For starters Id slept in past dawn for the first time on the trip. My normal routine was to rise and pack in order to leave the Orchard, vineyard or grove before anyone came to tend to their harvest, (it wasn't always convenient to seek out the landowners permission before setting camp, so I usually chose a discretionary position to bivouac until dawn)
But in the Gites my movements were slow something wasn't right, I didn't feel good at all, even taking a dram of cold fresh water resulted in unmerciful cramping, I couldn't even take the remainder of the bread Id saved for breakfast.
However upon opening the door and stepping outside my spirits picked up. It was a beautiful cool and clear Alpine day, The Col des Ayes looked down on me approvingly as I secured by backpack and took to the road once more.
Before long I was in forest on my way to Briancon along the GR5.
But the cramping became more severe as the morning wore on and was made all the worse by the waist band of the backpack. I was loath to loosen it and let my shoulders bear the load so I persevered. Guided once more by the sound of bells I eventually arrived in the Alpine town alot later than I expected, the illness was slowing me down and the Italian boarder was still 15 kilometres away up over col de Montgenevre.
I spent little time filming in Briancon and left qiuckly following the Durance in the direction of Montgenevre, the climb was long and hard but something was driving me on...I resisted the urge to just stop and camp for one more night... this day I would be in Italy I promised myself, I became used to the stomach pain by the early afternoon but by then I also was passing everything in liquid form about every hour or so, the medication had little affect at abating these visits to natures commode until late afternoon, by which Time I was exhausted.
It gradually got cooler and cooler as I made my way up over col de Montgenevre and made my way to the Italian boarder...
Walking through the unmanned checkpoint into a deserted Claviere was very eerie, being a skiing town meant it was ghostlike at this time of year, worse still I didn't have that romantic view down into the valleys of norther Italy I had lusted for since leaving Sagunto.
This was supposed to be the moment...The hero scene, where, after weeks of hardship I, like Hannibal gaze down on the richness of the Po valley and beyond..... It wasn't so.
I was tired and ill, it was 6:30 pm there was no view and there was nothing open, not even anywhere to stay and I was 2800 metres up in the alps.
Still I had to get that shot of Italy I wanted, so, Hiding my pack in a bush, I grabbed my camera and started to hike up the snowless ski fields just south of Claviere. Onwards and upwards again I traipsed before finally reaching the top of the ski fields where I found a trail which took me along the Italian slopes of the Alps in a southerly direction, I followed this path for another 3 kilometres before finally deciding on a place to film my first look at Italy.
Utterly spent I returned to Claviere where I found an open cafe, I ordered a cappuccino and picked up a copy of La Stampa where I deduced that continuing on to Turin would be detrimental to my health on account of the random Violence and muggings in the city....seemingly they just shoot you and rob your corpse to avoid any confrontation... My Barcelona mugging incident was enough, I didn't need to fight off another assailant with a can of beer inside a plastic bag (for details of the Barca incident I can tell you about it over a pint)
In my condition I felt I would be eaten alive if I continued to Turin, I had had enough, I had walked from Spain to Italy I had lost 7 kilo's in weight, I was sick as a dog, unable to eat, drinking anything was painfull enough though I nursed the coffee as it comforted me with the onset of the early evening cold.
I needed to rest, but I was stuck here in Claviere, what were my options? continue on into unfamiliar territory? risking life and limb or return down the mountains the way I came and seek refuge? After all I had walked to Italy... The finish line was always transient to me.
Initially when I concocted this idea I planned on walking all the way to Cannae in southern Italy, then reality struck in and had to be accommodated.
My starting point was always going to be Sagunto, Turin became the finish line not long before I embarked on the trip for reasons I can't now recall.
It just seemed like a good place to end it and it also had an airport.
Here I was 30 kilometres from my finish line and contemplating ending it there and then in Claviere.
What was left to prove I had walked through Spain, crossed the Ebro, marched over the Pyrenees through France along the Rhone into the alps over 2 cols and into Italy.
I had done what Hannibal had done and I was proud of my achievement.
In the end my malaise made the decision for me.
I was in no condition to continue.
I needed rest, somewhere familiar and warm.
I would return to Nimes I decided. yes a few days convalescence in the south of France was just what doctor ordered.
I found a bus that would take me back to the train station in Briancon, I sat in the ghost town of Claviere wearing only my hiking shorts until the bus arrived at 9:15pm.
Arriving in Briancon after 10 o clock I discovered id missed the last train, dazed and confused I decided I would wait in the station for the first train at 4:55 am the next morning.
No such luck, at midnight on the arrival of the last train I was turned out onto the streets of Briancon as the station closed for the night.
I sat shivering at a bus shelter opposite watching the lime green digital display over the door of the station, display first the time and then the temperature in degrees Celsius gradually dropping from 11 degrees to 7 during the course of the night, which lasted an age. Like before my mind wandered from conscious dreaming to paranoia and fantasy, I had eaten nothing in 28 hours and my stomach felt like it contained a piece of lead ordnance.
Gratefully I boarded the train with just one other passenger and slowly we pulled out of the station into the early morning darkness to speed me on my way to Nimes.
So, that's it then, the Hannibillica, the walking done...nothing left now than to edit my footage into something watchable.
What have I learned? well, if you have an idea or really feel there something you want to do .. then do it, don't wait, don't let the moment pass, Two years of dreaming and planning could have easily turned into four or eight and then faded into something I was going to do...once.
No, I couldn't live with myself.... Carpe Diem...
I will never regret not trying something.
As Goethe said
"Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it."
Watch this space for the next adventure!
