6 jan

Went for a walk today. One main difference with the Morvan it is flat. In about 15 kilometres I started at 198 metres high, went as low as 157, up to 196, down to 151, up to 206 and then down again to 198. It ain’t Holland, but is as close as you can get I suppose in France, although walking across the Loire was even flatter.
A little west and south of Chassenat there is an official walk, the Grande Ransonnee 36, probably from Angouleme to Brantome, both towns on the route(s) to Santiago. Except for the part I followed the GR36, I was walking over asphalted roads, although some were in such bad shapes that even moles could dig holes through them. Or moles in the Perigord have adjusted themselves to the new manmade circumstances that their claws are strong enough to get through asphalt. Wouldn’t want to meet one of those moles on my path.
But there are hardly any cars around. Might have met ten, and then one car three times, the driver became quite jolly when he saw me for the third time. Was wondering what he was doing, because I walk slow of course and in kind of a circular direction which is hardly the kind of route one follows with a car.
Very close to Chassenat there is a farm called Petit Bregnac. It is the ugliest house on the whole route, with a porch. A french house with a porch and built up with unstuccoed big clay blocks. How ugly I thought. Maybe the owner read my thoughts, from 50 metres distance, disapproved of them and got angry. Don’t know but fact is that he came running out the door up to his porch and started shouting at me. In front of the house there is a stone cross that I was making a photo of. At first I thought he was yelling at a dog, but then I realized he was pointing at me. ‘Prener photgraph de crucifix’, I said, explaining my obvious behaviour. What else would I do with a camera above my nose, pointed at this cross sculpture.

But he kept yelling. There must be a reason a cross and being cross are the same words in english. But this guy was french. What is cross in french, I thought. Pas photograph, were the only words I understood. Je ne parle pas francais tres bien I said, while keep making photographs, because the composition wasn’t to my liking. He kept yelling, after which I decided to walk on. A little further I realized what he had been saying: c’est pour prier, pas photographer! That cross was to pray for, not to take photographs of. I can hardly imagine that this is a big tourist destination and was wondering how many years he had had to wait before he could yell at someone committing this kind of sinful behaviour. Crazy guy with his crazy house, let him buy a new corn harvester, because I have never seen so many wasted corn cobs as exactly on his field. He was probably, while harvesting, looking behind his back all the time to make sure nobody was taking pictures of ‘his’ crucifix.
The walk was much more pleasant after that experience. Lots of old farms, a few grander houses that were clearly unoccupied at this time of the year. Lots of chickens walking around freely, also on the road, dogs barking only once or twice, a little sun even, followed by a little rain, and then I stumbled on the Route Roman.
Ok, there is the church fatigue, but my heart raced when I saw the clearly Romanesq facade of the Leguilac-des-Cercles church in the distance. A very odd church, very high, very narrow and very short. The architect from this church was never going to win a Pritzker award.
But still, there were nicely sculpted details, a good apse, it seemed from the outside and a skull in one of the half circles above a window. It was a pity it was closed. I am sure it would have been an odd but memorable church from the inside.
And what a funny village it was. Someone loves knitting in Leguilac. Rainpipes, the windows of the city hall, traffic signs, all were protected against the could with colourful woolen socks around them. Strange, but fun.

Pretty soon I was back at Chassenat where I walked around the buildings for the first time. Old cow stalls, pretty much ruined. A space for another barn, disappeared except for the foundations, beautiful limestone blocks, scattered everywhere around the area. It is not only a lovely place, but also a fun place to be.