5 feb

Walking is thinking, clearly. But some walking is also plain brainless. Like my walking yesterday.
I woke up and the sky looked promising, Not trusting this Perigord sky I waited for a few hours. But there still was sun, and blue sky, and all those good things that one associates with a bright day.
It looked like a walking day, so that’s what I decided on.
I had bought a few detailed maps of this area. Have I sung the praise of the British Ordnance Survey maps before? I need to do it once more. The French IGN (Insititute Geographique National) maps have something marvelous about them. My brother in law Rob showed me that they make a difference between leave losing trees (like oaks) and leave holding trees (like pine). Which is marvelous, in a way. But the British Ordnance Survey maps show as much detail, cover as much as twice the area of these french maps, and are half as expensive, if you don’t buy them on a sale, which everybody does, when they are cheaper still.
Well, I was planning to walk to St Jean de Cole, which was one of the towns I highlighted on our Michelin guide of France in the weeks before we left England. This was one kind of secret delight for me, this highlighting. I had a few books that had important buildings in Romanesq history mentioned. While reading I would highlight all the significant towns I would come across.
There are hundreds of Romanesq churches in this area, or in Burgundy, that were never mentioned in the books I read before our trip. But there still is a suspicion in me that the ones I had highlighted are something special.
Like St Jean de Cole. I knew of the village, or town, before we arrived here at Chassenat. But it seemed a little of centre and a little too far out of the way. Also when I looked at the images of the church on google it didn’t seem that special to me. But in the half awakened state between the first cups of coffee – that Julie brings me in bed, with a severely sounding: Your coffee Sir – and really getting some breakfast, I decided that it was worth the walk. And looking at it only in a glance, I decided it was possible to walk it in one day.
Which must be true. But it was about 40 kilometers (25 miles), and the morning had disappeared fast and it was 11 am before I got on the way. But the sun was promising, I neglected the cold breeze, and I am a fool anyway in these kind of circumstances.
So I headed out. Walking fast, because I realized I had been a little optimistic – a different word for being stupid – to tell Julie I would meet her at 5pm.
I really got into trouble after being halfway, when I realized there were too many miles to go before I could ever think about sleeping. I somehow thought that after St. Pancras – yes, like the marvelous London train station, It would be less tha 10 kilometres (6 miles) to St Jean. It turned out to be at least 10 miles… Those last kilometres hurt, I can tell you.

But I dragged on and speeded up when I started to realize I was going to miss my meeting time with Julie and Mom
And I did. I was fifteen minutes late. But worse than that, I walked way too fast. Which seems to be the real problem to me, planning on the trip to Santiago.
Slowing down, breathing quietly, when there is a hill, walking slower – don’t speed up, like I tent to do – feeling my hips suddenly, at some points.
Walking is thinking. But since I like to think slowly, I really should force myself to walk slowly. Maybe it will all work out, one day