He astonished me on every step of Le Big Trek. The steeper the slope, the rougher the ground, the harder he tried. He accepted the strangeness of herds of goats with clanging bells, the weirdness of meeting bicycles on muddy paths in the forests, the noise of motorbikes passing us on narrow lanes, although he never quite got comfortable with donkeys or rollicking herds of cattle! He enjoyed the "coup de couer" views of Provence and the Drôme every bit as much as I did, and was happy to stand gazing into the distance while I snapped photos. I usually walked for about twenty minutes every two hours, and he would follow along behind me on a loose rope, putting his feet where I put mine, occasionally nudging me between my shoulders gently to let me know he was still there. He is my horse of a lifetime, and he has given me back my confidence and my fitness.
His favourite thing in the whole world is a good roll, he is not truly happy unless he is plastered with a thick layer of mud. Ah well, no-one's perfect!