Silly as that sounds to my ears, it is a blessed thing to write it down at last. I have been walking all day, and such sights I have seen and such thoughts I have had! They buzz in my brain, and I have been longing for nightfall and the chance to record them.
The road from Petit-Monde to Honfleur is well-maintained—I am still close to Mont-Havre, after all—but runs through the most picturesque forests and rocky crags. There are few grand-blaireaux remaining this close to Mont-Havre, and I am told that they have learned to avoid the road; I have also been told that I would be foolish to leave it, and I have no intention of doing so.
The road is lonely, though not quite empty; I was passed by any number of carts and wagons traveling in either direction, but never more than one at a time