As I commenced to write up my notes for this blog I was inside my tent, it was around 6.45pm, I had been in the tent for half an hour, and the rain was coming down. The clouds were building all afternoon. The far off thunder got closer and put on a spectacular sound show. The rain felt like it could stay for the night but after forty five minutes had fizzled to a few drops and then stopped.

I had my first food break in the shade of some trees while my shirt and sox dried in the sun. There was a gentle, cool breeze sweeping over where I stopped. I then did something I haven’t done before. I stretched out and went to sleep. The sound of a slowing motor cycle woke me. It sped up as I rolled to one side and looked in it’s direction.

I walked 25km today. By the end I’d had enough after nearly eight hours on the
road. My campsite is within a few metres of the road on a thick grassy patch with trees to one side. The stoney base under the grass will make for good drainage of the rain water. When I arrived the grass was standing tall. I stamped down an area big enough to raise my tent so that after I’d finished it looked like an alien craft had landed there.

I stopped in La Begude for a cold sparkling mineral water. The last 17km from there
was on the quietest of one lane country roads. La Begude was the last place to get water until I found a public fountain at Brunet where I resupplied for tomorrow. There would not have been more than a dozen cars and a handful of cyclists on this road. Early on I saw a few lavender farms and as the valley open up more land was give over to grain crops like wheet and oats. There was one crop I didn’t recognize at first until I took a closer look. Beans. Not the climbing type I’m used to seeing, but
plants growing over a metre tall with a large number of branches all sprouting beans. Some of the grain crops must have gone in early because they looked like they’ll be ready for harvesting in a month or so. Irrigation is used quite extensively. Crops come right to the edge of the road. There are no fences. The French are unlike the Italians who seem to fence in everything. No fences provide a sense of spaciousness. There was so much green interspersed occasionally with patches of yellow.

I look forward to a short walk and a hotel room in Manosque tomorrow. domyhomework.guru