Day one, first leg... of "The Long March" (by Moa Sait Pasgrandchose, not Mao Sait Tout... as we will soon dicover.Ha ha ha...)

Day one, first leg went very well indeed. As we passed the field were I had planned the first camp more than a week before, I felt good and took the opportunity to retrieve my long nylon rope I'd forgotten the other day. This distance was walked without any visible effort from Justin and it was such an exhalting feeling to see him in such a good shape and spirits. Just before St Sauveur le Vicomte, eighteen kilometres from home, we set camp in a wide path right next to the Green Lane. Weather was fine, not too hot but dry and mild. The night on the leash hooked on the long rope went well. He had a lot of grass (too much to my liking as I was dreading laminitis from too much green grass full of growth hormones and not enough roughage...) and apart from another donkey calling every now and then in the distance (may be an Ex... as he has been so succesful as a stallion around here...) to whom he seemed to send back louds "I love you too but my mate won't let me go right now... see you soon). Next morning was not very nice as fog and damp surrounded the tent and feet, socks and shoes as well as bags were drenched. Two minutes after getting up I was feeling miserable. My airbed has a tiny hole so, after an hour or so of lying on it, I'd been on the floor. Luckily I'd put it on a foam matress so that a sharp piece of wood would not pierce it, so discomfort was minimal.

Day two, second leg.

After leaving camp, wet and miserable, we hit the Green Lane and a few hundred metres from the city, were I was supposed to get a new supply of tablets for my blood pressure, as I'd stopped and was looking for the prescription in my shoulder bag, Justin just lowered his head to the ground and was sniffing at an old and dry horse dung. Before I could understand what was going on, he bolted, turned round and I was being dragged behind him at his fastest possible canter speed and eventually went flying into the ditch, in two inches of black smelly mud. Reopening my eyes just in time to see Justin disappearing in the fog full speed ahead like a racing horse, dragging the long leash behind and risking breaking his neck every time he'd walk on it. Getting back up and swearing, I started to walk towards were he went. After a few hundred yards, as I was trying, just like an Indian to read fresh tracks in the dust of the crossroads to see which way this stupid animal could have gone and as I was going to call the Gendarmerie for them to be aware of a mad donkey on the loose, I spotted on the track one of my leather shoes which I had stood between the two bags for drying out the morning dew. Then the other one further away, then my rolled matress and air pump that were stored outside the bags. Five minutes later, I saw Justin, like a ghost coming out of the fog and walking toward me, out of breath and sweating like Red Rum in the Grand National... Pffff... what a relief. I did not shout at him, just made a mental note not to let his nose near a horse pooh again. I was full of drying mud and looking really rough when entering the chemist's and they must have thought I was a tramp. Later, donkey and dog attracted a lot of attention when I tied them both outside the supermarket for two or three days food shopping. Still, we were on the way, the sun was getting brighter and spirits went back up.
Bruised and aching from this morning tow and fall, I decided to set camp in St Sauveur de Pierrepont, only about eight kilometres from the other St Sauveur as I'd made contact with somebody there a few weeks before and I liked the place. What a surprise to see and hear a herd of beautiful shinny cows, tits bursting with milk, most of them wearing a huge bell around their neck. I thought I'd been "teletransported" into the Alps, this (to me anyway) familiar sounds bringing back memories of my youth and I had an strange longing for a slice of Reblochon, this really nice mountain cheese, so different from the local Camembert... Seeing a farmer tending to these cows, I asked him if the village had a "commons" where people could leave their animals to graze for the night. Since he did not seem to understand what I was saying, I adressed the lady coming towards us and asked her. She answered in a very thick (nevertheless very charming) german swiss accent, which confirmed the Alpish atmosphere, that there indeed was one and that I had to ask permission to the the Mayor who lives a couple of kilometres away. I then let Gamin to look after the gear unloaded in a field where I intended to set camp and took Justin to see the Mayor, the commons beeing towards his farm. When I got there, the head of the village and his brother were busy doing their yearly barn cleaning but gave me a warm welcome and after a yarn decided that Justin would be better in their field, with lots of grass and a shelter should it rain in the night. An hour later, we were still talking, in front of a couple of bottles of cider and pommeau (a local drink made of cider and old Calvados, sweet and deadly) when I realised I'd forgotten all the connectors between my chargers and phone or GPS at the farm. Since I was only thirty seven kilometres away from home and they had a push-bike I could borrow, off I went. Three and a half hours of hard pedaling later, I was back to camp and was asleep before the zip of my sleeping bag could reach the top...

Going... going... gone...

After a long week training Justin to lash rope for a little bit longer than he was used to , standing still and unattached while being equipped with the pack saddle, following behind without lead rope, having the cinch tighter than for his first trip, which he disliked very much, today is THE departure day. Weather is brilliant after a week of grey clouds, cold, fog and low morale... so lets go. Next post when something a bit more exciting is happening, probably a tour of Mont St Michel with a few pictures of the track getting there and of this most visited place in France after the Eiffel tower...
(ha... found an application on my android phone allowing me to listen to BBC's Radio 4 which I would miss so much, even though France Inter is my only french source of "noise" nowadays, as well as a tracks recording app allowing me to download my way and pictures on a map for all to see in near real time where we are... but am still unable to do so right now... Help from my son Jonathan on this matter would be much appreciated but I guess he is too busy with his "Kuk Sool Won" mastership...)

False start... darn it...

I haven't been able to post in these last few days as I was too busy getting ready to go. I finally got the trekking/carrying gear for Justin. I got it from a really nice chap in Creances, only fourty kilometres away from home and after a brief course on how to fit it to the donkey by Michel, the man in question, I put it on my friend's back and he did not mind one little bit. This is really amazing... he is so cool when it comes to first times. I found a relatively small enclosure to practice some donkey whispering and he seems to trust me one hundred per cent after a really fast join up - follow up session. Anyway, after a few miles of having just the "cross trees-whatever-the-name-is-in-english-can't-find-it-anywhere..." on his back, yesterday, Saturday, I loaded the two big bags with fifty two kilos of "stuff" plus six kilos of wood, nice smelling leather and cotton on my Justin's back and off we went. First stop, seven hundred metres away at Sebastian and Stephanie's straw house, to say goodbye and the time of a picture with their daughter Lily. Second stop, three hundred metres further, when we met another nice villager and his family admiring the trio and wishing us a good trip. Plan was to reach St Sauveur-le-Vicomte, sixteen kilometres away or which ever point Justin would show signs of tiredness. I am amazed at this middle aged donkey's attitude. I think that in these days and age we should really consider using this very friendly and willing animal more. It is so simple and you can do so much with them... lawn and hedges cutting, load carrying, cart pulling, ground working, fertilising the garden, guarding (he shouts when somebody new arrives but not if it is the neighbours...) and much more than all that is his friendliness. You should see how gentle he is with kids. I have owned quite a few horses and noticed a difference of attitude when dealing with adults or children. My own beautiful daughter who made it to the top when she was competing in horse vaulting (British championship, Gold 2000 and Bronze 2001 with the Pakefield Riding School) or working her mare or poney would have been seriously injured many times if her mounts had not taken care of her, sometimes it was really plain to see.
Anyway, we set off in this beautiful spring day, sunny but with a gentle westerly breeze that was ideally refreshing for the start of a long trek.
Once on the green lane, Gamin scouting in front, I was enjoying this strange feeling of stepping into the unknown, being "on the road again" and as excited as a schoolboy going to summercamp... with just "ma bite et mon couteau" (a rude but not too rude french expression meaning just my dick and a knife...) and fifty kilos of stuff... that I did not have to carry myself. I have travelled by car with far less in the boot... L'Aventure, c'est l'Aventure.
Well, these exalting moments were to be short lived.
After nine kilometres, half way from our planned stop-over, Justin was showing signs of being "p..sed off". He kept looking at his sides seemingly thinking what are these two big green bags following me all the time for? Then I noticed that his rug, a very heavy felt filled cotton one with leather pads and sheepskin where it matters had slipped backwards from the wooden cross tree "thing" so I decided to call it a day as I spotted a nice field a hundred metres from the lane, right by the river Scye side so that my friends could drink. Justin seemed happy enough and started grazing as I set my hammoc between the two posts of the field gate. Then the wind got up, really bad at times so that the hammoc looked more like a tangled spinnaker than a bed, so I got my tent out and PFUFFF in seconds it was erected, camp bed and duvet ready for the rest of the day and the night. By then Justin was going mad at the end of his three metres rope, keeping getting wrapped aroung his legs or neck. Since the very beginning of having him, I have taken care of attaching him, at various length of lunge, four or five times a day and he never showed concern. By then he was rearing, getting in a frap and looking really cross and I thought it was something in the hedge frightening him so I moved him closer to camp but a little while later he did it again. I had the idea of giving him more room by attaching a very resistant six mills twine, twenty five metres long, doubled up so than his grazing surface would be much wider. My idea was to let him graze freely in the ten acres field I set camp in once darkness had come (so that I did not get kicked out of the property by an angry farmer with a fork like it happened to me once in Sicily in the seventies...) I was conveniently placed near the gate and sure that even if not quite honest, a belly full of grass would not go missing in this man's hay barn... As I was happily sending emails and messages to my people telling them how beautiful life is, all hell broke loose. Justin was going mad, throwing himself on the floor, rearing, panting, shouting like if in pain. I quickly got out of the tent and calmed him down by talking to him and freeing him from the rope. Seeing the state he was in, I took the decision to go back to the farm and after taking my valuable stuff from the tent, shut it and left it there to be retrieved later with the van. I did not want to put everything back on the donkeys back as he would have been disgusted and it would have defeated the reason why we stopped there in the first place. So we went back home and the safety of an enclosed paddock. Morality, I should have given him more training in this field. My only alternative now is to purchase a trekking electric fence, a thing he respects very much and that will allow him to make the most of the grass every night and will give me peace of mind when leaving him on the road side while shopping for example. Darn it... more expenses that I cannot really afford right now... Well, this is part of the learning curve. So, departure sometimes next week, hopefully tuesday or wednesday. Here is a link you can click to see better pictures as I upload them on my picasa account...



https://picasaweb.google.com/101369146975360924899/GaminJustinAndAlainGoTrekking2300KmsAcrossFranceAndSpain?authkey=Gv1sRgCPi_0OG5spWyUA#

Once all spirits cooled down, I jumped into my van and went back to camp to get my gear. I had made a fix on my GPS so it was easy enough to find it but when I got to the nearest farm giving access to the green lane, the path was blocked as it crossed a field which was full of cows so I did not think twice, I got to the nearest point where the lane meets the road and lifted the wooden barrier and followed the lane to the place where the tent and gear were retrieved...

Stream crossing... done!

Today was a twelve kilometres round trip with river crossings and off track training. All went well. I tied Justin right near the ford he refused to cross the first time we tried. I cleared the path, crossed over many times myself and then with Gamin so that he could realise that this was not a big deal. I let him plenty of time to think about it and then we had a first go. As we got near the edge of the water, he stopped and turned back. Tried again five minutes later and this time he did not even slow down and went over to the other side. Half a carrot as a reward and the aggro of last time was in the past and forgotten. Later on the walk we had to go over eighty or a hundred metres of really soggy ground, sinking ankle deep and he did it without hesitation. At one stage I decided to have a little exploration in a very dense wood with lots of blackberry bushes and low branches and he followed bravely. We went back via the ford and this time he did not hesitate. Twice is a habit with him. I put my weight on his back, just lying on my stomack and he did not move an inch. One piece of bad news though, while giving him an energic massage with a brush, I found a bald patch of skin underneath his hairs on his back. I suspect an attack of horse lice and will have to get some Acadrex or whatever the chemist will have for insects and acarians tomorrow. This is probably due to the fact that I got him this old hay for bedding, which was probably contaminated, or he picked them up in the sheep shed. This added to the stress of changing home and taking up daily exercise might have made him vulnerable to an attack. I had this trouble on some of my horses in the past and it should not have any consequences on our schedule of next week departure. Treated early, his discomfort should be short lived. A nuisance though... damn. Lucky it is nothing worse like mudfever or flu. He has not had his equine flu vaccine for three or four years but has had his wormer regularly. I have arranged an overnight stop at the Donkey Farm in Creances as our second day goal but may be I should keep well away as I do not want him to contaminate his "brothers" there. I still will have the appointed farrier there, a donkey specialist to check his feet which look fine to me but I want to make sure. I am taking a file and pincers with me to trim his hooves if necessary on the way but would like a man of the art tell me if he needs special rectification of his posture as it is very important that he feels one hundred per cent good on his four legs. Will see how he is in the five or six days before reaching Creances. I am really impatient to hit the track now and hope tomorrow, Monday will bring good news with the post. I will be going to Cherbourg in the morning and hopefully the next time I put the van on the road will be sometimes in July. I still have four or five hours of trimming my hedges and make the farm ship-shaped before leaving so... no time to waste and I'll say good bye for now.

On the road again...

Well, not quite as I still am waiting for some essential gear to be delivered. Today was my planned departure from the farm but it will have to wait until monday or tuesday. What's two or three more days anyway? Seing the distance we cover in a day's walk, this trip should not take the ninety days I calculated. Yesterday, I took Justin to the Carnaval in St Sauveur again, to get him used to crowds, loud-speakers and bangers, just to make sure he is not cardiac... He behaved like if he'd been partying all his life. He took a dislike to South American music though. (he's probably watched a few western films in which mexican donkeys were not treated very well...) People probably thought I was a nut case walking my donkey and my dog through the crowded streets. It was funny to tie them up at the the supermarket entrance and at the church yard, disappear for some time and find them quietly waiting for my return. All went well. Average moving speed was still five point one kilometres per hour. (see GPS trip data on photo) Nine hours on this trip, that was tiring but we arrived fresher than two days ago. Justin's hairs are getting shinyer and his pace is springyer. Since after the fiesta in St Sauveur I was in an hispanic "mood" and as we approached the five giant wind turbines a few miles from home, I decided to fullfill the dream of being Don Quixote de la Mancha... As I could not find Rossinante my proud tall horse anywhere, I decided that my "hidalgo" status would not allow me to mount an unsignificant donkey so, with reluctance I decided to be Sancho Panza... and climbed on top of Justin, just to see how he would react to being loaded. I might be slightly lighter than the Don's famous servant but nevertheless a lot heavier than the kids of the very nice farmer who sold Justin to me and the surprise or my sheer weight took his breath away... and I went aflying... From Sancho Panza to Superman in a split second... From on my asse to on my arse in a flash. No harm done and no bad feelings towards my friend, only a bruised ego. Should have known better, after all these horse whisperring sessions I have been practising in all these years of looking after horses. By the way, the 30 km/hour Max Speed recorded on the GPS was probably my "airborne" speed when Justin bolted.
Will have to work on that this week-end. I did not talk to him for the rest of the trip and ignored all his signs of affection like putting his head on my shoulder while we walked and nibbling my sleeves, I went back to listening to Pink Floyd, Dylan, REM, Joan Baez, Sting Marley and the others in my Ipod.
I got my new topographic IGN map for the Garmin GPS and have started registering tens of waypoints from the map graciously supplied free of charge by the FFRP (French Ramblers Federation) in Paris who are trying hard to help people preparing their long distance treks.

Rotten weather over the Channel

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.

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".