Strange fruit

Like most people I lived for a long time with my mother and father.

There's a motorway nearby and the noise keeps me awake. So does the rain that starts sometime in the early hours. Anyway, I sleep in and roll out of bed after half seven.

I dry the tent off, fill the bladder, and pack everything into the bag. It fits really neatly and I'm on the road before nine. It's grey and windy but warm.

The Sentier Cathar starts by climbing past a cement works onto a grey, rocky plane. There's scrub and long lines of windmills, but no sign of agriculture at all. At one point I'm walking towards a rainbow, but the clouds clear without me getting rained on.

I descend into a valley and walk through/around Roquefort Corbières. Vineyards everywhere. Narrow streets, stone walls, tiled roofs.

The path climbs again. Still rocky, but less harsh. Less grey. Lush. I pass strange dwarf oaks and various unrecognisable fruit. What's this photo of, for instance?

I lunch, in the shade of a tree, on the far side of another immense wind farm, on Camembert and apple. It's good to rest. Two groups of walkers pass me, the first I've seen.

I pass the first couple soon after I start. They're carrying heavy bags and are looking even less fit than me. I pass the second group, of 6, on a steep descent. On lady is going down very slowly using two sticks and the rest are waiting for her.

There's another ascent, through some electric fence to protect young vines from wild boar. I'm struggling a bit. The descent to Durban Corbières is steep and gravelly and I slip a couple of times.

In Durban I have a panaché and cold water. There's a municipal camping and a supermarket. I call it a day. The shower is great. I wash my clothes in a plastic bag and hang them between some trees. They're dry before I go to bed.

For tea: Serrano ham, mozzarella, tomato, olives and beer.