I got up in the morning an and followed the road further to the south through Belan, Brion and then to the west towards Vix.

In Vix I crossed this little river that you might have seen before

And because there was sign promising an old chapel I drove up a steep hill.

Wondering if that chapel used to be part of a castle I searched for hints but could not find any. Instead a map with a touristic hiking path that promised to show many orchids. Wild orchids I had not seen in ages and I was very keen so I followed the path.

I saw quite a bit of nature but not a single orchid 😥 What a disappointment. Maybe it was the wrong time of the year. I followed another path further up to a top flat and enjoyed the view so that at least something had come out of the orchid hiking path without orchids.

I contemplated if and how much one should trust somewhat older hiking path signs and wondered what had happened to the orchids.

Then I crossed la Seine again and travelled further south to Châtillon. On the way I saw a supermarket and bought two croissants, a baguette and some muesli bars for emergencies.

Looking for a nice place to eat my croissants I rode up to a majestic church in front of a ruined castle which turned out to be a rather fancy graveyard. As an anthropologist I had taken a seminar about Sepulkralkultur and so I looked around the graves. Many were done in an elaborate fashion and belonged to important people.

And while I was marvelling at the different grave stones and decorations I heard someone sobbing. And I saw an somewhat older woman crying in front of a grave. Considering that the first Corona wave had hit just a few months ago I assumed she cried for a partner that recently died and tried to console her.
I offered her a croissant to distract her from the pain and she told me about her partner who had been with her for decades. When I asked if they died of Corona she looked surprised and she told me that they died almost ten years ago but that she still came every day to the grave and was unconsolable. After that I asked myself, if I would ever have a partner whose dead would be so heartbreaking and I thought a little about my father who died in the early 2000s.

From Châtillon I drove to Nuits, to the next camping municipale.

But when I arrived there I saw that there was no camping, just a picnic place. My batteries were empty and it was already pretty late. So I went to the next bar I could find to ask if they could charge my batteries over night. They could not because they were closed the next day. But one of the local patrons saved me and we drove to the picnic place which actually used to be the camping municipal before a flood had destroyed it and I built up my tent in a way one could not see it from the streets. My saviour worked in a quarry nearby and promised me to bring my recharged batteries back early in the morning before work.
I was pretty tired and fell asleep fast.