New Copperclay Pendants

An experiment

This will be a more normal posting for me, as it relfects my jewellery work that I do.

So far I still haven't figured out how to add the links to my jewellery pages, but I am sure I will soon. But for the moment more of this sort of thing can be seen on my Facebook page.  https://www.facebook.com/SteveTheGreenManJewellery/

A while ago I bought some copperclay to conduct some experiments with, which all failed, and I had been meaning to get round to trying out some of my normal pendants in the copper, rather than the normal bronzeclay.

Well here are the results. the Triple Moon, Green Man, Leafy-Awen and Bear Head, are all smaller copies of my the normal once (another experiment).

However, copperclay is far harder to fire correctly, and as I had had to drop the temperature down from what the instructions had said initially for the bronze and silver clays, I had to make a guess as to what temperature to fire these copper pieces at. At first when I started giving them a bash, after I took them out of the kiln, they seemed alright, and then the non-leafy Awen broke; so they hadn't 'sintered' properly (the particles of copper hadn't welded together enough). So I did a bodge-up job of a repair to the Awen (as you can see), and refired the lot again at a higher temperature, and it sorted them out!

Then I found the copperclay pieces need a lot more polishing work to get the effects I wanted than the bronzeclay pendants. So if I do any copperclay work in the future they will have to cost more.

The Old Adventure Continues; - Cathars and Cows.

Roquefixade to Montségur.

For now, this is the final part of this reminiscence of this adventure form 30 years ago (July 1987), as I finish the final leg of my eastern Pyrenean ramble from Foix to the famous Cathar castle of Montségur. There is plenty of fact and fiction available on the Cathars and their connections to the castle at Montsegur; and to learn more about why I was on this holiday and how I got this far, you need to read the two previous blogs.

So after my rough sleepless night in the ruins of Roquefixade castle, I set out early on the last part of my walk to Montségur, which was in theory a much easier hike than the day before, as it was on more level ground down in the valley. It was fine until I hit a large wood and got lost! Yes! I got lost in the woods! LOL!

I had a good map showing all the details I needed, but the problem was that there were many more trails on the ground than were shown on the map! And the 'Chemin des Cathars' was not clearly marked. So before long I had no idea where I was, and unlike the day before, when the walking had been much fresher on the high ridge, now I was down in a warm and humid forest, buzzing with insects of a less pleasant kind than the butterflies I had taken such delight in previously.

But I wasn't upset, or worried, after all this was a large wood, and therefore it had an edge! So that's what I did, I kept going until I hit an edge, and headed along that edge roughly in the right direction until I was able to identify where I was on the map. I hadn't got far off my overall route, and I was soon back on that.And then I saw it! 

My first glimpse of the Chateau!

And after that, despite the country getting rougher, and less level, I was soon in the village of Montségur and got myself booked into a hotel where I could leave my backpack, and then, with less to carry, it was time to take the long ascent to the castle.

But the weather of the day before had returned, and my first climb up to the castle was heavily shrouded in cloud.  So my pictures of this jaunt are a bit disappointing.

And what I didn't know at the time, was that most of the fortifications we see today are from well after the time of the famous siege and massacre!

And here's a treat for those of you who know me.

Yes! That was me 30 years ago, and my physical peak (mostly due to the regular folk ceilidhs I used to attend). But the funny thing was that I thought of myself as being fat. Whereas now I know I am fat, but don't like to admit just 'how' fat I am! LOL!

So, anyway, I soon headed back down to the village, where I discovered a couple of points of interest. One was the sight of the old public wash house, which looked like it might still get used!

And the other was the sight of the cows bringing themselves into town at milking time. Mmm???? Is that one of those Cabriolet cows that can roll its top down when the sun shines? Or is that a Charolais car?

That evening, I had a meal in the hotel restaurant, and had one of those moment that remind me of what I now know to be dyslexia/word-blindness. as I was looking at the menu I knew what the word 'agneau' was, but I had a complete block on comprehending what it 'was'! The more I got fixated on the word, the more I couldn't un-fixate on it, as such. The restaurant seemed to be full of locals, none of who seemed to speak English, and none could help. They then wheeled out a c.10 year old boy from the back, who had obviously been learning some English at school, but he couldn't figure out what the problem was. Then someone called out " Baaaaaaa!!" And we all laughed as I realised it was lamb, of course! LOL! Which I then proceeded to enjoy gobbling up with great enjoyment!

And then an early night!

The next day when I got up the weather was far far better, and as you will see, my second trip up to the castle was much more pleasant.

But it also meant I could actually see how steep the climb was too! LOL!

But the view from the top was well worth it. But the cloud was only just clear of the summit.  

and this was the view back down to the village. Take note of the twisty road.

I really enjoyed my exploration of the castle and the mountain top, and had a pleasant surprise. My first ever Swallowtail butterfly. (I still have never seen any in the UK, and later saw some in another part of the south of France, and in Hungary).

And finally while I was at top, I got someone to take my photo, to prove I had been there (it had been a criticism from people looking at my holiday photos of the summer before in Italy and France).

Yes! There I was. Indiana Cousins. Just about to become a world famous archaeologist (NOT).

And finally (again!), a couple more paragraphs on this trip.

Remember the twisty road back down to the village? Well while I was up the mountain, I got talking to this bloke and his family who was an Anglophile. Loved anything English, including his beloved Range Rover, which he gave me a lift in back down that twisty road to the village. It was a terrifying, but thankfully short, journey, as he insisted in keep turning to talk to me in the back as he drove down the hill with all those twists and hairpin bends!

After another night in Montségur (I think), I set off back towards Foix the next day, and was given a lift by some gypsies in the back of one of those wonderful old 'washboard' like Citroen vans. You know, the van version of the 2CV. This was a real thrill for me, as I had fairly recently got a 2CV myself, in advance of my becoming a student in the Autumn.

I then went on to Lourdes, and up into the hills to attend a village hall folk dance by the folk group I mentioned in part one of this story. I spent a day or two with them, and visited Bagnères-de-Bigorre and Bagnères-de-Luchon, and finally to Pau, before getting the train back home.

And all the time on this trip one character kept popping up. The local hero Gaston Fébus, 14thC Count of Foix.

The Old Adventure Continues; - 'As I walked out one not so sunny Summer's day'.

Foix to Roquefixade.

(Please refer to the previous blog I posted for the background to this holiday).

So it was July 1987, the day after the festival in Foix (in the Eastern French Pyrenees) when I set out to achieve my next ambition of this 'Bucket List' holiday, by setting off to spend a couple of days walking in the foothills of the Pyrenees, taking in some stunning landscapes, wonderful flora and fauna, and some interesting history. To do this I would be following part of the 'Chemin des Cathares', or as I now see it named as 'Le Chemin des Bonshommes' (1).

I found the path down by the main road at the bottom of the valley in Foix, and then had a very very steep climb up 100s of feet, and a fairly overgrown path, but it gave me marvellous view over the small historic centre of the city.

Soon after I took this photo, I managed to loose the path, and found myself in this farm yard (I think it was this one?).

In the yard was an old woman, in my terrible and limited french I asked "Ou est les Chemin les Cathares?" She gabbled-away a completely incomprehensible reply. Which was difficult to do to me, as I have always been better reading 'Johnny Foreigner' languages that understanding their spoken 'bar-bar-berings' (not the Classical illusion to this bit of tongue in cheek English racism! LOL!). I repeated my question a few times and she conditioned to jabber. Then she realised not only that I didn't understand her, but that also I wasn't German (it seems that it was mostly Germans that did this walk if foreign, and not many Englishmen had been seen here). So she then started talking to me in French! Yes! French! She had been talking in  local Languedoc patois! How marvellous! The language of the Troubadours! I love Medieval songs, but that didn't help me understand it when I heard it spoken! LOL!

Anyway! I was soon at the top of the climb and things became far easier as the path followed the ridge eastwards; sometimes in luxurious beech woodland, and other times out on flora rich downland. Just like where I had been training for my walk in the Chilterns, only much bigger, and in theory hotter and drier!

But as you can see, despite being in the middle of July, and so far south from home, the weather wasn't exactly a heatwave (fortunately, as it turned out for such a pasty Englishman like me). But as you can see the views were still beautiful, and that more atmospheric for the cloud. This is a good example of the lovely grass downland between the woods. Not only was it cramped with wildflowers, and ant hills (the hummocks), but there was a riot of butterflies too; many of which I had hardly seen, some I had only ever seen in books, and some I didn't know at all. There were some that looked like little day flying bats when I first saw them; black with white stripes, which turned out to be White Admirals (despite being more black than white! LOL!). And then there was this one; -

My one and only sighting of a Camberwell Beauty!

My walk continued along more such wonderful landscapes. It was such a delight to be there for me, with my love of countryside and history.

And as you can see, occasionally the path came close to the scarp edge of the ridge; giving vast panoramic vistas of the lands below.

I always love a mysterious path through woodland; but also as still an horticulturist at the time, I found it interesting how the understory of these beech woods was mostly of what is a rare plant in English woodland. That was Box! But here, the foresters were ripping it out as a weed!

The trail then led down into the valley, heading towards my target for the day (although I had no real idea what I would find there, or where I would sleep, etc.). Yes! I think this was Roquefixade in the near distance. And as I approached I was greeted with this sight; -

Oooooo! Looks a bit, errrr... mmm... steep?

And as it didn't look and less steep as I got nearer.

Now I can't quite remember which route I took to the top, but I met a local boy scout who showed me the way, and I know it involved a scramble up a steep grassy slope. And it was at this point that the little boy exclaimed a warning to me "Regarde le Viper!" Before leaving home, I had been warned by a number of people to watch out for Adders in the Pyrenees. In fact I was supposed to have an anti-venom kit, just in case. But I didn't of course. And here I was facing one of the monster! Well hardly a monster, as it was only a baby one, and I wouldn't have seen it if the boy hadn't said anything (actually, earlier in the day I think I saw the biggest Grass snake I had ever seen?). But this danger turned into a bit of a damp squib!

But once I was up the top it was well worth the climb. Here is a view below of the village of Roqufixade, one of the numerous 14thC 'Bastides' of the region; i.e. a fortified village!

I had been introduced to this form of village on my trip to Gascony the year before, but there they had mostly been round. This one was more like a Roman fort (I wonder if that was intentional?). Oh! and I shoulld say that the castle has 12thC origins, did have connections to the Cathare heresy, but apparently most of the surviving masonry dates from the 14thC to 17thC, when it was finally knocked down. And it was marvellous (again)! For me, as the romantic natural historian, a wonderful overgrown, untended, un-managed, un-touresty ruin! (well it was then. I don't know about now?).

And then the weather began worsen, with lowering, glowering cloud, as a terrific thunderstorm began!

So much for the balmy sunny days and hot Summer nights I was expecting! (It seems that just the other side of the mountains, on the Spanish side, there was virtually a desert, but here the Atlantic storms were pushed up and along the mountains, almost as far as the Mediterranean!

I managed to find shelter in the ruins of the castle guardhouse. And had a very uncomfortable wet night (but romantic and comfort rarely go together, as I found out many years later when I actually got to live in a castle).

Here's a picture of me I managed to get using the timer on the camera.

Yes! That's me.30 years ago! And looking rather damp.

Not surprisingly, I didn't get much sleep, and was up and about very early, and was awarded with the sight of clouds rolling down the valley below me, and distant views to the high Pyrenean still snow-capped peaks (which don't seem to show in these pictures now).

I soon left my overnight eyrie and descended to the valley below, and set off on the second leg of this journey, to the famous Cathare castle of Montsegur. (the subject of my next blog).

But one final look back at Roquefixade. And as you can see, it was also the last picture on that roll of film too! LOL!


(1) http://www.tourisme-occitanie.com/sur-les-traces-des-cathares-le-chemin-des-bonshommes/foix/tabid/2275/offreid/aa3b4c79-9ac0-410d-9c4c-8cc8798a3bb0/itineraire.aspx

An Old Adventure

Its not often you can say exactly where you were and what you were doing on an exact day, years and years ago, but I know where and what I was doing today 30 years ago. It was Bastille Day, and I was in the small Pyrenean city of Foix; except there they were celebrating their local hero, Gaston Fébus, 14thC Count of Foix.

I was on one of the biggest adventures of my life (well it was for me). At the time I had just turned 27. The previous summer I had had a similar adventure by going abroad proper for the first time, using an Interrail train ticket I visited a friend in Gascony and went on to visit Rome and back to the south of France. This trip was building on my experiences of the year before and had a number of things I wanted to achieve at a major change point in my life. 

I had had my heart broken, and was doing a bit of a restart. I had been a landscape designer working for a council, but was about to go to Durham University to study archaeology as a mature student. Of course I was expecting that I was about to start a brilliant career in archaeology. I had also seen a TV dramatisation of Laurie Lee's book 'As I walked out one midsummer morning', about his adventures on foot in 1930s Spain. I fancied doing something similar, but going through a Francophile phase I wanted to do it in France, but liked the idea of being close to Spain. I had also been reading 'The Holy Blood & the Holy Grail', a very trendy book of the time, and I wanted my walk to include at least some of the places covered in the book. I was also a regular attendee of folk music events at the time, and particularly liked to dance at ceilidhs. And I found that there was the perfect combination of all these wants I could do in the eastern Pyrenees! (How I found this out in the days before the internet I don't know now! Probably the library LOL!). There was a Festival Folklorique et Traditionale every July in Foix! And from there I could spend a couple of days walking to Montsegur (another story to come).

So anyway! Today. 30 years ago. I was attending the festival in Foix, along with just about the whole population of the city! 100s of them seem to be involved with the main parade, and the rest were watching.

You will notice that I had no trouble seeing the parade, as I was so much taller than the majority of the locals. And you can see the parade was led by the iconic Pyrenean Mountain Dogs. I am sure there was a man in a bear suit too, as not surprisingly, even if they could of found one, this other local icon probably would of been not too popular if real! In fact the only Pyrenean Bears and the also iconic (again) Izzard (Mountain Goat) I saw were all stuffed ones in various hotels, restaurants, etc. and museums. And they all had a nasty snarl on them like they were all fierce and about to attack (even Izzard kids).

Oh! And 1st look at the local folk group 'Eths Autes' that I had already been talking to.

The parade continued with lots of locals of all ages.

More Pryenean Mountain Dogs.

More parading (and this is only a selection of the photos I took you will be glad to know).

And then 'Eths Autes' came around again! The musician here is playing an interesting local variant on the 'pip and tabor' familiar to those who know their Cotswold Morris. Not sure what you called the stringed box that he hit like a drum with his stick, while playing the tune on the tabor pipe, but I saw a number of them being played, whole bands of them sometimes, and several times I saw them in museums too.

And near the end of the parade we had a bit of excitement. A horse pulling a cart bolted!

By luck I caught the drama of the moment! The crowd opposite me parted, but driver soon got control again, and no one was hurt, but as you can see the people to the left of the picture that thought they might get hurt ran in panic, but those to the right obviously felt safe and (like me) stand by watching with curiosity.

LAter that day there was a out door civic feast for many (not me) to be followed by a bal (a ceilidh!), which I was keen to participate in. The meal was supposed to finish at 9pm. And me being the typical northern European turned up for the dance at that time. It was midnight before the dance started! It always takes me some time to get used to the laid back nature of the south.  LOL!