Into the night.

That was a killer. Mostly straight. Attacked by insects from dawn until dusk. Saw no one else until just after 22 Kms, by the ancient chapel - part of me said linger the other part said "are you mad?". The trees were always pines, except when there were no trees. And then it was a desert. A Landes is a Moor and it sure felt desolate. But extremely energy sapping. Also boring when you can't see any bends in the road ahead. No features just a flatness with some trees clinging to the exposed nothingness. There is nothing here at all.

Got to Rochefort and two quick beers at the Bar/Tabac where the keys for the gîte are kept. No point trying to speak French I'm buggered. Cook food, drink wine and eat food and drink more wine. So much for no more meat ... Confite de Canard. Very tasty. Drained off the fat. Enough potatoes and rice for breakfast. Coffee at the ready too tomorrow. Day off from those Bar/Tabac establishments.

Was joined by a French man who had been camping - the campsite here is closed so he's stuck. Had no credencials so had to force him on the hostess. Very against Camino rules, but he stays and we make dinner, eat it, eat some artisanal yogurt and he only had two glasses of Côtes de Gascogne ... The rest is buried in Yorkshire.

The Gîte is roasting. The heat of the afternoon clings to everything. Positive side they had a washer here so my clothes are a little less toxic. The French man left to deposit some glasses I think ... Very nice of him. I'm fucked. So what. Will sleep off the longest day so far knowing tomorrow is quite similar. This refuge is a donativo, and so is tomorrow's ... Running out of money too!