3: South to Morvan and beyond

In the forests of Morvan, unknowable things are hidden from the searching of human eyes. Strange writings appear at night on stones and disappear during the day; in the deepest darkest valleys, wild creatures, half man, half plant have been seen to walk, and laugh and sing. Their sound can be heard by people in villages far away which close their shutters tighter and draw their blankets tighter, clutching the children to their bosom lest they be spirited away.


So go into the park of Morvan if you dare, follow the little roads not on the map, feel the brooding beauty of the place, swim in the dark, dark lakes, get deep down unmarked tracks and feel the jealous trees reaching out to try and grab you, scratching the paintwork and bending the mirrors. But not leave the safety of your transport, do not walk in those dark places for you will surely be lost, your soul trapped inside a piece of amber, screaming unheard in the Cave of the Beings.

We went there and survived, wondering at its beauty, spending a night at Anost where the serving wench had such soft eyes that I thought she was a sapling of the deep forest come to tempt us, but served copious amounts of rosé and a decent pizza instead, and we slept in peace in a human village.

Then, slowly, to Autun, appreciated from prehistoric times for being a peaceful seat, facing south, sweet water to hand, a lovely town. And a place of light after the dark spirits of the forest.

With, of course, a stunning cathedral with some excellent stone carvings which is what I was after.

And I to sleep on the towpath by the Canal du Nivernais.