Chirpi and the Flow of the River

Daily Miles: 36.47 | Total Miles: 16,224.11

My alarm rang before 6 a.m. Hot coffee, organizing all the clothes I had spread out to dry overnight, carrying everything downstairs, and getting the buggy out of the basement. Once everything was packed, Daniel showed up at 7 a.m. as planned so I could hand back the key and get on my way.

It was a cool, pleasant morning with a few clouds in the sky. The forecast promised no rain, and thankfully it stayed that way all day. I stopped at a bakery to get some food for the road and then made my way back to the canal. Mist hovered above the water, creating a peaceful atmosphere. A few campers were already awake, tending small campfires and fishing along the bank. The canal path was beautiful as always, but there was not much interaction. Cyclists passed me throughout the day, yet very few stopped to talk. Oh well.

Around mile five, I almost stepped on a small bird sitting right on the path. I stopped immediately and walked back to see what was going on. He didn't move when I approached him, and I wasn't quite sure what to do. More than 25 years ago, I hit a bird with my car, and I remember feeling terrible about it. For some reason, that memory came back instantly. At the very least, I thought, I should move him somewhere safe so that nobody accidentally stepped on him.

As I spent a few moments with him, it became clear that he wasn't getting better. So I made a little nest for him in the buggy and carefully placed him inside. For about ten minutes, he continued to chirp. Then he seemed to have contractions, and about ten minutes later he died. I was glad we had spent that short time together and that I could find a peaceful place to lay him to rest. Thank you, Chirpi, for our brief friendship.

The day continued quietly. Around halfway, there was a village off to the right of the canal, but more importantly there was a café directly beside the water. I desperately needed a coffee for the second half of the run. The sky looked threatening enough that rain seemed possible, and the wind certainly added to that feeling, but once again the weather held. I sat on the terrace at a table in the corner. In front of me was a small lawn with trees, tables, and chairs. To my left flowed the River Armançon.

As I sat there watching the steady movement of the water and the sunlight glimmering across its surface, I felt completely at peace. A few years ago, I realized that if I could choose anywhere to live, it would be beside a river. Back home I live next to a creek, which is already pretty wonderful, but there is something about flowing water that speaks to me. Watching the river brought back countless memories of other rivers and waterways I have encountered throughout my life and throughout this journey. For a while, I found myself drifting into the past, remembering moments when I had felt deeply content.

At the same time, I was reminded once again that this run will soon come to an end and of how many places along the way have given me that same feeling of peace. Different countries, different landscapes, different people, yet the feeling has appeared again and again. It amazes me how good we can feel at times. Of course, the opposite is true as well. Sometimes life can feel incredibly difficult, and then there are moments when everything seems exactly as it should be. Sitting by that river, watching the water flow past, was one of those moments.

There was still a long way to go after the coffee stop. The afternoon remained cloudy and windy, although pleasantly warm. I could have used some company today, but I quietly continued putting one foot in front of the other until I eventually reached Tonnerre. I checked into my accommodation, received a small discount—thank you very much—and immediately got to work on all the tasks that still needed doing.

And here I am.

The forecast says temperatures will rise again over the next few days. I like that.

Thanks for checking in. Andrea