Canal Du Midi - Part 2
Day 2
So, after a good night’s sleep and a leisurely start, I set off from the hotel around 1000 hours. It was chilly but the sun was out and the forecast for the day was good until early afternoon.
I walked down across the railway line then down a quiet, minor road out of town. After about a mile, I crossed an overbridge over the main road and once more reached the canal adjacent to the small hamlet of Renneville. The canal lock, bridge and old lockkeeper’s house once again had that quintessential French feel about them.
I set off along the paved towpath, under the canopy of trees and in sporadic sunshine. The sun was warm but the wind remained cold, albeit always to my back which was good. I later learned that this whole area, the Lauragais plain, is somewhat renowned for its wind as it is surrounded by hiller areas to the west and the foothills of the Pyrenees to the east and south.
I was in absolutely no rush today and given the better weather, I resolved to adopt a much more leisurely approach to my pace than the day before. I settled into a regular walk/run rhythm which in time resolved to roughly an 11 minute/mile average pace.
After a couple of miles, I stopped to take some photos as the Écluse d’Encassan.
A mile or so later, the equally picturesque Écluse d’Emborrel also broke the journey. At each of the locks, a plaque on the building wall indicates the somewhat exact distances to the next locks in either direction.
Around mile five, I passed the very attractive spot at Port Lauragais. Across the canal, there is a restaurant on a little island, alongside parking and landscaped grounds. On a different day it would have been an excellent spot for a break but it involved a bit of a detour to reach from my side, and I simply hadn’t been going long enough to justify and extended stop.
I carried on and was also pleased to note that at this point, the paved path surface gave way to a more rudimentary dirt/gravel path. This was niced and indeed softer to run on which was appreciated. A really nice section followed.
The canal was wide, the trees leaning across the water from the months and years of wind.
The sun was out, the water was glistening and a couple of pleasure craft even passed by.
The locks were more regular now.
At the Écluse de L’Ocean, the path crossed the bridge to the other side and I took the opportunity for a short break, a few calories and some enjoyment of the surroundings.
This really attractive section of canal continued over the next couple of miles towards the Port du Segala. These little ports on the canal tend to be situated adjacent to a nearby village or town and back in the day, would almost certainly have been important embarkation and loading/unloading docks on the canal. Some of these little loading docks still exist. A few colourful barges were also moored at the Port Du Segala.
By now, my moderate pace and chilled approach to the day were going well and I was really enjoying the day.
The path continued along the tree-lined banks as I was now well over halfway to my destination for the day, the town of Castelnaudary. A few miles from the town, I came across the Écluses de Laurens. These locks are important as they are a series of four locks, negotiating what is the second largest single elevation change (about 30 metres I believe) on the entire canal. Only the Écluses de Fonseranes near Beziers have more locks (nine) and a larger drop. It seemed strange to be running steeply downhill adjacent to this small stretch of canal!
It was not only a couple of miles to Castelnaudary and my running was strong. I was taking fewer walking breaks, and it felt good to be moving well.
Before long and just after 1300 hours, I was running alongside the Port of Castelnaudary before going under the Pont Vieux into the impressive Grand Bassin de Castelnaudary. Although the skies were now ominously dark and I had used up the sunshine for the day, it was still an impressive sight.
I wandered up into the town, found a place for coffee and whiled away an hour or so until the small apartment I had booked was available. This was a fantastic little apartment and great value for money. Aside from a brief drama involving locking myself out of the accommodation, with my phone inside (a story for another day!), it was a very relaxing evening. I even cooked a great dinner of sautéed chicken, local sausage and rice.
Today was a good day.
Once again, I had a good night and although there was no huge pressure the following day, I resolved to adopt a similar pace but to get an earlier start, around 0800.
Day 3
In actuality, it was only really fully light around 0800 so this was a good time to set off. I had a decent breakfast, my kit was all in order and I was ready for another good day.
Today, my destination was the substantial town of Carcassonne, famous for its medieval old town and for rugby. I wasn’t sure what the distance would be, but my research and guesstimating suggested something close to 25 miles. No time pressure and a similar pace to the previous day would be more than sufficient.
Thus, I wandered down to the basin and along to the Écluses de Saint Roch, a cascade of three locks which drop from the Grand Bassin down to the canal below.
The forecast for the day was mixed and although the morning promised some early brightness, I once again wore my waterproof. It was a good windbreaker in any event and it was going to be another day of chilly, following wind.
I set off along the east bank of the canal, heading for Castelnaudary’s second claim to fame.
The first is cassoulet. The second dates back to the 1970s when the town became the base for the 4th Foreign Regiment, the training regiment for the French Foreign Legion.
The barracks are set back from the canal but over the next few miles, small and larger groups of legionnaires were out and about, running and training alongside the canal.
I continued on, deliberately sticking to the same pace and rhythm that had served me well the previous day. Everything felt good and it even seemed like the sun might come out.
The first significant milestone of the day was a little before half distance. The Port de Bram is a short distance from the town of the same name and about nine to ten miles from Castelnaudary.
Now, I deliberately haven’t introduced any spoilers to this point, although it should become obvious, if not already, that these posts are appearing sooner than they should have!
That said, this is where the wheels started to come off. Well, one wheel at least.
About a mile before Bram, without warning, my right achilles tendon started becoming uncomfortable. Initially I thought it would be nothing more than a fleeting twinge, but it persisted. By the time I arrived at the bridge at Port de Bram, it was noticeably and consistently painful when running. This is not a problem I have had at any time recently, or indeed since the bad old days of changing my foot strike about five years ago.
I stopped at Bram to replenish water and take in some calories, as was my plan in any event. Standing still, the pain diminished slightly but did not vanish. It was enough to concern me that this was the beginnings of a potential showstopper.
At this point, I had a dilemma without much of a glimmer of positive options. Basically, I had two options. I could continue and hope for the best, that the pain would ease and all would be fine. Alternatively, I could quit for the day, walk the kilometre or so into Bram where there is a station and get the train into Carcassonne. After Bram, that type of escape route was an ever-dwindling option.
Now, call me anal or whatever, but this was always meant to be a complete, continuous journey along the canal. So, here’s how my thinking went….
If I quit for the day, the achilles issue might ease for the day. However, I would have missed out a large chunk of the route and there was a strong likelihood that the problem would simply recur when I ran the following day. Days four and five of the trip were always going to be the longest of the trip, around 30 miles each day. Knowing myself all too well, I also knew that missing out a large portion of the route would significantly impact on my overall motivation to continue.
If I continued, I had well over ten miles still to do. Even taking it really easy, a lot could happen in that distance and realistically, it was more likely to be bad than good. If it turned out badly, it was game over. However, by taking the first option, I was probably just delaying the same outcome.
Anyway, for better or for worse, I took the second option. I decided to continue but to walk for a couple of miles to see if things would loosen up and recover. I was not under any time pressure in any event.
So, I set off again with much trepidation and at a brisk walk. Walking at a brisk pace on the flat (for me around a 13 minute/mile pace), there was no worsening of the discomfort. If anything, it eased a little. The problem is, I f*!king hate walking. Walking as a pastime is anathema to me and after a couple of miles, frustration won the day and I decided to introduce short spurts of slow running.
Initially, this seemed good. My sense of progress improved and there was no increase in pain. However, as the next couple of miles passed, these short bursts of running started to hurt a little more to the point where I was starting to settle back onto my heels and to favour my right leg. That was pretty much the beginning of the end.
I settled back to fast walking, which was sustainable, but I knew that running was now no longer an option. And so began the long march to Carcassonne. I just needed to get there but by now, I knew that Carcassonne is where the trip would come to an end. As long as I could sustain a fast walking pace, I would eat up the remaining miles. However, it was a solemn, miserable march.
As it to reflect circumstances and my plummeting mood, a lengthy section of the canal was mysteriously dry. Yes, this was empty glass territory. Not even any of that half full/half empty glass bullshit here!
By this stage, the distance to Carcassonne was undetermined but I was over halfway. I could look at my moving dot on Google Maps to see where I was but the section of canal before Carcassonne meanders considerably, adding to the overall distance. In any event, the final five or six miles were purgatory.
Although the canal once more filled with water, my soul remained parched, with the worst yet to come. With about four miles to go, I made the mistake of stopping to get some bananas out of my pack and to refill my water at a tap. It turned out that remaining mobile was the only factor that had kept me moving and once I started to move again, my right ankle was just solid pain. Merde!
It transpired that the distance from Bram to Carcassonne was 14 miles. I slowly limped the last three to four miles, cyclists and walkers regularly stopping to enquire after my wellbeing. I just didn’t have any real alternative than to grit my teeth and get there so that is what I did.
In the end, I made it the 23 miles to Carcassonne in under 5 hours and in an average 12.30 minute/mile pace which seems implausible given the speed at which I finished.
And that was the end of the Canal Du Midi fastpack which I had been looking forward to so much and which I very much wanted to complete. I won’t bore with the details of revised flights and other arrangements, but I am now back in Dundee, three days earlier than planned. I spent two days sitting on my arse in accommodation in Carcassonne and Toulouse, never straying more than a couple of hundred metres from my hotel room.
By completing Day 3 of the journey, did I do unnecessary and more lasting damage to my achilles? Quite possibly, but decisions are made and you just have to roll with the consequences. It will be a number of days yet before I can even walk normally without a limp. When I can run again is completely uncertain, but I cannot rush that recovery. I have at least learned that lesson from last year.
I can’t put much of a positive spin on any of it really. I enjoyed the two- and a-bit days of running that I did manage to complete on the canal. Was it worth it though? Absolutely no f*!king way!! The Highland Ultra is almost certainly off limits now and I honestly believe it could be up to 8 weeks before I am running consistently again.
It seems hard to believe that after a winter of good training but plentiful recovery, I find myself almost exactly where I was this time last year. However, there is no point in wallowing in self-pity. I need to maintain an upbeat and measured approach to proper recovery. Meantime, I can do upper body training and in time, maybe some focussed lower body strength work.
Happy days!
