8 mar

Walked another 38 kilometres, from Montcuq to Moissac, making a total of 344 kilometres.
It was a bad day. Yesterday went smoothly, but today was a struggle. The kilometres didn’t seem to come as fast as the time spent walking would have indicated. There was a lot of mud, which doesn’t help. And the landscape wasn’t as beautiful or spectacular as in the past week. It seemed like the region between Moncuq and Moissac is more prosperous. Good for them, but when France gains wealth it looses charm.
Leaving today I realized I had forgotten my wakking stick somewhere. It wasn’t at the benches around the ‘Aire’ (the camper overnight place), and then I realized I must have left it at the supermarket where I did some shopping last night. And there it was.
I didn’t enjoy the stick for too long. At another supermarket, in Lauzerte, I went to get a few croissants. I got irritated because I had to hand in my backpack. I felt treated like I was a criminal, trying to rob the supermarket and put things away in my backpack. Did get my croissants, but forgot my stick. Realized it when I was 1,5 kilometres farther, too much to walk back on a day where 38 kilometres have to be tackled.
But walking sticks are a little bit like pets. You love them, you get attached to them, but when they disappear (or die) you get a new one. Okay, I would have walked back for Raskel or Rosie, but it is the general principle that matters. These things are replaceable. So I looked out for a new stick and found one pretty soon. Good length, nice shape, although a little less good length and shape than the one I had. But it will do. Especially after lunch when I took my Opinel knife out and started cutting the little spikes away. I did this so vigorously that at one point I stuck the knife in my leg. A little bit only, but when I looked at it, taking my pants (with a hole) down on the little bench next to the street, I saw a little opening in my leg. Like a little mouth that was spitting out blood. I had visions that I would bleed to death because of the constant impulse of walking, but Julie looked at it tonight and considered it something that could not be taken serious.
So this wasn’t my day. Especially because I had made my first serious walking mistake just a bit earlier. I had missed a big cross on a tree, which indicates ‘don’t take this path’ and realized I was wrong when the path just stopped suddenly. Luckily this was only 750 metres down the road, but it shows how easily it is to loose the way. I must have had distracted thaughts, because there is a sensor in me that blurps every minute or so, asking me: where is the sign. The sign being a red and white stripe above each other.
The good thing about today was the arrival of spring. Of course it had been there for a few days already, but today it burst out. Blossoming fruit trees everywhere. And this area has a lot of fruit trees. Which ones bloom pink and which ones white, I asked myself. Cherries are pink, and peaches are too. Apples are white. But what about pears, or apricots. I have no clue. But I have a feeling I saw the whole variety of a fruit market blossoming today.
So finally reached Moissac. Exactly 9 minutes after le Office du Tourism closed, so I did not get my Moissac ‘tampon’ in my little guide. Had a beer in front of the abbey with Julie and then went back to the same parking spot where we had stayed at the end of november, or beginning december.
Then it was bloody cold, now even the evenings are starting to be comfortable. There has been a lot of water through the Garonne since we saw the river last. And we have made some miles too. Anyway, 1108 kilometres to go.