I woke up early on day 2. I organized my backpack, packed my tent (which incredibly did fit again inside its bag), and had breakfast.
Actually, I hadn’t really thought about breakfast. I just drank some water and ate two cereal bars, since I had plenty of them.
I stretched for about 15 minutes and then I was off towards the East again.
Early in the morning I met the first backpacker going in the opposite direction. It was the priest on his 15th day hiking. He said this stretch of the GR34 was the hardest part of the trail.
Much like the previous day, it was hot and sunny. The trail was hard like most of the previous day: going up and down hills, touring the coastline, crossing streams and criques. The view was awesome again.
At some point during the day I got off the trail to get some water in Kerisit. There was noone there, but I met an old breton called Clet, “just like the pope [Cletus]”. We spoke for some time. He told me people had lost their faith about 40 years ago, just like the priest had told me a while ago, and that if I went up to Kergulan I might find his cousin, who was 91 years old, to ask for water. He also said that if I met his cousin, I wouldn’t be able to leave his house for a couple of hours, because he really liked to chat. So I went to Kergulan, but I didn’t find his cousin, just a young lady feeding her baby. I filled my water bottles and went back to the trail, or so I thought I did.
I managed to take a wrong turn while going back. When I noticed I had taken a wrong turn, I decided to stop for a meal and for a power nap. The meal was the same as the previous day. I took out my sleeping bag and just rested under some trees until the sun calmed down a little. When I took off again, I decided to just keep going in the wrong direction and turn back later, instead of going back where I had come from.
I kept following the sentier cotier until the Pointe du Kastel Kos. It was getting cold and dark, so I decided to call it a day. There was a motor home parking place closeby, and I set up my tent, in 9 minutes this time.
That was another night well slept.
You talked to a guy who told you that people lost their faith, even though he had been named after a pope who lived in the first century A.D.
A couple of hours later you realized you had lost your trail. Still, you kept on going, instead of trying to recover your faith, believing that wrong directions often lead to right destinations.
Very well done, my friend!