After that stormy night, the day dawned misty, but soon cleared up.
It was a quiet walk through unpopulated terrain. Cows. Cattle. Pines. C’est très très beau, le paysage.
The past days the trail has been bordered by Spanish Broom, though a smaller version than what we have in NM. It seems stunted, but fuller. The blackberry brambles continue, but hardly any edible ones. Rosehips burst forth in vivid orange-red, brilliant against the greenery.
Must be beautiful in spring when roses and the Broom are in full boom. Bloom.
On the Caminho Portugues way markers were typically the yellow arrow or the blue and yellow scallop shell. Here in France, they are blazes of red and white. In the photo below you’ll see both, though the blue and yellow just showed up today.
I often pick up a small stone to carry with me as I walk. I think of loved ones and pray for them, imbuing the stone with the prayers. Then I leave it at one of the crosses.
In the small village of L’Estret we came across this kitchen. It’s in someone’s home. The fridge is stocked with cold sodas and fruit juices. There’s a variety of teas. Chocolate and biscuits. Coffee. Leave a donation. Relax. Replenish. Can you imagine? Are there still small towns in the States where one could do something like this? I’m truly in awe of French country life. And I know I’m romanticising some. But really. Hundreds – thousands of people walk by here and look how clean it is.
Okay. Long day tomorrow. Gotta get to 😴.
Shared Illusions 
Oh, how I love this! St. Come d’Olt tomorrow? Probably farther. That St. Roche Chapel was special to me too. I think it was the first time I heard of St. Roche. I was there in 6 inches of snow. I don’t think it was possible to go inside (it was early morning).
I stayed in Les Estrets that night. (must have been after the Domaine du Sauvage, which I loved — a big old Knights Templar stone building). There was a new Albergue, very clean and modern in Les Estrets (the straits). We all slept in one very big room upstairs. No bunks. Just single beds. That kitchen looked like that gite. When I packed up in the morning my sheet sleeping sack rolled under the bed. I didn’t realize I’d lost it until the next place. A French couple helped me call, and I paid to have it returned via the luggage carrier at the next night’s stop — I had to pay for sheets for one night. I still walked alone for several more days. There were occasional roadside stands where people left out food and drinks. You put your coins in a dish and helped yourself. One place had hard-boiled eggs. I hadn’t had an egg since I left home. I put in .20 or whatever it was and ate it as I walked. I was in heaven! The scenery is so lovely and changes around every corner.
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I love your memories!
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