Really I couldn’t walk more slowly. Even the tortoise-like Swiss team set off ahead of me this morning. I wanted to amble down to Cajarc and launch an all out assault on the town during lunch, somewhere the British never captured during the 100 years war. It is surrounded by huge limestone cliffs.
I joined the Swiss table for dinner last night as they are now used to me and again for breakfast. As before, they lined up outside the gite and sang their song before setting off this morning. After a decent interval I said goodbye to my hosts and set off along the UNESCO world heritage listed walk to Cajarc.
I soon arrived at the Pech Lagaire2 Dolmen, a national monument built 3500 years ago; a square sepulchral chamber with a large stone cover, according to my guide book. While I sat contemplating this ancient work of Man, G arrived having left the gite even later than me. G lives in the French Alps but did her spell as an au pair in London as a young girl and was keen to resuscitate her English. So we walked along this beautiful path smelling the flowers, eating the wild strawberries, listening to the birds and studying the teeming life in the ponds.
My guidebook is doing its best to encourage long daily stages but for now I’m crawling through the middle of France and enjoying every moment. I know I will have to get my running shoes on later but for now this is too good to rush.