New Years Day

Sometimes the titles of these things are just too obvious to pass up...

So, what to do on New Years Day when you're living in rural Southern France in the harsh, rugged garrigue where the Rhône Valley meets the foothills of the Cévennes; when even after building a sunrise fire and enjoying a long, lazy pancake breakfast, the first Tournament of Roses Parade marching band is still tucked in their hotel beds alternating between dreams of triumphantly striding past the Governor's stand and nightmares of forgetting every note that they've so meticulously drilled the past six months; when only the most hard-core tailgaters have taken up position outside a bowl-game stadium still dark in the cool first night; and when the last lingering revelers are probably still toasting one more drink into a warm Pacific breeze?  What to do when the sun is up and bright and warm and the apples of your eye are looking at you with a trapped-in, cooped-up, pent-up, desperate gaze?

You strap your beloved cherubs upon your back and head off out into the garrigue for a three-hour hike down into the Gardon River gorge and back up out, of course.

Along the way you are rewarded with precipitous views of the Gardon gorge, ancient caves, not-as-ancient shrines built in to said caves and sweeping views of the Rhône Valley and the snow-capped Cévennes peaks.  At the same time, by lugging a backpack full of water, multiple snack options and… oh yeah… a three-year-old (or 20-month-old, as the case may be) down into and (more so) back up out of the gorge, you get a flat-out kick*ss workout that at least puts a little tiny dent into the mass of calories you’ve consumed over the past month. 

Happy New Year everyone.