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7 Amazon I awoke to drizzle. Climbing out of the tent I saw why it sounded like a river was rushing past our tent. There was. The ditch we had crossed was a raging torrent of muddy water. It bristled out of its trough and sped past our tent, not more than six feet away. I didn't tell Sharon. Sharon called out, "What's it like out there?" "The Amazon comes to mind," I mumbled. Sharon clamoured out of the tent and exclaimed, "My God! How are we going to get across?" "I don't think we can, Noah." Water surrounded us on three sides. We had miraculously set our tent on what had become a peninsula. Our only escape route was into the forest. We found a path and pushed our bikes along the slimy ground, coming to a threeway fork. Thinking the left branch paralleled the main highway we opted to follow it. After struggling a mucky distance, Sharon left her bike and went to reconnoiter on foot. Half an hour later, she returned and reported the path came out at a country road. Once on the country road we saw swampy brown water covering entire fields. Ditches overflowed. Rivers crested their banks. We had chosen the only dry spot in kilometers. Crossing bridges we stared mesmerized at the murky liquid, ripples bubbling and boiling, churning past, rotting vegetation reeking. The first level of an old woman's home was submerged beneath the muddy water. Floating apples bobbed around the top branches of an apple tree poking above the roiling mess. Some cows waded in knee deep water; others stood on a narrow island, stranded between the main land and the rising water. It was still raining. The engulfing clouds promised no break. Climbing, we gazed at the beautiful green landscape. Tiny farms were separated by briar and bramble fences. A worker on a giant razor hedge clipper shaved the sides of hedges. Red roofed buildings and white cattle specked the mountainous countryside. Passing showers dampened our outlook. On shortwave we heard torrential rains in Egypt had caused damage to seventy cities. There was nothing about France though. So it couldn't be too bad. Church bells tolled the late hour. In Montigut Sharon found a park with a covered area. The toilet had porcelain footsteps over a tiny hole. My knees didn't bend that far. I feared I would crap on my shoe. A soccer match with the coach yelling "Aller! Aller! Aller!" echoed in my ears. |
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