Day 30 Aroue

Sunday 16th October and we are into the Sunday/Monday closure period in France so I have an extensive stash of fruit and biscuits. 

With a 7:15am breakfast I again get out for the sunrise which doesn't disappoint. I also mount the defensive ramparts of Navarrenx which I missed last night; though this was due to navigation error it was worth the climb up a few steps.
Departing through one of the towns historic gates.
A view back to the town's ramparts. 
OK, so this is a roundabout. It was novel smelling car fumes, there is a beautiful sunrise, and there are the Pyrenees again.

So, you've had some photos and I hope you found them enjoyable but now let's talk about type 2 fun. It seems we have to analyse the fun out of everything these days and that now includes fun itself. Type 1 fun is enjoyable during and after the activity like a pleasant 5km jog. Type 2 fun occurs where the activity itself is hard and unpleasant but you feel good afterwards, this could be a 5km race where you push yourself and achieve a personal best. Type 3 fun is just not fun at all, during or after, an example might be trying to beat your 5km personal best then tripping up and ending up in A&E. The best you can hope for with type 3 fun is an anecdote about that memorable time when you didn't have any fun. Mark Beaumont's record breaking cycle rides around the world were classic type 2 fun activities. Oh, and in case you're wondering, a relaxed stroll through France doesn't quite meet the type 2 criteria. As to type 3 fun, I agree that as it isn't fun at all by definition, it shouldn't even be classified. I suppose that like GCSE results they wanted something to signify that you failed in your quest for fun and in case you are wondering GCSE results provide three grades (1, 2 and 3) for a fail and six for a pass (4 to 9).

I have stopped talking about the chasseurs (hunters) and the sanglier (wild boar) as they seem ever present even during the week. Within an hour of walking I had already heard the crack of gunfire and the yapping hunting dogs. For anyone that was living and eating in the 70s you might recall Chicken Chasseur as a posh dinner party dish. These days we are more likely to call it Hunter's Chicken and serve it under the umbrella of 'rustic'.

The Brothers Grimm (Jacob and Wilhelm) wrote fairytales so we could all learn life lessons such as "don't get lured by the promise of gingerbread and candyfloss". Anything promising an elixir of something is a red flag in the land of fairytales so be warned. 
Sometimes the signs are all too clear and you just need to follow your true course and stay clear of temptation. 
Trouble is, as humans we can resist anything but temptation. Anyway, a coffee and crepe later and the kindly old lady (5'3", white hair, friendly face and colourful clothing) has spent 30 minutes talking about sourdough bread to a young Swiss who is entranced. I am about to lose the will to move when I realise that the old lady's army of mosquitos have slowly been draining me dry. Summoning my diminished resolve I pay and leave not waiting for my change before the evil forces at work destroy me.

Aroue itself is a small hamlet and the gite provides an honesty grocery; welcomed as this stretch has limited stores. Appropriately given our wander down Brothers Grimm Lane, Aroue is pronounced as if a wolf were howling. Aroue also marks me passing the 700km mark. 

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