September 26 & 27, 2024
Saint Cirq Lapopie -> Vaylats

Our rest days invite rain… which is better than hiking in it (more later).
We went for a walk and saw some lovely scenery



Saint Cirq was crowned the plus beau of the PBVTM‘s a few decades back and has predictably become over-touristed (us walkers don’t count – we earned it 😉). One rainy advantage is the fair-weathered folk stay away and, after passing 5 empty parking lots, we rose to this mega-quaint living museum / artists haven and had the wet run of the place. The tourist info madame seemed thrilled to have an inquiry and gave solid advice on where we depart tomorrow and drew us a twisty line on a map to the only spot open this early, which happened to specialize in local yums.



Waffle with Strawbs and Chantilly for T and, for S, Lou Pastis, a big-ruffle baklava-type delicacy, with a hint of the anise liqueur.
Then we returned to our hotel, desiccated our garments and selves, napped. Next, out for coffee and some truffle-salted cashews. Got some ‘za for dinner. Watched 3 episodes of the latest stream show.

So, basically, just like any weekend day at home!
Today, back on the track, armed with our inside info re: the trailhead out of St Cirq… oh boy, another hardscrabble climb… now in the rain, with sauna-ponchos on (more wet inside than out). It was a grim reminder of how fleeting fitness is at our age 😲



Our connecting route back to the real chemin was well-marked and we proceeded along, donning/doffing according to the irregular drizzles. It was serenely uneventful, along ancient cart paths and we saw only one other couple walking. There’s a contraction of time and mind; the little things start to stand out, amidst the green and grey.



Not that the stage was without excitement, especially for our feet:



So, sludgy and sluggish, we rejoined the Via Podiensis and wove our way to our penultimate stay, just outside Vaylats.



On this odyssey, we’ve set down in hostels (gîtes), hotels, inns (auberges), and a convent. Our camping days are behind us, so that only leaves:

There are free-run chickens, a friendly dog, turquoise plastic lawnchairs – it’s not hard to pretend we’re home again… if we lived in Mongolia!
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