Setting the scene.....

From mid-April until early July 2008, I walked the way of St James. I began in Le-Puy-en-Velay in France, and finished in Santiago de Compostela in Spain, nearly three months later. When I began, there were days when it snowed a little, and the trees still wore either their winter or spring look, depending on altitude. By the time I finished it was clearly summer, though fortunately for me as a walker, not as hot as it can get in northern Spain.

When I began, I was surrounded by others mostly walking for one or two weeks during their vacation, but gradually I met more who were intending to go further. At this stage of the journey though, people tended to be very humble about their chances of going 'all the way' to "St Jacques". People would always add "si on peut...' (if I am able...) to their response.

At the beginning it often seemed to me that I was the 'slowest' walker around. But the French had what I found to be two very helpful attitudes to walking. They would often say - "each one has their own rhythm". And with respect to long distance walking, I heard repeatedly..."Il faut aller doucement, doucement, pour aller a St Jacques." - It is necessary to go gently, gently to get to St James.
Hence...the title of this blog.......

All my bags are packed.... (5 April)

A glorious sunrise at Pamerston North airport for my departure,

Egmont, the mountain of my childhood,
mostly swathed in cloud but with its peaks poking through,
then Ruapehu,
and a chance to look down over the crater of this just-dozing giant;
Fingers of mangroves in the harbour,
Daytime over the vast dry of central Australia.

All promises of the outdoors I was soon to be immersed in.

Prelude: Paris

Paris
involved in a love affair with a rampant spring.
A crowded modern metro trip to Basilique St Denis
where pilgrims of centuries gone by gathered in the north
for the traverse of the city
architecture spanning time
early crypt remnants
tombs of Kings Queens princesses
St Jacques tower standing against the sky in the spring sunshine.
I stood there thinking of all those who had walked before me on this route,
still a tourist
but as I took the Rue St Jacques, climbing beyond the Sorbonne
it was as if I was already moving into a different world
where centuries merged.

In the church at Haut Pas
I greeted St Jacques
and it was as if I had turned my gaze backwards
with the throng of past pilgrims
to farewell the city.

Prelude: Le Puy en Velay (12 -13 April)

Gite d'etape des Capucins, was my first place to stay on the Chemin,
the name evocative of the rich religious past
of this city of Le Puy
buried deep in the Auvergne.

I walked up to the Cathedral
straight up the steep approach
my first challenge as a pilgrim
then more steps under the arch, and more hidden around corners
penance already before the real walking begins!


Inside the Cathedral
reverence permeated the stones
a place for the devout

A modern crucifix -glass reflecting light-
caught my eye as I entered
the glory of Resurrection
not just an immersion in death.
St Jacques statue bathed in welcoming light.

The altar around the black Madonna
was surrounded by red lamps.
Often such an icon in a dark place
would fill me with a kind of dread
but here, light permeated from behind, allowing peace.
I prayed for some people here,
and left a prayer for another pilgrim to carry.


I walked out into a maze of historic streets
and saw the giant Notre Dame statue looming high above on its volcanic plug
but the zigzag climb had resting places,
and I soon enjoyed spectacular views
of Le Puy nestled in its volcanic basin
magnificent in the sunshine
orange roofs against green vegetation.


I visited the cloister in the calm of Sunday morning
before Mass with incense
in the Cathedral where the Virgin resides.

Then I climbed to Roch St Michel chapel
the very bones of its columns and arches
holding the prayers of ages past
the archangel defending, protecting and challenging.

A wish and greeting came from a woman passing by
the first time I was recognised as a pilgrim,
"Bonne Courage! Bonne Route!"

Le Puy en Velay: YouTube

Day 1: 14 April- Le Puy to Montbonnet

At 7am on a chilly April morning
pilgrims made their way to the Cathedral
where the Bishop celebrated Mass
then gave a blessing
taking a personal interest in each one
and where they came from.
For me, he switched to English
and told me that more and more New Zealanders
were coming to Le Puy
to start their pilgrimage.
If you wished,
there was a medal of Our Lady to take, and a rosary
and a prayer to carry on behalf of another.

I still felt so very uncertain of myself, even as a walker.
How would I manage for days and days with a pack on my back?
How would I even manage the first steps
climbing out of Le Puy to the higher ground above?
But in the Bishop's eyes, we all were already pilgrims.

I never left early
I had a pile of cards to post first
and there was a Monday morning queue
so when I left to begin the climb
most had preceded me.
This first 'climb' loomed large in my mind as a difficulty
but it wasn't so hard
and I was pleased to find that after about 25 minutes
it had largely levelled off.
My "fitness" walks all summer had paid off.

But the first distance marker was sobering.... so very far to go....
The morning's walk was pleasant, mostly along farming lanes
bounded by rock walls.
Only a few blossoms here, high up;
far from the profusion of a Parisian spring
winter had not yet left its hold.

Already I was noticing details of nature along the way
sunshine on these seeds

And I was grateful to those who had marked the route
red and white markers that would lead me far
so that in the midst of isolation
there was some certainty.

I was soon to discover some of the companionship
of this French Chemin.
At an impromptu drinks stand
I met a family from Anjou
that I would end up seeing often over the next few days.
And at St Christophe
the seats provided near the Church
-volcanic rock and twelfth century-
enabled many to sit together over lunch
all enjoying the sunshine, despite the chilly wind.

And after lunch the terrain began to feel more remote
so that walking four km seemed to take forever.
The wilds of the Auvergne had yet more desolate greetings to bring
on this first day:- sun snow sun snow
on and off with the hat and gloves
often muddy and wet underfoot
passing a village that seemed grey and forbidding
with its houses made of stern volcanic rocks.
The challenge of walking alone in such terrain was with me.

I was glad to approach Montbonnet
passing a small chapel of St Roch
to arrive at l'Escole, my first gite as a walker
converted from a farm building
with an open fire and a warm welcome
and hot showers
'just the thing' on such a day.

I washed my muddy trousers and hung them on the line
in full sunshine
only to have to rescue them forty minutes later
as heavy snow began,
then it was back to sunshine.
Others laughed at my child-like enjoyment of the snow
a novelty for me, but not for most of the French.
Imperceptibly almost we had climbed from 625m to 1108m,
no wonder it had got colder!

People were friendly
a shared bond after a first day's walk
and the shared meal of demi-pension.
To our hosts I owe gratitude
for such a welcoming end to the first day
a chance to gather strength for the next one.......

Day2: 15 April- Montbonnet to Monistrol-d'Allier

Snow lay on the ground this morning
as I climbed up past farms,
then through forest
where everything was still
and snow hung on the leaves of the fir trees
magical, beautiful
Then came the descent to Saint Privat d'Allier
that I had been warned about
so I took extra care, and came down safely

to discover a magnificent 12th century church
Romanesque, its arches hewed from volcanic rocks.
Those who have done the Le Puy route
will all quickly tell you how up and down it travels
at the beginning.
The path climbed again out of St Privat
as I listened to the bells tinkling on the sheep nearby.

The chapel of Rochegude stood solid on its high rock
its position a statement from centuries past
its humble wooden floor, permeated with the very rock foundation
telling a story of simplicity to the present.
I ate lunch with a group on the hillock by the tower
camaraderie easy with fellow walkers
superb views all around.

A long rocky descent followed to Pratclaux
then more descent to Monistrol-d'Allier
resting place for the second night.

Le Puy en Velay to St Privat d'Allier: YouTube

Day 3: 16 April- Monistrol d'Allier to Sauges

I had heard about the steep climb out of Monistrol d'Allier
had seen how close the altitude lines were on the map
but in the end I found again that my fitness training counted.
A woman from Grenoble joined me as I slowly made my way up the steep road but I urged her on
...she was of mountain stock and I was holding her up.
She left me with encouraging words about each of us having our own rhythm.

It wasn't long before I came to this chapel,
at one with the volcanic rock,
photographed by everyone!
And after that the way became even steeper for a little while,
but taking it slowly, at my own pace
I was surprised by how quickly I had come to a place
where the slope reduced
and the walk became easy.

For a while I was surrounded by many hills
and my heart rejoiced as always with the views.

And later the walk became flat again,
with farmland that reminded me of home.

I was becoming used to the mud on farm paths
though I think the dragon-woman at the restaurant I reached for lunch was a bit shocked by my appearance!


There was another treasure of a place to stay this evening in Sauges,
a gite "a la ferme", aka the Martin's place.
My coming from New Zealand was a cause for some excitement
and I was given a wonderful room to myself
with views over the farmland
and when I went to the church that evening to get my credential stamped they already knew about the lady from New Zealand.
"Radio Camino" worked well in France!
Dinner as cooked by Mme Martin was a wonderful affair
with delicious food and good company: my four 'mates' from the first two nights saved me a place near them,
a helpful refuge when the French around me was spoken too fast,
as I was the lone English speaker here...

Day 4: 17 April- Saugues to Chanaleilles

Leaving Saugues, there were more of the local wooden sculptures to pass,
then a tower stood out against the dark sky at La Clauze.
The day got colder, but somehow the people all got friendlier,
and all made cheerful comments on the cold day we were sharing.
I bundled myself up warmly in multiple layers!
At Falzet, on a farm, a farmer's wife was serving hot chocolate etc in her barn,
and I gratefully imbibed.

The buildings in this area, made of the local stone
looked sturdy against the elements.

I was deliberately taking 'short steps' these early days,
to break myself in gently... with such a long journey ahead...
It meant that many people I only saw on one day,
and then they passed on ahead of me along the trail,
but there were some people I came to recognise
who were walking similar stages to me.
There was a group of four ladies from St Etienne.
At Saugues they had befriended me
to make sure someone was speaking slowly enough to me at the dinner table!
This day they shared their lunch with me, local sausage and bread,
sitting outside and all bundled up against the cold while we ate.

And there was a family from Anjou, two parents and two of their four children, a daughter in her early 20s and a son who was about 8. I ended up staying in the same town/gite as them several times. This evening in Chanaleilles was perhaps the most special. We were staying in a gite a little way off the GR (though only by about a km) so there were not so many pilgrims. We arrived on this cold, cold afternoon and the first thing that Mme Richard, the gite owner, did, was light the fire, which gave very quick and welcome warmth. Sitting in the comfortable lounge sharing some quiet time with this family, I felt very much 'at home'. At dinnertime we had to brave the elements to walk the short distance to the bar, but what a delicious meal. We had soup, perfect for such a cold day; then salad, with greens that the husband had collected freshly from the mountains that day. It was a lamb dish for a main. Great company and a great meal to give energy for the challenges of the next day.

Chanaleilles was only about a kilometre off the main track, and I am glad I stayed there. The cold weather limited exploration, but I saw the church, beautiful Romanesque with a beautiful belltower, and a very old statue of the Virgin inside. And the gite was one of those very welcoming ones, pleasantly common in France, where the welcome in the afternoon gives renewed strength for the next day of walking.

Day 5: 18 April- Chanaleilles to Les Faux

The walk was already at quite a high altitude
with Chanaleilles at 1170m
then a slight climb followed towards Le Sauvage at 1292m,
so it was not surprising that bits of snow lay around.

This shepherd's cottage seemed to speak of a harsh isolation.
There was the joy of daffodils and crocuses poking through the still icy ground.
The Domaine du Sauvage, where many stay in the gite, seeing it as a 'must stay' experience

comprises large and solid farm buildings
made of the mountain stone
that seeks to protect from winter cold.

In this bleak terrain came a reminder
that this was an old pilgrimage route
with this statue of St Roch, at 1280m.
I stopped and thought of the many
who had passed by over the centuries
and was surprised to see
Germans in a hurry to cover the distance
go rushing by without a pause.

I met two Norwegian women walking
on this cold day in this bleak terrain
then discovered them having lunch
in the hotel restaurant at Les Faux
a proper hotel in such a remote place
where they did not turn a hair
at the muddy appearance of walking pilgrims,
and service was tops and the meal delicious.

I had lunch there
then retired to the comfortable gite.
Later the French family arrived
and we shared dinner again.

More excitement in the evening was provided for me in the form of heavy snow
that soon blanketed outside.
Excuse me if snow bores you,
but for me it is a novelty
and I woke during the night to look at it some more!
But it rained also, so the snow had mostly gone by morning.

Day 6: 19 April- Les Faux to Aumont-Aubrac

For the last time I shared breakfast with the family from Anjou
as they were finishing their 'week' this morning, with plans for another one in summer.
Snow had all melted
a descent to one town and an ascent again
the story of the route near LePuy!

Old crosses along the way are reminders
of how many have walked this route.

I reached Aumont-Aubrac for the evening
attended evening Mass in the restored Romanesque church
with modern stained glass windows.
Sunny and warm this afternoon
such a contrast to yesterday.

At the gite, la ferme du Barry
I met old faces and new ones
and began to meet more pilgrims walking for the 'long haul'
many more of them walking on their own
so I started to feel like not such an oddity!

The gite owner arrived with fresh strawberries for the meal he was creating
a local meal to remember
giving welcome energy for the crossing of the Aubrac plateau that lay ahead.

Day 7: 20 April- Aumont-Aubrac to Rieutort-d'Aubrac

An early start - 6am - with all the men in the room 'needing' to get up then
though they were all still around for breakfast at 7.15am!

I guess I was hoping for some 'bleak' on the Aubrac Plateau
and I was granted my wish in grand dollops.
Not many photos today
camera was buried deep in my pack
for protection against the wet.
Though I was aware it could have been worse... perhaps snow... or a strong wind... even harder rain...
But for the last 10km the rain was incessant
and it became clear my overtrousers were not much more than 'shower proof'
useless in the circumstances!
Pack was saturated though NZ pack liners
designed for the rain- worked well
and all my clothes inside remained dry.

Interesting small church and chapel along the way.

Weather deteriorated.
At the village of Finieyrois, and the preceding one
there were signs telling you to respect the privacy of these people
not to sit and picnic in their fields and gardens
but to pass on through to the picnic area at the end of the second village.
A shame the toilet was so firmly locked when I reached the picnic area though
as a dry place to change a layer or two would have been welcome.
I got my full share of bleak today.

In this mountain village
there was also a monument to celebrate a local peasant boy
who survived Buchenwald
and who became a bishop in the Peruvian Andes
standing up for the poor.
The walk to Rieutort d'Aubrac was along a wet slippery track
and I had to be careful.
At a high point
when I was already saturated
I could see the white yurts in the distance
a contradiction really to have such a traditional design for the Mongolian cold
but its colour a distraction in this landscape.
But I was glad all the same to be able to see the end of the day ahead of me
and on arrival instantly stripped off all my wet clothes,
changed
ans gratefully ate a hot bowl of soup.
The yurt was cosy and warm against the cold night
and I slept comfortably
though nervous of the conditions I might yet have to walk in alone
the following day.

Day 8: 21 April- Rieutort d'Aubrac to St Chely d'Aubrac

I didn't sleep all that well
worried about enduring another long day of rain
out in the open by myself
but I adopted a typical Kiwi approach today and wore polyprops under my shorts
got me some strange looks during the day
but it kept me warmer!
The rain actually kept away for most of the morning
and I took my host' s advice to walk the first section on the road
not on the track
which she said would be too boggy after all the rain.

Rivers and streams were overflowing.
And as I took the road from Nasbinals to Aubrac, the mist came down
until finally nothing much at all could be seen.
Near the top, a couple of old monastic towers suddenly loomed out of the mist.
I felt like a medieval pilgrim then,
my heart lifting at the sight of shelter.
But for modern pilgrims, shelter was in the form of restaurants.
An acquaintance called me inside
and inside there were cheery pilgrims by the dozens.
I had soup and this enormous tart,
great nourishment for walking.
The farmers at Nasbinals were finding it hard I heard
as their cows are usually in the fields by now,
but this year it has been too cold...

I took the Chemin from Aubrac
was surprised that nobody passed me...
it seems that others had heard advice to take this bit by road also
and it was indeed a difficult dangerous descent by the path
slippery on the stones
with water running down making the path like a stream in many places.
And the descent gave my feet a real pounding
so the soles were becoming very tender.
Hard to concentrate on such a tricky path
but the consolation was that I moved seasons
and saw closely the change from winter on Aubrac
to spring as I came closer to St Chely.
It had been daffodils and crocuses on high
but they disappeared
to be replaced by a huge array of spring wildflowers lower down.
A verdant, pretty valley.

Day 9: 22 April- Saint-Chely d'Aubrac to Saint-Come-d'Olt

Woke to another wet morning
and a route quite tricky in places with mud
and even at one point,
wading through knee-deep icy cold water was required!
Trying to keep socks dry to help prevent blisters
was not a possibility.
But after two hours, suddenly a welcome hot drinks stop appeared
and a very friendly farmer and his father arrived to chat,
the instigators of such welcome pilgrim comfort in the cold and wet.

Rain continued heavily until noon when it eased off a little.
By 1pm I was running low on energy
then suddenly a lunch stop appeared on a farm.
Mme Muriel at Grezes had the local specialty crepe
just what I needed
and the views from her farm were magnificent despite the rain.
The food gave me renewed energy for the last 3km
until arrival in Saint-Come-d'Olt
where the street,
approaching the church and this crooked steeple,
was full of houses that displayed the shell
and the Chemin link was clear in this town.
I stayed in the communal gite
historic itself
on the top floor that gave me a view straight to the steeple.

Day 10: 23 April- Saint-Come d'Olt to Estaing

I woke to the gentle sounds of the church bells from the nearby church of Saint Come d'Olt
then followed an easy morning's walk near the River Lot
with sunshine for a welcome change!
Just outside the attractive town of Espalion
was the church of Perse
a reminder that pilgrims walked this way
in centuries gone by.
In Espalion I took advantage of the modern pilgrim's means of communication and checked my messages on the internet!
Then I decided to walk on
perhaps not the best decision given my tender feet and wet shoes.

The next treat was to see the church of Saint Pierre just a short way off the track at Bessuejouls
a treasure
where one could climb up to the upper chapel with its time-worn arches
and look outside to the green growth that lay all around.
Two French families, that I had been meeting for several days in gites, also lunched here
and we all soon discovered that the 'easy' day walk was over.
Next came a climb in red sticky mud up a hill.
But the reward was some magnificent views again
so magnificent that I got lost
as I regarded the fields of wildflowers.
'On the roof of the world',
I missed a turn-off down a hill!

It meant an extra hour of walking on my already tender feet
so by the time I found the downhill path,
I trod slowly, feeling every stone
and getting to Estaing seemed to take forever!
However, one of the special things about walking from Le Puy
was the warm welcome in so many gites.
Hospitalite Saint-Jacques was a place with a warm welcome
and when I arrived already late, 5.30pm,
I asked to stay another day to rest my feet.

Strangely, this evening was a Kiwi-Oz night
and I slept near a bunch of English speakers
one of the few nights in France I met anyone else who spoke English!

Day 11: 24 April - Estaing, Rest day

I had decided I needed a rest day, I had arranged it with the gite, it was possible, I needed it... but as everyone else rose to get ready for their new day of walking, it didn't stop me shedding some tears.... I felt like a 'failure'.
It turned out to be a gorgeous day in Estaing, and the first really sunny day they had enjoyed for this new spring.
I bought some compeed from the pharmacy and applied it.
I wandered slowly down towards the bridge and the river, and sat on one of the seats there. I soon met up with the two lovely women from the families I had seen walking... and shed a few more tears as I told them I had taken a rest day... They took me to the nearby cafe with them and they had coffees while I had a delicious hot chocolate, before they departed in the driving role today. Already I felt so much better....
Later, I met some locals as I sat by the river, people who guessed I was a "pilgrim" and who were keen to speak of their experiences of the track, past, or planned to come... I managed conversation in French not too badly... immersion they call it!

Now that I had crossed the Aubrac Plateau, there were a few extra layers I felt I no longer needed: I sent a parcel to my French friend Monique- lightening my pack even a little also made me feel better!
When I returned to the gite, they showed me the lovely garden area up the back, where my washing had already dried in the sunshine. Amongst the spring leaves and the hens, I sat and looked around at the stone buildings and backyards, just relaxing. The bells rang with vigour at 5.30pm for the nearby Mass at 6pm, but I stayed sitting in the sunshine...

In hindsight, taking a rest day, to allow my tender blistered soles a chance to 'settle down', was absolutely the right decision and the best thing I could have done.

Day 12: 25 April- Estaing to Golinhac

My feet felt so much better after a day of rest,
and I began this new day with renewed enthusiasm.
The first night in Estaing I had spent with several other Antipodeans (quite a rarity on this journey), but the second night my company was largely with a German group. Here are some of them setting off into the beautiful scenery of this day.

The journey began along the River Lot, then gradually headed uphill. Not much mud. Seemed to be half-way up in no time.

Spring was in evidence along the way
though winter still held other trees in its firm grip also.

It was a much warmer day and later I walked in t-shirt and shorts
and had a long lunch with my socks off
that my feet loved.
I loved this whole area
so little touristed and so very picturesque.

I found the roof lines enchanting
and was distracted looking at the buildings
all along the way!
Golinhac is in a superb position
sitting on the top of a cliff
with an uninterrupted view of the land below.

I can't believe I never took a photo of the scene...
I think it was so awe-inspiring
I felt that a photo simply could not capture it
and I didn't want to take a small segment
that simply couldn't reflect the whole.

I was lucky in Golinhac too.
I went to the camping ground that has a very nice gite building.
But the lovely lady who ran the place
didn't want to put me in a gite that was to be full of men that night
who would probably snore.
She gave me a room in a chalet for the same price!
-with my own bed in my own room, and my own shower,
and later I had company of a couple in the other room of the chalet.

There was good company in Golinhac too
afternoon tea with two French women I had seen in several places
a long talk with a Swiss guy on 'my' chalet deck-
he had already walked 750km from home!
and a welcoming group of men to share the evening meal with.

Day 13: 26 April- Golinhac to Conques

I had quickly come to love this departement of France
Aveyron
the landscapes gentle and dramatic at the same time.
I breakfasted with the two French women
then it was time to leave the dramatic setting of Golinhac behind
to traverse other attractive pieces of countryside
up and down hill to pretty villages
like Espeyrac
and Senergues where I had lunch
and chatted with an older German man who had also left from Le Puy. (I didn't really see him again, until one day near O'Cebreiro, nearly at the end!)

It became very warm as I walked after lunch
difficult to walk in the heat
and hard to believe I had been in snow
just a week before.
I passed the German group who were singing hymns in a small church.

It was a big descent into Conques
down a rocky path
and the monastery lay quite hidden in its valley
until I was quite near.
Somehow arriving here, after two weeks walking
I felt I had become a pilgrim
who belonged
rather than just a walker.

Conques was a beautiful place to wander in
with steep streets and so many old houses
I had missed out on sleeping in the monastery though;
being a weekend, I was told it was 'full' when I rang
but I discovered later that they keep some places
for walkers who turn up with packs on their backs.
Never mind, if the same happens to you,
the gite communal was actually a pleasant place newly redecorated
and I had good conversation there with others
who I saw over the next few days,
and my most urgent need
after walking in the heat of this afternoon
was a good shower
which the gite provided!

I went to hear the office sung at 18:30
only a small group of priests
but people were able to join in and take part
and the sounds rose in the narrow church
angelic sounds.
Then at 21.30 there was a concert
(by a visiting group who were also starting as pilgrims,)
another taste of heaven.

Day 14: 27 April - Conques -Rest Day

I had heard that Conques was a very special place
and had always intended to have a rest day here.
As it turned out,
arriving for a rest day on Sunday was perfect timing
as many came to sing in the church
and the acoustics
were like heaven
from another age.
I woke early and walked down to the bottom of the valley
down the steep street to the bridge
and was pleased to find my fitness had improved
and I never found the ascent too taxing.
I visited the chapel of St Roch
then went to Mass where the music was sublime.
In this narrow tall church
voices just blended.
Then I explored a little
seeing buildings from different angles
before finding some shade in the cloister
where I wrote postcards.
A choir from Marseille had come to sing
and enjoy listening to their own music
in this church
and a soloist sang Ave Maria.
I just sat quietly and enjoyed the pleasure of the sounds.
The day got hotter and hotter
until the inevitable happened.
I was in the church listening to vespers
when the lights went out
and thunder boomed.
I think that perhaps lightning had hit the steeple,
then the rain poured down.
No sitting outside and watching the world go by this evening!

Day 15: 28 April- Conques to Livinhac-en-Haut

Quite a day this one!
It started with the inevitable climb out of the valley that held Conques.
(I had already adopted the mantra
'to every descent there is an equal and opposite ascent'.)
That climb was steepish in parts but not as hard as I had feared.
It passed through beautiful bush
and reached the chapel of Sainte Foy
an old place of pilgrimage
with a great view back to Conques.
At this stage it was only 'spitting'.

I decided to take the Noaihac variant along the road
as great views were promised of the Lot valley
but the weather gods soon began to laugh at my hopes
and the whole valley soon became shrouded in mist.
And oh dear
I became immersed in a thunderstorm
high up above the valley along this road
no shelter in view.
Have you ever walked in the countryside
looking at forked lightning in the sky all around you?
Kind of scary.

But a low point of a different kind was about to overshadow this day.
I got diarrhoea!
I was able to change once when I came to a public toilet in a village
but later it was just too wet to change again
and I had to put up with it.
Not nice at all!

There was a huge descent to make
and another huge ascent through the industrial city of Decazeville.
I would have ordinarily stopped here and changed my plans
but I knew the holiday of May 1st was looming
and I didn't like my chances of making new gite reservations...
so I carried on...
It was too wet to stop.
Somewhere up on high there was a beautiful village church
with a friendly man inside keen to display its details
like a scallop shell frieze
but I reluctantly left as I didn't want to get cold by stopping
and my French wasn't quite up to explaining that I had had a problem
and really needed to change my clothes again....

It was a muddy tricky descent to Livinhac
and I didn't realise I could have taken an alternative road route.
That was not the only alternative I missed:
it was too wet to examine the Miam Miam Dodo maps properly
and I missed the whole high-level route that avoided the huge descent/ascent into Decazeville!
I could only groan when I realised that several days later!!

However, the day was about to get better.
There was a warm welcome in the gite, La Magnanerie,
where I slept in the historic tower
that used to house silk worms.
I showered,
all my dirty clothes were washed,
and ample drying racks were out for everyone's wet things.
The trials of the day slipped away as I relaxed in the warm welcome of the gite.

And it turned out there was a warm welcome for pelerins
in this parish
and they were just getting underway for the season.
There were drinks, something to eat
and a pin to place on the map with where I came from,
Kiwis as always a novelty.
Two priests from Conques had also come here for the afternoon
a quick trip in the car for them
a long hard day's walk in the rain for me!

We reserved to go to the camping ground for dinner
and given the weather
they came to collect us in the car!
I sat with good company on one side
people from my own gite
but on the other was a rigid, critical German lady
who expressed indignation at how much longer I had taken than her
to walk the distance from Le Puy.
Fortunately she was not the 'normal' person you met along the Chemin
and in any case, I was in for the 'long haul'
and had deliberately walked slowly to start with
to walk myself in
then had two lovely rest days, one for blisters and one to enjoy Conques.
Speed is not all.

Ahhhh so you have had to read a long post this day
with complaints and not much in the way of photos
because my camera spent most of the day buried safely away from the wet
in the depths of my pack!

Day 16: 29 April- Livinhac-en-haut to Figeac

Fortunately, today dawned as a finer day
and even though there was mud on the path in places
that told the story of yesterday's rain,
spring abounded and brought its joy.
I always loved seeing chooks close at hand.
When I returned to New Zealand I needed to declare that I had been 'near farm animals'.
I look so 'ordinary', not the sort to wander 1500km
so it seemed like they checked my shoes for agriculture almost reluctantly! But on this walk, the farm animals do at times join you along the road, along the track...
Another church, Saint Felix,
and some more seats for a lunch stop
with some people I really enjoyed talking to,

then I joined them along the road for a few kilometres
until their pace became too fast for me.
At this stage of the walk I sometimes became sad
when people I wished I could talk with some more
were only part of my walk for such a short time
but I guess I grew used to the fact that that was part of the Chemin.

There was more beauty to see, more abundant wildflowers

and along the path to Figeac, these "beehive" shaped buildings began to appear, something for the shepherds I think.
But the path to Figeac seemed to go on and on and on-
you can see houses from Figeac appearing below this 'beehive'-
but it always seemed to be another "4km" away according to the signs
talk about the scenic route gone mad!!
Those who had taken the short-cut to avoid Figeac had some wisdom it seemed!
-though in fact I enjoyed wandering some of the interesting old city
after I had arrived and rested and had my shower...

Day 17: 30 April- Figeac to Camping Pech Ibert

After two longer days of 25km+ or so, I found it easy to choose a 'short' day when I realised it was 30km to Cajarc
and on examination of Miam Miam Dodo I found a rural alternative
in the form of a camping ground, Camping Pech Ibert
where you could rent just a place for one cheaply enough.
In the event, when I arrived and found I could rent a whole chalet for myself for a very reasonable rate, I did that!

The people in the hotel in Figeac had taken photos to illustrate a shorter route back onto the Chemin, 4km shorter without the scenic diversions through the city that most of us had already explored the afternoon before....
It meant going steeply uphill for a short while, but suddenly we were back on the Chemin...

There was a spring shower or two en route
but the heavy spring showers waited until I had arrived at the camping ground,
and I enjoyed lying on my bed looking out the window as the rain fell
glad that I was not walking in it this afternoon!
My washing dried in the sunshine between showers on my own terrace on my chalet then I finished it off with the heating in the chalet, -great to know I will have dry socks for the morning.

Strangely, I was the only pelerin here this evening
strange not to have company
but it gave me a chance to reflect on the journey so far
and the people I had met.

I was the only one for dinner.
The camping lady kindly rang ahead for Friday
trying to reach a communal gite I had failed to reach by phone.
She also only got an answerphone
but emphasised in her message that I was a 'dame toute seule'
and I felt sure already that I would have a bed
even though it would be a busy holiday weekend...

Day 18: 1 May- Pech Ibert to Cajarc

I was given my own tray of things for breakfast,
so I could leave whenever I was ready...
The day started with mist, but gradually became sunnier and quite warm so that the paths shaded by trees were welcome.

I passed this lamp-post
"Joy isn't in things, it is in us"
which I was to "see" again
when I reached the "Irish" gite in Moissac,
as their computer desktop picture,
though their version was lit by more sun I think
not mist as on this morning.

Maybe it is a thought that everyone who walks a while
comes to believe and treasure-
as the people each day,
those around and those remembered from home,
and the environment,
are realised to be
the important things in life.

My fascination with the roof-lines in this area continued
though the verdant moss on this stone wall I also loved.

The landscape was changing as I approached Cajarc
flatter hills lower lines and more trees.

This was a land that also had its ancient stories hidden in the stones,
and the track passed by this dolmen.

This is but one version of the photo-
there is also a version with me in it,
taken by one person in a French group
whose path I was to often cross over the coming days-
but as the blog-author I get to suppress photos of me if I wish!
But I thank Annie
for her continued interest and e-mails as I progressed
which meant so much from a fellow walker
and I hope to hear of your group's next stage in 2009!
It was a steepish, rocky descent into Cajarc,
as the town lay in a basin surrounded by cliffs
and in the heat, I was glad to arrive
to the gite Le Pelerin
which was an absolute haven of kindness.
I was given a bed in a lower room
and it looked straight out the door
over this garden to the cliffs beyond.
I stripped off my shoes and socks, raised my legs up onto a pillow
and lay there to relax
with a wonderful sense of well-being.

Day 19: 2 May- Cajarc to Limogne-en-Quercy

18km seemed like a short stretch by now
and I liked to notice the 'little things' as I passed.

The landscape was flatter, with limestone outcrops along the way,
and trees abounded, clothed in spring leaves,
providing welcome shade in what became a warmer day.
The only thing spoiling my calm was the fact this was a holiday weekend and I wasn't sure whether I had a reservation in the gite communale or not.
I arrived to see a note on the door that it was 'complet'
but then found my name on a bedroom door.
Ahhhh.... and I got to share with three lovely ladies
two of whom I had seen before.
We laughed a lot, that special French joie-de-vivre that they had
though later there was fear of top bunks mixed in with the laughter.
The good thing about only four women in the room - no snoring.
The bad thing about only four women in the room - top bunks!

Day 20: 3 May- Limogne-en-Quercy to Vaylats

It was an easy day's walk to Vaylats through more forest, nearly flat,
though the day became very warm by lunchtime.

There was another dolmen to see, just a little off the track.....

And in the village of Varaire there was a 'lavoir' to view
where you could almost imagine the women of old
slaving over laundry with cold icy hands.
I have seen a few of these lavoirs - French women always draw attention to them-
there is something about the hardships these washerwomen suffered....

The welcome was very warm at the convent of Vaylats
with a lay hospitalero taking me to my room
very comfortable, all to myself

and with a view of the interior courtyard
grandeur from days gone by.
The convent seems to be a large part of the reason for the village.
The parish church, unusually for France, was closed
when I went exploring briefly
but the afternoon became too warm for walking
and I hid under a shady tree until nearly dinnertime.
A couple from the US provided some excitement in the heat
when a local farmer delivered them to the convent doors
on his tractor!

Day 21: 4 May- Vaylats to Cahors

Today I was heading back to where it all started two years ago - Cahors. It was at the hostel in Cahors where I had met so many people doing the pilgrimage, including one woman whose absolute joy at walking shone on her face. Plus I had stumbled onto the walk at the point where it began climbing the cliff, and had been enchanted with the countryside. So the germ of an idea was born.... And it was a hot day in early May then too so I should have known what might have been in store....

The day began with a good breakfast at the convent, then I made good progress for the next two hours while it remained coolish. But then the forest gave way to a motorway underpass, and I regained a little of a world of speed.... and was exposed to heat.

There was a long plateau section above Cahors where there was not much in the way of shelter. Nor was there anywhere to get more water... and it became very warm.

This was a day when I had a lot of contact with Francoise and Roger, and they turned out to be guardian angels. After lunch, I ran out of water in the unexpected heat. Somehow or other it seems that we met a local who discovered we were low on water... he returned and gave my angels some water. They ran in the heat to catch up to me to share the water...cold fresh water.... Their kindness in giving me the water was every bit as restorative as the water itself.

It was a very steep descent on the final road section down to Cahors, possibly the steepest descent of the whole trip. But once across the bridge, there was a warm welcome from two women in the little pilgrim's reception office, who gave help with finding/ booking accommodation, and provided very welcome cool drinks on this hot day.

At the Cathedral also there was a table to welcome pilgrims and give information and support. I got to speak in English with an Englishman recently settled in Cahors....

Day 22: 5 May- Cahors to Domaine des Mathieux

Today was a very short day... only 5.5km. But it was also a day that I met two people who I ended up walking into Santiago with...
The reason for the short day was simple.... I couldn't get a booking in Lascabanes and I didn't want to walk 30+km to Montcuq. Apparently there is quite often a bit of a 'bottleneck' getting accommodation out of Cahors. (It is a common 'starting place', and most of those 'starting', rather than already on the trail, will have booked their first night out from Cahors before leaving home...)

So I had some time to explore Cahors in the morning, and use the Post Office etc. Being a Monday morning though, most places were closed... and then the rain began.

I had taken photos of the bridge from the lookout above Cahors two years ago, in brilliant sunshine. Today I was just lucky there was enough of a break in the rain to see the bridge!

I enjoyed the walk from Cahors, a trip down memory lane, and I still seemed to remember so many of the turnings along the road...The climb up the cliff was shorter than I remembered, though trickier this time with a full pack on. I was soon back at the Cross de Magne. There were red poppies in the fields again, but this time instead of being open in the sunshine, they were closed in the rain.

I arrived before lunch at Domaine des Mathieux, and was warmly greeted by a kind hospitalero. The rain began pelting down so I didn't mind not walking any further this day....

There was a sign saying it was 350km from Le Puy - a good reason for a small celebration in my heart. The sleeping rooms all had 'names' so I chose to sleep in 'Le Puy en Velay', a fitting room name to mark this achievement.
And it wasn't just humans who found the rain hard going on this day....

Day 23: 6 May- Domaine des Mathieux to Montcuq

One advantage of a good gite can be local knowledge about tracks, and we were told of an old hunting track that would avoid a climb in the muddy conditions....

There were some beautiful spiderwebs along the way that told a story of overnight rain
but today rain only threatened and the low cloud just remained grey.
There was a small amount of mud in the morning, nothing major,
and the 17km stretch to Lascabanes passed quickly.
There I joined Lyne and Denis on a seat for lunch
the first of what were to be many shared meals along the way.

One of the special things about walking in France was the little Romanesque chapels you would meet along the way, nearly always open, so you could pop in for some quiet thoughts.

The afternoon walk was about 9km to Montcuq, and after the quick progress I had made in the morning, I was expecting it to be a hop, skip and a jump away...

but mud intervened,
thick, sticky claggy mud
that clung to your boots
and weighed down each step.
Yuk!
I slipped and slid along the farm tracks.
Doesn't this one just look so innocuous and simple to walk along? Not!
But the "Dds", a French couple I was to see a lot of over coming weeks until Viana, were also negotiating this terrain, and there was someone to laugh with
as we cursed the way we had to 'ski' along in the thick mud.
La Soleillou was another welcoming gite...
and soon the mud was gone from me and my shoes....

Day 24: 7 May- Montucq to Lauzerte

After several quite 'flat' walking days, it was a shock to my system that I needed to climb quite a bit today, up and down on rolling farmland.

The nature of the landscape is changing, and there is heavy cultivation in this area, with a lot of wheat and other crops. The sight of a church steeple behind a crop of wheat is one that was familiar to me from when I cycled in the Loire....
There was some wind today as well, and the pattern that it made on the wheatfields was quite distracting....
Suddenly the town of Lauzerte appeared, in the heat of a hot day, on top of a steep hill. Oh no! - after a morning of quite strenuous walking I suddenly never felt quite up to it. Ahhhh, but there was a restaurant at the bottom of the hill. It was a delicious meal, and they didn't even mind my muddy shoes... And after a meal, the climb was easy.

There was a lovely, relaxed welcome at 'Les Figuiers', which remains high on my list for best places to stay. The couple whose home it was were very natural and genuine, and I loved it there. The gite was fully booked and I got to sleep in a bedroom in the house itself... one of several times being a single woman walking on my own brought such a treat. Michel also spent some time in the evening helping me try to sort out some onward reservations: I had thought I was very clever knowing that May 8 was a holiday, and managing to book in Moissac for 8-9 May - but what I hadn't realised was that the whole long weekend from Thursday to Monday was a holiday.......!!! If you come to France in May, you have to be sure when all the holidays are...

There was time for some exploration of Lauzerte, a medieval town that begged to be explored. And having climbed its ramparts, the views back down onto the surrounding cultivated countryside weren't half-bad either!


Postscript: By the way folks, before I forget...you don't stay in the gite communale in Lauzerte... there has been a longstanding problem with bedbugs there that they don't seem to be doing anything about.... Next day in my gite in Moissac they were involved in preventative action with anyone who had stayed in the gite communale in Lauzerte... their packs were put into plastic bags.... they had help to wash all their clothing... and they were not able to use any of their own bedding... Apparently they physically see the bugs leaving the packs that have been in that gite....