Day 26. Marching

For the past three days I have been walking through flat countryside (while still managing to climb about 800 metres per day) – grain-growing lands. Just towards the end of today’s walk I moved back into wine country. In fact, the farm where we are staying (and seem to be the only residents apart from the owners) makes and bottles its own wine. The wine of the region is chenin, rouge et blanc.

Not much to report today, except for another two occasions where the route I was following disappeared – the tracks were on the map, but not in the fact.

I had another instance today of a man saying to me “You are walking well!” I explained to the old man (I must stop saying that – I sometimes realise when I have said it that the man was probably younger than me) what I was doing, and he shook my hand and said “Felicitations! Et bonne courage!” I really should carry the Pancreatic Cancer collecting tin with me.

I was musing that what I am doing is not all that unusual, or rather it was not, until recently.. Before armies became mechanised, which really happened only during the Second World War, it was the norm for bodies of men to march huge distances, carrying heavy equipment. “The enemy is 800 kms away. Quick! March over there and have a battle!” “Oh no! Whoops! They outsmarted us – they are where we started from – hurry back there!”

Mind you, I don’t suppose many of them were a few weeks away from being 70 years of age.

We are near Panzoult. Distance today 27 kms. To date 795 kms.