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.
05 May 2016
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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