I could not do any hedge trimming as planned since it has been raining most of the day. Rain and fog so thick I could not find Justin in his field this morning... In fact, he'd found shelter in the shed standing in a corner and usualy occupied by twelve ewes and their lambs... so far he never set foot in it and because of the rain the bully must have evicted them. I have an old stable block in the old barn so tonight I will put him in there so that the poor sheep can have a good night sleep. It will probably be a first for him... Four stars hotel... I have no straw but found a few bales of hay that must be four years old and not too dusty so that he can lay on it and nibble at the same time, like a roman emperor. Talk of a dirty trick to play on him. Today's richess before tomorrow's rags. If he only knew.
Well, donkeys after all come from Africa and they do not like rain. Even all this green grass, full of growth hormones we have at the moment is not that good for them. His droppings are rather runny so hay, even old should help. Tomorrow I'll ask a neighbour if he can lend me a couple of bales of straw for the last three days he has to stay here before departure, just to balance his guts before hitting the track. Furthermore, seing that he really dislike the rain, this morning I went to buy a tent for myself so that he can have my tarpaulin when rain is on the menu for the night.
I took the coastal road to go to Cherbourg and you could not see Guernsey because of the fog. I couldn't help but to take the long way round just for the pleasure of seeing the sea. Not to be able to see or smell it for so many days will be hard for me as I have spent most of my life near or on it.
So, today was not as good as yesterday. I experienced a sad moment when I took my five hens to be looked after by the lady farmer who sold Justin to me. They will stay there for the duration of the trek and I know they will be well looked after. They were in a sorry state, drenched and silent as they did not quite understand what was going on. I have had them since juveniles and they have been trouble free and very good layers for nearly two years now. One of them had a close encounter with death when a stray hunting dog mistook her for a pheasant and I had to patch her up with sterystrips, Betadyne and green clay under a fresh cabbage leaf for days. Torn skin was like 50p coin size in places. She survived and got back to laying eggs and when the owner of the stray dog saw what happened, she was so sure she was going to die, she got me a replacement hen the next market day. Some decent people in the village... I was just as responsable as she was for the incident as my hens should not roam freely around the farm...
So, a neutral kind of day. I am impatiently waiting for a new IGN (topographic 1.25000th) map covering the whole of France for my GPS and a set of maps from the European Ramblers Association in order to work on the itinerary (but not too much as I like to leave a lot to chance since nothing ever goes as I plan it, so why waste the time and energy.) My new smart phone with Assisted GPS and topo maps too will be back up navigator. (will have to shut up the lady's voice telling me were to go though, I cannot stand to be told what to do...) Right, better get some sleep because tomorrow hopefuly will be dedicated to gardening and trimming. Rain has stopped and big fires roaring in both fireplaces are repelling the damp atmosphere of this coldish spring evening.
European Footpaths
Amazing where you can travel to by foot!!!
Wednesday 30 March 2011
Tuesday 29 March 2011
A beautiful spring day out
Today, as the weather forecast was not "sunny and hot", I decided it would be an opportunity to see in real life if Justin was up to a full day's work. I do not want him to get dehydrated and tired at the same time. Target... St Sauveur le Vicomte ( on the "green lane", a converted ex-railway track going from Cherbourg to Mt St Michel ) and back. That is a thirty four kilometres round trip and hopefuly my daily travel distance.
Eight o'clock, after very noisy greetings from "The Philosopher" (as I have decided to call Justin from now on) and a few seconds chewing the mega-carrot I got him for breakfast, we set off, me with a fleece jacket, an umbrella and some sandwiches and water in my small rucksack, the dog "naked" as usual (but I have a lead and collar with me if necessary), the asse wearing his brand new halter that looks a hundred years old since he rubbed it against every single appletree in the orchard he now lives in.
We hit the track after a couple of stops in the village, once to introduce Justin to the young daughter of a couple who is building a straw house nearby and would like a ride before we go trekking and a second time by a neighbour who asked me if he could borrow my lawnmower (Justin) for a couple of weeks as he has some land that needs cleaning... He was very disappointed to learn that the lawnmower was going to clean the footpaths of France and Navarre instead, but it is a pleasure to see how welcome my new "green" friend is in our tiny village of less than 120 inhabitants. At first I was a bit worried about the noise nuisance as you can hear a donkey from miles away, but after all, there always was a "long ears" on the farm in the past. I remember when in the seventies, (we used to come on the farm for a couple of weeks holidays every year, from Marseilles where we lived then), my Great- Uncle used to own one, like almost everybody at the time. They were used to take the milk from the farm to the market or the plant were it was bottled or transformed into butter. Ah! the memories of homemade strawberry jam on thick cut slices of bread covered with equaly homemade butter straight from the tits of the beautiful Jersey cow that was looking at you from over the path with her loving eyes...
Anyway, as I write these lines, our five pairs of legs have taken us over thirty eight kilometres at an average moving speed of five point two kilometres per hour which I find really good. We were not in trekking situation, loaded and looking for directions but considering Justin's lack of training, that rings as great news to me.
He seems to have adopted my exact natural walking pace and we took the opportunity to set the correct lunge length (so that the dangling frequency matches our natural mouvements), he interprets my little tugs and my voice commands just like if we'd been round the earth twice together. Gamin was in front and checking every five seconds that we were following him. It is such a pleasure to link in such harmony, I had one of these very very rare priviledged moments when you feel so happy your heart feels like it is going to burst and you nearly cry... (well, actualy, I did and good job we were alone, people would have thought I was a nutcase, laughing and smiling stupidly...) So, well done my two little friends and thank you for these special few minutes which are going to stay in my memory for ever. Back at home, I feel very tired now so that will be all for today's post. I shall cook myself a nice tea (last few leaks of the season from the garden in a salad and eggs from our hens and chips) and go to bed early as tomorrow will be very busy again as I have miles of hedges to trim before leaving the farm for three months if I do not want to come back to a "jungle".
Eight o'clock, after very noisy greetings from "The Philosopher" (as I have decided to call Justin from now on) and a few seconds chewing the mega-carrot I got him for breakfast, we set off, me with a fleece jacket, an umbrella and some sandwiches and water in my small rucksack, the dog "naked" as usual (but I have a lead and collar with me if necessary), the asse wearing his brand new halter that looks a hundred years old since he rubbed it against every single appletree in the orchard he now lives in.
We hit the track after a couple of stops in the village, once to introduce Justin to the young daughter of a couple who is building a straw house nearby and would like a ride before we go trekking and a second time by a neighbour who asked me if he could borrow my lawnmower (Justin) for a couple of weeks as he has some land that needs cleaning... He was very disappointed to learn that the lawnmower was going to clean the footpaths of France and Navarre instead, but it is a pleasure to see how welcome my new "green" friend is in our tiny village of less than 120 inhabitants. At first I was a bit worried about the noise nuisance as you can hear a donkey from miles away, but after all, there always was a "long ears" on the farm in the past. I remember when in the seventies, (we used to come on the farm for a couple of weeks holidays every year, from Marseilles where we lived then), my Great- Uncle used to own one, like almost everybody at the time. They were used to take the milk from the farm to the market or the plant were it was bottled or transformed into butter. Ah! the memories of homemade strawberry jam on thick cut slices of bread covered with equaly homemade butter straight from the tits of the beautiful Jersey cow that was looking at you from over the path with her loving eyes...
Anyway, as I write these lines, our five pairs of legs have taken us over thirty eight kilometres at an average moving speed of five point two kilometres per hour which I find really good. We were not in trekking situation, loaded and looking for directions but considering Justin's lack of training, that rings as great news to me.
He seems to have adopted my exact natural walking pace and we took the opportunity to set the correct lunge length (so that the dangling frequency matches our natural mouvements), he interprets my little tugs and my voice commands just like if we'd been round the earth twice together. Gamin was in front and checking every five seconds that we were following him. It is such a pleasure to link in such harmony, I had one of these very very rare priviledged moments when you feel so happy your heart feels like it is going to burst and you nearly cry... (well, actualy, I did and good job we were alone, people would have thought I was a nutcase, laughing and smiling stupidly...) So, well done my two little friends and thank you for these special few minutes which are going to stay in my memory for ever. Back at home, I feel very tired now so that will be all for today's post. I shall cook myself a nice tea (last few leaks of the season from the garden in a salad and eggs from our hens and chips) and go to bed early as tomorrow will be very busy again as I have miles of hedges to trim before leaving the farm for three months if I do not want to come back to a "jungle".
Monday 28 March 2011
Learning time for Justin...
The last few days have been dedicated to Justin's training and we are getting to know each other. He really is a great guy. I have a fairly good experience with horses, having worked in the breeding industry and having owned a few of them myself but asses are quite different in many ways and I am learning as much as he is. He has not "worked" much in his life and apart from the odd Sunday ride with the children of the farmer from whom I got him, all he has ever done has been to "oblige" the girls he was presented to... What a job...
That means that I have to get him used to changing scenery and longish walks and he seems to really enjoy his new life. He is not scared of passing cars, lorries or tractors but has to stop and have a "think" at every new situation. At this rate, we'll be in Santiago for Christmas 2012... I believe it is important to let him understand what is being asked of him rather than imposing it on him. Already I can see some progress and think that it will be a hands-on kind of training as it is impossible to experience every situation here on the farm. Crossing a stream is a challenge at the moment as he does not like his feet sinking in the mud before even reaching the water. If he could only get to the point of seeing the bottom of the river it would help as it is only four or five inches deep at this ford, but getting there is not possible yet. He is however quite manageable. So far, I haven't had to play tug'o war or push him from behind... When passing a field with horses or asses in it, he is quite "loud" and get a bit "hot and bothered" but the dammage is more to my eardrums than to my arms so, so far so good. Trouble is, Normandy IS the horse country and by the time I reach the Mt ST Michel, I will need an hearing aid... Walking over a tarpaulin, having dogs go for his legs, free exhaust mopeds screeming past, walking between tractors, getting in and out of a shed where there is no turning room, nothing seems to bother him that much. When things get a little bit tricky is when Gamin tries to speed things up and thinks he can help by getting behind and "pushes" with loud barks and growls. I then am a bit worried for his face, knowing the precision and the force a kicking donkey or a horse can have. But he does not really mean it and I think Justin realises this and just ignores him.
That means that I have to get him used to changing scenery and longish walks and he seems to really enjoy his new life. He is not scared of passing cars, lorries or tractors but has to stop and have a "think" at every new situation. At this rate, we'll be in Santiago for Christmas 2012... I believe it is important to let him understand what is being asked of him rather than imposing it on him. Already I can see some progress and think that it will be a hands-on kind of training as it is impossible to experience every situation here on the farm. Crossing a stream is a challenge at the moment as he does not like his feet sinking in the mud before even reaching the water. If he could only get to the point of seeing the bottom of the river it would help as it is only four or five inches deep at this ford, but getting there is not possible yet. He is however quite manageable. So far, I haven't had to play tug'o war or push him from behind... When passing a field with horses or asses in it, he is quite "loud" and get a bit "hot and bothered" but the dammage is more to my eardrums than to my arms so, so far so good. Trouble is, Normandy IS the horse country and by the time I reach the Mt ST Michel, I will need an hearing aid... Walking over a tarpaulin, having dogs go for his legs, free exhaust mopeds screeming past, walking between tractors, getting in and out of a shed where there is no turning room, nothing seems to bother him that much. When things get a little bit tricky is when Gamin tries to speed things up and thinks he can help by getting behind and "pushes" with loud barks and growls. I then am a bit worried for his face, knowing the precision and the force a kicking donkey or a horse can have. But he does not really mean it and I think Justin realises this and just ignores him.
Sunday 27 March 2011
Getting ready. Only days to wait...
Having recently found out that I will have to pop a pill every single day of the rest of my life and realising that hoeing my vegetable patch is not as easy as it seemed to be a few years ago, I have decided that now is the right time to embark on something I've always wanted to do. Ever since my schoolboy days when, in history class or in the hundreds of novels I was avidly reading then, I have been dreaming of following Robin Hood, Roland of Ronceveau, Hannibal, Clovis, Vercingetorix, D'artagnan, Don Quixote and many other heroes on the footpaths and in the forests of Europe. Later might be too late so... action.
Since the only way to walk long distances is by using the GRs (chemins de Grande Randonnée in France) and the Es (European Footpaths), I should not have to put a foot on the tarmac for most of the way, which is just as well as Gamin's paws and Justin's hooves are not really adapted for this nasty stuff. Gamin is our seven years old Foxterrier and my best friend for the last two. We are never apart more than a few feet and he is smashing company, funny and stubborn but, as long as there are no "ladies" calling in the distance, very obedient. He never is on a lead apart from really tricky situations like walking on main roads or in towns.
Justin on the other hand has only been with me for a few days but we get on like cheese on bread and a glass of Claret... He is a cracking "black" donkey, one metre thirty three tall and a very strong lad, fourteen years old and if he only has had basic training so far, by the end of this trip he will be the perfect trekking friend. He will be carrying some fifty kilos in two side cases on his back. I am travelling light, with only a tarpaulin and a hammock for shelter and a gas stove for when fires are prohibited. Three changes of clothes, some food and water for the three of us and a few more bits and pieces for our everyday needs and, since the whole philosophy of this adventure is to make do with what we find on the way... let's go. Should be interesting... leaving all the creature's comfort behind and down to the bare essentials... On Robert L Stevenson's tracks, with the only difference being a GPS, a mobile phone and solar panels to charge them up.
But before going any further, having introduced my two mates, let me tell you a bit more about myself, even if there is not much to say really.
I am french, fifty five years old, one metre eighty two tall, eighty seven kilos, shoe size seven and a half now, but will have to check again on arrival in Santiago...
I am a shipwright by trade but a few months ago, while I was living in the UK with my partner Mandy and our two grown up children, together with our relatives, we bought a little farm in the Cotentin part of Normandy. It had been in my father's family for generations and the plan is to create a Bed and Breakfast and offer accomodation to mainly british tourists who can visit us without having to take their car across as we will provide all local transportation (a car and for around the farm and going to the village distant of five kilometres, donkey and cart...)
As a break in the renovation (funds have ran temporarily dry...), and in order to keep doing what I have done all my life, I am going to put some spice into it and live yet another dream, hence a departure sometimes in the next few days.
Since the only way to walk long distances is by using the GRs (chemins de Grande Randonnée in France) and the Es (European Footpaths), I should not have to put a foot on the tarmac for most of the way, which is just as well as Gamin's paws and Justin's hooves are not really adapted for this nasty stuff. Gamin is our seven years old Foxterrier and my best friend for the last two. We are never apart more than a few feet and he is smashing company, funny and stubborn but, as long as there are no "ladies" calling in the distance, very obedient. He never is on a lead apart from really tricky situations like walking on main roads or in towns.
Justin on the other hand has only been with me for a few days but we get on like cheese on bread and a glass of Claret... He is a cracking "black" donkey, one metre thirty three tall and a very strong lad, fourteen years old and if he only has had basic training so far, by the end of this trip he will be the perfect trekking friend. He will be carrying some fifty kilos in two side cases on his back. I am travelling light, with only a tarpaulin and a hammock for shelter and a gas stove for when fires are prohibited. Three changes of clothes, some food and water for the three of us and a few more bits and pieces for our everyday needs and, since the whole philosophy of this adventure is to make do with what we find on the way... let's go. Should be interesting... leaving all the creature's comfort behind and down to the bare essentials... On Robert L Stevenson's tracks, with the only difference being a GPS, a mobile phone and solar panels to charge them up.
But before going any further, having introduced my two mates, let me tell you a bit more about myself, even if there is not much to say really.
I am french, fifty five years old, one metre eighty two tall, eighty seven kilos, shoe size seven and a half now, but will have to check again on arrival in Santiago...
I am a shipwright by trade but a few months ago, while I was living in the UK with my partner Mandy and our two grown up children, together with our relatives, we bought a little farm in the Cotentin part of Normandy. It had been in my father's family for generations and the plan is to create a Bed and Breakfast and offer accomodation to mainly british tourists who can visit us without having to take their car across as we will provide all local transportation (a car and for around the farm and going to the village distant of five kilometres, donkey and cart...)
As a break in the renovation (funds have ran temporarily dry...), and in order to keep doing what I have done all my life, I am going to put some spice into it and live yet another dream, hence a departure sometimes in the next few days.
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