Winchcombe, like all villages, is surrounded by country side. From our perch we watch a lady preform dressage on a handsome black horse. Sheep, horse, cricket field, homes, and church all captured in one photo.
This puppy’s chow is just water and sunlight.
Organic and natural.
I walk in the good company of a French woman, Sophie. She says, “Pilgrims must prepare their feet each morning like dancers.” How true as I continue to wrap my feet in athletic tape.
Sangüesa is filled with music. A dozen people sat at an outdoor café singing in perfect harmony to the guitar melody.
As with any man-made reservoir, some towns profited while other towns were destroyed by its recent creation.
People pasted along The Way today.
Even this pilgrim needs pressed cotton sheets and a home cooked dinner every so often.
Stop to smell the roses.
Stop to smell the freshly cut grass; or, get run over.
Singles…
Today is the first day I have walked totally alone. Exiting the metropolis of Toulouse was an added challenge to the walk. No wrong turns on an inconsistently marked Way. Super!
Two French locals unsolicited offered to give me a ride to the next towns…how kind.
Linda Scandore 