Lunch

Xenology is an unnatural mixture of science fiction and formal logic. At its core is a flawed assumption—that an alien race would be psychologically human.

The alarm goes off at 6. I turn it off and an owl, in a branch overhead, hoots its thanks. It's still dark. I rollover and go back to sleep.

I stumble out of my tent, perform what ablutions I can, and pack up my things. The descent from the hill is rapid and I'm quickly into rough pasture, with not a vine in sight. The going is easy, it's sunny in patches, and there's a gusting wind. All in all, very pleasant.

I stop at Rouffiac for a coffee at a café/épicerie/station-de-gaz and replenish my snack supply with galette de breton. Then I power on towards Villerouge.

At Borde Grande I choose to take the northerly route, partly because there's a sign advertising an organic goat cheese farm in that direction. The farmer is an ex-ornithologist who, among other things, had studied gannets on Senna. He's been farming goats for 8 years and his partner makes cheese. Very nice it is too.

The approach to Termes is through heavy oak forest. Beautiful and cool. The village is lovely, an obligatory château, and a delight Café next to the Mairie where I drink a glass of (poor, overpriced) red and charge my phone.

Next stop Villerouge. Another fairly easy walk, but I'm tiring - I've been walking, on and off, for ten hours by the time I pull into the Taverne and order a Ricard. One of the customers, Eric, works for the council and shows me where I can camp. The bar livens up. I'm given tomatoes, peppers and fine herb from local gardens. I'm introduced to Cristal Orga, an unpleasantly sweet Ricard alternative. And tomorrow there's going to be music, so I may do some local meandering tomorrow and stay another night.