Welcome !

You will find here the journey tales of a black mare, a red mule and a blue Manon.

Articles are published in chronological order, from the most recent on top to the oldest at the bottom. Each journey has its own page, where are grouped all the articles linked to it.

See you soon on the trails !

     The Mare, The Mule and The Manon


If you want to travel across the mountains : it's here !
If you'd rather go to the sea : Go there !

(Version française : http://quandresonnelepas.blogspot.fr/)

Under the rain

Under a pouring rain, our shoes like sponges and the mares very cheerful, we arrive home. We thus took exactly twenty days to realize this loop of more than 550 km.

During this last day, we were raced by a group of Nordic walkers (who passed us with an arrogant ease..) and discovered the Port Royal abbey. It is thus on the path of Racine, great dramatist, that we found the road to home.

This slice of journey is now at an end. No frustration, no untold angers, it is with peace of mind and satisfaction of the well-conducted effort that Alix and I shall sleep tonight, in dry sheets. The black mare and the red mule are back with their herd, and gallop, and gallop.

Rain and Fog

We shall take a good week to walk the route back.
But, at the opposite of the sunny and merry outward journey, it will be a week of rain, a week of fog. But a still merry one ! There is fast a certain resigned comic to put wet socks in wet shoes to go walk in wet grass. And then, once wet, you no longer feel the rain and the ponchos transform us into proud knights. The red mule doesn't find this funny at all and is far too much busy with directing her ears according to the rain, to listen to us chattering and shouting medieval war cries in the plains. The black mare, her, walks in front like a machine of war, breaking the wind, and, proud as a fiery charger, breaks into a battle trot and cries along.

The rain and thunderstorms bring however some technical difficulties. But, they are nothing compared to the beauty of the countryside, coated by fog and slowly awakened by the shy beams of the Sun.

And the sea wind

After a bit less than 300 km, we reached the goal of the raid: to show Stringa in her traveler clothes to her former owner. After a wonderful evening, we find the time the next morning to hitch up Stringa for the first time in one and a half year. Fortunately, the little red mule remembers all the codes and especially the voice of her trainer. After this small tour, we set off. To the sea ! Summer time, every one to the beach !
we find Bénédicte, of the association of the Highland pony, who will accomodate us for two days, enough to rest a bit and go see the sea at Veulettes-sur-mer. The sea is a first for the black mare and the red mule. Salt, waves and spray bring thousand of surprises. With Alix, we let ourselves being carried away by a vacationers carefreeness.

Now, we are sure to be back in time and this little raid has definitively transformed into "the merry ride", where every bush is filled with berries, where every evening is spent on good grass and where the red mule has always a good joke to tell.

But time has already come to take the road back, it will take us through the Lyons Forest, the Southern Oise, the Vexin and the Seine river to eventually return to the Chevreuse Valley.

Green forests, brown lands

Few meters, we enter the forest and all these months that passed by since our return have just disappeared. Even, the black mare emits a particular serenity, a calm strength, here, walking by my side. The red mule follows quietly, doing her usual gourmet picking. With Alix, we discuss. It appears quite stupid now, the doubt that tormented me still a few hours ago.

We are a real herd on the march, swallowing the kilometers. Each one has her own role, every one moves freely. At the end of August, apple trees are heavy with fruits and brambles abound in blackberries. The harvest is almost done and we can cut across stumbles. The Sun is up here and a light breeze cools it. Everything is appalingly easy. Almost boring.


This easiness, however, is nothing surprising. All these days of walk from last year forged a team and a way of leading it. The mares learnt their job and I learnt mine: find the grass, find the water, find the path. Nevertheless, this first part of the raid, that will bring us to Veulettes-sur-mer, near Deauville, is helped by the hospitality of the members of the Equi'tey association. Thank you Caroline, Murielle and Marc for your warm welcome !

The route to the sea will take us through old abbeys and old villages, harvested fields and forests, which, unfortunately, are sometimes private and locked up. Along the Seine river, roads are many and it is hard to find one's path between highways and nationals. Yet, amidst these brown lands and asphalt interlacings, people will open their door and share their daily life. And, in the hollow of forest, Alix and I will burst in laughter at the mule's antics and mare's battle plans.

After a good week of walk, we reached the Brotonne bridge. After its crossing, we meet Stringa's former owner, who will take us by truck to his home. Soon the sea !