Remember the 60’s song about going to San Francisco with flowers in your hair? Same could be said about the Lot Valley in the spring.
We left Livenhac this morning after 10 since we needed to go to the Pharmacy for sun lotions ( for before and after sunburn ). Got the before and the après stuff. You can get prescription type stuff by walking in and describing your malady. I wonder how much that saves? We also sent back our camping gear via La Poste. Our B&B host was wonderful and fixed us a great breakfast. I am afraid we need lessons on eating soft boiled eggs in egg cups.
I was determined to make this a short day after the long march yesterday. We had a 600 foot climb for a warm up and stopped in a little village where the parish provides refreshments for pilgrims. We were 6 km from our start. We then started down into the Lot Valley. Rang no bells today.
Everything is in bloom. The apple tree blossoms kept falling on us. Not as romantic as in the final scene of Kevin Costner’s Robin Hood movie, but close enough. Wildflowers everywhere with different versions of cows staring at us. A light warm wind came up and blew more petals and fragrances like new mown hay our way. It was delightful.
The terrain was easy and got more pleasant as we moved into France’s fruit basket. Lilac trees were in full bloom as we neared Figeac. Yes, we had done another 24 km day but without agony or exhaustion.
Interesting sights today included a French cattle drive on our little road, and an 11th Century depiction of Adam And Eve and the snake. Also saw that we missed our chance at a Tete fe Veau (veal head) and tripe feed in Livenhac. Maybe next time. Also saw our first of the strange round buildings with stone roofs. Did see a hobbit door.
Saw our city for the night. It actually had traffic light and traffic. When you are on foot you do not want to make any mistakes about addresses and directions. We had the phone and when we thought we were close, I called Gaele who verbally directed us to the point where I could see her waving at me. Thank goodness. Country folk in a big town of 10,000 can be in trouble. She and her fiancé, Bastian own a gite. They insisted that we have a Biere on them. Kind of on my mind with the hot weather.
Bastian gave us a quick tour of the old town and guided us to the gite that we would have never found. The bottom floor dates from the 13th century. We are sleeping in the fifteenth while the folks above us reside in the 17th and 19th centuries. I hope the beams hold one more night. The kitchen is right next to our room and Gaele hands me a glass of wine whenever I pass by. Could get to like this place.
Looking forward to the ducky dinner and a different cuisine than the sausage and aligot that we have been eating for a week. It seems that French mostly travel to enjoy the regional foods. We are getting the same treatment.
Also people seem to have heard about the old Americans with backpacks. Somewhat unusual. When you meet them they say that they have heard of us through the pilgrim network. Need to be careful.