day one to three

Buses, planes and trains. Heading towards Cahors on the 11:58 (32€) from Limoges Benedictin as the guy offering the lift via BlaBlaCar left earlier than advertised ...not to worry. Second long distance train journey in France since I left Paris Bercy for Clermont-Ferrand in May. This time the carriage is almost empty.

Schools went back today. Summer holidays are over once more. Back to having France to myself once more? It's a Monday and everything was a closed shop in Limoges, including les Halles, as I walked down to the river, near where the lift was meant to start, and alongside La Vienne passed the two medieval bridges: back to where I started this morning from the Chambre d'hotes at 7:30am.

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Day one cracks open with miserable rain. Yesterday was humidity and today is vertical humidity....it's all good. It's a test. 

Sat outside a café on the main road through Cahors towards the Louis Phillipe Pont as the kids return for their second day of indoctrination. Shortly I start day one. Surely I will? To see home the foot copes. It felt worse yesterday and was quite happy towards the end of yesterday's Mosquito fest.

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No mosquitoes and not much pain, until I stumbled to the table at Le P'tit Pause and ate a fantastic plate of cassoulet scran. Now I have a little distance left to cover towards Accueil Monastère des Dominicaines d’Escayrac for the evening Demi Pension(donativo)...but then!

Picked up by a Domain owner in his 1974 2CV in army green. It's a simple affair, but real. And the wine has me spinning. It's a bloody good job I already ate?

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Such silence. The one noise, which startled me awake, was the hum of a distant jet engine around 6am. Like a drone it entered into my subconscious state and reminded me I am never very far from 'reality' even though it feels I am suddenly very remote from this 'thing' which rears its head. The hosts, from Bretagne, started here on Sunday and have only had a couple of pilgrims since.

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Yesterday morning is a distant memory. Here I am, post repase, opposite the Cluny Monastery in Moissac with a poorly foot and lovely glass of vin rouge.

Only day three and the flaming foot injury pounced around 10 kilometres. Perhaps adding extra items to the sac a dou was stupid? But those melons looked inviting. And my chauffeur was Helios and his chauffeur was Alain. Helios was an 11 year old Spaniel. He was hard of hearing in that Citroen, but he found my muddy feet quite pleasant for 10 kilometres... Moissac.