A memorable moment today as we exited the bustling city of Espalion. Heading into the woods on a trail, we were heralded by an older woman, greeting us as pilgrims, telling us of her situation: husband dead, children far away, and she was trying to make a living. And I suspect, out to have an engaged life. She was selling her homemade goods: farçou (a chard fritter), a pomme fritter, crepes, and various cakes. We’d just bought food in the city for the day’s hike, but I couldn’t not get something. Plus, I wanted to try farçou. So, 2 farçou fritters and a pomme fritter to go – a euro each. I wanted to give her 4 euro, but she insisted on giving me change. I respect her spunk.

Some Pilgrim resting areas…

Another long haul tomorrow – 16 miles, after today’s 13. Going remarkably well! Off to bed…

Hiya. I’m done with the day by day format. I’m too behind. Why? Because as beautiful as this Chemin is,  and this part of France is, we’re finding it to be quite challenging.  Far more so than the Caminho Portugues.  The climbs are steeper and so are the descents. And the rocks! Good, great upheaval of the earth! My advice for anyone intending to walk the Via Podiensis is to have walking g poles, mostly necessary after day 6. Poles would really help on the rolling rock descents,  particularly in the rain which we did yesterday, from about 2:30 to 5. A heavy rain. Thank goodness we had a warm,  private room. More on accommodations later.

So that’s why I’m behind. I’m exhausted at day’s end.  Last night I opened WordPress with the intention to write and found my myself staring at the screen. So at 8:30, it was lights out, listening to a Bruno detective book, and asleep by 9. Slept well until 6:30 am!

So let’s catch up a bit anyway. Yesterday we walked through upper pasture. Cows in the distance and cows nearby. Miles of stone walls creating borders. There was one long, steep climb with buffeting wind that was especially memorable, for at the summit was a little cabin to rest out of the wind. And to eat an amazing French pastry.

Remember, I said rocky. Imagine how much manpower it took to clear the fields of those rocks and build the walls! Homes are made of stone here and even roofs.

Enough about rocks. Here’s a few shots of our misty, rainy, sunny, breezy, day. It was ever so changeable! Kept going from one to the other and back.

Fading… more tomorrow.

This is the tomorrow that I wrote of yesterday – and then didn’t publish!

Today began with a very fine drizzle that stayed with us for the morning. It never poured, it wasn’t windy, it was refreshing.

We are trekking through countryside with very few homes or even small villages. Infrequently, one farmhouse stands alone, miles from another.

We walked 17 miles today, the 20th, so time to pack it in.

After that stormy night, the day dawned misty, but soon cleared up.

It was a quiet walk through unpopulated terrain. Cows. Cattle. Pines. C’est très très beau, le paysage.

The past days the trail has been bordered by Spanish Broom, though a smaller version than what we have in NM. It seems stunted, but fuller. The blackberry brambles continue, but hardly any edible ones. Rosehips burst forth in vivid orange-red, brilliant against the greenery.

Must be beautiful in spring when roses and the Broom are in full boom. Bloom.

On the Caminho Portugues way markers were typically the yellow arrow or the blue and yellow scallop shell. Here in France, they are blazes of red and white. In the photo below you’ll see both, though the blue and yellow just showed up today.

I often pick up a small stone to carry with me as I walk. I think of loved ones and pray for them, imbuing the stone with the prayers. Then I leave it at one of the crosses.

In the small village of L’Estret we came across this kitchen. It’s in someone’s home. The fridge is stocked with cold sodas and fruit juices. There’s a variety of teas. Chocolate and biscuits. Coffee. Leave a donation. Relax. Replenish. Can you imagine? Are there still small towns in the States where one could do something like this? I’m truly in awe of French country life. And I know I’m romanticising some. But really. Hundreds – thousands of people walk by here and look how clean it is.

Okay. Long day tomorrow. Gotta get to 😴.

Arriving at the outskirts of Saugues, before entering the wooded trail, this carved statue sees you off.

The Auberge du Sauvage is dormitory style only. We had 6 beds in our room, a toilette and 2 showers just close by. I didn’t sleep well. Or so I thought. Then discovered the next morning I’d slept through a raging thunderstorm. I only heard one clap. I’m so sorry I missed it.

A plus the afternoon of arrival, weceere having a drink and struck up a conversation with a French couple. Oh, the power of alcohol to uninhibit the tongue. We had a long conversation about politics and social issues. In French! It was a blast. Vive la France! Vive le vin!

Lots of steep inclines and descents today, but not so daunting as they looked on the app. Thankfully,  lots of clouds scudding across the sky and stiff breezes to keep us cool when the sun shone.

Don’t judge me.

During the middle ages sometime  a beast roamed the area, killing 60 or so people. It was finally killed and brought to the King as proof – of its existence? Of its slaying… There’s  locally brewed beer in the area that goes by the name, La Bête.

Great dinner at our gîte, La Margeride. Salad, slow roasted beef in a delicious broth, rice, bread, 3 cheeses, wine, and a commercial pre-packaged ice cream cone. A good breakfast too – as in more than bread, butter, and jam, ie yogurt and granola. Although the French bread is typically so good, that it’s fine.

On to day 4….

Alliers is the river that runs through this part of France 🇫🇷. It’s said that salmon are very happy in this river.

It was another fabulous day of walking through beautiful countryside.  Not too hot, a cool breeze. And the air for a good part of the early morning walk smelled so sweet – like chocolate flowers. You may not have these flowers in your part of the world. They are a particular delight of Albuquerque.

The route has also been lined with blackberry brambles. Some are small and dried out,  but many are plump and succulent.  I stop frequently to avail myself of the bounty.

Alas, many of them are too high and beyond reach. Still, I’ve had a good share of them.

Some views from our hike…

Along with the tower,  this is what’s left of an ancient fortress.

There is a very steep decent from here, so we elected to backtrack a short way and come down along the power lines.

Our gite tonight, La Gite du Pont Eiffel, while providing a warm welcome,  didn’t provide much else. The food was decidedly not French. Stale bread, for one thing, and canned peas and carrots in mayo for another. The pasta bolognese was tasty. A Pilgrim had to walk through our “private room” to get to hers. Breakfast was more stale bread, jam, and margarine. Margarine! Well, it was a very small taste of “roughing it”, so what’s to complain about, really? The host was kind. The other two pilgrims were also.

And that’s it for today. Which is actually yesterday. But that’s all she’ll post today. We have a longer hike tomorrow, but with considerably less elevation, so more miles should be okay.

Bon soirée.

A very fine beginning on Le Chemin. Cool and overcast, no rain, we had an easy day: just 16.9 km/10.35 miles. The pack feels fine now that I received some tips on packing, where to settle the main weight, and how to use the load straps. The Caminho Portugues could have been so much more comfortable.

St. Roch was a healer back during the plague. After his pilgrimage to Compostella, he traveled around providing healing to those who contracted the plague. Until, that is, he came down with the plague himself. Then he was shunned and lived alone, only squeaking by due to a dog that would bring him bread. This is why he is always depicted with a dog by his side, and his robe lifted to show his plague wound. A Pilgrim shell and gourd are also included, so don’t confuse him with St. Jacques!

We had a very comfy stay here. But we didn’t stay in that building. The owners, Anne and Didier, live above. A few rooms for pilgrims and the kitchen and dining room are below. We were 20 pilgrims gathered around the dining table, along with Anne and Didier, and the only English speakers. Everyone else was French. They were all very kind to compliment my ragged French. Mostly they carried on in a voluble way with lots of laughter. I wish I’d been born in France. I’m a Francophile for sure.

Dinner was delicious, multi-coursed, and filling: vegetable quiche and salad (with veggies from their garden), green lentils of Le Puy with sausage, rice, cheese, various desserts: a clafouti, a banana cake, a grape tart. A lot! Only thing missing was the wine! We could have bought a glass or a pitcher, but as no one else was drinking, we eschewed it as well. Did have a glass earlier…

That’s the day (14 sept), mostly in photos. I’m a day behind because we had terrible wifi there. Maybe I’ll get to today, today, but maybe not till tomorrow!

We had a MUCH more comfortable drive returning to Lyon from Domme than getting there. We left about 8 am, so it was cooler. Plus it was overcast. So different from that so hot drive without air conditioner on the 7th. 

Our welcome at the Gîte we had booked in Le was non-existent. The host had not responded to Ed’s emails prior to our arrival,  nor did he respond to our phone calls that we had arrived and were waiting for him to allow us entry.

Plan B. Find another place. Not so easy when the 38th annual medieval festival,  Roi de L’Oiseau, was commencing.

Called a few places. Complet. Third try, we got lucky – the last room at the Dyke hotel. Decent price and breakfast of French bread, croissant,  coffee. The room faced a busy street and a bar, so the noise didn’t abate much, but we did manage to sleep some.

Would have been nice to experience the Renaissance Fair,  but the Chemin called!

I was about half way through my order of rougail saucisses when I had to ask, “What did I do to deserve this?” By “this” I meant being on a shaded patio in a roadside brasserie on a hot summer afternoon in a quiet country village in France. We are in the gastronomic heart of France and having another exceptional meal.

We had been driving from our home base near Domme to the prehistoric cave in Peche Merle, and now on the way to Rocamadour. In addition to being the heart of Deep France, this region is one of the longest continuously inhabited places in the world, having human habitations ranging back to 400,000 years before present.

How do you wrap your head around that? The cave art at Peche Merle dates from over 30,000 years ago, shortly after, in geologic terms, the Cro Magnon humanoid was emerging on the European continent.

And here we were, having transported ourselves in a metal contraption over the land at 80 km/hrs, powered by fuels that were slowly forming when this area was being settled.

What have I done to deserve being here, at this time, in this place, having this experience as the flavor of the sauce dissolved in my mouth, a sauce created through countless millenia of human evolution.

The answer, of course, is “nothing.”

When we determined to delay our start on the Chemin St. Jacque we had to make a few decisions, such as where we would spend the 10 days or so, how we would get there, and what we would be doing. I must admit that our initial response was to return to Lyon since there were more transportation options to a greater array of destinations.

After making a non refundable apartment reservation, we decided that we really wanted to spend the time in “Deep France,” a term we have encountered that refers to the southwestern rural areas, in other words the same general area ẁe had just left.

One of the reasons we chose”Deep France” derived from a series of novels written by Martin Walker about a municipal policeman named Bruno. Walker is a retired Scottish journalist who lives in the Dordogne region, and he situates his novels in the environs of his home. His descriptions of the area, the culture, and particularly the food, are quite compelling.

We rented a car in Lyon, reserved an apartment on the outskirts of Domme, and drove a bit more than 250 miles to get here. Although we enjoyed our time in Lyon it may have been a better choice to hunt down a rental car in Le Puy en Velay, which is less that two hours away rather that spent the time and gas and tolls to get here from Lyon.

Since we were already wasting money taking the long way here, it might also have been a good idea to not scrimp on the rental car, sorrento another thirty dollars on a weekly rental for a vehicle with more than one rubber band.

Is that an archaic reference?

As it is, we got a Fiat 500 hybrid with a six speed manual transmission. Sixth is fine for downhill and flat terrain, but is useless on the long uphill grades between Lyon and Sarlat. We arrive at our destinations much later than anticipated since we can only maintain a fraction of the 120 km/hr velocity that Google Maps uses to calculate arrival times.

On the rural country roads, however, the car is perfectly serviceable, easily able to maintain the 80 km/hr speed limit. The only question is, why would you? Perhaps is the smallness of the car, the narrowness of the road, the sharpness of the curves, or the fact that I haven’t driven a manual transmission since the last time I was in France (twelve years ago), but it seems to me thatyou have to be crazy to drive that fast here.

There are a lot of crazy people in France.

I can’t drive more than a few miles before finding myself in the lead of a caravan of up to six cars, trucks, campers, and mobile homes. They’ve been speeding on these roads for 40,000 years, so I guess they have become comfortable with them.

Every few miles there is a quaint, picturesque village, an imposing fortress, a beautiful chateau, or another magnificent view. What we don’t see are strip malls and fast food restaurants.