Fennel by the wayside

The first morning is usually contending with the final other way in my life. Like a sliding door the habitual beer glutton is gone as I really have to focus on the path at my feet! At six my alarm began startling me. Before then a heavy freight train and a battle between alley cats. Just one more beer? Enough I say. Leaving le Trois Six and doggies my feet returned to the gites and I took the left over beans the previous person left in a jar. Gilbert is one stage/étape ahead as he arrived 16th September: people do walk this path. The host told me it's quite straightforward to Carcassonne, along the Canal du Midi, with its locks, bridges, docksides, etc. No climbing as such. A day or two to get into the stride and today I will reach Capestang.

Sundried "mûres" are the greatest wayside snack ... Apart from Haw berries ... Wolfed them down. All the figs I've found today were totally dried out. I found an almond tree but these were the bitter variety: Cyanide. Obviously I spat them out. Washed my mouth and carried on as I don't need to die just yet!

Ended the day with a douche. The last stretch was tough. It's too warm after the sun hits it's apex. But I think It's about to thunder here: Capestang. Autumn is settling in as the America Plane trees lose are letting their foliage go, the grapes are being gathered and the vines are turning red. Nautical sunrise is at 6:27am so I need to locate a café around then for a good hour before sunrise: giving me 6 hours before the sun is just hard to endure carrying that sack. Why do I seek to punish myself?