Monthly Archives: August 2020

Reflections And Not So Peaceful Doves

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I didn’t sleep much in the hotel last night, but it was peaceful lying awake in the dark, watching the lightning through the skylight in my room.

Waking up, I took it easy, had a real coffee, and read a book. A few hours later, I went outside, had another coffee, and attempted to have lunch. Which was harder than I thought due to a whole group of incredibly pushy doves. This is just two of them, sitting on the plates that had been left on the table right next to mine. The doves ended up squabbling so much over all the pieces that half of the dishes and cutlery crashed to the floor. Then, they tried to grab food off my plate as I was still eating. They succeeded in stealing the cake I had looked forward to for dessert. But, the cheese baguette was and remained mine!!!

I’ve thought a lot this past week. About life. About being homeless. About all the uncertainty. About what I am doing (not entirely sure…).

I’ve thought about my trip. And about how to continue. Whilst my feet and mind were moving in tandem, I realized something. It’s no coincidence that I love being a stage manager. Apart from feeling at home backstage and enjoying the challenges of battling with the unexpected, I also love structuring, planning, and scheduling. It seems to be in my blood. So in a way, without noticing, I’ve stage managed my hike as well.

Then, there is plain old stubbornness. Sometimes, there are two trails, and I actually like the other one better. Yet, I feel the need to keep following the E4 Long Distance Path because I said so. Keeping my word to the point of masochism. There is ambition there as well, and personal pride, and my German perfectionism. Somewhere along the line, I’ve gotten way too serious and overly relentless about this. Way too concerned about following the trail rather than experiencing the journey.

Amazing, how an extreme endeavor like this really does bring us closer to ourselves and shows us more clearly who we are.

I need to take this opportunity and jump over my shadow. This is not the time for planning and structuring things. This hike is a time for me to enjoy, be spontaneous, change direction, change my mind, follow my heart, do what makes me happy. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Not even to myself. I don’t need to follow a specific route. And I don’t need to arrive. This is about the journey. It’s for me. And it’s for #step4circus. No matter what shape or form it takes.

So, I’m going to liberate myself ☀️

I‘ll start with “jumping over” the Vercors mountains. Yesterday marked 6 weeks of me hiking through mountains. Frankly, I’m a bit “mountained out” at the moment and need a change of scenery. I am craving rolling hills rather than steep ups and downs… and I’m craving ocean! Also, the Vercors mountains hold beautiful memories of a life that’s over… which at the moment will break my heart all over again…

Instead of hiking three more weeks south through the Vercors mountains, I’ll take a train to Avignon tomorrow. Then I’ll spend a few days near Uzes seeing friends.

And then… well… we’ll see 😁

I need to research a bit these next few days (There I go again. Relax Liam. Not too much planning). But, I am thinking to definitely move as close to the Mediterranean Sea as I can. Find paths that will get me close enough so I can jump into the deep blue sea every so often, but also paths that lead me a bit further away here and there so I don’t end up enveloped by masses of sunbathing tourists.

Onward and southwest-ward bound is still the general idea. But following my heart more and not forgetting to have fun as well along the way is the prime objective.

As a good friend of mine said a few days ago, “If you stop looking for the trail signs and instead go forth with your head held high and remaining in the moment, your journey will take you to the right place no matter where that may be.” (Thank you for reminding me, dear David!)

Approx. 370 km So Far

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Here a little map again to show the leg of my journey from Geneva to Grenoble. It took almost 2 weeks. Approx. 150 km. 370 km altogether since I started in Brugg 6 weeks ago. First the Swiss Jura Crest Trail, then the French Jura mountains, on to the Rhone River valley, then through the Massif de la Chartreuse.

Now in Grenoble, with (as always) rebelling feet, sore muscles, and a head full of thoughts. I’ll explain more in my next post.

It’s been super lonely this last week in the mountains. On the one hand, I really enjoyed having the forests all to myself. On the other hand, I missed having some company. Missed having people around me, hearing laughter, and conversations. And I missed hugs. Actually, ever since we got into this whole Covid19 crisis, I’ve missed hugs. I am a teddy bear and I am definitely suffering from hug withdrawal. Tried to hug a few trees along the way. But, it’s just not the same. Just saying. Hope you are all well my dear friends around the world. I am thinking of you and I miss you x

Grenoble

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Yay!!! Made it to Grenoble with minutes to spare before the big thunderstrom will hit full force! Glad to be looking at it through a skylight rather than being out in the open. Time to rest those weary muscles and feet for a couple of days…

The Show Must Go On

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Long shadows after another almost sleepless night… thoughts… nightmares I’ve had for months… sadness… heartbreak… a bit of exhaustion… mosquitoes… and an owl which, I swear, was sitting somewhere right next to my ear…

Thankfully, I managed to set up my little camp close to a small and ice cold little mountain creek. That meant a cold and prickly footbath while eating crackers… last night, as well as this morning.

I walked through this enchanting green ocean of dancing grass when the first message reached me that Le Reve, a beautiful show, the beginning of an era, an amazing vision, literally a dream, is being closed down for good in Las Vegas. Another almost 300 of my colleagues and friends are losing their livelyhood for now, not knowing where to turn.

I wish the initiative my friends and I are trying to build was not still in its infancy. Step4Circus is something that needs to come about. A small, yet important contribution to create jobs, hope, and a positive step forward in our circus community. It’s still a work in progress… I’ll keep you updated on all further developments! https://step4circus.com/

Today, as every day, my heart goes out to all my colleagues in the performance arts, to cast and crew, my show family, who put so much passion, soul, and hard work into creating moments of magic. We will find a way. We will be back. What is humanity without storytelling and the collective experience of eloping into our imagination? The show must go on xxx

Forging My Own Trail

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Looking at the horizon, this is the general direction I’m heading towards at the moment. Through the Rhone valley and then the Massif de la Chartreuse to Grenoble. By now, the trails have already led me away from water again. So I must be in the area of the Massif de la Chartreuse. Can’t wait for the next lake or river (the river Drome).

It’s been cloudy these last 2 days, off and on. And, this morning, I just managed to take shelter underneath a huge oak tree before a rain storm hit. But, overall, it is still hot enough so that a swim in a cold lake will feel like heaven…

The longer I walk, the more I think I won’t follow the exact E4 trail anymore. Well, sometimes I will, sometimes I won’t… As soon as I get close to the Mediterranean Sea (which will be in about 1-2 weeks), I will forge my own trail and rather navigate by instinct and by where I want to be… instead of following that one exact route. There are so many trails, after all…

Hot Coffee After a Sleepless Night

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Chanaz was an idyllic little place to come through. I stayed a few hours, sat at the river and just soaked in the beautiful scenery.

It was also a stop I sorely needed after another cold and humid night in my little tent. Wild camping can be quite stressful. Ticks are everywhere, so are millions of flies and mosquitoes. I want to thank the inventor of the mosquito net!!! Without it, I wouldn’t be able to get any sleep at all. Then there are all the noises in the forest. Seemingly romantic, but not when you are exhausted from a day of walking and really need to sleep and then there is yet another deer crashing through the underbrush just as you are finally falling asleep. I’d love to just go to designated camp sites. But so far, I’ve never seen any.

300 km so far – from Brugg to Culoz

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In Culoz, I saw this map of the French Jura trail. It was only then I realized I have just walked both the entire Swiss and French Jura Crest Trail (only that I started in Brugg, in the German part of Switzerland, not in Mandeure). Around 300 km, all-in-all, give or take. I am a bit proud of myself, I must admit ☺️

I also confirmed something I already knew: I am not a mountain person. As much as I admire the natural beauty all around me, I immediately felt so much happier when I was close to water again. Now, following the Rhone river, smelling the rich scent of river water, seeing the blue ribbon meander through valley after valley, I feel like I can breathe more easily.

To be honest, more than anything, I am looking forward to reaching the Mediterranean Sea. The ocean feels a bit like home.

I miss having a home.

Because, no matter how much I’m trying to stay in the moment and make the most of things, no matter how much I am enjoying this journey, I long to have a place to come home to again. A place to relax and just be. A place with friends, with surprise visits, laughter, BBQs, and kinship. A place with a job I love and am invested in. A place surrounded by ocean if possible… and maybe, if I’m lucky, even, one day again, a family in such a place…

Reaching The Limits

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Definite highlight yesterday was when I reached the top of Le Grand Colombier at 1’534 m altitude… and spotted the Rhone river for the first time. Those trails were not made for people with heavy backpacks. As I worked my way up slowly with the help of my hiking sticks, I felt like some extra-terrestrial spider conquering Earth. Totally exhausted, I flopped down in this very spot on the photo after, took off my sweaty t-shirt and settled in for a while. Swallows were hunting all around me, zipping past at insane speeds. With no other sounds to distract me, I realized for the first time that they actually sound like mini jet fighters as they accelerate towards their prey. How they’re even able to spot and grab tiny insects at high speed is a mystery to me…

After a while, I wandered onwards towards Culoz, yet again encountering paths that needed the skill of a mountain goat.

To be honest, yesterday I almost gave up. These last two days were tough. Water was the biggest problem. All small mountain restaurants were closed because of Covid19, and all river and creek beds were dried out. There was simply nowhere to re-fill. Also, the day before, I had walked a good 20 km. Not because I wanted to, but because there was nowhere to set up my tent. Either the trail went through an extreme slope, or it went through a cow pasture. I finally found a spot at 8pm at night, after 9 hours of walking. My water was almost gone and I had to force myself to keep some of it for the next day.

Then, yesterday morning, I set off at 8 am, feeling quite cold after a humid night in the forest.

I had a little less than half a liter of water left. Almost immediately, the ascent to Le Grand Colombier began.

Resting on top, from where I was sitting here in this picture, I could see lots of cars and a few huts, and I thought, “Yay, finally, a place to refill my water.” I was parched, so I drank what I had left. When I arrived at the huts, I could see that they were all closed, too. Nothing to do but hope for the best and keep on walking. My saliva was growing so thick, I began to understand how Mr. Anderson must have felt in The Matrix when the agents were gluing his mouth shut. With every minute, I felt more like exactly the same was happening to me, too.

Luckily, about an hour later, I came upon an open restaurant. I ate a real meal and drank 2 liters of water. Took another two liters with me. By then, I had already been 6 hours on the trail. Only 3 more hours to Culoz. With a freshly filled stomach, I felt optimistic. Plus, there was nowhere else to go if I wanted to refill my water supply again at the end of the day. Everything else was just forests and the dried out Jura mountain range.

So, I pressed on. The trail began to go downhill and was horrible. Have I told you how much I’ve come to hate gravel? Almost every hiking trail is fortified with gravel. Not the small pebbly kind either, but large, sharp pieces of rock. I try to avoid them as much as I can. I always watch my step. But still, these trails are killing my feet. After about the 8th hour of walking I felt like crying. “Who had this great idea of going hiking? Oh yeah, me.”

Thankfully, I could see Culoz from above. A trail sign told me it was only 1 1/2 hours more. At that moment though, 1 1/2 hours felt like an eternity. All my water was gone again and I was completely exhausted. I pep-talked myself all the way down, running a constant string of dialogue with myself (with the intermittent “ouch” and a lot of swearing). Finally, after an insane 10 hours of ascents and descents, and approx. 25 km, I reached Culoz. Where I found a fountain to refill my water supply and found a secluded spot to set up my tent.

This morning I feel a lot better again. Heading out towards Chanaz along the Rhone river.

Undercover in Underpants

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Every day, I am amazed with the regenerative powers of sleep. My body feels a hundred years old when I go to bed. Everything hurts. In the morning, a little ache here and there but I’m good to go again.

This adventure happened yesterday. I fell asleep before I was able to share it with you. But here it is. I’m still chuckling just thinking about it:

Mid-afternoon, I needed to take a break. I was on a beautiful plateau and spotted shade underneath some trees. I took off all my gear, put my towel as a blanket on the ground, and then took off my sweaty t-shirt as well. Shoes, socks, and pants followed. I spread everything out so it could dry a bit, relaxed, had some water, and a snack.

All of a sudden, I heard a noise. I looked up to see twenty large cows coming through the trees. They looked utterly surprised and shocked to see me. The feeling was mutual.

I got up slowly and carefully, my mind quickly going through all the options. There weren’t many. All my stuff was spread out on the ground, and I stood there barefoot in my underpants. This was when the cows began stomping their hooves and moved towards me.

Could I quickly gather all my things and make a run for it? Too late. As several cows began charging towards me, I grabbed my phone and my walking sticks and moved slowly backwards. I began singing to the cows since I had heard grizzly bears calm down when they hear singing. Maybe it is the same for cows? It isn’t. If anything, they seemed to double their speed. I doubled mine, too.

As fast as I could, I hopped over some rocks and scrambled up the hill in my underpants. Then, I wiggled underneath some bushes.

The cow herd arrived at my stuff and, stomped their hooves. They circled my backpack and clothes suspiciously. Some of them gazed towards where I was hiding, but soon they were preoccupied with my stuff. I was scared. What if they trampled my backpack? What if they chewed on my shoes?? Should I run out and charge at them, screaming my head off? I followed my instincts and opted for keeping quiet instead, hoping they would soon lose interest.

One by one the cows checked out my belongings. They circled, sniffed, probed. Then, finally, one by one, they got bored and the herd slowly walked off into the distance.

It took about an hour, but then, finally, I was able to carefully approach my stuff at the bottom of the hill. All things considered, I was lucky. The cows hadn’t chewed anything. However, everything was covered in cow slobber. I took a couple minutes doing my best to quickly clean my clothes, shoes, and backpack and get rid of all the gooey slobber… always keeping an eye out in case the herd decided to double back.

Then, I quickly got dressed, worked some more on the slobber on my socks, put on my shoes, shouldered my backpack and snuck away.

This probably was one of my scariest and most hilarious experiences to date. For the rest of the day, I kept laughing every time I thought about it.

Of course, I had been way too busy running around in my underpants to take any pictures. So this one is just in the spirit of cows, showing some peaceful and curious bovines I met further on along the way.

The Foot Whisperer

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My favorite spot today. Even though there wasn’t any shade, I couldn’t resist sitting on that chair for a while and letting my thoughts roam.

So many things going through my head… the present moment, cows, my growling stomach, memories, happiness, pain, the rich scent of the french jura meadows, a wasp landing on my face, cows coming closer, missing my work backstage, enjoying the physical exercise, blisters building on my left foot now (grrr), wondering where all this will lead, and telling myself to not wonder too much.

Signage was much better today. So strange after not seeing anything yesterday.

5 hours per day seems to be my limit for the moment. Longer than that and my feet start screaming.

I found out that heavy hiking boots don’t work for me on a long distance hike. With the lighter trekking shoes, it feels so much better. I am becoming a foot whisperer, noticing every little signal those two rebels are sending me. Never ever paid so much attention to my feet before.

French hikers are very polite, too. Bonjour-ing all over the place. One hiker shared his water with me today on the trail when I was out.

Beautiful landscape. Mont Blanc often shining like a diamond on the horizon.

Oh, and I did make it to Plan d’Hotonnes today!