September 5 - September 11

Learning to Walk, Day 9 | September 5, 2022

While my American friends (most of them, anyway) had a day off for Labor Day, I indeed labored today. This was not my favorite day. I think it got up to 90 degrees and much of the day was on pavement with no shade. There were a few blissful walks through the woods in shade, but not much. But I made it. The last one in, as usual. The advantage to arriving at your gite last is that everyone else has already showered and done their washing so you don’t have to worry so much about hurrying! The disadvantage is that you get the only bed left in the room, which in this case is a cot. The other three beds are real beds. We’ll see how sleeping goes tonight.

What redeemed today were the two 10th-11th century church/chapels. They were beautiful, and amongst those stones laid so long ago you can almost feel the presence of more than a millennia of worshippers and pilgrims. So many of these churches and villages are here because of the pilgrims making their way to Santiago/St. Jacques. This area of France developed around the pilgrimage route in many ways.

The first chapel was Eglise de Perse, 11th century Romanesque Chapel dedicated to St. Hilarion who was decapitated while serving mass, calmly picked his head up and washed it and brought it to his mother (thanks to Dave Whitson’s guide for this info). I’m sure his mother appreciated the gesture. Here are some photos:

The second special church along today’s way was St. Pierre de Bessuejouls (a Celtic word for “clearing in the woods.”). Again, thinks to Dave Whitson for this info. Most of the church is 14th century, but the really cool thing here is the chapel in the bell tower that goes back to the 11th century chapel of St Michael, and the altar up there is 9th century. You have to climb a winding, very narrow staircase with very big steps to get up there. I did a video of it, but I don’t know if I can share it. I’ll try. Here are photos:

I’m going to have to stop—it’s bedtime, and as always, pictures are loading slowly. Here are a few more from this day. Though it was a brutal day of walking it ended in the fairy tale village that is Estaing. The chateau that is in the center of the village belongs to the family of former President Giscard d’Estaing. I wish I had time to tour it tomorrow. But I don’t. It’s a 22 km day, which by my watch will mean at least 25, and thunderstorms are predicted for the afternoon.

Learning to Walk, Day 10 | September 6, 2022

This was supposed to be a 22 km day. I took a variant that I didn’t realize would make it a 29 km day, at least according to my phone. No wonder I’m spent! My stamina for going uphill has really improved over these ten days. I started noticing the difference a few days ago. I think at this point I would prefer uphill to down—at least my feet and knees would—and my heart and lungs are doing really well going uphill now. I still seem to walk slower than everyone else, but I think it is in part because of my feet, which have had issues for years. They will deserve medals and lots of pampering after I finish. And as much pampering as I can give them while walking!

I opted for the variant because it involved slightly less pavement, had an initial climb out of Estaing rather than a really big climb near the end, and better views. The climb out of Estaing was intense, but I handled it well, and the views back at the village and chateau were worth it. However, the rest of the variant path, G 6, for those of you planning your walk, involves some intense ups and downs through heavy, remote woods. I only saw one other couple all day walking this path. I think everyone else stayed with the GR 65 which ran along the Lot River for a while. I dodged thunderstorms, thank goodness. I could see them looming, rather close at times, and heard lots of rumbles, but they always went around me, and I didn’t feel one drop of rain. They did bring some nice breezes in the hot sun this afternoon.

Pavement is my absolute least favorite surface to walk on. It just pounds the feet, and when there is no shade in the afternoon it is so hot on the pavement.

I’m staying tonight in Espeyrac, a tiny little hamlet, again right out of a fairy tale. I really do have a lighter day tomorrow, under 15k to Conques, which is the second most significant location, after Le Puy, on this pilgrimage route. A lot of people who only have ten days or so to walk end their pilgrimage in Conques. The Church there is beautiful. There is a light show, illuminating the tympanum, in the evening, and one of the priests gives an organ concert every evening. I’m staying in the Abbey, and I think I have my own room again. Fingers crossed. I imagine it was a monk’s cell, and that is all I need! Really hope I’m right—I could use my own room again for a night!

Learning to Walk, Day 11 | September 7, 2022

I’m in Conques. Wow. Wow, wow, wow. I had seen pictures but they didn’t prepare me for this. I’m staying at the Abbey, no wifi. And I’ve used up all my high speed T-Mobile internet for now. So I will have to write up this amazing place and day when I have a better connection. My body has said, “you MUST take a break” after 11 hard days of walking. So tomorrow morning I am hanging around Conques, then taking the transport service to Decazeville, then I’ll walk the last 5 km to where I am staying.

Sorry folks, I can’t get a single photo to load. You’ll have to wait on those until I have Wi-Fi. Good night!

Continued |

Wifi! Sitting outside a cafe with a cafe au lait and they have wifi!! So let’s see if I can adequately write up yesterday. Actually, there probably aren’t words to adequately describe Conques—I wish you could experience it for yourselves. As I think I said earlier, this is the second most significant location on the Chemin Le Puy, and many people end their pilgrimage here. The church, which feels like it should be a cathedral is breathtaking. Austere and simple. It’s Romanesque in style from the 11th century. Thank God they didn’t “Baroque it up” as has happened to so many of the earlier churches on the inside. It just soars. The height inside is nearly 30 meters, nearly 100 feet. It just takes your breath away. More about Conques in a minute, first I need to tell you about a great experience earlier in the day.

I finally had a shorter day, 12 km according to the guide, 15 according to my Apple Watch. I still don’t understand why my watch adds kms to the distance, but I just start out the day knowing I have to add a few to what I expect. I stopped to see the church in the village of Senergues. I try to go in all the churches that are open—and most of them are. This is the Church of St. Martin (one of many), originally founded by Louis, Charlemagne’s son, and the current building is 16th cent, windows are 20th cent. As I was in the church I heard a lot of noise coming from the tower—thumps and voices and I wondered, “can you go up?” I went around to the side, looking for an entrance, and just then a man came out the door, with a pail of rubble to dump in the back of a truck that was parked there. He said, “you can come up if you like.” In French, but I could understand that. I took him up on the offer, and climbed the slightly scary stairs (who am I kidding, very scary, but I was determined), and there were several men working on restoring the tower. He had warned me it would be dusty, and it was. One of them gave me a hand up and I made it into the tower on the same level as four big bells. One of them tried to explain the history of the bells, and wrote the dates of each on a beam with his finger. Two of them are historical, maybe 16th century—from the time the church was built. The other two are slightly more recent. It was very cool to be up there. I don’t know if pilgrims normally have access or not. They had built new wooden stairs to get up to the bell level. I don’t know if this is just for the safety of those who need to go up, or if it is for visitors. Anyway, there were no other walkers going up—just me and the restoration crew—so I felt like I had had a special tour.

Now for Conques. Oh my. Descending into it is quite a feat. It is built on the side of the hill, so there are many levels to the town, full of steep, winding streets/lanes—most of them too narrow for a vehicle—and staircases. As I pass through these medieval villages I keep thinking, “this is where Beauty and the Beast is set.” Disney must have visited this part of France. So many of his animated films could have been set in this area. Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty. I guess there are probably medieval villages all over Europe that would look the same.

The Church of St. Foy is the centerpiece, and the place of pilgrimage for centuries. Sometimes this was the destination, sometimes it was a significant stop on the way to St. Jacques/Santiago. Pilgrims came here to venerate St. Foy (Saint Faith). She was a young girl, maybe 12, who was martyred in the 3rd or 4th century, perhaps under Diocletian. She was from Agen, but Conques needed some relics so it could become a pilgrimage destination. The story I have read is that a monk or priest from Conques went to Agen, lived and served among them for a decade earning their trust, then made off with St. Foy’s relics and brought them to Conques. So they were stolen by a priest to put Conques on the map. I may not have that exactly right, but I think it’s close to the story. Anyway they built a church any 12 year old martyr would be proud of.

I stayed at the Abbey, which like many such ancient abbeys and convents now serves pilgrims. I had my own little room on the top level, and I think I counted more than 60 stairs, up a central, stone, spiral staircase. At least it was a wide spiral so did not bother my spiral staircase fear too much—only when I met someone coming down and I had step on to the slightly narrower part of the stairs. It was wonderful to have my own room again. When you are in Conques bedtime is much later than the normal pilgrim bedtime. They have a service of pilgrim blessing at 8:30, followed by one of the brothers giving a half-hour talk explaining the tympanum outside, followed by a 45 minute organ concert (again, one of the brothers), followed by a light show of the tympanum at 10:15. Of course, I could understand virtually nothing, and I really wish I understood French last night. The brother who gave the talk of the tympanum was clearly an engaging speaker and evoked many laughs.

The organ concert was wonderful. During the concert, you can pay 6 Euros to go walk around the upper level of the cathedral. I gave it my best shot. I made it up the narrow, steep stone stairs to the organ loft, paid my 6 E, started up the very narrow, steep enclosed stairs to the upper level, then when you had to go out on a narrow balcony with low railing high above the nave, I just couldn’t do it. Sheer panic set in. I turned around, let the couple behind me squeeze past and went back down to the organ level, told the woman taking money that I just couldn’t do it and made my way back down to the safety of ground level. She offered to refund my 6 E, but I said no. It can be my contribution to the organ fund which they made a plea for. I watched people walking around the upper level, one woman almost as scared as I had been. Her friend helped her past the scariest parts. Maybe if I’d had such a friend with me who had no fear of heights I could have done it. Here are photos of the cathedral, the tympanum and the light show.

The light show of the tympanum was wonderful. It really brought out the detail that is harder to see. You can tell that originally it was painted—you can still see faint blue on Christ’s robes for example, so perhaps it looked something like this when it was first carved and painted. If you google “Conques church tympanum light show”, you might find a video of it. I took one, but I’m sure it is way too long to try and upload here!

And that is Conques. There may be a few more photos from this morning. Time to leave this cafe with wifi and walk around a bit. I am really enjoying my morning off from walking. It’s so nice to sit, enjoying cafe au lait, or two, write and just relax. I take the transport service to Decazeville early this afternoon, hope to find a sporting goods store to upgrade my day pack, then will have what should not be too taxing a walk, 5 km to Livinhac-le-haut, tonight’s destination.

Learning to Walk, Day 12 | September 8, 2022

My plan had been to take the transport service to Decazeville and walk the last 5 km to Livinhac. But as I got up from lunch I said, “nope, I’m going to see if they can take me all the way to Livinhac. I can’t even manage 5 km today.” It was no problem. That was where they were taking everyone else. It was a beautiful drive, and I’m sure it would have been a wonderful walk, but would have involved a lot of intense climbing up and down, my Australian friends said even the last 5 km from Decazeville involved an intense climb and descent, which I just wasn’t up to today. I think I am probably going to need to do this once every 7 – 10 days, and I probably should have done it sooner—like that one day that was just hot and a lot of pavement—but I didn’t know that then!

Livinhac. What can I say about Livinhac-le-haut? Anything would suffer by comparison the day after Conques, but Livinhac strikes me as a town that is struggling. The gite is very nice, with a bohemian feel, run by a man from Italy, and dinner promises to be a wonderful Italian meal, but there is not really anything else here. There was a place in the center to get a drink before the gite opened, and a few of my favorite people I’ve met so far are staying here, so it will be a lovely evening.

Here are few more photos from my morning in Conques. I took some more photos of the tympanum in daylight.

Dinner tonight was worth writing about. Not just the food but the company and experience. I am at the Gite La Vita et Bella. I booked here because I had read about the wonderful dinner experience. The host is originally from Italy and has been doing this for ten years. He cooked an amazing pasta dish and we all ate outside under his grapevine. The sense of community that has grown is everything you read about on the Camino. Strangers who see each other day after day and become friends. Sometimes you don’t see each other for a few days, then you meet up again. Many nights I have been the only non French speaker, but tonight there were people from Austria, Germany, France and the US, and the common language was English for most of us. So there was some French, some German, and English. And when the conversation around me was in German, I was sitting next to the other American and we could talk. The Germans sang a few songs—one of which I knew and could sing along with, and after dinner our host brought out his accordion and played for us. It was a lovely evening. Except for the mosquitos. I may be scratching in my sleep. They even bit me through my clothes.

Learning to Walk, Day 13 | September 9, 2022

Can’t write much. No wifi and the lights are already out and roommates asleep. But I’m in Figeac. 24 km through nice countryside and farms. Not the same “wow” factor, but a pleasant walk. More tomorrow. Good night!

Learning to Walk, Day 14-15 | September 10-11, 2022

Oh my, oh my. Rocamadour. Who thinks, “hey, there’s mighty tall cliff, perfect place for a church, shrine, and one-street medieval village?” Rocamadour is built into one side of a gorge. It is not only a major pilgrimage site, it is a major tourist destination. I am so glad I followed the advice of some guide book I read that said try to stay overnight in Rocamadour (pronounce, Rock-uh-muh-DOOR (rhymes with “sure”). From about 10 or 11 until 5 it is very crowded with people who come for the day. But when the tour busses leave, it is wonderfully peaceful and quiet and you almost have the place to yourself.

On the walk down the winding path after arriving yesterday (busses park at the top), I ran into someone who I’d been seeing most nights. Would often end up at the same gite. He was also staying in Rocamadour for his last night before going home, but was all alone and wishing for pilgrim company. We met for dinner and it was nice to have a meal with someone whose English is far better than my French!

Rocamadour is built on three levels, with a winding switch-back path, stairs, and lifts in between. You have to pay for the lift, but when I was carrying my big pack, it was worth it! There is a castle at the top, which I believe is the most recent addition (just a few centuries old), that was built for protection of the holy site below it and the village. The middle level is the basilica and other chapels, and the lowest level is the medieval village—just one street, which is all there is room for—full of shops, restaurants and some hotels. My gite was on the middle level, down the street from the churches. It was a convent that has a few sisters in residence, but mostly runs a guest house, as so many convents and abbeys do now. I had a teeny, tiny little room with a sink to myself.

The winding path from the top down to the churches, or rather starting from the church level to the top has the stations of the cross at each turning point, so that in itself is a kind of pilgrimage. Rocamadour is most famous for its Vierge Noir, Black Virgin (with Jesus perched on her knee). She has inspired many artists, writers and Poulenc (thanks, Andrew H., for that information). The whole place is awe-inspiring, frankly.

This morning I set out at 8 to explore before catching an 11:30 bus, and before it got crowded. I was fascinated by the birds above me, swooping and calling. I kept hearing this “whoosh” noise and kind of recognizing it, but wondering what it was. I was so focused on the birds, that it wasn’t until it was quite close that I realized the “whooshing” noise was a hot air balloon! It was flying over the gorge, then rose up over the cliff, looking from my perspective like it wasn’t going to clear it. Of course, it did. Just one more breathtaking experience!

After watching the balloon go up and over the cliff and out of sight I continued on toward the churches and heard chanting. I walked into the Chapel of the Vierge Noir to find that the service of Lauds had just started. I think I was the only visitor there. There was a priest reading the service, a brother, a sister and two or three younger people who are clearly interns or something similar. They were helping to lead the service and afterwards were doing things like getting candles out and readying the chapel for the tourists to descend. The brother helped me out, handing me his book and showing me where we were when I lost my place. I was able to read the French and join in the responses, which were all sung. I didn’t understand all of it, but because it’s liturgy and Psalms and other scripture, I was familiar enough with it to get the basic meaning. I felt like I had gone to church on a Sunday anyway, and thought of the folks back home at MAPC, who, I hope were still sound asleep but would be worshipping, too, in several hours.

I took the bus back from Figeac just before noon. It’s just over an hour’s ride. I was the only passenger. And it only costs 2 E each way. How can they afford to do this? It is clearly heavily subsidized. When I took the bus yesterday from Figeac to Rocamadour, there were only four of us going to Roc and one women who got off at an earlier stop. I’m grateful for the bus—the train station at Roc is 4 k away. And while that is not a long distance, I had my pack with me, and I am not doing well with carrying that, so was very glad to get the bus and not have to walk 4k.

For lunch today I ate at a restaurant that was clearly full of locals—most people seemed to know the host (owner?). He recommended the plate of local specialties, and I took him up on it. Duck, foie gras and a yummy, runny cheese, and salad and the best fried potatoes I’ve ever had—I don’t want to call them French fries—they were so much more than what we think of as fries! I have always stayed away from foie gras since I am not usually a fan of organ meats. But this was good. I don’t know if it would be my first choice in ordering, but it surprised me, pleasantly.