Pilgrim's Progress – Long Distance Walks in Europe and the UK

Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. There can’t be good living where there is not good drinking. 

Benjamin Franklin – US President

The previous evening’s pizza must have hit the spot. I slept like a log for almost 12 hours and woke up refreshed, ready for the day ahead.

I was joined for breakfast by two cyclists on holiday from Uzès. One had just started his retirement from this May. We got chatting about the retirement age in France (62) and why there was such a great disparity with other countries in the UK where the retirement age is much higher, like the UK. Apparently you need to have paid into the system for 43 years before you can receive a state pension. The other cyclist had started work as a trucj driver when he was 16 and got to retire when he was 59!

The small supermarket in Quinson was clearly focussed on the passing tourist trade. They stocked voluminous quantities of booze, suncream and prophylactics but not what I was after – gaffer tape. So I bought a baguette and some cheese and headed for the post office. Maybe they could help me out?

Why gaffer tape? To mend my wonky Leki stick! The postmistress only had some sellotape which she applied to the item in question. It wasn’t perfect but it might work.

On a steep path up to the plateau above Quinson I encountered a couple struggling up the rocky path with their mountain bikes. It seemed impossible that they  would make it to the top under their own steam. I wished them well.

I reached Esparron de Verdon before midday. The little village was clearly a mecca for sailing and boating enthusiasts. I bought a beer from a small food shop and settled down to eat my lunch in the sun on a seat overlooking the marina.

I took a bit of a wrong turning after lunch which must have added 5-6km to my route.

It didn’t matter. I knew roughly where I was and I was in no great hurry to reach my AirBnb in Saint Martin de Brômes.

As I entered the village I noticed a small canopy and wooden chalet advertising artisanal beer. It seemed an opportunity not to be missed. I rang a bell at the entrance and within a minute or so, a jolly grey haired lady in her 50s materialised from the house next door to take my order.

It turned out that the lady was part of a local co-operative that made a variety of artisanal beers under the brand ‘Bière des Gorges’. I’d seen the beer on sale in quite a few of the villages I’d passed through during the previous week but never taken the opportunity to sample it..

There were more than 12 different varieties available. Some flavoured with honey, lavender, lemon, rosemary and various other flavours. I settled for a classic. It was superb. I promised to go on line and order some gift packs when I got home.

It was a bit of a challenge to find my AirBnb which was located at ‘1 Rue sous Le Tour’.

I didn’t have much problem locating the tower which dominated the village, but the road beneath the tower was more of a challenge. Part of the problem was that some bright spark had decided to rename all the village street signs in Provençal!

I eventually managed to locate my AirBnB, let myself in and had a shower.

According to the artisanal beer maker I had chatted to, there was one restaurant (La Fontaine) open in the village and, mirabile dictu, it wasn’t a pizzeria.

Hip, hop hooray! In the end I’m afraid I plumped for the house burger. Elizabeth David will doubtless be turning in her grave again tonight! But the pudding was to die for!