Stage 8: Besancon to Moulthier

Hot, hot, hot...it was a long slog into Saone and Mamirolle. We had a drink in a bar and wished we hadn't. Mine host was a bit of a misery. We felt we were intruding. And it seemed like the loos hadn't been cleaned since the early 1970s. So, after a brief stop we were headed back into the sun. It was with a bit of relief that we entered the dappled shelter of the woods. We walked for two hours through the forest and had a magical moment, seeing a young fawn with its mother; they spotted us and, after a brief moment when they were weighing up whether or not we were a threat, they crashed out of sight.

We arrived at a farm, heralded by a distinctly unmusical cacophony of tinkling bells. We wondered where the noise was coming from but soon realised that it was being made by a herd of cows with bells round their necks. They looked up at us. Polly looked back at them. Cows have an innate curiosity about the world around them, but not the slightest idea what to with the information they receive. It's as if they're saying, "Look! Humans!" munch, munch, "Ooh look! Humans!" munch, munch, "What was I saying, "Oh yes, Look! Humans!" We reached the farmyard and Polly attracted more interest from a bunch of assorted critters; ducks, hens, a sheepdog, guinea fowl and very friendly turkey. They followed Polly. She stopped. They stopped. She moved on. So did they. It was like a scene from Dr Dolittle.

It was a meeting of minds.

We made slow progress in the afternoon sun. Agreeing we could go no further without a short break, we took off our packs and sat down under a tree. A farmer drove up to us on his tractor. He warned us that his dog was loose and might attack us. Bravely, I told him we weren't afraid of dogs...but did he know an alternative route, just in case? Non, there was no alternative route. We eyed each other without speaking, wondering what we should next. Dogs are a nuisance on most long distance walks. They can be lovely but you learn to keep your distance. Eventually, it was the farmer who broke. He went home, tied up the dog and made the route safe for two grateful, yet very hot and weary, pilgrims to pass.

Not long after this we plodded into Etalan, our overnight stay. It was a bar/tabac/hotel/restaurant of the type we'd stayed in several times before. It did a good line in cold beer. We had a simple but very tasty meal (a beef daube with couscous and harissa) and then it was time for an early night underneath a very loud candlewick bedspread. 

The next morning was one of most athletic on the whole route. A local farmer had taken it upon himself to block off the route so could fence in his cattle. We had to take off our packs and crawl on our bellies under five different electric fences. And yes, the fences were live. And did I say cattle? Mind the cow pats! Bugger...

In the afternoon, we walked through a beautiful forest up and up...to the top of the valley with green meadows above the fir trees. Polly said it was "Sound Of Music" country but, luckily, I dissuaded her from singing!

We walked through another farm and were joined by an enormous black dog. Given yesterday's excitement we didn't know if was going to be friendly or not. I needn't have worried on that score. It was probably the friendliest dog in Christendom. He wanted to play. He walked with us for about a kilometre, nudging into me and nuzzling my fingers. It was great fun. At first. After a while we tried to get rid of him. But he wasn't leaving us. I shouted and pointed the way home. He thought I was playing. We decided to ignore him in the hope that he'd just wander off. He didn't. And then I had a masterstroke, let's sit down and ignore him...he thought that was the best thing ever. 

He walked up to me, licked the back of my head from neck to crown and knocked my hat off. See the photo...you can tell I'm impressed. I eventually, of course, had to walk him home. Two kilometres there and back on a baking hot day. I was cheered by the fact that we didn't have too far to go to our overnight stop. We'd planned a short day so we could get our do our laundry and a kit inspection. 

Oops. I'd got the distances wrong. I thought I'd booked in to a room in a nearby village...turned out that the village was further away than it appearing in the guide book. The village we were staying in was six kilometres further on...up and over a mountain. The road took us up and up and round and round hairpin bends.  Then we went down and down and round and round again. When we reached the village we learned that it was right in the very bottom of the valley. So we kept going. The final part of our trek that day was a steep, downhill, grassy path. The last thing our weary feet needed. At last we reached our stopping place. A wonderful location on the river in what had obviously been the house of the watermill.