradually the fog became
lighter and I could see the misty swirls a little bit better.
It was time to put Moe in the water. I unleashed him into the sea,
sending him to accomplish great things, and maybe even catch a fish.
Having a place to stay for the Sabbath in Perpignan, I only needed to
make it to Canet Plage (“Plage” pronounced like the sound a penguin
makes when its choking) the next town over.
The fog thickened.
“So Moe, How's it going back there?”
“You sea any big fish? I don't mean to be pushy, but feel free to
start earning your keep any time now.”
Moe was swimming behind me and unable to answer.
I could make out buildings behind the beach now. After about an hour
I had made it Canet Plage. By 7:30 I was pulling into a marina.
I put Moe away, he had not earned his keep.
There was a fisherman and his son, a little fisherman, at the entrance
and I called out to him.
“Excusemwa, Canet Plage?” I had pronounce 'plage' in the way that god
smote the Egyptians.
The man responded “I don't understand you.”
I pointed down at the water and at the marina around me “Canet Plage?”
“No” he told me, and then gave some other name for the marina that I
didn't recognize. I looked at my chart, I was pretty sure I was in
the right place, though I couldn't be certain.
I was about to show him my chart to ask where we were when he said
“Oh, you mean Canet Plage.” (“Plage” pronounced like the sound a
penguin makes when its choking.) “Yes that is also a name for this
I navigated through the marina to find the 'Club Nautic' where I was
told I might be able to leave my kayak. The fog was so thick I don't
think I could see more then 20 feet. Eventually I found a beach and a
guy who said I could leave my kayak there.
I wrapped things up and began the walk to my host in Perpignan.
Once away from the water the fog was behind me and it was a bright and
beautiful day. My three and a half hour walk took me through a
beautiful French countryside that was completely void of surprise
swamps. The white faced Pyrenees in the distance stood over a
gorgeous hill country with olive orchards and vineyards. One vineyard
was close to my path and a low grape plant offered up its fruit to me.
I don't know anything about the morality of stealing grapes from a
vineyard. I took three, they were really tasty, like sweet wine,
which I don't like, except that they were grapes.
Eventually I found my way to my host’s house. The rabbi has a lovely
home with four kids who I can look forward to spending the Sabbath
* Canet Plage is where the Pyrenees meet the Mediterranean. There is a photo of Canet Plage near the bottom left of this website: http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.mascamps.com/bigphoto/CanetPlage.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.pyreneesthemes.com/themes/activities.php&usg=__jaZduoZCHHa_IXzFxtJnR4fxnAU=&h=480&w=640&sz=60&hl=en&start=21&sig2=lXVS6iQw4kuJQrjxwnoHhQ&zoom=1&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=CQnBNKBLP59W6M:&tbnh=103&tbnw=137&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dcanet%2Bplage%2Bfrance%26start%3D20%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26rlz%3D1G1GGLQ_ENUS374%26ndsp%3D20%26tbs%3Disch:1&ei=DvHKTMK1BIH7lweBiL2KAQ ~ ed.
Sounds like you are settling in to your trip and having some fun! How are you doing? The pictures are great.
Thanks John! I'm having lots of fun and I wish I had more pictures for you, but my camera is very ill.ReplyDelete
For those of you who don't know, John is the awesome kayak instructor who taught me how to roll. He also retails NRS gear and gave me a great price, so if anybody in the northeast has any needs kayak, John is great!
if all you did was eat a few grapes and didn't take any with you than at least halachickly the word "stealing" does not apply (I'm sure the grape-owner will be relieved to learn this...)ReplyDelete
It's nice to here from you Shachar. It's always good to know friends are thinking (or reading) about you. Just out of curiosity, and I only ask this because I might have had a few more grapes yesterday, what's the rule?ReplyDelete
All the best!
I have this secret fear that the grapes were for some special wine and I'll be caught (finger prints) and charged hundreds of dollars for them.ReplyDelete
For everyone else, "Halachickly" is Hebrew for "Within the confines of Jewish law".