Long haul

Everyone had always said that John would be a preacher when he grew up, just like his father. It had been said so often that John, without ever thinking about it, had come to believe it himself.

I say goodbye to Pascal at La Taverne and head north. It's an easy climb, but there's rain coming. I stop to take something out of my shoe and notice some fraying on my rucsac where the shoulder strap joins. Worrying. I get out my sewing kit and do some running repairs.

When I reach St-Pierre-des-Champs it's raining. I don my poncho and walk, flapping madly in the wind, into the village. There's nothing here - no bar, café - nothing. I shelter under some trees till the rain subsides and then continue.

It's a long easy pull to Lagrasse. The rain holds off and it's pleasant countryside - a mixture of woodland, hills and fields. Lagrasse itself is gorgeous. Ancient cobbled streets, courtyards, monasteries that I walk straight past.

I take a coffee on the promenade and consider my options. I have enough food for today, but the store here doesn't reopen until 16:00, in 3 hours. Tomorrow is Sunday and only large towns will have places that open. And I need to shorten my route to make sure I get to Keith's. So, I decide to continue to Moux on GR36 and 77, then walk/hitch to a campsite at Lezignan.

The walk to Moux is astounding. At first I can't see the start of the ascent of Roc de l'Aigle because it's so steep. I crawl up it, amazed by the signs that mountain bikers have come down it. At the top, I follow the path downhill to a road. The same road I just left - meaning I missed a turn and have to retrace my steps to the ridge.

From the ridge it's up and up until the summit. On the way there's another heavy squall that I sit out, wearing my poncho, sheltering behind a bush. Then the sun comes out and everything's glorious.

There are no signs to GR77, but with the aid of Google, I find it and begin a pleasant descent. Under the motorway, through Moux, and another shower, and I'm off the GR.

There's another 5 miles to the campsite, on metalled roads. It's 19:00 and I've been on the road since 8:00. I start hitching and the within fifteen minutes I have a lift from a law student in a very dodgy Peugeot sports car with bucket seats and heavily worn steering rack.

He deposits me at the campsite, and I enjoy my last Villerouge tomato with the usual accompaniments. I'll sleep well tonight.