After the storm

I walked for twenty kilometres or so carrying the bag and pushing the wheelbarrow. The intense stabbing pain al across my back and right side I had suffered for the last few days has abated to a dull ache just like the first kidney stone I passed. This one had obviously done some damage on the way but I feel so much better now.
If I had a new knee I would feel fifteen years younger.

We are walking up from the Gironde onto the little hills that border the valley where grapes are less common and other more familiar crops such as maize or sunflower are growing.

We camped in a little pine forest where the ground was terribly lumpy so I used the hammock strung between two sturdy pine saplings that stood in a platoon of their comrades. I got off to sleep without a problem but awoke as I was precipitated to the ground by the poor quality stitching giving out in one seam. Some nearby boars learned a lot of English swear words that night.

After a fitful night on lumpy ground I rose late and resolved to rid myself of the wheelbarrow once and for all. Carrying the bag was a must and attempting to push the barrow at the same time was punishing. Jeremy wasn't keen that I give up the barrow but I was adamant and after repacking the bags we left it for someone to find and walked on. Needless to say, progress was slow.

Eventually we came to the town of Bazas where we bought a few supplies and walked south for a kilometre or so until we sat to eat a quick sandwhich. As we ate a skinny fellow with a pack and walking sticks turned up. He had a scallop shell on a string around his neck. Our first pilgrim acquaintance. Leonard, a Dutchman who had walked from Amsterdam, shared a coffee and some food with us while we watched ominous storm clouds gather overhead.

We were hit with a mini deluge and had to run for cover in the lee of a nearby house and we discussed camping and the minimum of weight he carried which was a meagre sixteen kilos. I decided to take advice on what to keep and what to throw away from his greater experience which was more than 1400 kilometres so far. After throwing out a lot of stuff that seemed unnecessary my pack weighed twenty two kilos with a couple of litres of water on board. It was much easier to carry!

In return for his consulting skills, Jeremy fixed Leonard's tent with spare parts salvaged from the one destroyed by the storm a few nights ago. Leonard suggested that we all camp together that evening and share a meal so we walked off to find a spot. The skinny little Dutch guy was a full on walking machine! He raced off ahead of us and was gone before we could blink. We caught up with him as he waited to collect water from a house some time and a few kilometres later.

We stayed in the yard of an empty farmhouse and used the well to get water to wash with. I had an invigoratingly cold shower before supper that was leek and potato soup (knorr) with fried saussicon, Camembert and crunchy bread.

I slept very badly due to the incessant hooting of a very busy owl and later what sounded like the hounds of hell because it was the first day of the hunting season. Breakfast coffee made with sweet condensed milk was had by all and we filled up on cheese and sausage before the first stretch.

We were utterly outpaced by Leonard again even though he complained of bad feet and we were left to follow in his wake all the way to the next town where we found him sitting eating a baguette and sardines. The town had no baker of its own and a stall had been set up by the baker from a few miles awa so we bought croissant, apple turnover and bread and ate a second breakfast of sardines and chocolate. You may have noticed that we no longer give a hoot about calories except to ask where the next ones are coming from.

Sadly we parted ways with our friend Leonard who's route was taking him to Santiago via the westerly road as we continued straight south. What a lovely fellow and companion if only for a day.