Sunday was our most unrelenting day. It was nearly our longest day, and the start of a week of lots of heat, humidity, and direct sun (which is the worst). It was relentless because, at the top of each ridge, you could see that you would descend the entire altitude gain, only to have the next ridge of similar height! As sun and humidity rose, so did the frustration. We can't blame it on some chemin sadist, because it was a paved road, probably in use for centuries. We had five ridges, and we seemed to go over the very highest part of each ridge. I swear that on the fourth ridge, we could have gone higher only if they had made us climb the tree on the top of the ridge.
So, we learned to start earlier, and have done a good job since Sunday at arriving by early afternoon at the destination. That trades the boredom of small towns, with nothing more than a church, for hiking in the heat. Yesterday, for example, there was not a single thing to purchase in the town. Even the gas station had closed, and it used to be the single place selling bread and beverage. As a result of all the hungry pilgrims that were arriving, the lady who collects the money on behalf of the mayor for the municipal gite has set up a very small grocery store, and sells a few canned items, drinks, and ice cream at 3 pm and 6 pm.
We cooked the French equivalent of franks and beans for dinner. Otherwise, we sat in the shade or lay sweltering in our beds waiting for the sun to set. As usual, our room faced west, so we had light to the bitterest of ends! I did not realize until France that every room in a building can face west. It must have been karma for stopping before the sun had a chance to cook us. The ice cream was good, I must say.
The landscape is still a nice view, but very similar each day. We saw a deer and her fawn in a corn field. The corn is "knee high by the fourth of July," but needs rain. A lot of fields are irrigated, but many farmers seem at risk of a drought. The following day we saw a family of three martins. That is about it for wild life. Many fields are labeled as hunting preserves AND preserves of wild life. I am not sure how the two can be the same, but it makes sense to the French, so who am I to take issue.
Again on the French not being friendly, yesterday morning we were collapsed roadside, soaking wet from starting the hike in the dark and hiking in 100 percent humidity. A Frenchman in a beret stopped his car, said a few words in French that we were too tired to understand, then extended a big bag of freshly picked cherries and insisted that we take two handsful each! I must say that our reception everywhere has been remarkable.
