Liverdun to Bioncourt: Day 139

On the last of four long, tiring days, I saw a lot of trees.

After picking up my croissants and coffee for breakfast from the campsite shop I sat down again with the Dutch cycling couple I met yesterday, at the table reserved for campers. They were on an open ended trip maybe reaching Spain. Two French cyclists joined us. We were all retirees. Last night we agreed that our generation had much more opportunity to travel than previous ones, at least while our health allowed. I mentioned that the first time our family left Britain on holiday was when I was 12, and we took all our food with us, powdered soup and packets of "Vesta" beef curry. The Dutch man said the first time his family left Holland on a trip to Italy, his father filled the space above the spare tyre of their 2CV with potatoes, because everyone knew that Dutch potatoes were the best (this was also a sort of joke the Dutch told on themselves).  The Dutch lady had soaked oats and dried fruit overnight in water and powdered milk and added apple slices and walnuts this morning to make a sort of muesli. A lot healthier than my croissants!

After saying our goodbyes, belatedly exchanging names which I have now forgotten, I started up the hill out of the Moselle valley. Thankfully this first gradient was not too steep. Then there was a lengthy woodland walk across the plateau before dropping down to the Moselle again to the town of Custines. Here I planned to pick up some food for tonight, there being no restaurant near my Bed & Breakfast. I also stopped at the patisserie for an early lunch which I ate on a wall nearby (while watching an elderly French cycling couple as they spent a long time examining a map). The Quiche Lorraine I bought was a little salty but the strawberry tartlet was loaded with luscious, flavoursome, firm fruit, although its base was softer than I would have liked. Although at breakfast it was so cold that I was wearing four layers of clothing, now in just my tee shirt I had made sure to sit in the cooler shade to eat them.

A long steep climb followed out of the valley but once on the plateau the track was straight, flat and easy walking through woods for many miles. I saw no-one about, maybe as it is Monday, as the tracks and paths were well used, otherwise they would have become overgrown. Tyre tracks showed they were popular with cyclists. As kilometre of trees followed kilometre of more trees I began to obsess about their details (more healthy than comparing the attractiveness of different sheep which I was reduced to on Wales' Glyndwr Way). The woods I was in had few mature trees, mainly beech, oak and hornbeam, with one group of pines. Mostly they were young trees four metres or so in height, in addition to the aforementioned there was much hazel and field maple and a rare ash tree. The trees grew in clumps, some from the stumps of older trees. Beneath the trees were saplings searching for light, a russet coloured bed of last years leaves, broken branches and beds of ivy. Beside the track were occasional drifts of what looked like white Michaelmass daisies. Apart from some screeching there was little birdsong. Above me the sky was blue with wisps of high cloud. Contemplating the purpose of the forest, the lack of management suggested it was not a commercial enterprise. Maybe it was left for recreation, nature, biodiversity or hunting. While pondering such important issues I disturbed a fox.

More woods.

Feeling I was making good progress I checked my GPS, discovering to my disappointment that I was barely half way. By the time I reached 20 kilometres (30,000 steps) I was tired. However, as a gym instructor told me, your body always tries to stop you exerting yourself to the full. Tiredness does not mean you cannot walk for the next three hours, although increased concentration may be needed to avoid stumbling. A change in the scenery helped. Leaving the woods I could see on the far horizon, beyond the fields, woods and hills in front of me, a long ridge, only a slightly darker blue than the sky. Today the GR5 has changed direction, turning from a southerly heading to begin an easterly one, so I hoped the thin blue band on the horizon was my first glimpse of the Vosges mountains which I hope to reach in five days or so. 

You need to look closely to see the thin blue line of mountains on the horizon.

A few villages followed, I lost the waymarks in Moulin distracted by the out of date track on my GPS. A shame as my guidebook said that on the new route there was a man with log book to sign. How many people I speculated, had it recorded walking the GR5 recently? In Amance I peered into a church with a historic monument sign. Of the many churches I pass I doubt many are needed in our more secular age, such signs indicate a wish to preserve a few.

Historic church of Saint John the Baptist at Amance, 16th century. There is an excellent view in front of the church of the surrounding area, shaded by a Cedar of Lebanon.

A little after 4 pm I reached the final woods for today, the "Forêt de Brin". Among the mature trees lay a lake the "Etang de Brin". There seems to be a number of "Etangs" coming up in the next few days. A jogger and dog walker were indications I was close to civilisation (like the birds ancient mariners searched for as a sign they were close to land). Fortified by a coke and 500 calories of chocolate from an unexpected shop in the next village I walked the final stretch of road to Bioncourt. My Bed & Breakfast room is in the roof and I am looking forward to a pleasant night's sleep and a shorter day tomorrow.