A rebel without a clue.

Why does it look like two small boobs between Chanaz and Yenne. It felt more like mammoth tits. And coming down off the cliff below La Chapelle de St. Romain was manic. So I am in a Bistrot and I'm eating brawn and drinking some beautiful wine, but my fatigue has caught me up. Saved by a family way back up the hill. Picking me up she brings me back to massive bed. And now the afternoon has gone. Obviously I required the sleep I just had. Dinner is at seven thirty. I've still an hour and three quarters to chill in this luxurious double bed. Jean-Pierre and Josiane fed me, but I am still pretty fatigued. It's far warmer than I expected, so all my warm clothes are on my shoulders. Jean-Pierre says it's meant to snow a little next week so they're definitely necessary. The cliff I came down at Etain, before Yenne, helter-skelter, was energy sapping so the last hour I was pretty blind to anything other than getting this weight off my shoulders, sitting down, resting a...

It's all steep and I seriously need to make a large deposit not next to copious vines. Vin de Savoie. And break for a second bite of breakfast. Left overs from the evening meal. So I haste into the Mairie before I lose control of my bowels. There was a lot of food went in yesterday, which sustained me well, now it is heading back to the earth which created it. It's time to rest a moment. It's not far today at all. So I will relax in the sunshine outside the Mairie here in Jongieux and eat a little more of the Tommette de Savoie: rind and all, and set off again at ten.

Another day. Less distance to cover this one, though. Only 18.5kms. less than half yesterday's grind. The last leg along the Rhône was quite straight and uninteresting. But now I'm back up onto the ledges which run alongside the Rhône. Last night their cat, Gary - who turned out to be a girl, was curled up on my sleeping bag. She liked my smell, but not my vocabulary. Yorkshire is my native tongue, not Savoie. She let me ruffle her white fur and then promptly pissed off. The sunrises over my left shoulder as I head towards Yenne, with the Jura behind ... Jurassic rock, not The Jura. Brightly the birds command me to be calm today. The devil is at least two days behind my tail. And I hear there is one pilgrim ahead who set off from fucking Copenhagen (show off) how can he deal with being alone for months on end. Several days, maybe weeks is the most I can manage, but El Camino is very addictive. Time to pay attention to the road and the dogs who greet my passage.