Super-Auday (2009)
Dying hard in French summer

Vernonette is about 80 km from Paris and has little to boast about. The small collection of buildings resemble barracks from the former communist east than a village. Still more than a hundred hikers gather here for the Super-Audax, a 200 km hike.

Doubt
At 04.00 in the morning the first alarm goes off in Vernonette’s sports hall. Five Duth, six Belgians, a few Germans and many French get up for breakfast served in a dilapidated hotel 300 meters down the road. Remarkably many women. The longer the distance, the less women participate, usually, but today that’s certainly not the case. We gather at the terrace, waiting. High visibility jackets are mandatory all day and I am not the only one quickly rummaging through the luggage van to get it out of my bag. As usual at the start of a hike, uncertainty creeps in. I am not feeling great and my physical condition is not best either. Hiking 200 km in France under those conditions? What on earth am I getting into? Then we start hiking and I embrace the rhythm of 6 km/hour. My confidence returns, as it always does. I am strong. I can do this. I know this.

Spawning carp
The birds are starting to sing when we descend a steep hill to Vernon, military training grounds on both sides of the road. At an intersection we can just about see the Seine and there we pass Vernon’s most remarkable house, the old mill, from the 17^th century. The beautiful  half-timbered house is built on the pillars of an old bridge and below the house boats are bobbing on the water. A bit later there’s a grassy path, but soon we reach hard top again. A signal car with orange flashing lights goes ahead to alert to our presence. Fog hovers over the river and the hills on the other side. Berry, one of the Dutch, tell me of a 100 k in Lapland, of which I have wanted to learn more for awhile now. At the first vehicle stop, a mobile rest area that travels with us, it’s immediately clear we are well taken care of during this hike. Cola, cake, pieces of chocolate. We are being spoilt. It’s a wonderful day. Clouded and cool, perfect weather for hiking. At the second vehicle stop the cry of a cuckoo bounces across the Seine’s rippling waters, while below the lilies spawning carp are making a racket.

Richard Lionheart
 Refreshed we are treated to our first serious climb up across a quiet forest road. After a fairly steep descent we reach a plateau from which we have an amazing view of Chateau Guillard’s ruin, the Seine and the huge rocks towering over the river. A part of the ruin of the 1197 castle is hidden behind scaffolding, but there’s still plenty visible to enjoy. The walls and a tower are still standing and tourists, size pinprick, are being let around the still impressive defensive work. The organization has given us a ten minute break here, which we use to enjoy the view and take pictures. The castle which was completed in one year (!) by order of Richard Lionheart, was meant to impress king Philip August of France and prevent he would invade Normandy. The castle was owned by his brother John Lackland after Richards demise due to a crossbow arrow in his shoulder and fell in 1202 already. A seven month siege, fled villagers who sought protection in the castle, but starved in between the lines and a clever raid through the window of the ill guarded chapel. The castle has an exciting, but also tragic history. During the Hundred Years Way the castle changed hands frequently until Henry the Fourth had it demolished in the late 16^th century. The stones were used to repair abbeys in the vicinity.

Shoelaces undone
We descend a 15% slope, past the ruin, towards the village Andelys, where the signal care loses its way twice. Here we have a real stop with a proper meal. We continue along the Seine, below the huge rocks we saw from above earlier. The sun has come out and it’s quite warm. Because we are hiking many miles along the river, my left arm is starting to burn, while my right one doesn’t bother me. Ahead of time I looked on the Internet and bad weather was predicted in France, so sun lotion is not in my bag. I hang my high visibility jacket across my arm, but feel like the sun burns right through it. We continue following the road, till the river slowly slips from our view, hidden behind fields of barley, rapeseed and bushes.
A next vehicle stop is unexpectedly short. I rush to fill my bottle with green minty stuff and forget my stress ball against fat fingers in the grass. After this stop I am suddenly pained by a muscle or tendon in my right foot. It radiates out towards the ankle, but when I loosen a shoelace it improves already. We are hardly a long way in, if this continues it will be a very long 200 k! A vehicle stop later I untie the shoelaces entirely while I enjoy some rice pudding. For a moment I am worried my foot will slide in its shoe, but it’s not too bad.

 

Half-timbered houses
Finally we leave that one valley wall, cross a stream and rest for 20 minutes in the grass. Then uphill again, while the sun burns mercilessly. At the last stop I just about left last. Then I have to take a leak and do hike as the last in a long line of hikers. This causes me to only have a 5 minute break at the next stop instead of 15 minutes. Here I also learn that Teije, one of the Dutch hikers, has quit. His wife is at a campsite near Vernon and perhaps that makes it easier to quit. A shame for sure. Much to soon we have to get going again. Wim Freriks takes me to the head of the column, but at a hairpin bend I stop to take some pictures. After that I fly forwards and catch up with Wim easily. This is fun!
A next village where we pass through is truly adorable. Beautiful and colorful half-timbered houses with lilac on their facades. One huge house may not be the prettiest of the village, but due to its size the most impressive for sure. It’s a low, elongated building with a plaque stating proudly composer Maurice Ravel wrote a certain piece there. This makes me happy, so much beauty to enjoy. I am a bit behind again and fly forwards. While dusk settles I stand to the side in the grass and let everyone pass. Again! When I have caught up with the hikers upfront I plop down on the verge. It’s almost ten minutes before the last hikers come into view. Again I pass the line whistling, all the way to the front. I’m not sure if it’s sensible, know I have to save my energy for the end, but it’s so much fun! The pace is not very high today and it would surprise me if we actually made 6 km/h and that pace is sedate by my standards.

Motivational issues
Night falls. At a next stop they whistle ‘departure’ when there’s still a man arriving. I offer him a piece of gingerbread which I grabbed in the rush to get going, but he indicates he’s nauseous. I try to think how I can encourage hum and then I remember the word I have heard other French hikers saying: “Courage!”. The sky is clear and while it slowly gets dark, I am looking forward to the many stars we will be seeing later. Right now we have to make do with but the brightest and an airplane blinking overhead. At night I am too tired to take the notes which have served as a mnemonic until now. Each stop revolves around one thing only: sleeping! At one stop there’s an unused table I can lie on, at the next, a yacht club, I throw myself on the floor, which turns out to be colder than expected. I don’t have the energy to get up however. While I feel my muscles shivering I am starting to have motivational issues. Why am I doing this again? With five minutes to go the whistle sounds. I am still busy taping my feet and putting my shoes back on that I am outside before I even notice. I don’t have time to think whether I want to walk at all, I am already walking, albeit a bit crippled, and within ten minutes my muscles are reasonably pliable again and my feet give in to the relentless rhythm of my steps.

 

Tired
For some reason my MP# hasn’t charged, just when I it to keep me awake in the nightly hours. A different solution then, hiking with your eyes closed, while two other hikers steer you in the right direction. Wonderful. Only at Euraudax and I enjoy it. I have missed this so much. Hiking and dozing I make it through the night. In the morning there’s actually some forest, a small path with gravel, something I could do without at the moment. On a small sandy path there’s hoof prints of roe deer, backed in the hardened sand. Apart from that the route is no longer special. No castles, ruins or nice villages. I haven’t the energy to pay much attention to my surroundings anymore anyway. Especially mentally it’s hard now. More than forty hours without sleep, how tired I am! Wim is a great support. He waits for me, holds my hand the last 12 km. Wonderful that this is normal here, supporting each other. German Marion has a hard time too and I try to support her and cheer her up. Strangely enough that’s exactly what I need, someone to care for. Momentarily I am distracted from my own painful feet and my fatigue.

 

Vernon
After Chambrey the route has been altered because the banquet hall where the stop was planned has gone out of business. Because of this it seemingly takes forever to get  to the stop. Aren’t we there yet? Atop a hill there are finally the cars, we can see them from a distance. I lie in the grass, while Marion has her feet tended to. I don’t eat, but do drink. Of course it’s wrong, but I am so tired I only want to lie down. The stop takes longer than planned and still hikers are arriving. At the next stop too, which was supposed to last seven minutes, we sit for over half an hour. When we leave for the last leg to Vernon, hikers are still arriving. The route is all downhill from here. We can see Vernon at the valley floor, it’s bigger than I thought. Getting there takes seven kilometers and  blimey, it takes a long time. My shoes trouble me. The shoe laces are too tight, too loose, have some grit in them. I am embarrassed, what a nag I am. Wim is endlessly patient and I am grateful for it. The last three kilometers uphill are surprisingly fast. Through the trees I see orange street lights. Can this be it already? Yes, this is it! We made it!

 

Back
At the roundabout leading up to the hotel we are held up, because some bigwig wants to say a few words. Man, hike on! I want to sit down! The bollard is made out of plastic and sags when I try to sit on it. A speech, now, can’t that wait till the hotel? The greenhorns are called forward and a man who has hiked all 24 of the 200 k’s . This is his last. He walks crooked and supported by two other hikers he makes it across these last meters. We are there. I made it.