Day one of walking

A pungent smell that reminds me of unwashed socks combined with boiled cabbage hits the nose as we descend the old wooden stairs into the kitchen. Breakfast is a help it yourself situation- no one is in sight but a fairy has set up the bread topped up the jams,and prepared the coffee machine. But what is that smell- after much investigation of opening doors and finally the fridge the culprit is found- a plate of various cheeses all relishing in their superior powers of odour ready to be consumed for the breakfast vigil. George is happy to tuck in to this delicacy so early in the morning but I think I will give it a miss.

But the morning awaits as well the first day of walking. Rain is predicted but at this stage the overcast morning beckons us out onto the street. There is much bustling happening in the square as Saturday is market day and the trestles are being set up, the produce laid out in attractive allure. I turn around to track down George and notice he is transfixed in front of the fungi table awestruck at the weird arrangement and different colours and shapes. I quickly usher him along before the drooling becomes too obvious. He has one more plaintive appeal 'what about some cheese from this nice cheese stall' but reminding him of the added weight we move up the street. A quick photo opportunity before we leave the town is sorted out by a young Swiss lad who is cycling to SDC - he has come from Lausanne in only 5 days. My mention of the hills ahead has him laughing- Switzerland is made of hills so it is quite normal is his response.

The lady sweeping outside her Camino shop has smiles for us and a few quick tips to send us on our way and then we are escorted out of the town by a Parisian who has the contraption we have seen before-it is braced around his hips and he will pull it behind him. It looks great but later in the day when the path gets rocky and narrow I wonder how he fared. He quickly leaves us behind and then is replaced by a varying groups of walkers all chatting away in gay abandon with their lilting French accents. I'm not sure but I am wondering if they are part of different walking clubs and since it is Saturday they are off for a weekend jaunt. It is nice to see so many as I had been told that at this time of the year we were unlikely to see many walkers. They are quite a fit lot and even though their age is similar to ours ( if not older) they are quick to leave us behind. The weather today was predicted to be 100% rain at 11.00 and sure enough as the hour drew near so too did the drops. How fortuitous to round the corner and find a little garden with tables and chairs, flowering pots on tables, umbrellas for the days there is sun and a caravan that is equipped to serve weary walkers hot drinks and something to eat. Such good timing as we consumed hot chocolate and dug out the wet weather gear from our bags and donned both ourselves and our bags.

Our walk is now accompanied by rivulets flowing over our heads and dripping over the face. The smells of the rural landscape take on a stronger essence- it is rich and soothing in its own unique way. We pass huge stone houses that have built the barn and the farming buildings to join onto the house. The property appears to go on for ever. The cows blink slowly their wide brown eyes and allow the rain to drip down their noses as we pass along their home- unperturbed by these strange two legged animals struggling along with bags that look like turtle shells. Large stone crosses also decorate the path at different intervals- used to announce the religious significance of the trail as well as acknowledging some person. Piles of small stones gather at the bases of these crosses- a pilgrims way of acknowledging a prayer or adding their own particular addition.

We are enjoying the beautiful surroundings of the French countryside - the lush greenness and the turning of the trees heralding in the upcoming Autumn days. It is total enjoyment walking and feeling part of this special community. I can feel the rhythm starting to fall into place.

A bout of Sydney flu for the two of us that seemed to last forever and a cough that still persists for me today has influenced our decision not to try and achieve too much on day one. It is with relief that we walk into a pretty little village called Monbonnet and locate our gite. Gites are a form of accomodation like a hostel where you share a room with others. It is similar to the albuerges you sat in when walking in Spain, but Spanish albuerges rarely provide a meal and often provide large numbers of people whereas the gites appear to only host around 12 or 13 people.

This gite is attached to the local bar and I set myself up with a café grande and attempt to write my notes and post them to the blog. I am distracted when the herd of evening cows are ushered down the street obviously to some place to be milked) - with hearty bonsoirs and a photo I am ushered back to listen to other walkers coming through the bar for sustenance before they head off. With the rain still falling I am glad that we do not have to join them.

This particular gite is fairly new and has a large common room with a large window giving a wonderful vista over the countryside. The rooms sleep four, we are in the loft with a steep staircase up above the two beds below. Our tired legs wobble as we stagger up the stairs but the bed is comfortable and firm. A lot of the gites provide dinner and breakfast and this one is full tonight

The long table in the common room has all the chairs filled (13) As we sit alongside our fellow travellers we attempt to grasp the odd word every now & then of the various conversations- ( for those of you reading this with a knowledge of French this trip would be ideal for you and certainly provide a wealth of opportunity to practice with very friendly individuals) We are served carrot soup , followed by lentils, mashed potato and sausage. By the time the cheese is served I am falling asleep ( maybe some jet lag or perhaps fatigue from the physical exertion that the body has not had for such a long time) Our gite host looks mortified that I am leaving the table without eating the cheese- I think I have just committed a tremendous affront ! I wonder if I will be served breakfast tomorrow