The first few kilometers from Monistrol-d’Allier were grueling and straight uphill. The views, however, made the difficulty worth the price. Every break in the trees reveals a stunning vista of valley and river. Atop one of the ridges is a small chapel built directly into the solid rock mountain. I wonder what it was like to build such a structure without the aid of modern construction machinery and technology.
After the brutal first five kilometers, the landscape began to flatten. A group of three French woman, who we had briefly gotten lost with on our first day walking, pointed out wild blackberry bushes growing along the road. We stopped and ate our fill, with our fingers stained purple by their sweet ripe juices.
I also drew first blood, as my zeal for blackberries led me into the pointy end of their defensive thorns. However, I did not notice this injury until later, as I was enthralled with the magic of eating wild berries right off the vine in France.