day 07 – draft
Tuesday, 12 April 2016
Golinhac to Conques
25 km today - 206 km to date
Up about 5h30, pack and off to the social place for the whole camping complex. A single breakfast place has been set. I watch the sky lighten as I work through this meal. The previous night I had found a recent popular history of the village which supported a parish and a public school. These, plus an open church, I encounter just beyond the camping complex.
Usual missing of way points on leaving.
I quickly tire of the mushy “official” track and take to the road (D42), through Esperac (church open but not much else at 10 am), Senergues (another open church) and Saint -Marcel (third open church in a row). Then down another stoney steep track to Conques.
Conques, wow! It is just like stepping back 400 years in building history. The purpose of the village is to support the Abbey containing an alleged relic of Sainte Foy (Faith), a young girl from Asia Minor (modern day Turkey) martyred for her faith around 1,600 years ago. I have my first restaurant meal (pilgrim's menu based on simpler items from the a l'carte menu) and attend Compline and pilgrim blessing in the Abbey church. Staying in the communal gite.
And so to bed.
27 April 2016
day 06 - draft
Monday, 11 April 2016
Sainte-Come-d'Olt to Golinhac
33 km today 181 km to date
Breakfast early and most of the six from Nice are soon there. We say our good byes and I am off. I Ihave decided to avoid mud and stones and will, whenever possible, use roads. Espalion is my first stop after an hour as I must find a toilet. And I do, although I rather wish I hadn't found the one I do: it is old and only has squat facilities.
Moving on I encounter the land mark church that features as a postcard stop, except it is closed. Continuing along there is now a hill to climb. It is not a particularly high hill but they have made it interesting. A significant part of the climb is up a the face of asmooth rock face with nice high steps, no hand holds and the mandatory water features. A pleasant walk along the ridge of the hill follows and I see my first farmer in action using a tractor to pull a frame across a small field. Then down the other side of the hill through a pleasant pathe that soon becomes a bog standard quagmire.
To another locked church alongside the best toilet ever to date
At the approach to the next village I miss a way marker and go around to the east (as I find out later) and not the west and get very confused about how to go on to Estaing, not being helped by the distance on the road signs being very different from those in my Michelin guidebook. The situation is not helped by the pathway signs being in both directions Twenty or something minutes later I'm sorted and see a sign telling me to go up a hill. I decide to stay on the road and am rewarded about 10 minutes later showing where I would have come okff the hill.
By now the rain has begun to establish itself and I put on the poncho I in a pouch across my chest without having to stop.
Estaing is an imposing town of about 1,000 people. Imposing as it is built around rock on which stands a manorial residence built of stone.
After a long lunch waiting for the rain to stop it is time to move on with a long pleasant walk along side the slow moving river Lot. Then 300 metres of elevation along roads that are connected by stoney pathways.
I reach the eastern side of Golinhac where my gite is and stop. Two room mates tonight and conversation is difficult. I take a punt and wash all the clothes I have worn so far except for one top to wear to bed. I have not booked so no meal tonight.
And so to bed.
Monday, 11 April 2016
Sainte-Come-d'Olt to Golinhac
33 km today 181 km to date
Breakfast early and most of the six from Nice are soon there. We say our good byes and I am off. I Ihave decided to avoid mud and stones and will, whenever possible, use roads. Espalion is my first stop after an hour as I must find a toilet. And I do, although I rather wish I hadn't found the one I do: it is old and only has squat facilities.
Moving on I encounter the land mark church that features as a postcard stop, except it is closed. Continuing along there is now a hill to climb. It is not a particularly high hill but they have made it interesting. A significant part of the climb is up a the face of asmooth rock face with nice high steps, no hand holds and the mandatory water features. A pleasant walk along the ridge of the hill follows and I see my first farmer in action using a tractor to pull a frame across a small field. Then down the other side of the hill through a pleasant pathe that soon becomes a bog standard quagmire.
To another locked church alongside the best toilet ever to date
At the approach to the next village I miss a way marker and go around to the east (as I find out later) and not the west and get very confused about how to go on to Estaing, not being helped by the distance on the road signs being very different from those in my Michelin guidebook. The situation is not helped by the pathway signs being in both directions Twenty or something minutes later I'm sorted and see a sign telling me to go up a hill. I decide to stay on the road and am rewarded about 10 minutes later showing where I would have come okff the hill.
By now the rain has begun to establish itself and I put on the poncho I in a pouch across my chest without having to stop.
Estaing is an imposing town of about 1,000 people. Imposing as it is built around rock on which stands a manorial residence built of stone.
After a long lunch waiting for the rain to stop it is time to move on with a long pleasant walk along side the slow moving river Lot. Then 300 metres of elevation along roads that are connected by stoney pathways.
I reach the eastern side of Golinhac where my gite is and stop. Two room mates tonight and conversation is difficult. I take a punt and wash all the clothes I have worn so far except for one top to wear to bed. I have not booked so no meal tonight.
And so to bed.
26 April 2016
day 05 - draft
Sunday, 10 April 2016 (draft)
Nasbinals to Sainte-Come-d'Olt
33 km today 149 km to date
Breakfast early and on the road before 7h30. At first I am in open fields doing a cross country walk. I don't realize it at the time but I am getting to the highest point in France at over 1,200 metres above sea level. And am now walking between the pockets of snow I had seen on the tops the day before. So it is also cold.
As I start the descent I am passed by a young woman who was in the gite last night. From here the descent is down many rock strewn stream beds interspersed with walking on roads and along muddy pathways.
About halfway down stop for a coffee noir at what is a bar at Saint-Chely Aubrac. The route has more descents down stream beds and through a forest. At the bottom meet a German man and his grandson - we exchange ages and I “beat” him by three years.
The last five kilometres into Sainte-Come is through pleasant country, but I can't pick what the agriculture is.
The first gite I encounter also has hotel rooms. We are 20 plus for dinner even though only three of us are in the dormitory.
At my table is a group of six from Nice who just arrived that afternoon. They invite me to join them fo pre-dinner drinks as one (a teacher at the international school in Monaco) speaks good English and two others have passable understanding. After the meal one of them sings to a guitar and I access E Pari Ra on my tablet and do my best to sing along.
And so to bed.
Sunday, 10 April 2016 (draft)
Nasbinals to Sainte-Come-d'Olt
33 km today 149 km to date
Breakfast early and on the road before 7h30. At first I am in open fields doing a cross country walk. I don't realize it at the time but I am getting to the highest point in France at over 1,200 metres above sea level. And am now walking between the pockets of snow I had seen on the tops the day before. So it is also cold.
As I start the descent I am passed by a young woman who was in the gite last night. From here the descent is down many rock strewn stream beds interspersed with walking on roads and along muddy pathways.
About halfway down stop for a coffee noir at what is a bar at Saint-Chely Aubrac. The route has more descents down stream beds and through a forest. At the bottom meet a German man and his grandson - we exchange ages and I “beat” him by three years.
The last five kilometres into Sainte-Come is through pleasant country, but I can't pick what the agriculture is.
The first gite I encounter also has hotel rooms. We are 20 plus for dinner even though only three of us are in the dormitory.
At my table is a group of six from Nice who just arrived that afternoon. They invite me to join them fo pre-dinner drinks as one (a teacher at the international school in Monaco) speaks good English and two others have passable understanding. After the meal one of them sings to a guitar and I access E Pari Ra on my tablet and do my best to sing along.
And so to bed.
day 04 - draft
Saturday, 9 April 2016
Aumont-Aubrac to Nasbinals
026 km today - 116 km to date
First at breakfast at 7 am and leave at 7:40. When I can't pick up the white and red route markers I use the position of the sun to tell me where east. But my ready reckoning is for the southern hemisphere where the sun is north, so my chosen direction is way off and I head off down the wrong road. While the markings are good, when there is only one apparent road they can be well spaced out. About an hour later everything is sorted and I resolve to get a lightweight guide to go in the pouch on my chest.
At the first village the church is open and about a kilometre on the chapel in the centre of a cross roads is also open. Some cares for this place as the Missal is open at the Evangile (Gospel) reading for today.
When navigating some particularly difficult terrain (water logged from side to side) I noticed two people about 300 metres behind and a group of three or four a greater distance ahead.
After 15 km the group ahead stops for a rest: three of them had been at my gite last night. I persevere for one km more where I encounter a snack bar and decide to stop for my porridge and buy a sandwich and coffee. So begins a game of leap frog.
About an hour on the group of three have stopped again and the fourth is stopped a little further on. As I can't see any route markers and there are two ways ahead I ask if she can help. She can: she has a lightweight Michelin guide for the way from Le Puy to the Spanish border.
I arrive at my intended destination for today, Nasbinals, about 3 pm. The neat and tidy ancient church in the middle of the town is open and then on to find the gite. This one is relatively new and owned and operated by the local community. I register by writing my name on the list of beds in one of the dortoir (dormitories), go and get some food for dinner and for lunch on Sunday. And a Michelin Guide of my own! Dinner is an impromptu collective affair and much fun. The woman who had given me directions tells me about her trip to Iona and I tell her about the Norwegian kings buried there ( a renowned holy place in its time) more than a millennia ago. When she is certain she has understood she passes this on to the company.
What makes me seem to stand out is not just my apparent level of fitness for my apparent age but also the “kilt” I am wearing.
And so to bed.
Saturday, 9 April 2016
Aumont-Aubrac to Nasbinals
026 km today - 116 km to date
First at breakfast at 7 am and leave at 7:40. When I can't pick up the white and red route markers I use the position of the sun to tell me where east. But my ready reckoning is for the southern hemisphere where the sun is north, so my chosen direction is way off and I head off down the wrong road. While the markings are good, when there is only one apparent road they can be well spaced out. About an hour later everything is sorted and I resolve to get a lightweight guide to go in the pouch on my chest.
At the first village the church is open and about a kilometre on the chapel in the centre of a cross roads is also open. Some cares for this place as the Missal is open at the Evangile (Gospel) reading for today.
When navigating some particularly difficult terrain (water logged from side to side) I noticed two people about 300 metres behind and a group of three or four a greater distance ahead.
After 15 km the group ahead stops for a rest: three of them had been at my gite last night. I persevere for one km more where I encounter a snack bar and decide to stop for my porridge and buy a sandwich and coffee. So begins a game of leap frog.
About an hour on the group of three have stopped again and the fourth is stopped a little further on. As I can't see any route markers and there are two ways ahead I ask if she can help. She can: she has a lightweight Michelin guide for the way from Le Puy to the Spanish border.
I arrive at my intended destination for today, Nasbinals, about 3 pm. The neat and tidy ancient church in the middle of the town is open and then on to find the gite. This one is relatively new and owned and operated by the local community. I register by writing my name on the list of beds in one of the dortoir (dormitories), go and get some food for dinner and for lunch on Sunday. And a Michelin Guide of my own! Dinner is an impromptu collective affair and much fun. The woman who had given me directions tells me about her trip to Iona and I tell her about the Norwegian kings buried there ( a renowned holy place in its time) more than a millennia ago. When she is certain she has understood she passes this on to the company.
What makes me seem to stand out is not just my apparent level of fitness for my apparent age but also the “kilt” I am wearing.
And so to bed.
day 03 - draft
Friday 8 April 2016
Le Falzet to Aumont-Aubrac
037 km today - 090 km to date
Breakfast at 7 am as requested and am joined by Martina, who gives me a cuddle as I leave about 7h30.
This is to be a big day: 37 km. My first stop is after 2 hours for coffee at a brand new backpackers in the middle of nowhere: very luxurious. The countryside is much the same as the first three days, only the ups and downs are more gentle.
I was looking forward to a stop at Saint-Alban-sur-Limangole. Everything but the marvellous ancient church and a bar are closed. It is nearly 1 pm and a solitary local says to come back after 2.
As I enter my intended destination, Aumont-Aubrac, I note a walker a few hundred metres ahead. A total of four people encountered today.
I stop at the first gite (backpackers) I encounter: an entertaining dinner from mine host and much chat: the neighbour to my left has some English and translates for me from time to time.
And so to bed.
Friday 8 April 2016
Le Falzet to Aumont-Aubrac
037 km today - 090 km to date
Breakfast at 7 am as requested and am joined by Martina, who gives me a cuddle as I leave about 7h30.
This is to be a big day: 37 km. My first stop is after 2 hours for coffee at a brand new backpackers in the middle of nowhere: very luxurious. The countryside is much the same as the first three days, only the ups and downs are more gentle.
I was looking forward to a stop at Saint-Alban-sur-Limangole. Everything but the marvellous ancient church and a bar are closed. It is nearly 1 pm and a solitary local says to come back after 2.
As I enter my intended destination, Aumont-Aubrac, I note a walker a few hundred metres ahead. A total of four people encountered today.
I stop at the first gite (backpackers) I encounter: an entertaining dinner from mine host and much chat: the neighbour to my left has some English and translates for me from time to time.
And so to bed.
day 02 - draft
Thursday, 7 April 2016
Saint-Privat d'Allier to Le Falzet
030 km today - 052 km to date
Left Saint-Privat at 08h to Rochegude and an open chapel where I leave a prayer request. On leaving Rochegude, we are directed straight down a rocky path festooned with tree roots: anyone coming down on Wednesday when the ground would have been still sodden or on Tuesday with persistent rain would have had their work cut out to stay safe. My hostess of Tuesday had told me no money machines until Saugeso so no stopping at Monistroll dAllier, a large village with a main line railway station. Here I was at 600 metres (1,900 feet) above sea level and within 40 minutes I was over 1,000 m (3,400 ft) asl. More gentle climbing followed till the village of Rognac where I stopped for a rest and lunch. During my 10 minutes stop Vanessa (London), Lynda (Brighton) and Paul (London) stopped for a chat and carried on.
On leaving Rognac I passed my first small cluster of cattle beasts at close quarters and soon after caught up with the London trio and all four of us entered the largish town of Sauges together. I found a money machine and traced back to the church only to encounter the London trio having their pilgrim credentials stamped. The small lady on duty was an entertainment and, on learning I was from New Zealand showed me a photo of a NZ couple and a photo book from which I selected some to show of the country to the assembly.
Shortly after leaving Sauges I caught up with another Swiss woman, this time from the German sector near Zurich. We fell into step for about 5 km., chatting some of the time or (I hope) in companionable silence. I stopped for a rest at the village before my intended stop point as my right little toe was playing up.
I was the first to my gite but four more arrived in quick succession: Martina from Rouen, Henrif from Lille and two 18 year olds, Emma and Carolina from Bonn (?) on the Rhine, who had just finished school and were having a gap year.
And so to bed.
Thursday, 7 April 2016
Saint-Privat d'Allier to Le Falzet
030 km today - 052 km to date
Left Saint-Privat at 08h to Rochegude and an open chapel where I leave a prayer request. On leaving Rochegude, we are directed straight down a rocky path festooned with tree roots: anyone coming down on Wednesday when the ground would have been still sodden or on Tuesday with persistent rain would have had their work cut out to stay safe. My hostess of Tuesday had told me no money machines until Saugeso so no stopping at Monistroll dAllier, a large village with a main line railway station. Here I was at 600 metres (1,900 feet) above sea level and within 40 minutes I was over 1,000 m (3,400 ft) asl. More gentle climbing followed till the village of Rognac where I stopped for a rest and lunch. During my 10 minutes stop Vanessa (London), Lynda (Brighton) and Paul (London) stopped for a chat and carried on.
On leaving Rognac I passed my first small cluster of cattle beasts at close quarters and soon after caught up with the London trio and all four of us entered the largish town of Sauges together. I found a money machine and traced back to the church only to encounter the London trio having their pilgrim credentials stamped. The small lady on duty was an entertainment and, on learning I was from New Zealand showed me a photo of a NZ couple and a photo book from which I selected some to show of the country to the assembly.
Shortly after leaving Sauges I caught up with another Swiss woman, this time from the German sector near Zurich. We fell into step for about 5 km., chatting some of the time or (I hope) in companionable silence. I stopped for a rest at the village before my intended stop point as my right little toe was playing up.
I was the first to my gite but four more arrived in quick succession: Martina from Rouen, Henrif from Lille and two 18 year olds, Emma and Carolina from Bonn (?) on the Rhine, who had just finished school and were having a gap year.
And so to bed.
day 01 - draft
Wednesday, 6 April 2016
Le Puy-en-Velay to Saint-Privat-d'Allier
022 km today - 022 km to date
After waking (again) at 01h I go back to sleep and wake again at 03h. As I must definitely want to be awake at 06h I get up, dress for the day, pack, go down to the dining room at 05h30 and gorge myself on bread, and hot and cold drinks.
The two pilgrims from last night’s dinner join me: they are bound for Sauges today, some 40 kilometres along the Chemin, walking.
In the Cathedral we prepare for Mass: for me this means opening an app on my tablet with the full text for the day, including collect, psalm and readings. Mass ends and the celebrant, and ebullient bishop, invites us to join him in a tight semi-circle around a column bearing a wooden statue of a pilgrim of old. We number about 60, but I notice not many seem ready for an immediate start. After a chat, a blessing, a cockle shell medallion we are invited to have our credentials (pilgrims passport) stamped.
While all of this was happening, the Cathedral staff had lifted the grating in the central aisle to reveal stairs leading down to the west door some 5 or so metres below this level. I go towards the steps, turn to reverence the altar and sacrament beyond and turn again to descend and leave the Cathedral and begin my pilgrimage.
Except I can’t move: I am rooted to the spot by emotion. I am here only because Cathy has died. And a second thought occurs: despite the four years of training and planning, will I be up to completing the task ahead, of moving forward.
Having composed myself at last I step forward, out of the nurturing warmth of the Cathedral of Le Puy-en-Velay.
Way finding through the cobbled streets is a breeze, thanks to yesterday’s exercise. The weather is good: overcast and no wind. At the top of the first hill I can see two ahead of me. Shortly after a 30 something electronics engineer (Florian) joins me but I am slower than his pace and I soon see him pass an older male about 50 metres ahead. By 5 kilometres from Le Puy I am on my own. The terrain is “interesting”: rocky uneven with lots of water from yesterday’s continuous rain. Then some sealed roads followed by a walkway between fields, or rather a series of streams over almost a kilometre: great fun and I wonder if I will need to turn my drinking tube into a breathing tube. From Le Puy there have been many green fields, but only once do I see some animals, about 10 white Charolais (or Limousin, or whatever): most curious.
At about 14 km I encounter my first open church on my way: the chapel of Saint Roch, more well known in this part of France than the Hispanic Saint James. I light some candles and coming out meet, again, Eloyssia. She had left Le Puy late morning Tuesday and travelled about 12 km before stopping for the night, deliberately making a slow start. She had seen only three walkers. We walked together to our common destination of Saint Privat-d’Allier. Stopping for lunch three other walkers passed us.
At Saint Privat I went to the first gite to meet an English speaking hostess and her husband: despite it being around 15h I was the first in to this gite. But it wasn’t long before all 11 beds were taken. Dinner was fun with 7 walkers, a couple from Denmark and a French couple with their two boys.
And so to bed.
Wednesday, 6 April 2016
Le Puy-en-Velay to Saint-Privat-d'Allier
022 km today - 022 km to date
After waking (again) at 01h I go back to sleep and wake again at 03h. As I must definitely want to be awake at 06h I get up, dress for the day, pack, go down to the dining room at 05h30 and gorge myself on bread, and hot and cold drinks.
The two pilgrims from last night’s dinner join me: they are bound for Sauges today, some 40 kilometres along the Chemin, walking.
In the Cathedral we prepare for Mass: for me this means opening an app on my tablet with the full text for the day, including collect, psalm and readings. Mass ends and the celebrant, and ebullient bishop, invites us to join him in a tight semi-circle around a column bearing a wooden statue of a pilgrim of old. We number about 60, but I notice not many seem ready for an immediate start. After a chat, a blessing, a cockle shell medallion we are invited to have our credentials (pilgrims passport) stamped.
While all of this was happening, the Cathedral staff had lifted the grating in the central aisle to reveal stairs leading down to the west door some 5 or so metres below this level. I go towards the steps, turn to reverence the altar and sacrament beyond and turn again to descend and leave the Cathedral and begin my pilgrimage.
Except I can’t move: I am rooted to the spot by emotion. I am here only because Cathy has died. And a second thought occurs: despite the four years of training and planning, will I be up to completing the task ahead, of moving forward.
Having composed myself at last I step forward, out of the nurturing warmth of the Cathedral of Le Puy-en-Velay.
Way finding through the cobbled streets is a breeze, thanks to yesterday’s exercise. The weather is good: overcast and no wind. At the top of the first hill I can see two ahead of me. Shortly after a 30 something electronics engineer (Florian) joins me but I am slower than his pace and I soon see him pass an older male about 50 metres ahead. By 5 kilometres from Le Puy I am on my own. The terrain is “interesting”: rocky uneven with lots of water from yesterday’s continuous rain. Then some sealed roads followed by a walkway between fields, or rather a series of streams over almost a kilometre: great fun and I wonder if I will need to turn my drinking tube into a breathing tube. From Le Puy there have been many green fields, but only once do I see some animals, about 10 white Charolais (or Limousin, or whatever): most curious.
At about 14 km I encounter my first open church on my way: the chapel of Saint Roch, more well known in this part of France than the Hispanic Saint James. I light some candles and coming out meet, again, Eloyssia. She had left Le Puy late morning Tuesday and travelled about 12 km before stopping for the night, deliberately making a slow start. She had seen only three walkers. We walked together to our common destination of Saint Privat-d’Allier. Stopping for lunch three other walkers passed us.
At Saint Privat I went to the first gite to meet an English speaking hostess and her husband: despite it being around 15h I was the first in to this gite. But it wasn’t long before all 11 beds were taken. Dinner was fun with 7 walkers, a couple from Denmark and a French couple with their two boys.
And so to bed.
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.
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.
04 April 2016
Tuesday, 29 March
Underway at last. Two neighbours gave me a ride from the village to the long distance bus stop in central Porirua to start my odyssey. By early afternoon I’m in Napier Cathedral meeting a friend from our first year at college. And my supporter (best man) at both my weddings. We have a grand catch up bringing one another up to date on family and medical histories, with a pub dinner added.
On Wednesday to a backpackers in downtown Auckland just off Queen Street. Sitting outside having a kebab when a roommate stops for a chat: she’s spending quality time with her 103 year old grandmother and wondering what life holds for her. We chat again briefly and in depth before we go our separate ways on Friday morning. In between I visit two cousins I haven’t seen for more than 30 years at least and we chat about family trees with a focus on our maternal grandfather. We undertake to keep in touch,
A feature of the trip so far has been having young women as travelling companions. In addition to the woman in Auckland there was a woman from Belgium working on a farm near Hunterville as a nanny on the bus to Napier and a midwife on the train from Charles de Gaulle Airport (near Paris) to Lyon: both had good English.
Sunday in Lyon. First to Mass in the Basilica on top of cliff face overlooking Lyon. The climb does no harm (about 150 metres above the river Saone that my backpackers is alongside of). Then back down to the water (a lot easier) and past the Cathedral (both are less than 150 years old, as are most I pass this day). Skirting the river I become fascinated by entrances to the apartment buildings – they are massive – and photograph quite a number, trying to get passers-by in shot to show off the scale. At the confluence of the Saone and Rhone rivers I encounter the well named Museum of the Confluence. The use of space, both outside (striking) and in (two levels with circular passage ways with large and smaller display rooms to either side) and very popular.
Returning up the spit of land I find a second main railway station (Perrache) about 10 metres above street level and with about 10 platforms - in the 20 minutes I rest, several TGV trains arrive or depart. I seem to be in the centre between the two rivers as I pass through several squares. Then up almost continuous broad and shallow sets of steps to the top of Croix Rouge (once the epicentre of silk fabric production for France, if not much of the world). At the top turn left to come back to the Saone near my backpackers. The staff ring ahead for a bed in a gite-d’etape (backpackers) at Le Puy-en-Velay, my start point, and help with how to get there.
Six moving days - four in New Zealand and two in France.
And so to bed.
Underway at last. Two neighbours gave me a ride from the village to the long distance bus stop in central Porirua to start my odyssey. By early afternoon I’m in Napier Cathedral meeting a friend from our first year at college. And my supporter (best man) at both my weddings. We have a grand catch up bringing one another up to date on family and medical histories, with a pub dinner added.
On Wednesday to a backpackers in downtown Auckland just off Queen Street. Sitting outside having a kebab when a roommate stops for a chat: she’s spending quality time with her 103 year old grandmother and wondering what life holds for her. We chat again briefly and in depth before we go our separate ways on Friday morning. In between I visit two cousins I haven’t seen for more than 30 years at least and we chat about family trees with a focus on our maternal grandfather. We undertake to keep in touch,
A feature of the trip so far has been having young women as travelling companions. In addition to the woman in Auckland there was a woman from Belgium working on a farm near Hunterville as a nanny on the bus to Napier and a midwife on the train from Charles de Gaulle Airport (near Paris) to Lyon: both had good English.
Sunday in Lyon. First to Mass in the Basilica on top of cliff face overlooking Lyon. The climb does no harm (about 150 metres above the river Saone that my backpackers is alongside of). Then back down to the water (a lot easier) and past the Cathedral (both are less than 150 years old, as are most I pass this day). Skirting the river I become fascinated by entrances to the apartment buildings – they are massive – and photograph quite a number, trying to get passers-by in shot to show off the scale. At the confluence of the Saone and Rhone rivers I encounter the well named Museum of the Confluence. The use of space, both outside (striking) and in (two levels with circular passage ways with large and smaller display rooms to either side) and very popular.
Returning up the spit of land I find a second main railway station (Perrache) about 10 metres above street level and with about 10 platforms - in the 20 minutes I rest, several TGV trains arrive or depart. I seem to be in the centre between the two rivers as I pass through several squares. Then up almost continuous broad and shallow sets of steps to the top of Croix Rouge (once the epicentre of silk fabric production for France, if not much of the world). At the top turn left to come back to the Saone near my backpackers. The staff ring ahead for a bed in a gite-d’etape (backpackers) at Le Puy-en-Velay, my start point, and help with how to get there.
Six moving days - four in New Zealand and two in France.
And so to bed.
03 January 2016
looking ahead a little
Today is 3 January. In three months I will be in the major French city of Lyon. And a few days later I will take a train to my start point of Le Puy-en-Velay (Le Puy) in the Auvergne (and Massif Central) region of France.
How to fill in the time. More one-day and multi-day trips. Scanning the necessary parts of guide books I've purchased and onto my tablet (for personal use only) . Reading the blogs of other, mainly for the photos. Continuing the health checks (OK so far) and getting whatever jabs are suggested. Arranging visits to family and friends for March while on the way to Auckland to fly out. Getting new shoes and orthotics. Tidy up the apartment, especially getting rid of paper, redundant clothes, bedding, towels and "incidentals". About 10 weeks before I leave home.
I'm getting a bit nervous.
How to fill in the time. More one-day and multi-day trips. Scanning the necessary parts of guide books I've purchased and onto my tablet (for personal use only) . Reading the blogs of other, mainly for the photos. Continuing the health checks (OK so far) and getting whatever jabs are suggested. Arranging visits to family and friends for March while on the way to Auckland to fly out. Getting new shoes and orthotics. Tidy up the apartment, especially getting rid of paper, redundant clothes, bedding, towels and "incidentals". About 10 weeks before I leave home.
I'm getting a bit nervous.
Trial multi-day trip
In December 2015 I did a multi-day trip from home to Featherston and then Woodville to Ashhurst, all on walking tracks except for roads through Maymorn and from Cross Creek. Reached 400 m above sea level on three of my four days. The main purpose of this trip was to discover what I really didn't need. Decided extra socks and underpants weren't needed and simplified my tops to 1 long sleeve merino and two short sleeve (one of which I wear). Also ditched outer cotton gloves and my water bladder. I now have a long tube with a mouthpiece at one end fitted through the top of a 1.5 litre PET bottle. This is a lot lighter, water level is more visible and is easier to top up en chemin. And I've decided to ditch the keyboard to my tablet, having not used it once on my multi-day trip. Having a separate keyboard has been an article of faith for me for four years, so this is a big decision in some ways.
My pack now weighs about 6.5 kg including, tablet, water and some food. But not including the tent.
For the trip itself there were several highlights.
- Getting underway no later than 6h30 each morning (sunrise is about 06h00)
- Most of the 90 km was off road
- Getting to Cross Creek Station on the Rimutaka Incline
- Going over Manawatu Gorge walkway
- Getting to 400 m above sea level on three of the four days
2016 begins
My stats for the past four years training are informative, to me anyway.
2012 - 863 km - 34 trips - 25 km avg - 4.8 km/hr
2013 - 462 km - 27 trips - 17 km avg - 5.4 km/hr - pain in right little toe - fixed Nov 13
2014 - 548 km - 36 trips - 15 km avg - 5.6 km/hr
2015 - 1,285 km - 54 trips - 24 km avg - 5.7 km/hr
New shoes and a new orthotic mid 2015. Used walking sandals once - too many stones under my foot!
Highlights of my training included:
Some 25 trips (out of 151) over 30 km. If I did not have to get home by public transport from my stopping point before a self imposed deadline of 4 pm I may have been able to do more long trips.
Being able to recently walk for four hours at a good pace without only pee stops.
Having the time to trial a variety of equipment that has to travel with me from Aotearoa New Zealand to the antipodes, to last for nearly six months and to travel on foot for more than 2000 km.
2012 - 863 km - 34 trips - 25 km avg - 4.8 km/hr
2013 - 462 km - 27 trips - 17 km avg - 5.4 km/hr - pain in right little toe - fixed Nov 13
2014 - 548 km - 36 trips - 15 km avg - 5.6 km/hr
2015 - 1,285 km - 54 trips - 24 km avg - 5.7 km/hr
New shoes and a new orthotic mid 2015. Used walking sandals once - too many stones under my foot!
Highlights of my training included:
Some 25 trips (out of 151) over 30 km. If I did not have to get home by public transport from my stopping point before a self imposed deadline of 4 pm I may have been able to do more long trips.
Being able to recently walk for four hours at a good pace without only pee stops.
Having the time to trial a variety of equipment that has to travel with me from Aotearoa New Zealand to the antipodes, to last for nearly six months and to travel on foot for more than 2000 km.
24 September 2015
Lots of little things have happened since early August. In no particular order:
Got a tent, with a ground sheet (which doubles as very generous, pack enclosing, poncho), bug screen and air mattress total weight is under 900 grams. This is mainly for the last 350 km in France, and walks in England and Scotland, where hostels are few and far between.
Replaced my three year old 1.2 kg tablet/keyboard with a tablet/keyboard weighing 700 grams: it's faster with triple the memory. So big weight and performance wins there.
With those items, extra clothing layers, light-weight shoes for use in hostels, tablet charger, extra socks and smalls and the pack itself, total weight is just on 5 kg. So we'll within check in for cabin baggage. And with 2 litres of water (2 kg), about my preferred weight of around 7 kg when walking.
No food you ask! On the Chemin (in France) or Camino (in Spain) you normally get an evening meal in the town where you stay and just carry a light lunch. Or so I am told!!!
And since my last post I've met two people who started from where I intend to start, Le Puy-en-Velay (about 130 km south west of Lyon). Which was grand.
And I've booked my airfare there, and back.
Got a tent, with a ground sheet (which doubles as very generous, pack enclosing, poncho), bug screen and air mattress total weight is under 900 grams. This is mainly for the last 350 km in France, and walks in England and Scotland, where hostels are few and far between.
Replaced my three year old 1.2 kg tablet/keyboard with a tablet/keyboard weighing 700 grams: it's faster with triple the memory. So big weight and performance wins there.
With those items, extra clothing layers, light-weight shoes for use in hostels, tablet charger, extra socks and smalls and the pack itself, total weight is just on 5 kg. So we'll within check in for cabin baggage. And with 2 litres of water (2 kg), about my preferred weight of around 7 kg when walking.
No food you ask! On the Chemin (in France) or Camino (in Spain) you normally get an evening meal in the town where you stay and just carry a light lunch. Or so I am told!!!
And since my last post I've met two people who started from where I intend to start, Le Puy-en-Velay (about 130 km south west of Lyon). Which was grand.
And I've booked my airfare there, and back.
06 August 2015
Since writing earlier today I have viewed the movie/doco Six ways to walk the Camino de Santiago. I found this very helpful, in many ways for what I saw than from what was said. For example: seeing a kilt being worn, the reduction of equipment, especially at Leon (300 km to go). And the scenery.
I wish I was going tomorrow!!!
I wish I was going tomorrow!!!
Since my last post six months ago I've ramped up the walking and have covered more than 800 km this year and more than 2,500 km since I started in 2012. And I'm replacing my gear with the lightest I can find. Regrettably this means personal imports. On the other hand each item typically weighs about half that available locally, and often for much the same price as the local offerings. I'm hopefull that all up (clothes, sleeping bag, tablet, tent and water) that I will not exceed 7 kg. So no worries with carry on when flying.
My intentions when training is to do 30 km each time I go out. As there are very few alternatives because of the valleys that Wellington is built on, I sometimes get bored and stop after 20 km. But most trips exceed the intended 30 km. And at rates of around 5.7 km per hour. The purpose is to train both the the head and the body to cope. The reality next year will be frequent stops at points of interest.
And now to start booking my travel. The current intention is to fly from Auckland to Charles de Gaulle, Paris and immediately train down to Lyon to pause there for a few days. Then by slow train to my start point of Le Puy en Velay, about 100 km to the south west.
And when I start I expect to do around 20 km for the first few day least. A key factor is the number of times one rises to more than 1,000 m above sea level only to drop down to around 500 m asl at least once each day for the first week or more.
I'm reassonably well prepared with maps and guides (both in (English and French) that I'm copying for personal use only on my tablet for the first 800 km to the Spanish border.
My intentions when training is to do 30 km each time I go out. As there are very few alternatives because of the valleys that Wellington is built on, I sometimes get bored and stop after 20 km. But most trips exceed the intended 30 km. And at rates of around 5.7 km per hour. The purpose is to train both the the head and the body to cope. The reality next year will be frequent stops at points of interest.
And now to start booking my travel. The current intention is to fly from Auckland to Charles de Gaulle, Paris and immediately train down to Lyon to pause there for a few days. Then by slow train to my start point of Le Puy en Velay, about 100 km to the south west.
And when I start I expect to do around 20 km for the first few day least. A key factor is the number of times one rises to more than 1,000 m above sea level only to drop down to around 500 m asl at least once each day for the first week or more.
I'm reassonably well prepared with maps and guides (both in (English and French) that I'm copying for personal use only on my tablet for the first 800 km to the Spanish border.
04 February 2015
a summary of the three years 2012 to 2014
My previous posts describe my first, brief, Camino de Santiago (Te Ara Tapu Hemi, The Way of S James, Chemin de Saint-Jacques) from 28 June to 2 July 2010. Nothing remarkable, some wonderful memories and an understanding I needed better, lighter equipment.
Some eighteen months later, January 2012, my wife Cathy was diagnosed with Mutiple Myeloma (cancer of the bone marrow, a blood disorder) to add to her diagnosis some 12 year earlier of Multiple Sclerosis (MS). By 2012 the MS had slowly but surely stopped her mobility. The Myeloma consultants gave her between four and six years life expectancy. Despite her illnesses she always had a smile and continued to encourage me. It helped that Cathy had been allocated five hours care a day and to give us both a bit of occassional space I decided to do day trips: start about sunrise, walk there, public transport back and be home by mid afternoon if not earlier. (And I had stopped work about three years previously.)
It didn't help that I was considerably over-weight (body mass index of 32 against a target of 25 for my height) at 92 kg. My first trip was under 4 km downhill and took about an hour and my feet were very sore. But before long I was doing longer trips
The first trip I made notes of was 26 March 2012 - 24 km from home to Wellington Station. My first 25 trips averaged 27 km each but significantly less than 5 km per hour each time. I was not learning about hydration. And after a while I was regularly getting pain of varying severity in a little toe. So, off to a podiatrist. He provided a trithotic and recommended a different style of shoe. Slowly my speed increased just beyond 5 km per hour but my average trip length dropped as the pain became a little more regular. In 2012 I noted 34 trips at an average of around 25 km each at almost 5 km/h for a total of 860 km. So I had done more than a Camino Frances: but spread over 9 months and I had slept in my own bed each night.
I was carrying quite a heavy pack: my notes indicate 7.4 kg but no sleeping bag, just a heavy polyester sleeping bag liner I had used before and a heavy fleece cover (ex airline). So still had a lot to learn about equipment also.
The toe pain was diagnosed as osteo arthritis early in 2013. By this stage severe pain was setting after 15 km and then 10km. My last trip for 2013 was 1 June. In those five months I had travelled 460 km over 27 trips for an average of 17 km each and 5.3 km overall. Surgery to correct the osteo arthritis was in early November and I was ready to go again on 1 January 2014 with some new shoes.
To start with shorter distances after surgery. But I quickly noted my speed was increasing towards 6 km/h, and some trips even exceeded that mark. In September I had a different surgical procedure that put things on hold for a while. The year saw over 25 trips for a total of 530 km for an average of 15 km each at more than 5.6 km/h on average.
I was also reguallary reviewing what I wore and what I carried. Not only were a great variety of merino wool tops available but also in breathable polyester that were both light weight, easily washes and very quick drying. I had started in 2012 with long sox (a hangover from my tramping in the southern Tararuas) and had migrated past crew length to ankle length sox in merino wool and now to micro length with sock inserts. And I had refined (reduced) down the equipment I had thought was essential. And I had tried three different packs. One of the troubles of getting equipment is often not being able to get the weight on-line: so what seems lighter in-store than the present item often turns out to be heavier when I get home. My big luxury is a 10 inch tablet with a dockable keyboard (and extra battery). It is heavy at 1.1kg. On the other hand off-line maps and email are easily readable and emails much more easily composed. And, with an excellent MS Office look alike, I can maintain my trips notes in the field. More on equipment in a later post. My pack now is about 6kg with the pack itself, sleeping bag and silk liner, stuff bag for clothes, stuff bag for gadgets (chargers, toothpaste, cables etc), flip-flops (for shower), 2 x 500 ml water bottles full and my tablet. And I can see how to reduce the weight of the pack and the sleeping bag by about 1 kg.
And by now my weight was hovering around 70 kg: the exercise aided and abetted by a reduction in volume of food with a simplified, easy cooked meal at night with always porridge for breakfast. The latter I would cook the night before a trip and eat at the first major stop.
2014 ended in great sadness as Cathy succumbed to her many illnesses in November.
Some eighteen months later, January 2012, my wife Cathy was diagnosed with Mutiple Myeloma (cancer of the bone marrow, a blood disorder) to add to her diagnosis some 12 year earlier of Multiple Sclerosis (MS). By 2012 the MS had slowly but surely stopped her mobility. The Myeloma consultants gave her between four and six years life expectancy. Despite her illnesses she always had a smile and continued to encourage me. It helped that Cathy had been allocated five hours care a day and to give us both a bit of occassional space I decided to do day trips: start about sunrise, walk there, public transport back and be home by mid afternoon if not earlier. (And I had stopped work about three years previously.)
It didn't help that I was considerably over-weight (body mass index of 32 against a target of 25 for my height) at 92 kg. My first trip was under 4 km downhill and took about an hour and my feet were very sore. But before long I was doing longer trips
The first trip I made notes of was 26 March 2012 - 24 km from home to Wellington Station. My first 25 trips averaged 27 km each but significantly less than 5 km per hour each time. I was not learning about hydration. And after a while I was regularly getting pain of varying severity in a little toe. So, off to a podiatrist. He provided a trithotic and recommended a different style of shoe. Slowly my speed increased just beyond 5 km per hour but my average trip length dropped as the pain became a little more regular. In 2012 I noted 34 trips at an average of around 25 km each at almost 5 km/h for a total of 860 km. So I had done more than a Camino Frances: but spread over 9 months and I had slept in my own bed each night.
I was carrying quite a heavy pack: my notes indicate 7.4 kg but no sleeping bag, just a heavy polyester sleeping bag liner I had used before and a heavy fleece cover (ex airline). So still had a lot to learn about equipment also.
The toe pain was diagnosed as osteo arthritis early in 2013. By this stage severe pain was setting after 15 km and then 10km. My last trip for 2013 was 1 June. In those five months I had travelled 460 km over 27 trips for an average of 17 km each and 5.3 km overall. Surgery to correct the osteo arthritis was in early November and I was ready to go again on 1 January 2014 with some new shoes.
To start with shorter distances after surgery. But I quickly noted my speed was increasing towards 6 km/h, and some trips even exceeded that mark. In September I had a different surgical procedure that put things on hold for a while. The year saw over 25 trips for a total of 530 km for an average of 15 km each at more than 5.6 km/h on average.
I was also reguallary reviewing what I wore and what I carried. Not only were a great variety of merino wool tops available but also in breathable polyester that were both light weight, easily washes and very quick drying. I had started in 2012 with long sox (a hangover from my tramping in the southern Tararuas) and had migrated past crew length to ankle length sox in merino wool and now to micro length with sock inserts. And I had refined (reduced) down the equipment I had thought was essential. And I had tried three different packs. One of the troubles of getting equipment is often not being able to get the weight on-line: so what seems lighter in-store than the present item often turns out to be heavier when I get home. My big luxury is a 10 inch tablet with a dockable keyboard (and extra battery). It is heavy at 1.1kg. On the other hand off-line maps and email are easily readable and emails much more easily composed. And, with an excellent MS Office look alike, I can maintain my trips notes in the field. More on equipment in a later post. My pack now is about 6kg with the pack itself, sleeping bag and silk liner, stuff bag for clothes, stuff bag for gadgets (chargers, toothpaste, cables etc), flip-flops (for shower), 2 x 500 ml water bottles full and my tablet. And I can see how to reduce the weight of the pack and the sleeping bag by about 1 kg.
And by now my weight was hovering around 70 kg: the exercise aided and abetted by a reduction in volume of food with a simplified, easy cooked meal at night with always porridge for breakfast. The latter I would cook the night before a trip and eat at the first major stop.
2014 ended in great sadness as Cathy succumbed to her many illnesses in November.
03 February 2015
first Camino - days 2 to 5
The purpose of this blog is to record my preparation for a more complete traverse of Te Ara Tapu Hemi (The way of S James, Camino de Santiago).
Continuing my description of my first, brief, Camino (Te Ara, The Way) from Sarria to Santiago de Compostella. My last blog was more than two years ago. Since then a lot has happened in my preparation.
My last blog recorded my first day (Monday, 28 June 2010) and left off as I wondered whether I would continue. I was suffering an injury (now diagnosed as variocose veins) and was clearly not as fit as I thought. But if the youngsters could continue then so would I.
Tuesday (day 2) saw the steep and long (or so it seemed) climb up from Portomarin and the slog (for someone not so fit). My four young Americans passed by very quickly. Eventually to Palais de Rei to the municipal alberque: a large dorm of seven carrels withy two bunks each or 28 people altogether. Surprisingly I was one of the first in and selected a lower bunk. I went out to see about a phone card so I could ring my wife at home (no luck) and on coming back found three young women had taken the other three. One spoke English and said they were from Barcelona: I was invited to a bar with them (to watch the Football World Cup game involving Spain that night) but. as my hearing aid does not work well in confined noisy places, I declined. I had been on the road for more than a week and needed to wash my smalls and hung them up near the window.
Wednesday morning I was first awake well before sunrise: I collected all my washing (or so I thought) and moved out. This day was very long for me: it was 30 km altogether and I did the first 17 km to Melide in relatively good time. I was still learning though and had not drunk enough water and the last 13 km to Arzua took forever. But a good new albergue. But shock horror when unpacking: my only other pair of underpants was not there - were they still at Palais de Rei?
Good time of Thursday to O Pedrouzo (only 20km) and another new albergue. I was starting to get use to the pace now and the varicose veins were less noticeable. In the afternoon I encountered a place to book accomodation in Santiago and I took advantage of this. Good sleep that night.
Friday (day 5, 2 July 2010): up early and quickly underway - only 20 km to go. The weather was brilliant for walking - overcast and a light drizzle - so good progress. The way finding was easier and the markers were well supplemented by other walkers. Having got around the airport I came across a cafe; I needed a reward and having got my order was contemplating what I was doing. In came a man and woman together: I had seen each of the several times on the first two days but not since. As soon as the woman saw me she took a plastic shopping bag out of her pack and, rolling the top down, came across to show me what was inside: the smalls I had washed and left at Palais de Rei!!! Continued on to Monte de Gozo (hill of joy) where one can first see the spires of Santiago Cathedral - the end of the way - and the site of a lovely little Chapel of S Mark. I was looking forward to sitting down with 5 km to go and wondered why so many walkers were hanging around outside in the rain. I went inside and found a bishop talking to a group of older people who were dressed as if they had driven here - no walkers amongst them. Fortunately they were soon finished and I got my respite out of the rain. After that it was almost a race to Santiago and the pilgrim bureau to register my modest achievment, get my compostellana and find my accomodation.
In all I stayed four night in Santiago. The accomodation was excellent for a pilgrim: inside the ancient area and close to the cathedral. It was a sadness to leave. But my next adventures beckoned.
Continuing my description of my first, brief, Camino (Te Ara, The Way) from Sarria to Santiago de Compostella. My last blog was more than two years ago. Since then a lot has happened in my preparation.
My last blog recorded my first day (Monday, 28 June 2010) and left off as I wondered whether I would continue. I was suffering an injury (now diagnosed as variocose veins) and was clearly not as fit as I thought. But if the youngsters could continue then so would I.
Tuesday (day 2) saw the steep and long (or so it seemed) climb up from Portomarin and the slog (for someone not so fit). My four young Americans passed by very quickly. Eventually to Palais de Rei to the municipal alberque: a large dorm of seven carrels withy two bunks each or 28 people altogether. Surprisingly I was one of the first in and selected a lower bunk. I went out to see about a phone card so I could ring my wife at home (no luck) and on coming back found three young women had taken the other three. One spoke English and said they were from Barcelona: I was invited to a bar with them (to watch the Football World Cup game involving Spain that night) but. as my hearing aid does not work well in confined noisy places, I declined. I had been on the road for more than a week and needed to wash my smalls and hung them up near the window.
Wednesday morning I was first awake well before sunrise: I collected all my washing (or so I thought) and moved out. This day was very long for me: it was 30 km altogether and I did the first 17 km to Melide in relatively good time. I was still learning though and had not drunk enough water and the last 13 km to Arzua took forever. But a good new albergue. But shock horror when unpacking: my only other pair of underpants was not there - were they still at Palais de Rei?
Good time of Thursday to O Pedrouzo (only 20km) and another new albergue. I was starting to get use to the pace now and the varicose veins were less noticeable. In the afternoon I encountered a place to book accomodation in Santiago and I took advantage of this. Good sleep that night.
Friday (day 5, 2 July 2010): up early and quickly underway - only 20 km to go. The weather was brilliant for walking - overcast and a light drizzle - so good progress. The way finding was easier and the markers were well supplemented by other walkers. Having got around the airport I came across a cafe; I needed a reward and having got my order was contemplating what I was doing. In came a man and woman together: I had seen each of the several times on the first two days but not since. As soon as the woman saw me she took a plastic shopping bag out of her pack and, rolling the top down, came across to show me what was inside: the smalls I had washed and left at Palais de Rei!!! Continued on to Monte de Gozo (hill of joy) where one can first see the spires of Santiago Cathedral - the end of the way - and the site of a lovely little Chapel of S Mark. I was looking forward to sitting down with 5 km to go and wondered why so many walkers were hanging around outside in the rain. I went inside and found a bishop talking to a group of older people who were dressed as if they had driven here - no walkers amongst them. Fortunately they were soon finished and I got my respite out of the rain. After that it was almost a race to Santiago and the pilgrim bureau to register my modest achievment, get my compostellana and find my accomodation.
In all I stayed four night in Santiago. The accomodation was excellent for a pilgrim: inside the ancient area and close to the cathedral. It was a sadness to leave. But my next adventures beckoned.
18 December 2012
first Camino - Sarria to Santiago - day 1
I was in Europe for weddings in England and France. I had visited New Zealand battlefields in south west Belgium and north east France then driven myself around the major north western Spanish cathedral towns in late June. On the last two days I had seen many pilgrims (as I came to know them) setting off early each morning. Having done some preparation before leaving home I decided to join them for six or seven days from Sarria. I had 112 km to walk.
In my rush to drop my hire car and catch the bus to Lugo I thought I had pulled some right calf muscles: it was extremely painful when walking.
In Sarria I found a backpackers (called albergue - pronounced albergi) and soon felt quite a home in the 30 bed dorm: not unlike a tramping hut from the Tararua range of home, except bigger and far more comfortable - there was a real mattress on the individual bed. I chatted with a soft spoken american who had been on the way with three others for 28 days and planned to complete in 4 more days: turned out his sister had been to New Zealand. Mass that night in the historic parish church just down the road.
That was the last Sunday in June 2010.
Monday morning: one of the first of my dorm out and away quite soon after sunrise. Didn't I feel as though I was in the swing of things. There were a few others out and about and after 200 hundred metres I couldn't see any yellow markers, or pilgrims. I circled around to the right through the built up area, losing about 15 minutes, until I was back on the road in front of my albergue again.
Turns out I should have done a hard left instead of going ahead: a valuable lesson in way finding learnt quickly and without great cost.
This day was 23 km: 3 km along the river valley then rising 250 metres over 8 km, another 8 km along a relatively flat path through farm hamlets and with quite a sharp descent into Portomarin on a badly water scoured dirt track.
I had been going about an hour and was on the ascent when my four Americans from the night before appeared to be running past with a hello, goodbyeeeeee into the distance. I felt comfortable if a little slow. My injury from the Sunday was obvious to others: one couple stopped and offerred their wooden staff and a woman from Dublin offerred strong diclofenac tablets. A personal highlight occurred early afternoon: I had started the descent when, turning a corner, there was an archway entrance to a large house beyond right in front of me. There were a large number of national flags around the archway as bunting: pride of place and streched across the archway was the New Zealand flag. Thinking this was not accidental I went and sat down under the archway. After a few moments I was talking with a wmon from Tauranga: she and her South African partner were preparing the house as an albergue for the next season. I left with three bananas and two water bottles as no charge from the stock she was selling to others.
Crossing the bridge over the man made lake towards Portomarin showed I was not fit. And I had been walking for more than 8 hours. Or about 3 km per hour. And my feet hurt. I knew from my drive past early Sunday morning there were quite a few albergue in the township up the hill. My energy now limited me to a commercial backpackers close to the main road.
I would wait till the morning to see if I would continue.
In my rush to drop my hire car and catch the bus to Lugo I thought I had pulled some right calf muscles: it was extremely painful when walking.
In Sarria I found a backpackers (called albergue - pronounced albergi) and soon felt quite a home in the 30 bed dorm: not unlike a tramping hut from the Tararua range of home, except bigger and far more comfortable - there was a real mattress on the individual bed. I chatted with a soft spoken american who had been on the way with three others for 28 days and planned to complete in 4 more days: turned out his sister had been to New Zealand. Mass that night in the historic parish church just down the road.
That was the last Sunday in June 2010.
Monday morning: one of the first of my dorm out and away quite soon after sunrise. Didn't I feel as though I was in the swing of things. There were a few others out and about and after 200 hundred metres I couldn't see any yellow markers, or pilgrims. I circled around to the right through the built up area, losing about 15 minutes, until I was back on the road in front of my albergue again.
Turns out I should have done a hard left instead of going ahead: a valuable lesson in way finding learnt quickly and without great cost.
This day was 23 km: 3 km along the river valley then rising 250 metres over 8 km, another 8 km along a relatively flat path through farm hamlets and with quite a sharp descent into Portomarin on a badly water scoured dirt track.
I had been going about an hour and was on the ascent when my four Americans from the night before appeared to be running past with a hello, goodbyeeeeee into the distance. I felt comfortable if a little slow. My injury from the Sunday was obvious to others: one couple stopped and offerred their wooden staff and a woman from Dublin offerred strong diclofenac tablets. A personal highlight occurred early afternoon: I had started the descent when, turning a corner, there was an archway entrance to a large house beyond right in front of me. There were a large number of national flags around the archway as bunting: pride of place and streched across the archway was the New Zealand flag. Thinking this was not accidental I went and sat down under the archway. After a few moments I was talking with a wmon from Tauranga: she and her South African partner were preparing the house as an albergue for the next season. I left with three bananas and two water bottles as no charge from the stock she was selling to others.
Crossing the bridge over the man made lake towards Portomarin showed I was not fit. And I had been walking for more than 8 hours. Or about 3 km per hour. And my feet hurt. I knew from my drive past early Sunday morning there were quite a few albergue in the township up the hill. My energy now limited me to a commercial backpackers close to the main road.
I would wait till the morning to see if I would continue.
Camino de Santiago de Compostella
I recall first hearing of this pilgrimage from a piece in Tui Motu (an independent Roman Catholic magazine) by Peter Stuart (an Anglican priest) about 2001.
In 2010 I was travelling to England and France for two family weddings. I spent time with family on my day or arrival: Al and I did things such as spend the afternoon in a bar on the Embankment with strong Australia and New Zealand connections and watched the first NZ pool match for the Football World Cup.
And I had arranged the next day go to Belgium to visit the New Zealand WWI battlefields, in particular Mesen (Messines), Polygon Wood, s'Gravenstal (site of the NZ memorial in Belgium) and (of course) nearby Passendale. And a few days later visiting the NZ places in the Somme, in particular Le Quesnoy, the the last NZ battle on 4 November 1918.
A week later I flew to Vallodolid in north western Spain and, with a hire car, drove a 'd' shaped circuit to Salamanca, Avila (managed to convince the bar keeper to show the "other" pool match on TV - second NZ game), Segovia, Burgos and then Leon, Ponferrada, Sarria and Santiago. I usually slept in my hire car so as to be free to stop and start each day when I wanted.
Before leaving home I had done some research and knew if I started from Sarria I could get a certificate on satisfactory completion at Santiago. And I had some idea of what I needed to carry, and not to carry, on my back.
It was with some surprise on waking in Burgos several hundred kilometres west of the Cathedral, to see walkers with largish backpacks asking directions with hand gestures, being assured and continuing westward.
That was the last Saturday of June: I intended to stop for the night near Sarria and on to Santiago the next day. For the most part the main road avoids the towns and it wasn't until late that day, when I left the main road I encountered a straggle of pilgrims making their way, with the onset of rain, to a backpackers for the night.
On Sunday I drove off about sunrise: as I went through the smaller towns I encountered many pilgrims leaving their backpacker accommodation. I noted ages ranging from very young to quite old and my mind was made up to try my hand starting the next day.
In 2010 I was travelling to England and France for two family weddings. I spent time with family on my day or arrival: Al and I did things such as spend the afternoon in a bar on the Embankment with strong Australia and New Zealand connections and watched the first NZ pool match for the Football World Cup.
And I had arranged the next day go to Belgium to visit the New Zealand WWI battlefields, in particular Mesen (Messines), Polygon Wood, s'Gravenstal (site of the NZ memorial in Belgium) and (of course) nearby Passendale. And a few days later visiting the NZ places in the Somme, in particular Le Quesnoy, the the last NZ battle on 4 November 1918.
A week later I flew to Vallodolid in north western Spain and, with a hire car, drove a 'd' shaped circuit to Salamanca, Avila (managed to convince the bar keeper to show the "other" pool match on TV - second NZ game), Segovia, Burgos and then Leon, Ponferrada, Sarria and Santiago. I usually slept in my hire car so as to be free to stop and start each day when I wanted.
Before leaving home I had done some research and knew if I started from Sarria I could get a certificate on satisfactory completion at Santiago. And I had some idea of what I needed to carry, and not to carry, on my back.
It was with some surprise on waking in Burgos several hundred kilometres west of the Cathedral, to see walkers with largish backpacks asking directions with hand gestures, being assured and continuing westward.
That was the last Saturday of June: I intended to stop for the night near Sarria and on to Santiago the next day. For the most part the main road avoids the towns and it wasn't until late that day, when I left the main road I encountered a straggle of pilgrims making their way, with the onset of rain, to a backpackers for the night.
On Sunday I drove off about sunrise: as I went through the smaller towns I encountered many pilgrims leaving their backpacker accommodation. I noted ages ranging from very young to quite old and my mind was made up to try my hand starting the next day.
Beginnings
As a youngster living in Karori, a suburb on the western fringe of Wellington, I was surrounded by hills. If we wanted some excitement it often involved climbing about 300 metres of elevation (about 1,000 feet) from home to the tops of several surounding hills.
From there I graduated to small trips to the Orongorongo and southern Tararua ranges. Including one where I nearly lost myself in a blizzard at over 4,500 feet near Hector peak inland from Otaki.
And later, with a well grounded dad as leader, did some trips in the southern Tararua's with our children.
From there I graduated to small trips to the Orongorongo and southern Tararua ranges. Including one where I nearly lost myself in a blizzard at over 4,500 feet near Hector peak inland from Otaki.
And later, with a well grounded dad as leader, did some trips in the southern Tararua's with our children.
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