I used to live in Vancouver and when I first moved out there, in late 1991, it rained for two weeks straight, at least. People kept telling about these ‘mountain’s that towered over the city and how beautiful they were. I had to trust them because there was nothing but a grey, wet, oppressive blanket covering the city. Then, of course, the clouds lifted, and I was greeted with the image of those 3 frosted beauties on the North Shore. I forgot instantly about that rain.
I was reminded of this feeling on my ride this morning with Anne. We don’t go very long without seeing the sun here in Le Sud, but we’ve had a bad run for the past week or more, making this sun-kissed ride a little more euphoric than it should have been. I only took two photos because once I get my winter gloves off it’s damn near impossible to get them back on, and I haven’t mastered taking shots with my nose yet.
The bridge above (Pont de Saint-Étienne d’Issensac ), where we had a snack, is the one pictured below. Barely wide enough for an ass and his cart, this 14th century pont actually takes cars…little cars.