Bayonne

On my way to Spain, I pass Bayonne. Once again, a beautiful town with an old quarter and many small shops that probably don't belong to larger corporations. The shops are tiny, one of them so small that a woman with a desk and a chair for clients just fits in.

I jump over my own shadow today. At the end of the day, I stop at a homestead. There, at the side of the road, an elderly woman is trimming a hedge. I ask her if I can spend the night on her property. She has two meadows: a meadow full of sheep and an empty meadow, both separated by a stream. She later allows me to spend the night in the sheep meadow after she has brought the sheep in. What a nice lady.
I pass the time as life comes into the flock. They suddenly flock from their grazed meadow to the other meadow.
Flailing, the good lady comes out and flees terribly.
Together with the herding dog, she enters the meadow and the scene really comes to life: she purposefully shoos the sheep back and forth and at the same time speaks commands to her dog, which helps her herd them. I just stand there and am amazed because I have never seen anything like it. For me it looks a little like witchcraft, as I don't know any of the words, but the dog is magically guided by her words. 😆
I wouldn't have been less amazed if she'd shouted 'Go, potato mash' and her broom flew over. 🧹
Eventually all the sheep are herded back and we survey the cause of the problem: a fence has buckled, presumably when a sheep rubbed against it.
We straighten the fence, tie it up well and try to reinforce it. A few metres further on, the sheep are standing and watching us. I think they are plotting another escape.

In the evening in the tent I ask myself the same question I've been asking myself for days: whether my next step will work or whether I'm completely overestimating myself. I guess I'll have to try it out to find out.Read more