Day 15 Part 1 - An empty mind

Yesterday offered two principal alternative routes. Either follow the old main road, the D982 (which I wrote about yesterday), or take a walk along the Le Havre/Tancarville canal.

I settled for the latter, crossed the
the lock which keeps the canal at a constant level whatever the tide, and was soon alone alongside the reeds and marshes. The path was dead straight for three miles and frankly, a bit dull.

I also felt very alone and for some reason it mattered more to me than it usually does. I'm normally content with my own company but perhaps this lonely walk was more like isolation than solitude, if that makes sense.

After an hour or so, two runners were a welcome sight. They were coming towards me from the huge Renault factory at Sandouville and were probably on their lunch break.

I stopped to exchange words with a fisherman. It was great to spend a few minutes chatting. I asked for advice about the best routes and he was sure that to continue along the canal, past the factories and refineries was dangerous. He told me that I'd be better on the main road, which confirmed the decision for me. I thanked him for his salutaion of "Bon courage!" and set about crossing the Pont du Hode.

The D982 was lovely and quiet, all its traffic now taken by the autoroute, which runs parallel to it. It serves to link the small settlements along the foot of the cliffs and to take the occasional "convoi exceptionnel" (loads too wide or too slow for the motorway).

The D982 turned only where the foot of the cliffs came close to the canal, so for the most part, I walked in straight lines for hours. The ryhthm of walking is now deep within me. Easy walking like this, on the flat, leads me to a kind of relaxed state where I'm not thinking conscious thoughts. With not much to occupy me, no need to check the map, my mind sometimes wanders but sometimes just ticks over. It's a pleasant feeling and not one that I can experience easily during a normal working week.

It didn't even occur to me to put in my earphones and I'm glad that I decided not to bring my radio. It would have distracted me and filled hours like these with unimportant clutter.

I did have to keep my wits about me when I came to the motorway junction. I just couldn't see any provision for pedestrians so had to stay with the traffic on the flyovers and ramps. The problem with these is that the armco barrier is right on the edge of the tarmac. Walking behind the armco is very difficult as the ground is lumpy, littered and overgrown. There's also precious little flat space between the barrier and the steep slope of the embankment. Picking a way along here involves a lot of concentration.

The alternative, on the traffic side of the armco, is wonderfully smooth and easy going but nerve-wracking. Fully laden loads make the bridge bounce and pass within a couple of feet.

Odd then, that within a few miles, I was treated to a walk on the same road on a beautifully surfaced and wide lane specially for cyclists and pedestrians. It was at least five metres wide and even had its own posh lamps.

(Continued in Part Two.)