Day 15 Gréalou to St Jean de Laur
What a beautiful birthday gift to have stayed at this gite last night. We wake up early to find the table is all set for our petite dejeuner and Christian has the coffee ready.
The sky is a palette of pinks, blushes of cream to prepare us for the day ahead. We are guided along the track by high stone walls that look like they are constructed from masses of shale- it would have taken forever to construct such a thing.
The first three hours are along nice rolling paths until we meet a herd of cows coming towards us on the track- where are they going and who is guiding them? - it is in awe as we watch them slowly veer off the track and through a gap in the fence & they amble through to the green pastures beyond - what is amazing is that there is no shepherd or dog to guide them & somehow they know by instinct (or do they have an inbuilt gps) of which paddock to attend.
Another turn & we watch again in awe at a farmer letting his sheep frolic (well eating) in a paddock & as soon as the sheep get a little too wayward in their adventures a whistle to the dog and he is immediately on duty rounding them up like ball bearings with a magnet. As I walk off I wonder how long the farmer has to stay there, I imagine a while as those sheep need to eat a lot.
Talking of dogs the next experience has my heart thumping - we had come across a fromagerie positioned alongside the track and it was attached to a huge big metal shed with strange thumping noises inside. The end of the shed was exposed and there was a little ladder that led you up to a platform of hay- curiosity got the better of me as I was intrigued about the source of all this thumping. I had to climb that ladder so up I go tentatively as I am still wearing the back pack. And there in front of me are all these little black and brown faces peering intently my way. There were masses of goats all pushing and shoving each other around - the camera had to come out but it was as if I had tripped a sensor as around the corner we heard the sharp siren of a little dog who was not allowing two random Australians to take photos of his goats. While he didn't actually try to bite, the look in his eyes showed that he would love to have a try. You should have seen the lightening speed as I descended that staircase and ran as fast as I could away from those goats. The little dog had a few more attempts at making us run faster and also to impress the master and then trotted off back to his little patch in the sun. I did get some photos of the goats which I will value highly now because of the danger factor but from now on I think I will be more respectful of these farm buildings and their contents.
The town of Carjac is to be our morning coffee stop but the loose shale and then the steep steep descent that is a bit precarious means it is a three hour slog before we stop. Carjac is a pretty little spot in the bottom of the valley but all around it are these steep cliffs.
The town and area is famous for the production of saffron- and pictures of the saffron crocus flower decorate the buildings- we are a week too early as there is a saffron fair on the 20th October ( held every year so mark it in your diaries you are coming this way)
Anyway our bar beckons us and it is with great delight that we are greeted by Alban and Simon who had been there a while. They stay long enough to give birthday greetings and then out of Simons bag he produces a glass bottle of cognac and he adds a splash to our coffee as a birthday celebration. I am hoping that the climb out of the Carjac cliffs is not as steep as the descent as I might not do so well with an 11 o clock cognac nip. The lads are to keep ahead of us but they have two nights at Cahors the next big town on the Camino so we may have the chance of catching up with them.

Our final stop for the evening is at St Jean de Laur and we feel as if we are all grown up without Francis & Cathy and attempting to manage on our own. Well we thought we were, until we arrive at the gite in this town. There is a car in the garage but no one replies to our greetings and in desperation we try the door k*** - but they do not respond. I head off to see if there is another entrance and end up seeing the neighbors about to leave- I somehow communicate with them about the gite and they assume the distant tractor driver is Maxim the husband- off Madame runs to wave down the tractor, back runs Madame, the tractor driver is not Maxim after all. The summary she gives me is that probably the gite owner has gone to Carjac for the market as that was where they were heading. Meanwhile George had phoned the number on the sign in front of the gite and the Madame who answers announces that we don't have a reservation and she is in fact closed. Hmmm- now that is interesting- where we're booked. Madam suggests it could be at Madame Jacqueline of another gite so off we walk again. Luckily the village is small so we do not have too many streets to wander- it is with relief that they greet us with recognition so we have a bed for the night. The gentleman who greets us I think has had either mouth surgery or has suffered some ailment as it is difficult for him to speak but he is the sweetest gentleman and rushes off to get a cold beer for us to cool down and then when he hears that it is my birthday out comes the champagne.
We have the pleasure of Francis & Cathy joining us for an evening visit so it is lovely to be able sit in the garden and share a birthday drink. They are very kind and then drive us to Carjac to have dinner in one of the restaurants there. It is weird driving all the kilometres in a flash which seemed to take us forever to walk.
Another warm embrace and farewell to our new friends- we wonder where the next meeting place
Such a different birthday but it was superbe