We've reached the end of our westward walk from the coast, the bustling medieval pilgrimage center of St. Jean Pied de Port. When we've got more time to sit online, we'll transcribe our journal entries (written on paper, in tent, each night) and upload some photos. In short, the hiking's been fantastic, Allen's feet hurt, and we're doing a little laundry.

Let it not be said that we came to France without having considered the cheese-eating opportunities that lay before us; but it also wasn't an express goal to consume as much butterfat as possible during our month here. Buying cheese has, however, become a much anticipated part of each grocery run, and our daily cheese intake is much elevated level when compared to pre-France levels.

How could the cheese hunt not be a pleasure? Even the smallest grocery store - like the one we hiked 3 miles off-trail to get to, as none of the tiny villages on the trail had grocery stores of their own - has a cheese rack with at least a dozen different cheeses, standard varieties and local variants, waiting to be tasted and cut into back-packable lumps.

Since coming to France, we've had surprisingly spotty access to the internet, thus few pictures and updates. The lack of access is not so surprising for the last 8 days, given where we've been. After Allen's meetings (with his American client) outside of Toulouse, and after a couple of days to get situated (food, maps,etc.) in the city, we've been walking from small town to small town, through the beautiful territory west and south of Toulouse - we've sometimes been on marked "Grande Randonnee" (a fantastic system of trails all over France) trails, and sometimes making our way by topo map where another route looked better.

Uzer to Hendaye

One thing that has been so striking in our week of walking in France is the sounds. There have been quieter and noisier nights (silent at Espèches, rushing river at Lortet, the clattering and squalling of trains at Montréjeau) and days (some with more road walking on busier roads, yesterday’s nearly full day of quiet forest walking). But overall, it has been so quiet: small communities that button up and go to bed early; days of walking with just the accompaniment of bells around the necks of nearby cows or sheep; night silence broken by owls trilling or distant howling.

Espèches to Uzer

We wrapped up camp on the early side this morning, and walked down to the town of Espèches. Despite not having eaten breakfast, I had to use the bathroom (in the most inconvenient way) before reaching facilities or civilization. The most civilization I got was Allen offering to dig me a hole...

Lortet to Espèches

Last night’s storm was brief and, with a few great flashes of lightning and 20-odd rain drops, passed us by quickly. We woke up this morning with the intent to get out of town early, so we could stock up on food in the next town down the road before getting on the (relatively townless) trail toward Lourdes. We made two trips into Lortet before we got on our way to Hêches – this was to dispose of trash (twice) and to leave a note of thanks at the Mairie for the special dispensation we were given to camp in the town picnic ground.

St. Laurent de Neste to Lortet

After a bit of layabed time in the tent, we left our campground around 11:15 AM, heading toward Anères on the D road. Our trail markers were both the red and white of the GR trail and the yellow blazes of the Voie Piemontais, one of the French pilgrimage trails leading toward Santiago de la Compostela in Spain.

St. Bertrand de Comminges to St. Laurent de Neste

We left St. Bertrand in the mid-morning, walking past the paleochristian church and the ruins of the Roman “macellar,” market place, and thermal baths. We walked along the “D” (départemental, not as big as the national roads) road that goes past the base of St. Bertrand, then up the hill to the tiny settlement of Labat.

St. Bertrand de Comminges

St. Bertrand was no less charming by day than it had been by night. Last night, after setting up our tent at the small ‘aire de pique-nique’ about a kilometer outside of town, we walked along the silent road, through the nearly-deserted streets at the base of the town, and up a stone stairway into the upper part of the town. The town was tiny, its narrow, interlaced streets and 15th century buildings dominated by the relative enormity of the cathedral of Ste. Marie. The town was so quiet; we imagined people coming hope and settling in for the night, with food and with family…

Montrejeau to St. Bertrand de Comminges

We had wandered into Montrejeau when we’d arrived, to see what we could learn about where we were, what time the tourist office opened, and where to get some food. The city itself was arranged along a ridge about a kilometer north and up from the train station, a vantage point from which it looked down with a sort of stern aspect. From within the city, though, the sternness was lost, as a small main street, lined with shops, led to a friendly, open square surrounded by the gracious porticos of 19th century buildings.