The first part of my trip was a bit of a chal\u00adlenge: thir\u00adty hours of con\u00adtin\u00adu\u00adous trav\u00adel, and no sleep for forty hours. Every leg of the jour\u00adney had to match the next in a short time span, and I was to be met at the Mon\u00adtr\u00e9\u00adjeau rail\u00adway sta\u00adtion at a spe\u00adcif\u00adic time. One missed con\u00adnec\u00adtion would put my finances at risk. There were two flights by Ice\u00adlandair (always more com\u00adfort\u00adable than most air\u00adlines because the hefty Ice\u00adlanders require leg room) but, sad\u00adly, my stopover in Reik\u00adjavik was less than hour. No chance to stroll in one of my favourite towns. I could do noth\u00ading more than look out the win\u00addow at the black lava fields around Keflavik.<\/p>\n
I had wor\u00adried about bor\u00adder has\u00adsles because of the ter\u00adror\u00adist attack in Brus\u00adsels the pre\u00advi\u00adous day. Last year, Ice\u00adland with\u00addrew its appli\u00adca\u00adtion for EU<\/span> mem\u00adber\u00adship, which had only ten\u00adta\u00adtive sup\u00adport among the tra\u00addi\u00adtion\u00adal\u00adly inde\u00adpen\u00addence-mind\u00aded Ice\u00adlanders, but it remains per\u00adhaps the eas\u00adi\u00adest entry point into Europe from Cana\u00adda. No ques\u00adtions, a quick pass\u00adport stamp, and I was in. I could walk straight from the plane at Rois\u00adsy with\u00adout going through cus\u00adtoms. Rois\u00adsy-Charles deGaulle is, however,an air\u00adport the size of a small city, and requires some nav\u00adi\u00adga\u00adtion. After mak\u00ading my way through a maze of inclined tubes resem\u00adbling a futur\u00adis\u00adtic ver\u00adsion of the stair\u00adcas\u00ades of Hog\u00adworts, I need\u00aded to take the dri\u00adver\u00adless CDGVAL<\/span> train five sta\u00adtions to the part of the air\u00adport where the Grande lignes<\/i> of the SNCF<\/span> trains depart for the south. There, I caught the train for Lyon, hav\u00ading time to spare only for a baguette with ham and cheese. The trains pull into the sta\u00adtion at high\u00ader speeds than a Cana\u00addi\u00adan train would go on open track. When under\u00adway, they accel\u00ader\u00adate to speeds that ViaRail in Cana\u00adda could not imag\u00adine. The Paris-Lyon run nor\u00admaly goes at just a bit under 200 mph (320kph). Trains com\u00ading in the oppo\u00adsite direc\u00adtion whip by in a sec\u00adond, vis\u00adi\u00adble only as a blue blur. Like most trav\u00adellers, I find rail trav\u00adel vast\u00adly more com\u00adfort\u00adable, con\u00adve\u00adnient, and civ\u00adi\u00adlized than air trav\u00adel, and I\u2019m ashamed that my coun\u00adtry has let its rail ser\u00advice, once its pride, decay into incom\u00adpe\u00adtence and tech\u00adni\u00adcal back\u00adward\u00adness, while much of the rest of the world strides into the future.<\/p>\n At Lyon, I switched to anoth\u00ader train, which took me on the longest rail seg\u00adment of my voy\u00adage. It went through Avi\u00adgnon, N\u00eemes, Mont\u00adpe\u00adlier, Beziers, Nar\u00adbonne, and Car\u00adcas\u00adsone to Toulouse. An elder\u00adly lady explained to me the com\u00adplex geol\u00ado\u00adgy of the Mas\u00adsif cen\u00adtral<\/i>, a most\u00adly Devonian\/Permian struc\u00adture that is most\u00adly karst\u00adland, but with vol\u00adcanic intru\u00adsions. I strug\u00adgled to trans\u00adlate geo\u00adlog\u00adi\u00adcal terms that I knew only in Eng\u00adlish. For exam\u00adple, I ven\u00adtured \u201cter\u00adrain de type Karst<\/i>\u201d but the cor\u00adrect form is \u201cfor\u00adma\u00adtion kars\u00adtique<\/i>\u201d. This regions marks the tran\u00adsi\u00adtion from North to South, a divi\u00adsion that is lin\u00adguis\u00adtic, cul\u00adtur\u00adal, cli\u00admat\u00adic, and eco\u00adlog\u00adi\u00adcal. Once in the South,you are in a Mediter\u00adranean place. The archi\u00adtec\u00adture reflects it. Plen\u00adty of red-tiled roofs, plain stuc\u00adco walls, and when you get down to the coast, palm trees. <\/span> <\/span><\/p>\n By the time I passed through Car\u00adcas\u00adsone, it was dark,so held lit\u00adtle expec\u00adta\u00adtion that I would see its fab\u00adu\u00adlous cas\u00adtle. But it is flood-lit, and so huge that I glimpsed it in the far dis\u00adtance in the train win\u00addow oppo\u00adsite. At Toulouse, I did no more than take a few steps across a plat\u00adform to get on my last train, a milk run that would take me to Mon\u00adtr\u00e9\u00adjean, in the foothills of the Pyr\u00e9n\u00e9es. I shared a com\u00adpart\u00adment with a snow\u00adboard\u00ader who yearned to vis\u00adit British Colum\u00adbia (a log\u00adi\u00adcal ambi\u00adtion for a snow\u00adboard\u00ader \u2014 he even knew who Ross Rebagliati was).He brought me to anoth\u00ader com\u00adpart\u00adment where a small group, young and old, was pass\u00ading around a gui\u00adtqr. The snow\u00adboard\u00ader did\u00adn\u2019t play, but he sang excel\u00adlent rap, pour\u00ading out a stream of lyrics with\u00adout hesitation.<\/span><\/p>\n The train reached its des\u00adti\u00adna\u00adtion on time to the minute (please take note, ViaRail). My host, M.Michel Uchan, spot\u00adted me instant\u00adly in the crowd of one, I being the only pas\u00adsen\u00adger to get off. M.Uchan has proven a most con\u00adge\u00adnial host. He speaks French and Span\u00adish, but no Eng\u00adlish. His French is the musi\u00adcal accent of the South, where the final vow\u00adels and con\u00adso\u00adnants that are silent in stan\u00addard French are clear\u00adly pro\u00adnounced, and there is the rhyth\u00admic lilt you hear in Span\u00adish, Cata\u00adlan or Ital\u00adian, rather than the machine-gun tem\u00adpo of the North. With\u00adin a few min\u00adutes we were in Loubr\u00e8s, a vil\u00adlage of eighty peo\u00adple that is uncom\u00adpro\u00admis\u00ading\u00adly rur\u00adal and Occ\u00adi\u00adtan<\/i>. M. Uchan oper\u00adates a small fro\u00admagerie<\/i>, which pro\u00adduces a local cheese of the vari\u00adety known as Tomme de Pyr\u00e9n\u00e9es, which I am most eager to taste, but for the moment, forty hours with\u00adout sleep sends me prompt\u00adly to bed.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The first part of my trip was a bit of a chal\u00adlenge: thir\u00adty hours of con\u00adtin\u00adu\u00adous trav\u00adel, and no sleep for forty hours. Every leg of the jour\u00adney had to match the next in a short time span, and I \u2026<\/p>\n