Tuesday, 4 April

The train from Lyon to Le Puy on Monday was a joy, as far as train travel goes: quite new and clean and comfortable: diesel engines and quiet with a very smooth ride, especially over the many points.   And the countryside was “busy” for the first hour with many villages and smaller settlements ending at Saint Etienne.  Then into the Loire valley : yes, the same Loire that enters the Atlantic near Brittany I don’t know how many hundreds of kilometres away.  So we are clear, this is called Haute Loire.  In the valley there are around 12 villages and we stop at each one.  The valley is quite narrow with a lot of civil engineering to cross the rivers and streams and to prevent rocks and trees falling onto the track.  It must seem barren in winter as the trees were just beginning to get a green tinge from new growth and a white blossom on shrubs.

On arrival navigation to my booked gite is straight forward: it is behind the Cathedral and this is the highest and tallest building in town, so just climb up the cobbled streets once away from the area near the station. This gite was once a seminary and has more than 100 individual rooms (or cells), and I am on the third floor with ceilings at least three metres high: looking on the bright side this can only be good exercise and a continuation of my training.  Twelve pilgrims sit down for the three course  evening meal is plain but filling and with simple flavour. And an ample quantity of vin ordinaire rouge. And I slept well past 7 am!!!

At breakfast there are but two of us: with a (very) little French from me, better English from him and some made up sign language we have a conversation of sorts.

My first task is to climb, with a persistent rain, for about 10 minutes to the base of a statue of Mary and the child Jesus.  Not wishing to find out how rusty the railings might be preventing one from falling down to the start point, if not further, I venture inside the stone base and climb up to the start of the statue only to find a circular stairway. At each of three landings there are open shutters and grand vantage points for photographs.

Down to and through the cathedral (built between 10th and 12th centuries in an apparently continuous simple style) to find the normal weekday Mass about to start. Even though a week day, Mass is not Mass without music and a Sister provides, wonderfully, by voice alone.  I wish the larger churches in my home town could have the canon sung by the people on weekdays.

My second task is to find my way out of town towards my first stopping point.  I do an amazing job (or so I think) of following the markers: firstly the bronze cockle shells set into the footpath and later the white bar over a red bar that is the blaze mark for the chemin de Saint-Jacques details Compostelle. But after nearly 2 km they peter out on a road with no side roads.  Thankfully for the well used offline mapping system on my tablet I find I am not on the recognised route but also that it is only about 500 metres ahead. On gaining the way I encounter a woman (from French speaking southern Switzerland) whose intention is for a relatively short and slow first day.  In the chat we find we are both focused on (Santiago de) Compostelle, but “not today”.  I return the way I should have come and find the error of my way finding.

Six pelerin for dinner: three bound for Compostelle and three from Nice: they had left on Holy Friday on a religious exercise and begin their return on Wednesday.

And so to bed for an early night.

Except to wake about 23h: to help the return to sleep I write this blog.  It is now 01h and I want to be up about 05h to finish packing, have breakfast, go to the pilgrims Mass at 01h and begin the big adventure.