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We had been instructed to return the gite keys to the Mairie at 8 am, so we were up and packed with the birds. Katya had not appeared. We had studied the photo of the guide to find buses back to Moissac in the next few days and it said that there was one here in Auvillar, but the next one was further than we could walk in the time we had left. The weather forecast only gave today as good for walking, and even then rain was expected. On top of that, the mobile phone was now missing and we knew that we had used it in Moissac. Both of us had searched all the places in our bags that Keith usually kept it. At the Mairie, the ice maiden told us, possibly with pleasure, that there were no buses from Auvillar. We decided to walk back to Moissac, look for the phone at the gite, and take the train back to
It was interesting to note views approaching them from the opposite direction. We sheltered in a bus stop in Espalais, and wondered if this was only for school buses or if a regular bus called here, only two kilometres from the Auvillar Mairie. It was not worth worrying about, and with our rain gear on, we set off again. We wanted to search the places we had stopped in case the phone was lying in one or other of our chosen ditches. A workman told us that the real rain would not be until the afternoon, so we stripped off again once the drizzle stopped. Keith had the bright idea that the canal was probably the one that was in Moissac, and when we checked with a walker, it was so. That meant that we had the option of following it all way to Moissac along flat paths, and would be able to walk fast and reach our destination before the rain. It would be a different route so more interesting than a complete re-walk and Keith was feeling a little sore and weary. My body was holding up very well, but my heart would have liked to have kept walking away from Moissac, so I readily agreed to the fastest and easiest route back. To our surprise, the red and white route markers continued, with the path we had taken yesterday being a more difficult but more interesting variant and the canal the regular route.
It was very pleasant walking, although the wind was icy and the leaves were flying. Keith said “Each leaf does a different dance,” which was true and like the first line of a poem. We had puzzled over the lack of harvesting of the corn crops that we had seen everywhere, and had learnt from Michel in Lauzerte that the corn and sunflowers were only grown as animal foods. Now we had the pleasure at last of seeing a field harvested by a machine that ate up the tall plants as if they were nothing, leaving stalks less that 30 cm behind.
In a whole paddock only one tall stalk remained, and it seemed to toss its feathery head at the defeated and receding harvester that thought the whole crop had been subdued. Much like all the attempts to subdue ideas and beliefs by force over history in all the places we had visited this year. Perhaps walking by canals was conducive to thinking, since the monotony and safety of foot placement meant the mind was totally free. Keith was becoming more poetic and I was becoming more analytical.
In the distance we saw a pilgrim with a dog approaching. I hoped it would be our beggar pilgrim, so that at least one part of his story was proven to be true. As we got closer, we could see that it was Katya, who we imagined must have missed our note and gone on to an expensive hotel. She had had to stay another day on Moissac because the banks are closed on Mondays, and she was heading to Auvillar. We were able to give her advice on the open nature of the ‘closed’ gite, and she paid us back our money. The money had not been of any consequence to us, since it was a small amount and it had been good to have been able to help, but it was a very neat meeting and tying up of loose ends. We knew that snow was forecast, and that Katya had yet to cross the
We just made it into Moissac and back to the gite before the serious rain. It was disappointing that our mobile phone had not been found, but at least they were happy for us to have our lunch and wait there in the warm until our train came about three hours later. I changed into some dry clothes and chatted and typed. Keith went out to buy train tickets, ring our friend Michel to see if he could pick us up from
The train back arrived in pouring rain – the kind of rain that walkers dread where the wind drives it sideways into your face. Michel picked us up and it didn’t seem anything like nineteen days that we had been away. It was great to see him, and like being welcomed back into the warm embrace of Pibrac and his and Corine’s care for us. Corine was waiting at the door – we are so lucky that chance brought us together with this couple whose friendship was a real treasure to us.
After dinner and some catching up, and checking of our emails, we slipped into a sleep that didn’t need to be interrupted by an early start or return of a key to the Mairie.
Above: The ancient wall of the town was also the outside wall of our accommodation in Auvillar.
Below: "Couldn't we do this up and live in it?" says Christine.
Below: The communal washing facilities from days gone by
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