The river flowed on, and I tramped with it, down the garden of France. It was cold, falling bellow freezing mpre often than not, but those sunny days left little to long for.  You might think spending all day and night outside in December would be a painful thing to do. 

But it really is bearable, sometimes even cosy.

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Some time, as you’ve probably figured out by now time is a very relaxed thing when you’re on the road… but as I was saying.  Some time before Christmas found something I’ve been looking for since before Paris – almost ever since I left Sweden.

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Wilderness. Land reclaimed by nature,  places no longer economically viable for people to live or work at, so they’ve abandoned them.

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Leaving the forest to do its thing and slowly, slowly breaking the clutches of man.

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That perfect tranquillity of knowing your the only person in and around the area.  It heightens your senses,  makes you more alert and you become a member of the special club of survivalists.

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One thing about untended land though – it’s painstaking task to travel through. But with food in my bag and the sun steadily rising from the east, I could take all the time I needed to struggle through.

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