May 18: Among the vines

Today was forecast as the first dry day for a week, so everyone was out spraying their vineyards. There was nothing we could do but move quickly and hope our “healthy” lifestyle offsets the effects of whatever was being sprayed (fan assisted) from the backs of the tractor rigs.

The mud is far from gone. There is a fun video of me, today, clinging to trees, crossing a particularly bad patch. As I successfully navigated the terrain, another walker appeared. He looked at me, roughly 4m away on the other side of the mire, at himself and Carey and said “she’s not heavy” before opting to head up the bank via a steep scramble, obviously previously used by pilgrims who’d made the same calculation. Carey followed him up the bank, well above my head height. About 50m further on, they slid down 3m of clay-bank, back onto the trail. I backstopped Carey (the other walker refused my help), which was just as well. Another 3-4m on, around a bend, we saw a set of “stairs”, obviously intended for the descent. Hey ho. You don’t know what you don’t know.

We walked round fields of freshly-sprouting maize, about 6 inches high, and along the edges of vineyards, both old vines and new ones: all a vibrant lime-green and blush-red, their tendrils groping and grasping. I noticed how the very new leaves are almost white, like blossoms at the end of the growing branches. The sky did not clear, but, equally, the layered clouds performed their photogenic magic and the rain didn’t come. This encouraged the insects, who were active and chirping again after days of near-silence.

We arrived in Nogoro (our rest stop) around 1pm and made a bee-line for pretty-much the only place open (Monday is only slightly better than Sunday in rural France for shopping/eating opportunities). Fortunately, this turned out to be a decent patisserie. Carey and I shared a fancy tarte aux fraise with Chantilly cream and a “premium” Jesuit (a kind of turnover with pastry cream and flaked almonds). They didn’t offer us any cutlery to eat with, so we turned our little wooden stirrers into inadequate sporks and slurped our way through, messily, but successfully, drinking our machine café au laits from the paper cups provided. Perfect.

Speaking of Sundays, we arrived at our hotel yesterday to learn their restaurant was closed for the weekend. Our bookings are supposed to include dinner, but twice now, the “proper” hotels have let us down. We are processing refund claims. However, it did provide Carey with a welcome break from goat’s cheese followed by duck, which he’s been served repetitively since we entered Gascony. Instead, we strolled to the cobbled town square and enjoyed a glass of floc in the sole bar, before sitting down for a pizza - not the best pizza, but it was hot and they were willing to serve it to us. And, it involved no local specialities, as far as we could tell!