Fascinating. One of our neighbours used to go regularly (Dutch, plays keyboard and bass) but I’m sure he’d told me it was done. Glad to see they are still going.
We should be in the village that weekend, so may try to get over there.
Let me know how you go with it, maybe next year but not sure I want to go alone. 
OK, if we go I’ll feed back how it was. Next year will be our 45th anniversary and also start our retirement, so we might try for a proper holiday in August, though it’s by no means sorted.
Wow - many hearty congratulations. You must have been a child groom.
20 and 18. It’s been good so far. 
It’s also not been hard overall, even though we’ve had some challenges.
Didn’t join our rando group yesterday, the forecast was for C38° which was too hot for a little dog (and us). But we used Gigi as our excuse. I advise my wife to use me in a similar fashion if we don’t want to do something - “I’d love to go, but Mark doesn’t want to.”
However the Dutch thought it was a good idea for the short walkers to rent some tractor innertubes and paddle up the Lot to Entraygues (the last time they did that two nearly drowned) while the long walkers could just do a 500m ascent in the Lot Valley and only walk for 10kms. And then those who had survived could meet up for a picnic/
We stayed at home, instead planning to walk the following day along the Lot to the auberge in the next village, but it didn’t work out as we’d planned.
This normally a 2m wide, tarred velo route
Eventually, it got too much, another four kms to the auberge and then we’d have to walk again through all this.
So instead we decided to walk upriver to the next village that way - much more boring , but doable and check out the new resto (both of whose previous incarnations were dire).
Upriver it was another world…
And the resto has la biere la phenicienne on draught which is a lovely summer drink and also pastis 51 should we arrive a little later in the morning.
Could be worse
Today we completed the walk that had to be abandoned last week after the tornado blocked the veloroute. However, yesterday evening we had two hours of orages and marble-sized hailstones, that thankfully didn’t damage the car and possibly helped further clean the rather smelly antique Persian rug that had been airing over a wall in the garden for several days. I know that’s not how the pros do it, having previously posted a surprisingly compelling video link on this.
Anyhow the start seemed promising - cooler than expected, though rather humid. with milky light that doesn’t help photography.
Below is a view of the east end of our village (the white bit in the middle) glimpsed from the side of a disused lock on the Lot. They had wanted to re-open the Lot to navigation for a long way upstream from here, but unfortunately there’s a lot of heavy metals buried in the mud upstream which if disturbed could wreak horrendous environmental havoc not only in the Lot, but the Gironde.
Very soon we came upon new storm damage. I don’t know whether these trees were simply already weakened from last week’s tornado, or were newly exposed following the fall of a large tree that had previously protected them or both. But the storm damage in our stretch of the valley seemed as bad as the week before.
Composition with broken tree -
But this time we were going to make it to the auberge!
Once beyond our narrow valley, everything was much more tranquil
And the rowing club was quieter than usual…
A lot of poles were rather wonky but fortunately electric and fibre was still OK.
The rest of the group had begun walking from a km further east, but we hadn’t wanted to do that because of Gigi and the lack of shade (maybe OK going out, but not coming back). We walked slowly and took lots of photos and eventually they caught up with us -
The auberge is home to many cats - can you spot this one?
I’m sure the old lady who lives here at weekends is going to be very sad when she sees that her lovely old apple tree has been snapped in two
The auberge lady helps run a sort of feral cat sanctuary in a nearby derelict building and it’s surrounded by warning signs " Relentez! Chats baladent ! "
Les baigneurs
And eventually back beyond the storm damage, it’s clear path to our picnic by the Lot…
What’s the origin of the heavy metals problem upstream? It sounds quite dangerous in case one day heavy weather or floods stir up the mud anyway.
Decazeville’s C19/20th industry used to drain into the Lot at Boisse-Penchot (beneath the D840 bridge). The toxic sediment is now buried quite deep and there’s a complex series of height adjustable barrages that regulate the river’s flow.
Another day, another walk along the Lot - but it’s the Cantal tomorrow.
The chainsaws have been busy since our last walk…
My wife has made a series of paintings of how the surface of the path changes through the seasons, white fallen flowers in the Spring, lemon yellow silver birch leaves at the start of autumn followed by copper ones from the chestnuts, but there isn’t usually anything in mid-summer. However here there’s a mixture of sawdust and fallen leaves that have already turned a slate grey with the heat of the canicule.
Plenty of room for a little dog to get through…;
But the next ones are a tad more challenging…
The black and white speck in the centre of the photo below is the ‘Picasso dog’, a Border with one half of the face black and the other half white whom we often run into on the riverbank. Unfortunately he doesn’t stay still long enough to photograph well. When Gigi spots the Picasso dog, she runs in his direction, but then runs past, ignoring him completely, cos she’s more interested in his owner, who’ll toss apples or chestnuts for her to retrieve. But if the Picasso dog stays still long enough we’ll give him a caresse
Oh, and why ‘Picasso’? After the many split-face portraits of his young mistress, Marie-Thérèse Walter.
,
Derelict greenhouses viewed from under a bridge, where I’m sheltering from the rain, waiting for Madame et Gigi. A couple of hours earlier I’d asked her about the méteo - “Fine all morning.” she’d replied.
Eventually made it to the shelter of the auberge - having walked all that way, wasn’t turning round without a drink! The weather forecast now predicted rain for the next two hours. Could’ve stayed for lunch, but if we’d done that, would probably have lost the rest of the day. Instead my wife borrowed an umbrella and I set off at a much faster rate safe in the knowledge that a T-shirt can only get so wet.
Hence no photos of the super fast return walk apart from a final one of our village church viewed through a shattered tree.
Walking in the Rain was my earworm of the walk
(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tBBys5TLxCI)
Was also going to add a link to Grace Jones’ Walking in the Rain then decided it was too inappropriately metropolitan.
And was it really forty-odd years ago?
No photos, but I did a walk on Monday morning through the forrest above us. I do this walk in summer because it’s all above 900m and usually at least 4 or 5 degrees cooler than where we are. When I set off at 8 am it was 19 C and sunny. When I got there it was 13 C with lots of low cloud. During the walk it rained quite heavily for over an hour and it was still 13 C when I got back to the car two hours later. It was the first outing for my new lightweight waterproof breathable softshell jacket and it performed admirably. When I got back it was still sunny and 20 C.
Not really a rando, and no photos because I didn’t know it was going to happen so didn’t take my camera, but several kms along the voie verte from St. Pardoux la Riviere today.
My son and 2 grandchildren are visiting, staying in an air bnb not far away and we arranged to meet up this morning in our local coffee shop. After a good deal of time in there in very enjoyable chat we walked back to our cars in the centre when my son suggested we take the walk with Jules on the 33 metre.
Holding him at about 3 metres (didn’t want him diving down the very steep banks) we just kept on walking and talking. I have never seen Jules so keen to keep going and, after a couple of rests on a shady bench, Davey and I soon out paced the youngsters.
Teenagers, lightweights, gave up half way and waited for our return. Davey with a soon to be operated on ankle damaged in a fall on Pennine moors 20 years ago, and me a recent heart attack 82 year old along with an almost 11 year old Beauceron plodded on and on. With plenty of shade and several handy benches it was throughly enjoyable, especially for Jules, I have never seen him so keen to go further, but also for me. Just what the doctor ordered, level ground and not once puffed out, I might be tempted to do it again, but not sure lack of interesting conversation might tone it down a bit.
I love Jules’ company but he doesn’t say much. 
Your 3rd photo is interesting Mark. The meaning changes depending on where you crop it.
The other day I posted that our next walk was in the Cantal, but this morning we were walking in the Aveyron, because somehow ‘it’s near Montsalés’ (Aveyron) became ‘near Montsalvy’(Cantal).
This was much better because it’s down river from us and is a lovely part of France, less dramatic than our village, but lovely architecture and very easy on the eye. We’ve not walked from here for five years because it’s a long way from the Cantal where many of the group live, but all of them were elsewhere this week so it was a good opportunity to head SW for a change.
We set out from Balaguier-d’Olt, ‘d’Olt’ being a common Occitan suffix for villages on the Lot.
I rightly guessed that shortly we’d have to climb out of the valley (predictable, because there’s few walks in our sixty plus repertoire that don’t involve a steep climb).
Once upon a time 5a thousand years ago?) the village was guarded by a castle, though I don’t know whether or not it successfully resisted the Saracens who I’ve just discovered came this far north towards the end of the first millenium CE.
After the climb one is rewarded with views over the causse. The Causses de Quercy is a limestone plateau, which is both charming and deceptively special, with many neolithic sites including dolmens and the superb cave paintings at Foissac, near where we were walking today.
On the surface lots of stretches like this , mediaeval tracks between fields
The other week’s tornado had passed through here too, though with less damage than near us, but did give me the opportunity to observe, ‘that this pig stye is a pig stye.’
Don’t recall seeing this panneau in le code de la route…
Love these old farmhouses, also the way around our area the vernacular architecture styles and materials is so varied - it’s very local indeed.
And further down the track - is this one still a ‘fixer upper’? Hope so, but fear not.
Shortly after we had a few kms of this following a stream down to what I mistakenly assumed was the valley, but unfortunately was actually another valley, which meant there’d be another steep climb.
However all was worthwhile because this is where the stream ended, in what was probably originally a small reservoir whose water could be released to power machinery, such as 3m vertical saws that were used for cutting floorboards etc.
And the climb up the othe side of the valley was mitigated by this - the most Hockneyesque swimming pool I’ve ever seen.
The pool’s surface looked just like that of one of his Californian paintings
Eventually over the top of the latest hill, then a long a gentle amble down from the causse through several pretty hamlets.
Meanwhile, looking across to the east, caught a glimpse of Asprières, a mediaeval village about 0above the Lot that we walk to once or twice a year (it’s a brutal climb and after the village you carry on climbing).
Finally nearly back in the right valley. Downstream from us the river flows over over much softer sandstone and limestone so the valley is much wider the at our place and the forest is replaced by fields, and historically it was, and still is much wealthier, which is continually reflected in the architecture.
The final stretch was up a steep rocky path (that may have been a mediaeval drain) before a more gentle descent to this picturesque little stream
Stunning tree, crap garden
Surprisingly, after walking for several hours it was only at this point that I realised that I’d done this walk before in 2020. A weird scene that’s hard to forget - it’s not snow! The trees are growing out of an algae covered soup/
And then we were back at the car park
13.4kms and umpteen steep hills - had been told that it was ‘maybe 12’
But it was good! And here’s where we had the picnic -
Today’s walk was posted in the wrong place in the thread, so I’ve now put it where it should be.
Karen, not sure which post you’re referring to, but it’s an interesting observation, and so I’d be grateful if you’d be good enough to copy the photo and paste it into a new post,
It’s the way the lines and curves move depending on how you crop it.
I started by trying to eliminate that annoying bit of sky top left but then discovered depending how you crop each edge you can make the photo say different things.
@ChrisMann will know this too being a photographer.
Yes photo composition is often about where you place the main subject, and creating “leading lines” to draw the viewer’s eye there.
Roads and paths work well for this.
The “rule of thirds” is helpful for a pleasing composition - where you place the main subject one third of the way into the photo from one side and the top or bottom as in Karen’s example.
But rules can be broken - sometimes symmetry works better!
E. Lost Dutchman Boulevard, Phoenix Arizona, looking east towards the Superstition Mountains
If there is a horizon in the image placing that using the rule of thirds usually works better than having it slap bang in the middle.
I got my first SLR in 1971 and ever since, I’ve always composed in the viewfinder (blame Cartier-Bresson) so my rando photos are usually full frame (the Hockneyesque pool detail above is a rare exception). With analogue photography, one tried to do as much as possible inside the camera, whilst with digital, once one starts cropping, the potential variations become virtually infinite.
Re that ‘annoying bit of sky’, it’s inclusion was actually intentional because it’s documentation that gives an indication of the depth of the valley.
Composition is one of the interesting differences between photography and painting, as in the latter medium the composition is often adjusted over the course of the painting, also one has much greater freedom to use colour and tone for local adjustments.
Chris - liked your example a lot - suspect the photographer was familiar with US Land artist Robert Smithson’s similarly composed photographs of dead straight desert roads taken in Yucatan in 1969.
After driving on similar roads in the Karoo in the Nineties, I made a series of works with a second vanishing point - the one in the rear-view mirror. The vanishing point ahead is the future and the one in the mirror, the past.
An interesting exception is Hiroshi Sugamoto’s Seascapes series that used his characteristic technique of very long exposures. The images were output as gelatin silver prints and are sublime.
No I wasn’t. 