Along the Loire, Cher and Indre rivers

By crossing the Loire, the longuest French river, it's not only the North we leave behind. Now, the red mule follows free, she makes her own little discoveries and enjoys the least of thing. The black mare stays by me faithful, carries me quietly with her clocked strides. Myself, I am now the caring sheperd of this herd, more and more experienced, but still a bit brittle.

We are moving leasurely and I am not sure of reaching the Pyrénées Mountains anymore. The doubt, always here, unwanted companion. First, reach the Perigord countryside, we'll see afterwards.


When evening comes, I think of all the apricots and peachs waiting in the South. The red mule grumbles when I tie her for the night with the long rope, because, this way, she cannot spend the night free and curled up against the mare. The black mare is frightened by frogs and awakes every one. The next day, when faced up for the first time to cattle, she pulled the brave act, but stayed at one inch behind me, whereas the mule went to see them for a little chitchat.

We travel across the Sologne and its forests, make a fine discovery of its giant mosquitoes and cross, as modest pilgrims, castles domains. The evening, we shared the daily life of friendly and warm people, going from music festival, duck confit to peaceful dinner.

After the Loire, the Cher. After the Cher, the Indre. Trails follow river, we follow the trails.

The Indre leads to the Brenne park and its thousand of marsh. There, it will rain for a good week. The red mule grumbles against the rain and is very careful on how to orientate her long ears according to the wind. I swim in my shoes. The black mare doesn't understand why we get upset.
By the end of the week, we reached under a pouring rain the village of Oulches, where I would find a warm welcome. The mares and I would go do a little presentation to the village school the next day, memorable experience !

After the rain of the swamps, follows the Sun of the valleys. The Creuse country streches out merrily, showing brown cows and golden grass. We approach the Millevaches plateau and then go straight to the Ambazac Mountains. Always along the way, more and more encounters, help et shared tales.

Smile on the lips, we cross the Vienne river and enter the Périgord country.