Ants and pines

At half past ten a man going our direction stopped. He was headed for a small town, “you can come, but after there is only mountain road. The question is where you would sleep, there is no hostel or nothing there.” he said. At that point we decided not to and stayed behind.

Someone eventually brought us towards Antibes, another one drove us to a roundabout by Cannes and Grasse. It was now midnight, how would we make it in time to Chamonix? The air was warm and moist and we were very tired. No cars stopped and twenty past midnight we rolled out our sleeping bags in the middle of the roundabout. Ants were crawling all over me and the pines dropped their cones – large as two fists – around us. If one of then drop on my head, I’ll be knocked out! I thought to myself just before I fell asleep on the gravel.

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