Sunday, July 28th

In case this afternoon turns it into something else, I just have to write down how wonderfully brilliant today's walk has been so far.

It began with a dog. It's master was there, the dog wouldn't obey his "laissez" command, so he grabbed it, smacked it, dragging it by the scruff of it's neck, taking it away. I was about to offer my stick so he could beat it some more, but it was great.

Downroads, mostly, usually made roads, but ones of only one-car width, through fields, through forests, unbelievably charming villages, particularly Lanne Soubiran, just sensational.

Today I'm glad to be walking to Compostelle.

Still good, resting by a farm somewhere. I'm supposed to meet the others near a farm called "Manet". Began walking before they did, maybe I've already missed the farm, don't care much if I have, just following the balises. The Raju book stopped making sense about an hour ago. Hmm, just love these Grany bars.

And on cue, they arrive. I can't have been that much ahead.

Must be one of the most photographed places on the French side of The Way. A reminder of the 924kms yet to walk.



Clementine, Moi, Saint Francis et Assisi.

And the yang to this morning's yin was this afternoon. Taking shortcuts through heat, on bitumen, through the less-than-beautiful part of Aire-sur-L'audour, rather than the carefully chosen GR ways of arriving in a town that shows it off to it's best advantage. And, no, the gite hasn't been booked, and I suspect the caravan park idea has been knocked on the head by the guy in the office. I have no feckin' idea of what's going on; conversations are had, people are spoken to, 'd'accords' are said, and nothing gets translated. I have no idea what's happening.

Yes, it's the feckin' caravan park. I hate caravan parks. I hate anything with a soft roof that's under a big feckin' tree.

Earlier wanders around the village, not that there's much to see. Maybe because it's a Sunday, and everything is closed, except the bars.

Looking forward to the French side of this epic being over; all the crap with finding places to stay. There's six days to go.