A reflection - why am I doing this

In the week after leaving Le-Puy-en-Velay (in central southern France) and the emotions I felt as I was about to leave the Cathedral after the pilgrims Mass, I often reflected on why was I here.

I knew the mechanical bits off pat. Following her last diagnosis in January 2012  Ibegan walking to help with a  (over) weight issue.  Then ,  as Cathy and I talked about what I would do when she was no longer with me ,  she suggested my doing a full pilgrimage to add to the short one I had done in 2010.

The training walks now had an edge to them as I trialled equipment and trained my head as much as my body.  Kath Rushton (completed a pilgrimage across Northern Spain in 2011) observed several times that my pilgrimage would be the most planned ever .

Cathy died (very peacefully) in November 2014 and in early 2015 neighbours began asking when I would do my walk, as they had noticed my coming back after a training walk.  But 2015 was to settle Cathy's affairs and for me to settle my route.  With the support of my co-executor (Tony, one of Cathy's nephews) we reached practical completion of the former) by mid-year.

About the same time I considered starting from Le Puy through the blog created by Margaret Riordan, a friend of one of Cathy's friends, Trish Harris.  In September I met Margaret and her observations made me decide to start from there.

Shortly before I left a neighbour and priest, John Carden observed I was setting out on a great adventure.  While agreeing with him in general terms, I have found in so many different ways just how big an adventure this is.

That is all the how, which, what, where and when stuff.

As part of our preparation Cathy wrote me a note asking that her body be cremated and for her ashes to stay with me.  I told I would take a small amount with me . And at the pilgrims Mass at Le Puy I held those in my hand throughout.

In the days following I have been conscious of the purpose of my pilgrimage and continually hope and pray my body and my head will continue to have the strength to fulfill our purpose.

day 27 – draft
Monday, 2 May 2016
Uhart-Mixte  to  Saint-Jean-pied-de-port
24 km today - 733  km to date

Isabella, my hostess at the gite named 'Lescargot says because of the big trucks I  should not walk on the road that passes through the village.  She is so nice about it I take her advice traffic.  She shows me to the local track that will get me on the GR65 and gives me a French kiss farewell.

This track is nice and steep and sealed and I make good progress.  There are wonderful vistas.  I arrive at Ostabat and pause for coffee, having said the morning office in the open church.  Back on the road and pass several dairy farms, at least thats what they look like, but I cannot see a milking shed.  The area looks prosperous with nearly all houses looking neat and tidy with the customary shutters painted deep red or light blue.

When I can get back on the main road.  By now it is straight with a wide space between the white line and the edge of the seal.  Encounter the village of Gamarthe and as I need a loo stop pause at the large restaurant busy setting up for the lunch trade for a
coffee.  A short distance on there is a cheese factory with a tasting room and which should be open.  While the lights are on there is no sign of life inside and the door doesn't open.  I am not the only one disappointed.

Back on the road for another 3 or 4 km when a car pulls up at an intersection about 100 metres ahead and a man starts walking towards me.  When we close up I recognise Jack from my second night with Anne at Moissac  He has suffered an injury that prevents him from continuing and his wife has acted as salvor.  In the chat I cadge a ride to Saint-Jean.  On the home stretch the car stops again as Jack has seen Serge and Michel as he had also encountered them on the way.

The arrival at aSaint-Jean is in grand style.  And I am amazed / astonished by the hordes of people thronging not only the cobbled street through the original town but also the restaurants on the outskirts.  The parish gite that Isabella had rung ahead for me that morning doesn't open for a while and nor does the Pilgrims Office. I take the time to visit the church and the start point for the next morning.

Jan from Holland is very helpful at the Pilgrims Office and I weigh my pack -  8kg.  So it is more than 1 kg over my target weight.  Nothing too serious but I need to take the opportunity to do something about it.

The gite is good and dinner is at 2015 so pilgrims can go to Mass and the pilgrims blessing at 19h30.  There are about 20 present, of which five come forward for the blessing.
Dinner is good with two from Croatia who speak English.


And so to bed.

day 26 – draft
Sunday, 1 May 2016
Navarrenx to Uhart-Mixte
29 km today - 713  km to date

At breakfast I meet a couple who arrived yesterday from Lourdes. They are spending  a week going the other way. Their first two days will be about 15 km each.

And I encounter Marlene again. As her intentions for the day don't match mine and as she is stopping at Saint-Jean we farewell one another.

I make slow progress to Aroue, about 18 km from Navarrenx. All the churches I pass are locked. Even at Aroue, despite the Angelus bell ringing the customary pattern at midday this church is also locked.


I catch up with the GR65 pathway near Olhaiby Chapel.  The way goes through remarkable changeable country. At ons point I encounter a mob of about 100 sheep, both rams and ewes. They look as though they have been recently shorn but seem very light weight although bigger than lambs would be at two or three months. They are curious about me and turn to face me as I approach, and even push forward a bit.  I take my leave and continue up the hill.  At the top I encounter a mob of sheep in a paddock and I stop to observe them. They have some wool but it seems to stop naturally halfway down their sides. Again, as soon as they notice me they saunter down to the fence line, curious as were the others.

Time is marching on and I check where I am: I am not on the GR65.  Using the marvellous feature of my offline mapping app, I make my way towards where I want to be, Ostabat. All up I have walked more km today than indicated.

There are two of us in the gite tonight. Christian is from near Nuremberg in Germany. He has cycled from his home and by the next night expects to be in Pamplona, about 120 km away.

And so to bed.

day 25 – draft
Saturday, 30 April 2016
Arthez-de-Bearn  to  Navarrenx
29 km today - 677 km to date

Breakfast is do it yourself in the municipal gite.  Yesterday had some views of the pyrenees: today there is none as it is a murky low cloud day.  And shortly after I set off the rain sets in.  I am on the road today and will be nowhere near the pathway.  Then the wind picks up. I make my first way point in quite good time and so onto my stop for lunch, Mourenx. As I approach the town centre I pass an advertising hoarding for Renault cars offering a good pack(age) with some forwards either side of the car and a half-back offloading to another. Clearly I'm in rugby country.


Mourenx has an open market so most of my fruit lunch is quickly bought.  Then for some coffee.  While Mourenx has a town centre there is no real shopping that I can see.


I move on and after about 3 km both  a strong wind quickly followed by heavy rain sets in.   I am caught unaware and cannot deploy my poncho.  Getting wet and cold is not my idea of an enjoyable time and I thumb for a ride.  My luck is eventually in and  a woman with a car that has seen better days stops.  As soon as she understands where I am from she proceeds to do “the” haka while the car steers itself.


I arrive safely in Navarrenx and order the pilgrims meal at the restaurant I have been dropped outside.


Book myself in at the municipal gite and do not have an evening meal.

And so to bed.

day 24 – draft
Friday, 29 April 2016
Arzacq-Arraziguet  (Arsac-Arrasigui)  to  Arthez-de-Bearn
28 km today - 648 km to date

Coffee in cups today.  The gite has a school party staying as well.

I take the road all the way as I hear the pathway is still rocky and uneven.

I pause for a pleasant lunch at the newly built mairie (town offices) and near where a travelling circus looks as though it is about to set up.  The rest of the day is uneventful.

Pull up the hill to Arthez to find the town strung along a ridge. Buy some paracetamol and some food to cook for dinner in the communal gite.  Here  I meet Gerhart (probably in his mid thirties) from near  Nuremberg in upper Germany.  He tells me he was four years a private in the German army where he met Edgar, his walking companion and a former general.  Marlene is here (first met at Beduer over two weeks ago) as she was last night at Arzacq.  Eating together is good.

During my walk about the town come to the town plaza with views west to the Pyrenees.  I take photos but the distance and the cloud behind don't make good images.  There's always tomorrow.

And so to bed.

day 23 – draft
Thursday, 28 April 2016
Aire-sur-'lAdour to Arzacq-Arraziguet  (Arsac-Arrasigui)
34 km today - 620 km to date

Coffee in large bowls and other stuff for breakfast and off.

It is brilliant weather, but not too hot.   I stay with the road again and shortly go around a marvellous bush with much under growth, almost New Zealand like except there is no variety of trees.  After this through farmland (agriculture and not sheep and cattle) on farm tracks and service roads to Miramount-Sensacq.  This village as with the towns of Gondrin several days ago is rugby country as I see posters for the Bearn regional final in the local stade in two days time. After saying the morning office in the neat and tidy church back on the road.

This is literally up hill and down dale with yet more dense bush: wonderful to behold.  I  pause at the top of one rise and find a quiet place to have a lie down.

With about 10 km to go I take the official way and it has a good surface.  But about 3 km out the heat gets to me again and I get a ride to the towns edge.  There is a municipal gite.  It is new, clean and tidy and I am to be in the Australie set.  Dinner is good.

And so to bed.

day 22 – draft
Wednesday, 27 April 2016
Manciet  to  Aire-sur-'lAdour
38 km today - 584 km to date

Mathieu does a good breakfast and I am off as it is a long way today.  I follow the road to Nogaro where I stop for coffee and look inside a well laid out church, then on.

Again  I take the road as it is more direct than the official path and has more consistent surface and grades.  I am conscious of my left leg foot and have tied the laces two holes down from the top.

Nothing of moment to see or stop for.

About 4 km from the target the heat of the day gets to me and I hitch a ride to the cathedral.  After saying the evening office I decide to try a gite on the way out of town: it is no longer working so go further up the hill to the chapel of a seminary. Here  I encounter Florian, the electronics engineer I met on the first day coming out of Le Puy.

The gite uses all of the large chapel.  It is bigger than many parish churches and is  a restoration project open to the public.  The entrance lobby looks as though it was a vestry / sacristy while the bedroom on the opposite side may have had a similar purpose. It now has eight beds. Tonight we are seven men and one woman, all of mature years.  Dinner is good but no conversation for me.

And so to bed.

day 21 – draft
Tuesday, 26 April 2016
Eauze to Manciet - sort of
10 km today - 546 km to date

Farewell Mike as Marie-France has oferred to drive me to Manciet in the afternoon as she has business there.  More ice,  another walk around the town and an attempt at my daily blogs.  Then off.  By car.

The trip is not long by car and soon Marie-Frame, Mathieu and I are enjoying his hospitality at the gite I had booked into two nights before.  With Marie-France's and my presence our explanation for my own non-appearance is quickly not an issue.  I look around the village and find at least two groups playing petanque and beyond them something that looks like a bull ring but is far too small.

We each cook our own dinner and Mathieu provides a desert.  in the chat I learn he had been a professional rugby player.  An enjoyable evening.

And so to bed.

day 20 – draft
Monday, 25 April 2016 (ANZAC Day)
Eauze - at rest - sort of
00 km today - 536 km to date

Watched Serge and Michel get ready and go as I lazily go through breakfast.  Get ready and go to the nearest doctor, who is just across the street.  No receptionist and we informally organise who is next ourselves.  Marie-France, the gite owner comes in to see me and she talks and I nod.  My turn at last and I meet a very pleasant middle aged man.   We converse as best we can: he examines me and I do my best to answer his questions.  in the end he gives me  a script for an anti-inflammatory and gives me a fulsome note of what I am to do,   I pay him directly 23 Euro, get the mess for 2. 99 Euro and go back to the gite to place ice around the distracting area.

After a while of doing I that decide to look around Eauze.  The biggest find is The Tresor of Eauze:  a hoard of some 30,000 plus coins from when an area adjoining the present town had been a Roman city. It was estimated the value of the coins was enough to pay at least 100 farm labourers for a  year.  Not only coins but about 20 pieces of jewellery, most of which women of today would choose to wear.

Back to the gite and more ice and an attempt to write more daily blogs.

Just me and Christianne, from near Montreal, Quebec, for dinner, so English can be spoken.  Mike, an American from Aransas, is cooking his own dinner but joins us for aperitif and desert.

And so to bed.

day 19 – draft
Sunday, 24 April 2016
Larressingle to Manciet Eauze
28 km today - 536 km to date

This day starts well. No navigation issues.  Cross the Pont d'Antigues and not much later notice a pathway crossing the road I am on.  I check my offline map and see it is a named pathway and that it takes a series of gentle curves towards my next destination. And it is brilliant to walk on: it is level, sealed and passes through forest/bush and passes over or under all the next roads I meet.  I find it was once a railway line.

I “alight” at the town of Gondrin where the church is locked but find an open air market underway so buy somke kiwi and banana.  And notice Gondrin has a rugby team.

About this time I begin to feel pain at the front of my right leg, where it joins the foot.  After about 5 km of the 20 km to Manciet the pain is too distracting.  After a while I get a lift to Eauze.  This is with a male driver and two women in their late 30s in the front of a people mover and two children and a small dog in the back. They are not totally familiar with gite arrangement in the town so the driver asks a conveniently nearby policeman who tells me to go to the Tourism Office.  I get there to find they are closed on Sunday.I turn around to see my rescuers have parked close by, beside the central church.  The driver helps me again by ringing the first gite that the guide says English is spoken, and takes me there.  Now it is I find the owner does not speak English at all so we communicate by typing words into Google translate on my tablet.  At last we agree I will stay two nights and get medical advice the next morning, Monday.

I go back to the church and find my rescuers just arriving as well : they offer me coffee and tell me they are a flutist, a soprano and an organist who also plays the harpsichord and they are putting on a concert that afternoon and will I come.

I do go and hear about a dozen items from almost as many composers from around the time of J S Bach.


Dnner is marvellous, cooked by mine host, Marie-France with two other walkers, Serge and Michel Louchard from Lille. Compared to other meals this is a tour de force and lasts for three hours.  Fortunately for me, Serge has some English.

And so to bed.

day 18 – draft
Saturday, 23 April 2016
Marsolan to Larressingle
33 km today - 508 km to date

Despite carefully reading the map I successfully, yet again, head off in completely the wrong direction.  After a correction I am soon on the road to La Romieu and arrive well before 10 am.

La Romieu is an ancient small village with an imposing (by comparison) church built in the early 1300s.  It was the foundation of a man who had, in turn, held the offices of abbot, diocesan bishop, metropolitan of France (and cardinal) and then chancellor  (chief executive) of the Vatican and kept that show going for two years between the death of one pope and the election of the successor.  During some of this time he was also confessor to the then queen of England, as this part of the world was ruled by the King of England at that time.  Shortly after the election of the successor pope our man retired and set up a college of 14 priests to live in community but with “secular“ rules.  Both the church and its cloisters are stunning more than 700 years on.

I got a fair bit of the way to my lunch stop of Condom (yes you did read that right) when it started to rain.  I had deployed my poncho and walked for about 5 minutes when a car stopped and offered me a ride  (he had already picked up my gite companion from Marsolan): I accepted quickly and we were in Condom about 12h30.  The church is open so go and say the morning office.

Across the square I find a bar, which is where you get coffee, and eat kiwi and banana I had bought at La Romieu.  And, shock horror, I leave forgetting to put some money beside my cup.  Leaving this town is easier than Lectoure, even though it is well above the bridge over the river.

While it is still early the 5 km to my stop for the night seems to take for ever and a pain is developing on the front of my right leg where it joins the foot.  The gite is a kilometre the other side of the village: it seems purpose built and quite new and the many well meant rules cut across the initial enjoyment.

Larressingle was once a small castle keep and fascinating church both within high walls: there are also some domestic buildings.

There are ten of us in the gite for dinner, including an American couple from the west coast.  And we have a singing competition.

And so to bed.

day 17 – draft
Friday, 22 April 2016
Saint Antoine to Marsolan
33 km today - 478 km to date

Breakfast is set out early and I am down by about 6h30 with a start just after 7h.

I follow the GR 65 and almost immediately wish I hadn't: slippery mud and stoney surfaces, so back to the road as soon as I can. The town of Miradoux provides a mid morning coffee break and then back on the road.

The cathedral town of Lectoure comes up about 12h30.  Being Saturday it is market day with the stalls taking over the main street.  My arrival time is also about closing time for the market, but I am able to buy some bananas and kiwi fruit for lunch.  Other walkers arrive and one couple take a photo of her and then him so my offer to photograph them together is appreciated, and they reciprocate.

After lunch, down through the town to a bridge over the River Gers.  The river is about 50 metres below the town and the road down is very steep.  This may have put pressure on the right ankle joint that causes problems in the days ahead.

Then a slow drag through country side for 9 km to the gite at Marsolan.  There are only two of us tonight.  The other, a woman born in France to Polish parents, given a German name (Rakelle, if I heard aright) and emigrated with her parents at a young age to Quebec, so we can talk.

And so to bed.

day 16 – draft
Thursday, 21 April 2016
Moissac to Auvillar Saint Antoine
30 km today - 445 km to date

Rather than take the more direct route from the gite I deliberately go through the town centre before heading west out of town for some more photo opportunities in the early morning light, and seem to get a good crop.

I am soon on the pathway: here it is on the left bank of the canal I walked along to the east of Moissac yesterday. And it goes on for 16 km with the railway from Toulouse to Bordeaux and a major road on the other side.  It is very relaxing with the pathway between the canal and large tall trees: my guess is these trees help stabilise the embankment on this side.  Not long after starting I pass a young woman from Paris: This is her first day.  After a while there is a very light drizzle but the trees soak it up and none hits the pathway.  But a younger man who had passed me while I had slowed up looking for a loo stop, stops to put on his wet weather gear.  He starts slightly ahead of me but I soon pass him.

At the 16 km mark the path crosses over to a village on the right bank: as it is time for a break I look for a bar (as they do the coffees) but nothing I pass is open.  So back over the Two Seas Canal a short way on and then continue on the same bridge over the mighty River Tarn and head towards my target of Auvillar about 4 km ahead.

The drizzle begins again in earnest and just as I decide to put my poncho on, an elderly car stops beside me (I am on the right hand side of the road) driven by an elderly man who asks if I would like a ride to Saint Antoine.  I know this is a town on the way after Auvillar and accept quickly.  We cross the mighty River Garonne (which is soon to be joined by the Tarn and some distance on pass Bordeaux on its way to the Atlantic Ocean).  The driver is a gem: rather than just go straight to Saint Antoine he deliberately circles around the (restored) around medieval covered market place and other parts of this town.  My driver is known to the gite manager at Saint Antoine and all is made smooth.

Some considerable time later the chap who I had passed arrives and has a place in the same dorm as me: his name is Damien.  He, I and two middle aged women staying in the gite have a pilgrim meal together in a restaurant 50 metres away.  Towards the end of the meal a British couple join us as they have been told there is an English speaking pilgrim wearing a kilt is there and we talk about Britain leaving the EU: they don't want it to happen as they have lived in France for more than 20 years.

And so to bed.

day 15 - draft
Wednesday, 20 April 2016
Moissac - rest day
00 km today - 406 km to date

When I arrived at La Petite Lumiere I had been walking for 14 days so I had booked in for two nights.  Partly to take the time to walk around the town but also to take some action about the 4th toe on the left foot.

So, I am last to breakfast and watch as our host, Anne, farewells her guests.  First away are the mother and daughter who return home today, after a fortnight walking.   I forget the order of the others as Anne takes care to chat about the things ahead.  I am fascinated at the relatively late hour that walkers seem to leave. They have 20 km to the next gite and will be walking in the heat of the day.  But that is their practice and I am sure it works for them.

As the town does not waken until about 10h, I read some more of the account of the jet ski trip around New Zealand while soaking my feet in water in my 10 litre wash basin. Then down into the town.

First is the Cluniac abbey.  Things seem pretty much as I would expect.  The monk's stalls are in the usual places and the mercy seat for each has the support decorated. What is missing is any form of enclosure to minimise drafts during the cold months, especially the screen that separates the monks from the townsfolk. I noticed the sanctuary was at the same level as the monks and the people.  This is similar to Westminster Abbey where there is one level from the west door through the nave, through the screen and the choir to the first step up to the sanctuary, but unlike most other abbey-cathedrals I have visited in England, where the choir is several steps higher than the nave and the sanctuary much higher again, as at Canterbury Cathedral.

Then wander through the town towards the canal bridge to the south east that Anne had suggested I visit.  This is not a bridge over a canal, rather it is a bridge for the Two Seas canal over the mighty river Tarn. And the bridge is magnificent.  It is about 300 metres long, has 4 metre wide footpaths on both sides and the canal itself must be about 20 metres wide, so two European canal boats can pass one another with ease. And these canal boats are humongous.  I see one approaching and, as there is a lock at the town end of the bridge decide to see how things are done.  As it comes closer I see the name on the front - Daisy.  As it draws close I see both a British flag and a woman on my side. When the woman is in hailing range I bid her “good morning,  Daisy” and guess from her reaction the boat is named after her.  When the boat is tied up during the descent down the lock I chat to the man: he retires next year and they plan to spend their years ahead on the European canals.

They move off towards Moissac and I start my return to the town also.  They pathways either side have a steady stream of people.  In the town I stop for a beer and return to the gite. Here I spend an idle afternoon trying to write up earlier days.

One guest, Jack, plus Anne and me for dinner.  Jack is French and has some English ,  so a bi-glot conversation between the three of us.

And so to bed

day 14 - draft
Tuesday, 19 April 2016
Lauzerte to Moissac
24 km today - 415 km to date

Breakfast at 7h and off about 7h30, but not very far to start with.  Just as I had photo graphed quite a few of the buildings late yesterday afternoon so I wanted to take as many as possible in the early morning light.

Eventually I leave Lauzerte shortly after 8h, again by road.  Up gentle hills and down the other side, and repeat several times.  And today just about all is on the left hand side facing the oncoming traffic.  For many days now I usually give a friendly wave of the hand, rather like saying “bon jour” if I was passing face to face.  To start with I would have about one in ten wave back.  By today I think I have perfected how soon before they will pass me to begin my wave as I have a very high “wave back” rate today.

Durfort-Capalette is about halfway and a good time for morning tea: bananas and a pinwheel pastry with sugar.  And yet another First World War memorial with some WWII  mentions and 19 March 1962 “fin guerre en Algerie”.

I make it to Moissac just after noon and encounter a “Lidl” super-marche”.  Must stop to examine this phenomenon and scoff a litre of a “multi-vitamin” fruit drink and another pinwheel pastry with.  This store, like most newer supermarkets is on the edge of the town so car parks can be provided.  No great surprise that some near the entrance are reserved for “familles avec enfants” but relatively staggered to see four reserved using the international blue signage for wheelchair users. Staggered because I have yet to see a wheelchair at all in more than 400 km or at either Charles de Gaulle airport or the large city of Lyon.  Staggered also because just about all the housing in the villages, towns and cities appear to have bedrooms above ground level.

I find the Tourisme Office and they direct to a new gite in the general direction of just a few hundred metres away.  After climbing a pathway to heaven to arrive at a statue listed simply as “La Vierge” but as my Roman Catholic friends would say “Mary, Queen of Heaven” with a coronet (and without the child Jesus cradled in her left arm), I find my gite for the next two nights. This is owned and operated by Anne, a refugee from Paris.  My arrival is timely as she has only one bed left for that night.  My wanting to stay two nights helps me secure a bottom bunk.

Two women arrive and we recognise each other from a previous gite.  With the help of the younger of the two we find we first met on the train from Lyon to Le Puy, then again at the gite in Sainte-Come d'Olt the following Sunday night.  My so called hiking kilt certainly makes me stand out, while for me it is a most comfortable garment in all weathers.

We are ten plus Anne for dinner, a grand meal indeed with a well braised lamb shank each plus all the usual varied delights I have come appreciate.  At dinner I refer to my Lidl car park observation but there does not seem to be any experience of wheelchair users and their support needs.

And so to bed.

day 13 - draft
Monday, 18 April 2016
Cahors to Montcuq Lauzerte
46 km today - 392 km to date

Breakfast at 7h and off about 7h30.  I know the bridge to leave Cahors is on the west side and about half way up the U shape the River Lot takes around the town.  As I start in the south west corner of the U, I head to the main street running north - south and encounter a large open area and also see a brass scallop shell set on the footpath pointing west.  This leads me to the Lot and I can see the bridge: it is magnificent.  I also encounter two chaps I had met at the monastery at Vaylats.

I lead the charge over the bridge (pedestrian traffic only) and the climb up a rocky cliff to a view of the town 100 metres below. Their rock climbing skills are better than mine and I soon loose sight of them.

Following yesterday's sighting of the GR 65 pathway, again I elect to walk on the road and make good progress to Trespoux-Rassieles where a Proxi store (a small well laid out mini-market) tempts me to have some bananas, a pinwheel pastry with sugar topping and a large black coffee.

About an hour later I mistake the road number and turn right when I should have gone ahead.  I make good the mistake and arrive at the village of Saint Pantaleon at lunchtime.  The church is open, so inside first.

Approaching my intended destination of Montcuq the toe on the left foot starts its distraction again.   A lady offers me a ride to Lauzerte, 14 km beyond my intended destination for the day, and I accept.

Lauzerte is the genuine medieval town.  Nice wide open streets and a mix of old and new but in a consistently evolving style (whatever that means).  Again I've arrived after midday so a coffee and other distractions until 14h.  The hostess assumes my given name is Jamieson and that is what I am called until I leave the next day.  This is a communal gite with the hostess cooking the evening meal and preparing breakfast.

I wander around the town taking photos of buildings and other stuff that appeals to me.  Dinner is entertaining even though we have little language in common.

And so to bed.

day 12 -- draft
Sunday, 17 April 2016
Vaylats to Cahors
24 km today - 345 km  to date

I put some dressings on the two wounds and add some hiker's wool between them and then the sock.

I glance at the GR 65 path as I pass it and confirm my intention to use the roads again.

Yes, it is Sunday morning and again there is little traffic about.  The significant village of Lalbenque comes up within two hours and I change to a northerly direction towards Cahors.

The countryside since Limonge on Saturday has been of an open rolling style, not unlike the country between Palmerston North / Ashhurst and Hawera.  Shortly after passing under a motorway I encounter the GR 65 again - it is still rocky and uneven so I continue on the road.  The toe on the left foot begins to distract me again and with about 7 km to go I begin thumbing for a ride.  Even though there are a lot of cars about it takes a while to be successful.

Dropped off immediately after crossing the River Lot and entering Cahors I go to the Pilgrims information office on the bridge and get a bed for the night.  This is in a gite on the south east and medieval side of the town.  The building is in a very narrow lane and has probably never seen sunlight.  It would be about 4 metres wide and not very deep and at least five stories tall. As laid out the entry level is a reception space. The first floor is the kitchen and dining area.  The second floor is my bedroom  (all to myself - absolute luxury) and toilet and separate shower / handbasin.  The third floor has bunks for four with sleeping accommodation of some sort on the next two floors.

It all seems to work and we are at least 10 for dinner, six of whom are from Paris for a specialised dance symposium, the name of which I did not catch.

And so to bed.

day 11 - draft
Saturday, 16 April 2016
Limonge-en-Quercy to Vaylats
15 km today - 321 km to date

This is my shortest day, just 15 km, to a real working monastery.  So no rush.

Again I follow the road, first to Vairire.  I stop at the shop for some fruit and a pinwheel pastry and ask the lass to ring ahead for me.  At the next village I stop for the open church.

I reach Vaylats just after noon.  As the gite office in the monastery opens at 14th I find an outdoor table at a nearby bar and settle in for a short siege.

Mass is at 17h30 followed by the community singing Vespers. Dinner at 7 pm is good with about 20 pilgrims.

And so to bed.

day 10 - draft
Friday, 14 April 2016
Beduer to Limonge-en-Quercy
38 km today - 306 km to date

I have opted not to have my hosts breakfast so on the way early.  And because I could not be bothered trudging down to the village I choose to take the GR 65 way which ran along side the gite.  Like other days, it the pathway is stoney and wet in places.  I had intended staying on the GR 65 until Grealou, but as soon as I strike a paved road follow it to a named road and so to Grealou where I stop for breakfast.

Back on the road towards Cajarc and a pain develops on the upper side of two toes, one on each foot.  While not crippling, I decide to hitch to the next major town, Cajarc and, am dropped at a super-marche.  Buy some fruit, find the church and get back on the road.   It's now nearly midday and for the first time it begins to get hot.  I slowly move to the village of Gaillac, lured by the clock bells sounding from the church tower.  But the church is locked.  I find a picnic area, have both my lunch and a siesta.

Restarting about two I, make good progress up a pleasant valley. With about 3 km to go I again hitch a lift to my destination.

The communal gite is at the start of the built up area on my approach.  I check myself in by writing my name on a scrap of paper attached to the room I have chosen and go to the small store next door and get some food to cook for an evening meal.  The building looks as though it may have been the Hotel de Ville as there is a first world War memorial in the grounds.  It's an old building so the services are simple.  I am there all by myself for both dinner and breakfast.  And that's OK.

And so to bed.

day 09 - draft
Thursday, 15 April 2016
Livinhac-le-Haut to Beduer
38 km today - 268 km to date

Breakfast is also a communal affair and starts at 7 am, so it is not until after 8 that I can get on the road.  As the six from Nice are beginning their return home today there are farewells all round.

To start I use the designated track from Livinhac to get to the top of the hill, but as soon as I reach a sealed road I stay on that for the next 15 km or so to Figeac. The two chapels and one church I pass are open.

Shortly after passing Saint Jean Mirabel, I catch up with a couple.  It turns out they had just stopped for the day as they were to turn around and go back to their campervan.  So I can hear them better I go slightly past them and turn around myself to face them as we talk.  During the chat I look up and notice the hills I was on top of not all that long ago.  I try a photo but they are about 60 km away.

The entrance into Figeac is low key.  Less than 100 metres after crossing the River Cele I encounter a restaurant doing a good lunch time trade.  As it overlooks the river I enter and have my first steak in a very, very  long time.  An hour later, and with the wait staff having made a booking for that night's stop for me, I am off.  Now that I am away from the hills I am finding the hard way this is not a good time of day to walk, with a cloudless sky the heat of the day is too much.  I gratefully accept another passing motorists offer to take me the last 4 km to Beduer.

This gite seems to be a converted loft space with 5 beds. When I arrive I am the only one but am joined about an hour later by a young German speaking Swiss woman, Marlene (as in Dietrich).

I wash my smalls and put them out to dry.  I have opted to not have an evening meal with my hosts as I had a large meal in the middle of the day, nor breakfast in the morning as they don't want to do this early.

And so to bed.

day 08 - draft
Wednesday, 13 April 2016
Conques to Livinhac-le-haut
24 km today - 230 km to date

At Conques the gite communal is simple but comfortable.  The beds are good, about five older men and women all together.  The ablutions block is across the courtyard with the kitchen above it.  Bliss, a microwave, so I prepared my porridge the night before.

Up at six and away just after seven, going back a few hundred metres to take some photos in the early morning light: no one about.  Getting out of the village is a long slow walk down a cobled pathway to the pilgrims bridge over the Dordou River.  Then starts the climb up one of the “marvellous” tracks  (comprised of stones, mud, water and awkwardness that I have met often in recent days and absolutely love to bits (not).  Eventually encounter the Chapel of Sainte Foy with a bell rope brushing my face as I enter: what else to do but test it's sonorities.

On cresting the top there is just a 20 km drag to Decazeville. After another Chapel of St Roch  (three statues of the man, with one ishowing him in de rigeur pilgrims garb of 500 years or so ago.

When a passing motorist stops and asks me where I am going  Iyield to temptation and accept a ride.  Decazeville is one of the larger town so far.  Interestingly the shops are strung out along one main street for nearly a kilometre.  As it is after 12 noon it is hard to tell if the many closed shops are observing the long lunch break or are permanently closed.  At the local Tourisme (Information) Office I am a great hit with the young lady and her older assistant: he wants to take photos of me wearing my “hiking” kilt and she wants to be in at least one of them.  And I have to place a marker on my home town.

Just as I leave Decazeville the heavens open and I am grateful for a 4 km ride to Livinhac, my stop for the day.

There are 10 for dinner that night, the six I met at Saint Come on Sunday night, an Australian couple, a lone Frenchman and me.   A great night, again.

And so to bed.