October 25. Mussidan to La Gatarde. 15.12 km.

The three musketeers are back together again. Or is that drowned rats? Rain, sometimes torrential, for much of the day.

It was raining for the 1.5 km walk to the train station, where we took a 15 minute train to Mussidan to begin today’s walk. But okay once we got off the train. The best / worst was yet to come!

But first…

I still don’t understand how this extinguisher ball was supposed to work. Good thing we didn’t start any fires!

Yes, it’s true. I actually captured the elusive Ken having to wash dishes.

For some reason, Scott and Ken found the title of this book to be the basis of many bad jokes.

The trains were so crowded and there was a guy with a bike trying to squish in. The driver had his head out the window waiting to make sure everyone was aboard who was going aboard.

Aren’t nature’s colours magnificent?

Gotta walk out of our way to find Ken a coffee. Gotta keep him caffeinated in the mornings.

Look at this fluffy kitty in the trampoline!

This cat saw us and came running, then sat in front of the door meowing VERY loudly to be let in. I must say, I was tempted to open that door!

Wild cyclamen and a ratty transparent mushroom. This is what you see when walking.

Ken’s face when he came up with a new insult about Terry.

The consequence.  And as Peter would say, Ken never learns.

Who lives down that hole?

Ken was fascinated by this vine. To him, it seemed like it couldn’t make up it’s mind, trying to reach for a support, giving up and then going for it. Finally made it. Sorta like life, says the old philosopher.

It’s wet but not yet raining. Stay tuned.

We met this British couple out walking their dogs in the middle of nowhere.

We walked through a lot of  pine forests, from young plantations to mature trees.

We were trying to identify what kind of pine  and scott and I were looking at a small branch but Ken had to feel superior by having a bigger branch. Turns out they are called maritime pines and make up 10% of France’s forests (thanks, Wikipedia!) Their needles are more than twice as long as other pines.

The gleeful look of a man who hid a beer in his backpack.

Ken insisted on sitting on a convenient log for lunch, even though the sky was looking ominous. And just as we had packed up, the skies opened and we were drenched by the time we reached the underpass.

Thankfully the rain stopped for a while.  I don’t have a picture but the building on the left seemed to house every car the guy had ever owned plus so much junk. Not surprisingly, Ken felt a kinship.

More deluge and a third one to come.

A break in the weather. So many of the young men listed on the cenotaph died only a few months before the end of the war. So sad. These villages are so small that the loss of all these boys must have been devastating in so many ways, and not just on the families.

A bumper crop of crabapples. Our spruce grouses at home would be in apple heaven in a tree like this.

An optimal bench…although I thought it strange that the garbage pail was protected in a tiny Camino shell encrusted shed and the bench wasn’t. But we only had 2 kilometers to go.

A tunnel of trees.

And here we go again, as if we weren’t wet enough.

Shelter. So thankful to be out of the rain. Plus this is what I would describe as our first pilgrim place. Five beds and you take the chance there will be other pilgrims there (there weren’t any). Plus it comes with dinner (yummy garlicky pork chops and scallop potatoes) and breakfast. 

When they rebuilt this section of the house for pilgrim accommodation,  they left the swallow nest that had been attached to the old beams. No swallows in it now though.

Trying to warm up as my backpack was soaked through and I had nothing for dry clothes except for one shirt. Waaaaah!

Their dog is sitting on the well surveying his territory.

A Camino magic moment. I am signing the guest book and I see an earlier entry from about a month ago signed by a Cindy and Roger from Portland Oregon.  Hey, I know Cindy and Roger from Portland! I mean, there can only be one pair of a Cindy and Roger from Portland, right? But I’ll send a Facebook message to be sure. Stay tuned to find out…