Day 17 Durfort-Lacapalette

Monday 3rd October and just when I think the low altitude scenery might get boring I start my day with fertile landscapes, the ground heavy with dew, and the air heavy with musical birdsong. I am far enough south now to see the odd sunflower field, more small vinyards and some orchards. I see a green woodpecker flying into a copse and as always it reminds me of a small American football wizzing through the air; wingless. I am happy snapping away with my phone but sometimes you just need a zoom lense. So sorry for the poor resolution. 

I have now left the Lot valley as there is more south in my route now and the Lot river meanders west to the sea. I am walking above a small valley when I hear the sharp crack of gunfire followed by dogs barking. The valley acts like an amphitheatre and the second shot is equally loud. Some days ago I had been offered a fluorescent jacket specifically to ward off hunters and I wonder now if I should have accepted it.

A farmer driving a Lamborghini approaches from ahead of me and stops. He chats for a short while asking where I am walking from and to and in how many days. When I say 33 days he comments that I am half-way which I suppose is true. This isn't rich farming land and you are maybe wondering how I knew he was a farmer and how can he afford a Lamborghini. Well it's a boxy 1970s machine. And it's a tractor. I am regretting not asking permission to take a photo.

Having missed one tractor photo I treat myself to this old and new Massey Ferguson collage.
I am not an expert but the tractor being a 140 super is fairly rare in the UK though perhaps it filled a niche in France when other models became popular in the UK. 
Today's highlight town is Lauzerte which perches on a mound like a Tuscan hill town; an effect heightened by the tall square church tower. Again where is the zoom lense when you need it.
One of those projects I'd like to undertake is a trek with donkeys to help carry the load in a more remote landscape. Impractical as I wouldn't want to do the donkey wrangling myself and a day or two just walking with a donkey doesn't appeal. For avoidance of doubt I am using the word wrangle to mean wrestle with or handle animals; rather than say engaging in a lengthy legal dispute with donkeys. 
This is pigeon land and I pass the ultimate pigeon loft. My guess is that these were for food rather than racing and visual pleasure. 

This area of France doesn't have the grand calvaries of Brittany but you do see plenty of iron crosses and this one is typical and stands next to a restored chapel. 

I have strayed into the French department called Tarn-et-Garonne which, as the sign tells us, is the 4th biggest fruit producer of the French departments. An odd boast but there are 96 departments excluding overseas territories.

I am trying hard not to report on distance covered and days completed but today the information did just jump out.

Tonight's gite just provides a bed so I cook for myself in the evening. It is tonight that worried me the most when booking as the process was very informal and the website slightly confusing. Even when checking in I am put in a small twin room with the woman who happened to check in at the same time as me; she happily extricated herself fairly quickly leaving me happily alone. The place is very good but ever so slightly stressful which made the next development much stranger than it ought to have been. When we were all assembled, and I knew the other five from previous gites, we were shown the white pyramid in the garden which we could go in for contemplation or meditation. How we were expected to get into the lotus position after a hard day of walking I don't know.

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