Travel notebook

Billions of blue, blistering barnacles!

Here we are still nailed to the ground! Grumbl, grumbl. So, between our researches for a saddle, in order to keep it up, we enjoy ourselves. We gallop without saddles in the green fields – mainly cabbage – to the delight of the two pigs living with us. Being still in Armorica with the irreducible Gauls, we have discretionarily named them Caesar and Quintus. The beginning of our trip strangely reminding the failure of the ogre in Russia, we would have given them the names of Napoleon and Bonaparte, but in France the law still forbids it … Dura lex, sed lex


We visited the surrounding places: Saint Malo, Cancale and Saint Suliac. If the first two cities are more than known for their pirates and buccaneers – and incidentally their oysters – the last one remains still preserved and by far the most beautiful. The city suffered the bloody repressions of the League war. Later, magnificent processions in honor of the virgin of Grainfollet – protector of the Newfoundlanders, cod fishermen off the coast of Canada – will roam its streets. Since then, all have returned safe and sound.

Today, in this village considered to be one of the most beautiful in France, and with good reason !, the descendants of Astérix & Obélix run in the alleys, flowers grow between the granite stones of small fisherman’s houses, the tide mill, the old saltworks and the standing stones that Obelix has left around.

Then we go back to Marie-Jo and Henri, with whom we chat and who help us look for saddles. As this morning, at the request of Henri, a man came to drop off two Gauloises saddles of the Forestier brand. Unfortunately these do not have a tree, they are not suitable for long hikes. But this is only a postponement, we are searching, searching!

Last night the storm rumbled and thundered above our heads. Our little tent protects us. But in addition to the threat due to the crazy people killing horses in France and all over Europe every night, there is also the threat of the wind which can knock a tree down on one of our two horses. So at night we go out in our underwear with the pepper spray on hand to walk around the horses.

But every morning – a little more humid and cold with the arrival of autumn – it is always the same happiness, the same pleasure, to find Brubru and Amoer at the door of the tent, both snoring with pleasure. waiting for their breakfast.

We continue to polish our stuff with ox’s foot oil, our big military shoes with waterproof spray. We cut the tarps in half so that they measure 2m x 1.44m and attach eyelets to them so that in the rain we can cover the horses and our belongings.

Still looking for Amoer’s saddle…

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