City Escape Collection

22 kilometers. A tent. A plate of andouille. And a tired, happy smile.

Today was the first day of my walk.

Not a walk for performance or records—but something quieter. A different kind of challenge. The kind that starts in the body but really plays out in the mind.

The goal isn’t physical pain or proving anything. It’s the experience. The solitude. The rhythm. And tonight, sleeping in a tent for the first time, alone.

I started walking this morning with a backpack, a tent, and a bit of tension.

Within 20 minutes I already had back pain and little aches here and there.

I thought: this doesn’t bode well.

But it passed. My body warmed up. The movement settled in.

I’d forgotten to eat breakfast, so I made a detour to a Carrefour Market to buy a pain au chocolat—the local bakery was closed for the holidays (the first of several today, as I’d later discover).

I found my pace—around 5 km/h—and started making my way toward Jargeau, where I’d booked a camping spot for the night.

The landscapes were peaceful, following the Loire River. It reminded me a little of the Canal du Midi near Carcassonne. And the weather? Surprisingly kind. 25 degrees, with a light breeze. Warm, but manageable.

Around 1pm, I took a proper break.

I was hoping to find a restaurant with air conditioning… but in this small village, there was only a PMU bar and another bakery—also closed.

Thankfully, I found a small grocery shop and bought a sandwich, crisps, a drink, and a peach.

Then I found the perfect spot: a shaded green patch with a wooden bench.

I took off my shoes, slipped on my sandals, massaged my feet, and stretched. There was even a little free library, though I didn’t find anything that caught my eye.

I thought I’d only covered half the distance—but I’d actually done two-thirds. Just 7–8 km to go.

I arrived at the campsite in Jargeau at 2:40pm.

It took me about 5.5 hours total, including a long rest. Around 4.5 hours of actual walking to cover 20 kilometers—not bad.

Pitching the tent was easy and surprisingly fast. And I loved it. My little house.

I haven’t slept in it yet, but I already feel like this is something I could do again. There’s something comforting about having your own little space, even if it’s just fabric and poles.

Tonight, my feet are too tired to explore the town. So I’ll stay at the campsite and eat at their little restaurant. They open at 6:30pm, so that gives me time to rest, hang my laundry, and breathe.

The weather is shifting—clouds, a bit of wind. It might rain.

But for now, I’m dry, stretched out in my tent, feeling fine.

I had dinner at the campsite: andouille de Jargeau, the local specialty. It was surprisingly good.

I read while I ate. Then headed back to my tent, hooked up my lantern, and opened my book again. I’m hoping the teenagers in the next pitch won’t be too loud tonight.

There’s still light outside, a fresh breeze. I’m tempted to leave the tent flap open—but I’m near the river, and mosquitoes aren’t exactly friends.

I’m left wondering.

Would I enjoy this as much if I were in a van instead? With a mattress in the back and the freedom to drive somewhere new each day?

But then… where’s the challenge? Where’s the edge?

I’m realising how much I love the solitude. The independence. The rhythm I choose.

Whether walking or driving or camping—I think this might be the kind of life I want to touch, again and again.

This was a good start. A soft one. But still a beginning.