Last night's long dark walk into the forest high in the mountains led me to an old hunters cabin. A miracle of navigation that I found it - seen only as an enigmatic sign on walker's map board in a village miles away. A miracle it was open. I was prepared to overlook the broken furniture, the graffito and the dark loft above the two simple rooms. A bit Blair Witch Project-y but real shelter. With the door closed and stove cooking soup and some cushions as mattress I had a comfortable and - the first since beginning the walk - warm night. Up at six and had done a day's march by lunchtime. Incidentally passing a far nicer, clean, open cabin - unmarked on map - with a log stove just a few miles further on.
Descending down, down, down to the Rhine Valley. I left warm sun on the heights for grey, cold fog. (see pic). Signs of rooting boar and deer slots everywhere. A distant lumberjack felled a huge tree - the sound of its fall echoing in the fog.
Now in Ettenheim and preparing to regroup before starting off into France and next 250 miles to Paris. Shower (and several more), clothes wash, charge camera batteries, sort gear, prepare mind and feet for as much walking and sleeping out as I've already done to here - maybe even a bit more.
Paris is calling.
What is a deer slot? Is it rude? Hope weather holds. I am drinking gin and Benylin Original due to cold. xxxx
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