Day 13
Well we had very heavy rains, thunder and lightning during the night. It was dripping and cool this morning as we ate a wonderful breakfast of bread, cheese, coffee and orange juice.
I am feeling somewhat sore and really itchy where I got stung.
Right now we are looking at the forecasts of rains all day tomorrow, which could force us into making alternate plans to take the train if need be from Castlensudry to Carcassonne.
But that is tomorrow’s problem, right now we will deal with today.
We were back on the canal at 7:15 and the miles slipped away. We made an adjustment or two after yesterday. I knew where there would be a good spot for a beer and snack, not heavy lunch, break. And we already had a dinner spot reserved in Castelnaudry.
The church steeple at Gardouch came into view, and the canal kind of swung around the town so we circled, getting views through the trees. The Gardouch lock was pretty, with a row of colorful houses behind it; bright barges moored all along the side of the canal.
The town was right there, backed up to the water, and opposite it all, on the trail side of the canal was a little bar-restaurant-hotel.
This would be a great spot to stay or stop for a drink.
Damn bee.
A large group of chattering kids on bikes, led by a couple adults pass us in a long string, each kid saying “bonjour!” and ringing their bike bell to notify us that they are there.
It is a school outing.
The Canal du Midi is also part of the "Pilgrims Way,” a feeder trail to the famous Camino Santiago that goes through Spain. We see the shell signs and the occasional refuge.
There are stinging nettles, so I have to be careful where I walk off the path when taking photos.
SUDDENLY !
A splash in the river!
“Alligator!” yells Gail.
But it is just a giant river rat, kind of their version of a beaver.
Alligator.
I laugh about that one all morning as we see several other “alligators” that mostly turn out to be sticks.
Mostly we are alone, walking together in a comfortable pace, holding hands until my shoulder on that side gets sore, or our hands get numb (if you have ever walked a couple miles you know what I mean). Then we just walk, a mile together, a mile alone, just looking, listening and thinking.
I brought my earbuds for my phone, thinking I would listen to music or maybe a podcast or two, but I just really like the quiet and occasional gentle conversation.
This is a great way to see France.
We walked on, the canal path is still paved, bright red plates set into the pavement counting down the kilometers to Port Lauragais. The port is near the “crest” of the canal, but it is not the center point of the canal.
Think of it like this:
The canal goes from Toulouse to Séte on the Mediterranean. There is a hill near the middle of the route, so you walk uphill from Toulouse to the top of the hill, then downhill to the sea. The top of the hill is the “pass” like a mountain pass. So the water for the canal dumps into this “pass” from a river or reservoir higher up in the mountains.
This pass, or high point of the canal is called (in this case) the Parting of the Waters. The water from here flows downhill to Séte, and downhill to Toulouse. It is all controlled by the lock system, going in each direction.
This map shows it perfectly.
Port Lauragais is the wide spot in the canal at the crest. It is a sort of boat parking lot, with a little town and restaurant and so on.
So, all the way from Toulouse we have been counting down the kilometers to the crest of the canal, the high point of the walk.
After we hit 0+00 we will officially start walking downhill to the sea.
The trail is still all tree lined banks, still green water, birds chirping and ducks splashing. I am surprised at how few boats are actually traveling along, I thought it would be pretty crowded. The main freeway bends near for a spell, then is far off in the distance, and the occasional country road crosses over.
At about km marker 9+50 heading to the crest there is a rest area for the freeway. This is a useful place, again not in the guidebook, with public bathrooms and an outdoor shower. As in you stand outside, behind the very clean bathrooms, and shower.
It is all clean and spotless, not like rest areas in the US. But you are standing outside in the semi public, showering.
There are few bathrooms along the canal.
We finally hit the 0+00 sign, then just after we are at the actual “parting of the waters.” The trail pavement stopped at 1+00, so now we are walking a narrow, muddy path, wading through puddles and picking up a lot of sticky goop on our boots. It has slowed us down.
The day is still mostly cool and overcast.
We have 11 km to go.
Even after sitting only a half-hour for drinks, we are both really still and sore. It takes a bit to loosen up, and the last five kilometers are tough. We stagger into Castelnaudry, find our guesthouse right on the edge of the Grand Basin, the port, and take showers.
Our guesthouse is Le Grand Bassin, the old harbourmaster’s house on the edge of the Grand Basin. The Grand Basin is kind of like a lake and parking lot for boats. Castelnaudry is across the basin from us. We have a great view of the cathedral from our upstairs window.
I buy a bottle of excellent red wine from Sofie, who runs the place, and find out it is from her parent’s wine co-op. Her parents, along with many others, have a vineyard and work together to produce the wine. They split costs and work, and split the wine. They are free to drink it or sell it.
So we stayed in, rested and drank some great red wine.
And, just as we had been warned, it started to rain.
I had dinner reservations made, and I never do this. But I really wanted to get into a certain place, La Belle Epoque. Their cassoulet recipe is “the secret of our Grandfather from 1956” and by god I wanted to try this highly rated dinner.
I have probably mentioned it before but what the hell, I’ll mention it again: This whole area, and Castelnaudry in particular, is ground zero for cassoulet. I have eaten cassoulet in many different cities and villages around here, always looking for that little something different or extra.
Well.
The dinner started as we walked in the door. I was knocked back by a pleasant cornucopia of overwhelming smells.
I ordered a foie gras salad to start. It was seared, almost crunchy outside, but warm and soft inside. It paired perfectly with the wine and salad.
Gail’s ordered salmon and said it was superb.
I don’t know because I was in cassoulet heaven at the time.
It had a crispy skin duck leg on top. Soft, pull-apart duck breast, a huge pork sausage and a chunk of lamb… and to top it off (and much to me relief) the beans were perfect. Soft yet holding together, packed with flavor, the top ones slightly burned and crisp.
Here is the one different thing about this cassoulet: it was heavy on the pepper.
In a great way.
And here is the killer.
It was so great but such a generous portion I could not finish it.
Remember, I walked 21 miles today on coffee, bread and beer. And still I could not finish the meal.
I wanted to cry.
But it was overwhelming.
Gail tasted it and loved the beans, and we agreed that we should have shared it. In fact I saw two men do just that.
Still, I managed to stuff in most of it, leaving maybe three spoonfuls of those tender beans. This is probably one of the three best cassoulet experiences of my life.
I thought I was gonna pop, and there was still the cheese plate and dessert to go.
So the cheese comes out. I swear I will look and not touch…but somehow a bite slips in and I am a lost soul.
I am desperate to fit the cheese into my stomach at any cost.
Gail got another white wine and we nibbled at the cheese until POOF! All gone!
For the required dessert (because, you see, dessert is required, not voluntary) I got lemon sorbet and an espresso. I hoped the espresso would somehow fuel the 7 minute walk home.
I am going to pop.
So I staggered slowly home in the rain. We had rain and hail and lightning all night. Tomorrow it is supposed to continue. Both weather apps agree.
So I made a (admittedly alcohol inspired) decision: tomorrow we take a day off the walk and take the train to Carcassonne instead.
21 miles, or 32 KM in nine hours of walking.
40 miles in two days.