Alencon to Beaumont – A Walk of Two Halves

One doesn’t expect to see raised vines in the centre of Alencon, one doesn’t.

It’s a nice town but it is in the past now. Paddy’s house is the focus for our friendship and Alencon doesn’t hold anything for me now. Except for the great hotel owner DiGi, and the best couscous restaurant I’ve been to. Get the puck in! As they say in ice hockey.

And the architecture isn’t too bad. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. My intention is to walk as far as I can before the forecast rain hits.

Just about 18 miles today. ‘Quite’ but not ‘Reyt’ severe.

Make sure the cross chest fixings on the rucksack are tight to take the pressure off my shoulder. Get the rucksack covered with its waterproofing. Walk as fast as is comfortably practicable.

Actually…………..I feel properly fit for the first time this trip. It usually takes over a week to stop my lungs hurting when going uphill with a rucksack. Beyond that, today I can jog with the rucksack on my back and feel ok. I’m not an old gimmer. Well I am, but not ridiculously so. Looking in to the far distance, back towards where I’d come from, the Foret d’Ecouves was the high, grey mass just right of centre.

This was an interesting interlude. A Gallo Roman religious construction, partially restored in the last 25 years since its excavation. Originally a centre for sacrifice and donation. A bit like the Inland Revenue. (Cheers Rick).

This is part of the breadbasket of France, a huge grain producing region.

And my halfway point appeared to the southwest. Fye. As it did, the heavens opened and I didn’t have time to get my jacket and hat on. Poor me. A mile down the road (there’s a hidden cave) there was a cafe and it served hot coffee.

And a half hour later, after I’d dried out a bit, this memorial was magnificent. Remembering the poor buggers who had died, but also celebrating the liberation of Alencon and the surrounding region. Liberated from the Germans. Appropriately, Alencon was freed by French forces.

In one spot there was a memorial, where a few of the French lads were killed on the way to Alencon.

Anyway, back to the road. And first thing I came upon worthy of note was a fig tree in someone’s garden, down in a hollow next to the main road. As it was sheltered the figs were ripening early. Not yet fully ready but a couple of them felt soft to my touch, and went down a treat.

Some daft pillock thought this might be a nice display.

The rain started again and I took a route down by the river, and came upon the first anglers that I’d seen. Wonder if they were doing owt.

Eventually, after a long, long slog I made it to Beaumont, but not before more heavy downfalls started. Wading through it, I got to the local supermarket and bought salads and ham for my evening meal. I put the tent up under a tree and went into a communal room to eat. It’s hard work trekking, particularly in the rain, and I’m glad I got here when I did. I’m tired.

Night night.