A little on Lescun

Five of us arrived at the Maison Willert on a Saturday. It’s a lovely place in a great location, just on the outskirts of the village of Lescun. It’s the second house along the distant row.

Three floors: one is essentially a great room, combining a kitchen with a sitting area and the desk with the stereo and internet modem (there’s wifi!). One flight up is another sitting area in front of a big fireplace; two bedrooms, and a bath. The top floor had room for two more bedrooms and another bath. Outside, the patio that lots of sun during the day, and terrific view. Of course, there are terrific views from all over Lescun. This, from just up the road a few yards, is the church.

 Two of us were here primarily to walk. One more was willing. I really wanted to start the proceedings with a short jaunt around le Belvédère, a walk that starts a few yards from the Maison Willert’s doorstep and takes you on a high loop behind and above the village, yielding terrific views for a moderate effort. It sounded like a great intro walk.

And, despite uncooperative weather, it was. From early along the path, you get this view of the village. Maison Willert is the farthest house to the right..

We strolled along.

The mist was hanging low, but we still got a good idea of the local topography: valleys, high meadows, and higher mountains.

Le Belvédère is easy walking, much of it through forest, and the dark and misty weather lent the wooded areas a feeling of enchantment ... or, I suppose, apprehension, depending on your personality.

The grand view from the top was entirely obscured, but we were perfectly happy. It’s a very pleasant walk. As the path completed its circuit and we came back down, we got another good view of the village.

And we had a week’s walking before us.

Yo!

I’m back, and will be posting on wonderful Pyrenean walking soon, but while I was in Europe I got some interesting news. An article in USA Today has named the project I’ve been working on one of the 10 coolest book apps for fall. Despite the technical fact that it’s a book, not a book app, my partners and I are chuffed.

Twenty-some years ago, I had a little imprint that published Yo, Millard Fillmore!, a children’s book based on a friend’s idea to teach kids all the American presidents, using funny (okay, silly) mnemonics. He did the memorable hints, another partner did the art, and I did the more-or-less straight bios and most of the incidental writing meant to create a light tone. (I always write with a smart 10-year-old in mind ... a fairly tough audience, actually, but I have an ace up my sleeve: I have the instincts and sense of humor of a smart 10-year-old.)

Over the years, Millard was updated several times and sold a quarter-million copies. A second book, Yo, Sacramento!, using the same techniques to help kids remember all the states and capitals, sold another 150,000 or so (and we’re currently working on its iBook, version). 

Over the last few months, we’ve taken on a fourth partner to tackle the Apple iBook market. It’s been fascinating experience, and since Millard lends itself to an electronic treatment (and Sacramento even more so), we’ve created something actually better than a set of pages. Movement, sound, video.... In five years this may seem old hat, or even old-fashioned, but right now it’s near the cutting edge of iBook concept and production.

The books are both targeted toward late elementary-school children, but of course, are marketed to the parents and grandparents of these young geniuses. We’ve also found that teachers in droves buy both titles, and we’re hoping that electronic availability will make it easier for more of them to use.

It will be available at $7.99 from Apple’s iBookstore soon ... probably next week. And, of course, it comes with our no-nonsense iron-clad guarantee:

Watch the videos, read the book, and you'll soon be able to AMAZE your friends, DAZZLE your teachers, and GUARANTEE yourself a life of SUCCESS and HAPPINESS!

And now, having tooted the horn of the Yo! iBooks in the hopes that my dozens of readers around the world will buy it and make my fortune,  I slide gently back into my standard occupation of struggling to get a decent page a day of plain, old-fashioned, paper-based prose. Not for 10-year-olds. Which may be the problem.

Lescun, Day 2

Trouble posting. Here's a placeholder.

- Mobile posting.

Cirque de Soliel, take a back seat to the Cirque de Lescun

So we're here in Lescun, in the French Pyrenees. Got here late Saturday afternoon, but didn't get out for a walk until Sunday -- the Belvedere, a stroll around behind the village that took us from Lescun's 1,000 or so meters to about 1,200 and back down again over a pretty leisurely two hours. Sensational views at first, eventually subsumed in the mist. Good wine and great food, followed, of course.

Today, three of us wandered up to Lac de Lhurs, which we found underwhelming, though we did have a good chat with the cabane's resident(the shepard?).

The other views, both up toward the peaks and back down to the green and bucolic pastures of Lescun, were wonderful. And the walk, as a walk, lived up to its billing as strenuous but an entertaining day out.

Who is this guy?

I went out to breakfast with my father this morning, briefly escaping the depressingly dark and powerless house, and a woman I'd never seen before stopped briefly next to his chair to say "Hi, Henry." I was surprised, because his name is Dick.

"She calls me Henry Fonda," he said, taking this as his due, and continuing to peruse his menu.

My mother told me the girls used to call him Robert Taylor, so he's morphed.


- Mobile posting.

Manitas de Plata

I was looking for a particular Django Reinhardt piece on YouTube yesterday. (Found it.) And got sidetracked. To this:



Bios always say that Manitas first played in the United States at Carnegie Hall in December of 1965. But I attended his true first American performance—at Spalding Auditorium at Dartmouth, the night before. I think his agents or handlers or whatever wanted to let him warm up for what was likely to be the biggest moment of his young career. The place was packed, 800 or so strong, and we went nuts for the next hour plus. And when he was done, we wouldn't let him go. I have no idea how many encores he took, but it wasn’t enough. It remains perhaps the greatest concert performance I’ve ever attended.

If West Virgina is almost heaven, what’s this going to be?

Thanks to a mention in Andy Howell’s blog, I’ll soon be spending time here...



...at the Maison Willert, in Lescun, on the French side of the Pyrenees. I’ve got my Kev Reynolds. I’ve got my Carte de Randonnées. I’ve got my little, light rucksack in training here on the floor of my office. (I find that a well-exercised and at least moderately fit pack complains less than a flabby one.)

I am, in short, ready to roll. Not everyone on this trip is a walker, which is too bad for them, but otherwise pretty handy. A and I, and sometimes P, can stroll off in the morning, wander along our route, appreciating gorgeous lakes, impressive summits, and stunning views, fighting off bears and marmots, then return to elegantly prepared repasts and flagons of local wines carefully chosen. A Floc de Gascogne, of course, either to start or finish. Or both. We can do this, if we like, every day for a week. I’m pretty sure we’re not going to want to come back.