A long walk to Torteval

Again in my happy routine of writing first thing, and then going for a long walk. Mum and I went to Icârt and then turned west, and walked for miles along the cliff path, guzzling blackberries as we went, knees groaning because of the dozens and dozens of stairs. We had lunch at the Hollows restaurant just up from a rocky peninsular called Le Gouffre. Here we had some Greek food with teeth-squeaking haloumi cheese and giant beans, and I also reacquainted myself with retsina.

Then back on the cliff path towards Torteval through Le Bigard and La Corbière and up and down many more stairs. I had never been on this path before. At one point we passed a hidden house with a spiralling snail shell roof in slate. Eventually we decided to head onto the road, and climbed through a hedge past a Satanically enormous goat and Mum began scrambling over a large fence before she spotted a gap in the hedge instead.

Eventually, after hours of walking, and I was feeling pretty tired. Mum seemed fine though. Then we caught the bus which took us around the island before returning us home. We'd had a massive walk and in the evening ended up in the Captains strapping on the nosebag, and gulping a glass of pony ale.

Below west from Icârt, on a path, near Petit Bôt, a Nazi gun emplacement, a horizon.