Le Puy Route August 2009

EUROPE 2009

Photos:

27 August 2009

Hi from Gitti

.

Hi all, sorry I have not written anything yet, it has been almost impossible to access the Internet and there is a queue where I am now.

After the usual endless flight and huge crowds and queues at CDG airport amongst posters with stern warnings of the risks of swine flu, Jenny and I ( Jenny is a friend of cousin Max and Fran), arrived in Le Puy in the evening of the 21st August at Le Puy en Velay, the start of our walk. The last part of the train trip through the upper Loire valley was very picturesque, forest, river, rocks, little sandy beaches, children swimming, tiny villages with pretty stone houses and cottages.

Le Puy is a delightful little town, with ancient stone houses, the cathedral built on a conically shaped volcanic rock, a giant pink Madonna sculpture on another volcanic rock towering over the little town.

The historic town centre itself was beautifully restored in a very understated way, with no evidence of tacky tourism.

In the morning we visited the Pilgrim’s mass at the cathedral, which was attended by about 20 other pilgrims, mainly French, 1 German and 3 Italians ex mountaineers in their 70’s.

Equipped with our pilgrim’s passports and well blessed we tasted ourselves through the local weekly market stalls and finally left town midmorning after a roast chicken breakfast, followed by freshly picked white peaches. Our packs suddenly felt very heavy, filled to the brim with grapes and nectarines, apples, cheeses, ostrich salami and organic sourdough and rye bread.

When we set off the temperature was already in the 20’s and kept on rising as the day went on. What do they say about mad dogs and Englishmen?

The first day of walking was pretty demanding. 16 km and all uphill. I was very wary of my ankle, which I sprained a week earlier and which was still a bit swollen and felt decidedly delicate and a bit unstable. Sandals on cobblestone were definitely not an option for me at that time.

Anyway we made it, after a day of marveling at the dramatic rocky high plain surrounding us.

Our first night in a Gite d’Etape was great. We had our own room after being welcomed very warmly by our hosts, who had converted an old primary school into accommodation. We shared our evening meal with 8 or 9 other walkers, including the three Italians, who seemed to have rather a lot of aversions. They hated garlic, the English and Americans and the fact that the French eat their dinner at 7 pm, too early, with nothing to do afterwards.

I got off on the wrong foot with a French woman because in an attempt to find pegs for our washing I took one peg off her bone dry towel, when she was not around. You should have seen the pursed lips and mutterings of disapproval. It was quite absurd, especially since the pegs were communal. As the evening progressed and we all got talking she became very friendly and the incident was soon forgotten.

We have now finished our fifth day of walking, with the first three days having been somewhat challenging as the terrain was very up and down and it continued to be very hot.

Yesterday we awoke to a thunderstorm and rain, which became very heavy during the course of the day. Luckily we found shelter in a barn, when the rain and storm were at their worst.

We have had the last two days with my friend Brigitte from Bruxelles, which has been fun. The first night in Sauges, a town of 3000 inhabitants, dedicated to the story of the local beast of Gevaudan, a wolf like creature, which is said to have killed between 100 and 200 people, we had booked into a gite on the edge of the little town, surrounded by farmland. The proprietress, a wonderful woman, also called Brigitte, cooked as a superb meal of Le Puy lentil soup, sausages, salad and again fantastic cheeses. In the morning we were spoilt with homemade rhubarb confiture and homemade quarg. It was a jolly evening with 20 of us around the table.

We stayed in a great little Gite last night and the dinner at the local bar in Chanaleilles was beautiful and so very French. Mosaic floors, wooden chairs with rounded backs, paper covers over the table. We had a huge bowl of endive salad, lots of garlic, pork, pasta, a selection of local cheeses and homemade vanilla and chocolate puddings.

The walk today led through forest and high meadows with beautiful honey coloured cows with large brown eyes and large horns. The stone walls reminded me of Ireland. The sun was out again and everything was fresh and green. We learnt that there are no less than 12,800 different plant varieties in this region and we were aware of different scents wafting through the air as we walked along. Herbs and flowers, conifers, heather and moss. Blueberries lined the forest floor. It was beautiful. Walking here is such a pleasure. None of the crowds that you find on the Camino in Spain and with a sprinkling of walkers, one does not feel too isolated. A perfect balance.

This is just a little snapshot of five full on days.

The ankle is holding up, thank goodness for my fantastic boots (Teva Ossegon). So far so good, lots of love; Gitti

30 August 2009

Second Instalment from Voie du Puy.

Hi all, sorry about the intermittent updates, the internet scene is rather a challenge here and I have also been distracted by other things.

We walked 27 km yesterday and 16 hard km today on rocky downhill slopes.

The landscape up here has been out of this world, wild rocky highlands, windy, sunny, lots of solitude, narrow paths, stonewalls, pastures, walking through large herds of cattle.

There is a sprinkling of walkers through the day, but the little towns you pass through do fill up a little with randonneurs. Most people seem to walk for a week or so and are walkers rather than long distance pilgrims.

This walk is truly magnificent. We have mainly stayed at gites d’etapes, rather than hotels. The two hotel experiences we had were terrible, expensive and miserable. One place stank of mould, beds sagged and I got a bout of asthma, which luckily disappeared in the next day of walking. My friend Brigitte treated us to a most memorable meal in a little gourmet French restaurant, which was highly recommended in the Michelin guide. Five courses and lots of wine. It was an amazing experience, the chef joined us after dinner with a glass of French champagne on the house.

Last night after walking 27 km we arrived in the delightful village of Nasbinal, dark slate roofs huddled together, ancient stone houses, beautifully restored, a visual delight. A sudden oasis of green after the barren high country. We had decided to walk on from the gite we booked into high up on the plateau, as we got there at lunchtime and we still had lots of energy to walk further and found the place a bit desolate. In Nasbinal we stayed in a wonderful gite, which features in the French bed and breakfast secrets guide book. We were the only people in the gite a beautiful mezzanine with thick stone walls and lots of nice touches, pristine white linen, poetry and exquisite preparations. It was €21 per person, heaven after the mouldy room for €23 per person.

One night we indulged in a fantastic evening at a gite; Ferme du Barry in Aumont Aubrac. The host prepared Aligot, the traditional local potato dish, made with 500 g Potatoes, 400g Tome fraiche, a local cheese, freshly pressed, 200 g creme fraiche, 100 g butter and garlic, this serves 4. The potato mash substance eventually is dragged out of the pot with a wooden spoon in large elastic sheets, twirled and ends up on your plate in a little mount. It is absolutely delicious. It was served with locally produced lamb, sorry guys, but the flavour and delicate texture left NZ lamb for dead.

Now it is time for dinner again. A little restaurant in St Chely d’Aubrac.

Bye for now, love, Gitti

4 September 2009

Hi from Conques.

Hi all, finally at Conques, staying at the famous Abbey and they have internet, great.

I don’t believe it! After boasting about my boots, I discovered yesterday that the soles were falling off on both shoes. Here I am in the middle of rural France, walking from hamlet to small village, no shops and my shoes are disintegrating after only 190 km of walking. I am so over these companies and their Asian manufacturing and disgusting quality control. I walked to my destination at snail’s pace last night and cousin Fran and friend Jenny found some superglue. Two small tubes for the princely sum of €10. The glue worked for one hour, but now the shoes are coming apart again. The descent into Conques was very steep and slippery, how stressful. So now what, no cobbler for 60 km. A lovely German pilgrim took pity on me and kept on leaving little piles of string by the side of the path, in case I had to tie up the boots.

While en route preoccupied with my shoes I saw what looked like a cow standing on the road, except when I saw it side on looking at me with huge eyes and huge horns, I noticed the rather generous anatomy and realized it was a bull! No way was I passing that beast! Jenny and I slowly moved away and as I was about to climb a barbed wire fence a young woman in a little car came to the rescue and took us a few metres past the bull in her car.

Whew!

The last few days have been fantastic, Max and Fran joined us in Estaing, after Jenny and I had spent a lovely night at the hospitalet, a small refuge run by a catholic community/volunteers. Basic dormitory accommodation, a shared meal in the evening, it was magic. We have had some wonderful overnights, sometimes unexpectedly so. One night we stayed in a private house in St Chely d’Aubrac after a long day of walking, the whole village was booked out, but a very friendly lady at the pharmacy rang a friend who had a beautiful little house in the forest, where we were the only guests.

Eight kilometres out of Estaing we stayed with Max and Fran at a gite with campground and mobile homes and a Menu Americaine. It all sounded really awful, but everything was full, yet when we arrived high up on a hill, in a fabulous setting, there was a gorgeous old house, restored, three caravans on a field, one of which was ours with two bedrooms, kitchen and bathroom and terrace. The dinner was an incredible offering of generosity, sumptuous melon galore, huge salad from the garden, marinated delicious chicken, a huge pasta dish, seven varieties of local cheeses, divine and a fruit salad to follow, aperitif, wine and liqueurs as well as tea produced from wild chamomile. Breakfast consisted of cakes and brioche and toast and homemade jams. The whole thing came to €38 per person, amazing.

Last night at Senergues we stayed at a beautifully restored schoolhouse, converted into a gite and ate under the stars. As we walked into the village romantic music emerged from the church and a man was singing, accompanied by an organist. They were practicing for a wedding.

Today in Conques we are staying in the Abbey. There will be piano and organ music after the shared meal with the monks. It is Jenny’s last night and Max and Fran will leave from Figeac in two days time. Then I will have 26 more days of walking, with around 550 km to go.

Hopefully I will be able to sort the shoe thing!

Must go now, as there is the usual queue for the internet, lots of love, Gitti

7 September 2009

Hi from Faycelles.

Here I am installed in a tiny free standing turret in a beautiful garden on the edge of a tiny exquisite village called Faycelles, reminiscent of a little Tuscan hill town.
Only 10 km today, my first semi rest day since I started this trip.
I figured I deserved it after all the shoe stress over the last few days.
After spending all afternoon in Conques trying to find more glue, a lovely Italian man asked his wife to bring glue from home and made an attempt at fixing the boots. After three hours of walking the soles were coming off again! The ascent out of Conques was long and hard, it rained and the steep path was slippery on rocks and autumn leaves. We gained 500 metres in altitude over the first few km. It was a tough 25 km that day. Shortly before Decazeville, a horrible little industrial town, being Friday afternoon I figured my shoes would not last through the weekend, so I hitched a ride into town and visited the local cobbler, who took one look at my shoes and shook his head. Not repairable! Bugger, my lovely comfortable boots, which were the first shoes ever not to give my any discomfort whatsoever. I was close to tears. The one and only sports shop in town had a handful of walking shoes only and the only pair in my size were a pair of Solomon boots. I had no option but to buy them, reduced from €100 to €70 s. After walking for one day, 25 km, I thought I would never walk again. These boots were killing me. Hard and unforgiving and my feet were on fire. After lots of to-ing and fro-ing and complications I ended up selling them on at a loss to a young German woman who’s shoes had died also and I bought a pair of lightweight Columbia half boots, a bit flimsy, but reasonably comfy, problem solved at precisely closing time of the shop.
Max and Fran left this morning from Figeac. It was wonderful having their company for a few days. Now I am alone for the rest of the way. We spent the last night in a ramshackle refuge, every bed in town was full. It was in total disrepair, full of character, but you could see into the room below through holes in the wooden floor. Some people who also stayed there got badly bitten by bedbugs, we escaped the little pests. The bedbug problem is huge here at the moment, apparently it has exploded recently and I am being very careful about where I sleep and how I manage my stuff. My friend Brigitte got badly bitten in St Alban sur Limagnole at the Hotel Central and ended up on steroids.
Well apart from these minor practical matters and being preoccupied with my little girl in NZ, life is good. Lovely weather again, superb landscapes, kind people.
I have now walked 260 km, just under 500 km to go.
Love, Gitti

8 September 2009

Hi from Cajarc.

What a wonderful walk through arid limestone country on paths fringed by white moss covered stone walls shaded by ancient oak trees. I walked 23 km today, my feet still somewhat sore from the emergency boot day and still lugging my old boots, not having heard back from the manufacturers as to whether or not I can ditch them. I am just about homicidal when I think of Teva. I will cut the tongues out of the shoes tonight and take pics and throw them away, as I do not fancy carrying them for 25 km tomorrow in extreme heat. They, meaning Teva, had better pay up!

I arrived at the gite Pelerin, only to find the owners had muddled up my booking and there was no space other than the Gite Communal, which is bedbug infested. Fortunately when the gite owner at Le Pelerin saw my face he offered me a room in their house, great, external entry, own bathroom, no bedbugs. He made me put my backpack into a plastic bag in case I was a carrier! Better safe than sorry, he said. Well great, I don’t have a problem with prevention. Right, time to go, need a beer and dinner and provisions for tomorrow and check on my washing and cut up the old boots and book a bed for tomorrow, a busy life this pilgrim existence, lots of love; Gitti

9 September 2009

Hi from Limogne en Quercy.

Wow, this place is like something out of a French language book. The essence of France, a little town, no tourists, just getting on with life in the traditional way. I am the only guest in this fantastic gite, called La Gloriette, a whitewashed stone house with faded blue shutters, set in a huge shady rambling garden. The owner, a lively Flemish widow bought the place when she walked to Santiago after her husband died. I love it, it reminds me a bit of Oratia.

I was glad to stop walking today. It was extremely hot and the sun was beating down on the parched dry landscape. Still limestone country. This is where they grow most of the Saffron in France.

Had a lovely shared meal with a very interesting couple from Sweden last night. They live near Malmo and Anke is a retired teacher who specialised in film and speech.

Lots of love; Gitti

10 September 2009

Hi from Poudally 19 km before Cahors,

Thank you for all your lovely messages, have not got time to reply to all, as usual the pressure is on to get internet access.
Today I knocked off 22 km by 2.15 pm, having left Limogne at 8 am. The route was flat, path lined with stone walls and strategically planted fig trees provided for lots of treats on the way, just like plum trees had done on previous days. This is also truffle country. The heat is still stifling and I really had enough of the sun by the time I stopped.
Last night I picnicked in the lovely grounds of the gite with the Swedish couple, sitting under century old trees. The garden is surrounded by a very pretty ancient stone wall, metal sculptures decorate the space. The very pleasant evening came to an abrupt end, when I fished an insect
out of my wine glass, It turned out to be a wasp! Luckily I got bitten on my finger and not inside my mouth or throat!
Tonight I am sleeping in a caravan. I have my own solar shower and composting toilet. The gite itself is full with a bunch of men on a motorbike trip. Not ideal, but I did not fancy another six km in the heat to the next lot of accommodation.
Tomorrow I plan to set off early to Cahors.
Love, Gitti

10 September 2009

Hi from Cahors.

What an amazingly beautiful little medieval town, just arrived and received royal welcome on the bridge leading into the old town from a group of Dutch volunteers who look after the pilgrim’s centre. Cold drinks and figs and a town map.

Last night with the bikies was fun, half of them were women and they invited me to antipasto and wine tasting.

Elsa the woman who runs Poudally had prepared a most unusual and delicious meal. A savoury Tiramisu made with tomatoes and mascarpone and other things, served in little preserving jars. The main was a series of Mediterranean stuffed vegetables and dessert again in little preserving jars was marinated apricots with a quarg layer on a ginger crunchy type base. Her recipes are on their website apparently.

Someone cancelled and I ended up being upgraded to a beautiful room in an annex to the main house.

After dinner we looked at Jupiter through a telescope. Elsa’s dad a retired maths professor is crazy about his stars and spends his days building an extension to the gite and his nights gazing at the sky.

I left at 7.30 sharp and got into Cahors at 1 pm. 19 km, 31 degrees by lunchtime. Better than 45 degrees which it was in August.

Now I wait for the gite to open at 3 pm. Shandy time while I wait.

Love, Gitti

11 September 2009

Motivation Problems

I was walking around Cahors this pm in the stifling heat and felt very tempted to give into the good life, rent a little room for a week, buy some new clothes, get my hair done, have my feet massaged etc...I somehow lack the drive that I had when I walked to Santiago, carried by a wave of other pilgrims and the excitement of getting there. Last year in Austria I was walking off my frustration about the Joneses liquidation, which provided a lot of energy. May be it is the heat, coupled with the stupid shoe thing. The Columbia shoes are ok, but the toes hit the front on the downhill, not that they are too small, they are just quite soft and the foot slips forward. Oh well, I set myself the goal, so I guess I continue, not even half way yet! Planning to reach the Spanish border on 29.9. On schedule so far, hope it cools off soon, love, Gitti

13 September 2009

Hi from Lauzerte

Well, my fantasy aberration did not last long. Thank you for all your encouragements. I was back on the GR65 the next morning. 22.3 km to Lascabanes, a charming little village with a pretty little gite attached to the small church and today at Montcuq a delightful little hill town, pricey though with British infiltration in evidence, hence the property prices, I reached half way point. 375 km to go and I have until the 29th of September to get there. So far I am on schedule with the no of kilometres per day gradually climbing. Tomorrow it will be 27 to Moissac. It is still very hot, unseasonably so. The school at Lascabanes was closed, because of swine flu, I had totally forgotten about this thing, since arriving at CDG airport.

As I left Cahors yesterday morning, still almost dark, I passed a little bakery, the window above the shop was open, inside the baker dressed in white was working at producing delicious smelling pastries and bread. Warm light streamed through the window and the tempting smells were wafting in my direction. He spotted me and by the time I reached the door of the shop he had descended with a plateful of warm freshly made baignets sucre. Irresistible! I asked for two, but when I open the little paper bag, there were at least eight! With not a pilgrim in sight to share them with and because they had to be eaten hot I munched my way through the delicious tasting morsels. The inside was all air I must add. A hot latte followed and by the time I reached the chemin on the other side of the bridge and faced the steep not for the vertically challenged ascent I deeply albeit briefly regretted my excesses.

Oh well I made it!

Other peoples, stories never cease to be an inspiration for me. I met a man, my age, who has been diabetic for 20 years and suffered a severe heart attack 6 years ago. He had heart surgery, which went wrong the first time. He was so sick, he could not even walk 50 metres without Glycerin Trinitrate under his tongue.

His doctor advised him to persist with walking and he is now doing his second long walk on the Chemin de St Jacques, 300 km this time. Bloody good example of rehab I reckon!

I have ended up walking around the same distances as a group of rather nice French pilgrims, some on track to Santiago, others about to finish in Moissac. It has been great to meet up with them during the day (today we stopped and ate large amounts of fresh plums off the trees for lunch) and in the evening over dinner.

Every so often I come across little curled up rounds of string hanging from a branch on the side of the track. Werner the nice German man I met earlier had made a habit of leaving string for me in case I had to tie up the soles of my boots. I know he is about a day ahead of me, because I saw a little entry of his in a visitors’ book in a chapel and I wonder if he is still hanging up the odd roll of string for me to encourage me along the way. Unless I catch up with him, unlikely, I will never know.

Well, that is all for now, time to do my chores, love, Gitti

13 September 2009

JUST HAD TO TELL YOU ABOUT THIS; Woke up laughing my head off. I had a bit of a sleepless night with my feet carrying on walking all night. Finally fell asleep in the early hours and was woken by my roommate’s mobile in the middle of this dream. A number of us fellow pilgrims had been admitted to some sort of hospital for walking related ailments. A couple of us, the rebellious ones, were talking about discharging ourselves against medical advice and what to say to justify it. I said I would simply say that I had to go on because I had to protect my reputation as being a bloody madwoman…...

Love, Gitti

14 September 2009

Hi from Moissac

Eventful day, now installed at Gite Ultreia, run by a lovely Irish couple and their little 19 month old boy. They were excited to receive warm wishes from Margaret who lives in Palmerston North, who walked all the way from Le Puy to Santiago in 2008. The Gite in Lauzerte where I stayed last night also remembered her and when I said hello from her their faces lit up.

The Bastide of Lauzerte a fortified hill town was one of my highlights. It reminded me of Radicondoli in Tuscany where John Sophia and I had a lovely couple of weeks. It was calm and gentile and beautifully restored, high up, with commanding views of the countryside and no evidence of tourism in the tacky sense.

I left the gite just after 7 am, as I had a 26 km day ahead of me. Soon I discovered that today, Sunday, marked the beginning of the hunting season! Gun shots all around and within minutes of setting off I encountered several men on the track with guns, extra ammunition on belts and dogs. Apparently right now small game is what you can shoot, later in October the hunt is on for the big game. My preoccupation with the pain in the soles of my feet shifted for most of the day to a niggling unease to do with getting shot at, being bitten by a dog or confronted by a panicked wild boar! Not long and I was stopped on the track by a confused, yet eager hunting dog; obviously unclear about how to differentiate between pilgrim and game. I stood still and within moments a group of excited men with guns appeared on top of the hill, obviously expecting that their dog had spotted some prey. Their faces fell when they saw me and they called the dog back. Eventually just before lunch all was quiet again and I started to relax a little, when I spotted imprints on the path which obviously belonged to wild pigs and I heard a snuffling and rummaging sound in the woods nearby. Other pilgrims who followed me a few minutes later had also deducted that we were close to a group of pigs, probably unnerved by all the shooting.

That moment of anxiety over, I was kind of pleased that the rest of the day was mainly close to roads and through fields and when I finally walked into Moissac with its lively antique market in front of the abbey and spotted my mates it was all worth it again. Mind you the cold beer hit the spot alright. We talked about the day’s events and we were all surprised that the hunting action was allowed to occur so close to the chemin.

Just 21 km tomorrow and the next day, washing done, showered, bed booked ahead, time to relax before dinner.

Love, Gitti

Forgot to say

This was one for lowering the self esteem! The diabetic guy with the successful rehab was walking alongside me today. He said he really admired me, because I was an obviously religious dedicated woman in clothes that only a nun would wear and obviously somewhat older than himself, committed to doing this walk, even if it was difficult. He said I had a presence and was exuding calm! I quietly chuckled, things are not always what they seem, but nonetheless consulted a mirror shortly after arriving in Moissac! Not a pretty sight! Sweaty red-faced tired looking me! He is 57 by the way, so how old does he think I am, shock horror!

Gitti

16 September 2009

Castet Aroue

Wow I am really ploughing through those kilometres now. Another 20 plus today.

Yesterday at lunchtime I saw off my friends Henry and Dennis from the Basque country and Katrine, also French. Henry and Dennis are walking progressive sections of the track year by year and Katrine is walking all the way to Santiago. All three decided to walk another 11 km further on yesterday, after 20 km I had enough. The shady walk along the plantain fringed canal with canal boats floating past, had been delightful, real picturesque French stuff again, but the tarmac was hard underfoot.

I had become very fond of my three French mates, Katrine, who just lost her cat (it left on a pilgrimage of its own by the sound of it) and short, stubby Dennis, who was covered in nasty red sores, head to toe from sleeping in the bedbug infested gite in Conques. In addition his feet were full of infected blisters and he hobbled along, but never complained.

Henry his companion is a retired guy around my age, who has had a colourful work history from going to sea, specialising in industrial refrigeration to running a wholesale fish outfit.

Henry also believes that god gifted him with healing hands and took every opportunity to help his ailing fellow pilgrims with their various aches and pains. He does this by hovering his hands about 5 cm away from the body over the sore area. Strangely, as he does this, it is as if the pain is trapped in its spot and everything begins to throb, no kidding! Then as he moves his hands down the limb, never touching, the pain moves with them and kind of seems to leave the body. Everyone reports this after he has treated them and the next day you observe people practically flying along the chemin, who had hobbled the day before. He fixed my sore Achilles for a few days at least.

Well if anyone deserves sainthood it is Henry and the baker in Cahors.

Katrina, Dennis, Henry and I are planning to meet up in St Jean at the end of my walk. The idea is that they will pick me up, take me to St Luz near Bayonne and drop me at the station the next morning. Katrina is interrupting her walk in Bayonne for a few days at that point, so it could work out. We will see.

After they left I booked into the Communal Gite in Auvillar, another magnificent ancient village with a spectacular marche in the middle of the central square. The gite was absolute luxury. Built into the fortifications of the village, magnificently restored with exposed stone walls, huge beams, handcrafted tiles, fully equipped oak kitchen, walled gardens. Four of us shared a huge bedroom with high ceilings, whitewashed furniture, crisp sheets and wrought iron ceiling lights. French doors opened to a stone balcony, which enjoyed commanding views of the river and surrounding countryside and a nuclear power station less than two km away! This explained the obvious wealth of the village, which receives plenty of government subsidy to compensate for the power station.

The gite was great, but unfortunately I could not make use of the kitchen, as the one and only local shop was shut. The restaurants were kind of unfriendly and most of the other pilgrims were couples all going out for romantic dinners, I did feel sorry for myself for a little while and after writing off the restaurant option returned to the gite with a demi baguette, knowing I had a tin of pate in my pack. As I arrived, the light was on in the kitchen, and four elderly French women had scrounged around in the cupboards and found some dried soups, rice, cheese and prunes. We ended up having quite a decent meal for free.

Tonight I am staying in a private little house, directly on the street of a tiny village. A lovely French family. I will have dinner en famille and have been given a double bedroom all to myself. There is only one other guest, a young French student. I am watching a house renovation in process across the road, the wooden beams are being coated and filled in between with a mix of straw and dung. All done manually in the traditional way.

Love, Gitti

19 September 2009

Hi from Lamothe

Great walk through endless vineyards today, small highly aromatic grapes which are used to make the famous Armagnac. This is the heart of the Armagnac country and d'Artagnon one of the three musketeers was born around here. 26 km was a bit more than I bargained for, oh well. After several days of walking through brown bare fields the green of the vines was a welcome change. At lunchtime I came through Montreal le Gers, another fantastic little village. The weekly market was just starting to close up, but there was enough time to stock up on cheese and fruit and to have a freshly made Flammekueche, a thin pizza type thing with a cream, onion and ham topping. Yum. I bumped into my Dresden friends and we lunched in style. Fresh melon to follow.
The dinner en famille in Castet Aroue the other night was a four hour affair: Marie Ange, a woman around my age, looking after her old dad and stepmother opens her home to pilgrims on a regular basis. Over dinner the conversation was lively and Reine the mother talked at me non stop. I concentrated very hard, but could not make sense of anything. The next morning Marie Ange told me that Reine suffers from dementia! Right, no wonder: Apparently two nights earlier she had knocked over a huge bookshelf, narrowly missing her sleeping husband and complained that there was a stranger in the room. Difficult stuff. Marie Ange has had a hard few years. Her son died and her daughter fell ill with Multiple Sclerosis. Her husband left her for another woman around the same time. Marie Ange just walked out of her bourgeois life, headmistress job, house full of beautiful antiques, cut her hair off and disappeared from the scene with a group of gypsies. At some point she did the Camino and came across the little house she now lives in and stayed there.
The following night I slept in a lovely gite in another tiny hamlet called Marselan, where I had a five bedded room to myself and enjoyed a swim in the lovely pool. The gite was owned by a very nice French family with a 23 year old daughter studying communication.
Last night I stayed in Condom. Not one of my favourite places. I found it grubby, smelly, full of real estate agents and snobby elderly tarted up English women with blonded hair, dripping with jewelry, younger French lovers in tow, curly dark locks, designer clothes.
I stayed at Maison du Pelerin, a gite at the entry to the old town. It is run by a kind of displaced German guy in his 40's, who fell in love with a German woman who lived here when he walked through on his pilgrimage. They lived in a restored mill for some years taking in problem kids. Eventually the relationship ended and now he rents this run down, but clean house, no garden and runs it as a gite. The plumbing was in serious trouble and the only working toilet for 12 people was on the second floor. The place was full of German pilgrims. I had dinner at the gite with a nice couple Andreas and Christina from Dresden. The meal was very basic, but the highlight was the Armagnac 16 years old, which followed. I slept very badly, five others in the room. The room was damp from washing hung all around it to dry.
The temperature has dropped a little now and walking is a lot more pleasant. There was even a little rain today. The area has not had any since July and there are cracks in the paths around 20 cm wide and more than a metre deep. It is critical to watch your step and where you put your sticks. One of my sticks completely vanished into one of these holes and I had to get down on the ground to fish it out. It looks as if an earthquake has been through here.
Tonight I am in a new gite, almost empty, except for myself, my Dresden friends and a young guy called Anton from Berlin. It is in the middle of nowhere, but nice, run by Fritz from Baden, where I come from also.
I have had to re arrange my schedule somewhat as there seems to be another surge of pilgrim activity and bookings are a little difficult in some places. This part of the route seems to have either basic gites, no go for me because of the bedbug problem or rather expensive chambre d'hotes, few quality affordable gites: Anyway I am now sorted all the way through to St Jean Pied de Port. Just a little more than 200 km to go. 11 days to do it in. Manageable.
Have decided that this is the last of these pilgrim type walks for me. I am a bit over it now.
I really like the idea of some of the shorter walks like the Robert Louis Stevenson walk through the Cervennes, around 300 km. Apparently one can do it taking a donkey, how cool would that be?
Love, Gitti

21 September 2009

Hi from Aire sur L’Adour

Hi, arrived in Aire after only a 12 km walk this am. Two mornings ago none of us wanted to leave Fritz’s gite. It was pouring with rain and we had had a lovely night in full length bunk bed, brand new; new mattresses with hospital grade covers, no bugs here, a wonderful meal of salads, a rich stew and a selection of cheeses with an aperitif made from Armagnac and peaches and red wine with the meal. This was the best value for money place, only 20 € demi pension, one almost felt guilty it was so cheap. We waited for a break in the rain and took off around 8 30 am. After five or so minutes things went from bad to worse. Us four German walkers seemed to be the only ones on the track and we kept on meeting each other, jollying each other along and comparing notes on our various wet states. By lunchtime I had reached Eauze, a lovely little town. I had a hot chocolate, seeking shelter from the rain and on my way out of town I could not get past a delicious looking fresh plum tart from the bakery. The tart safely consumed I braced myself for more rain. The inside of my shoes had turned into lakes and I was drenched to the bone. At 5 pm I reached my destination; a little farm called Haget, where I was the only guest in a wonderfully converted gite, former stables. The gite owner lit a huge fire in a huge fireplace for me and after a hot shower and a glass of Armagnac I spent the rest of the evening tending the fire and drying out my gear. The friendly sheep dog, who liked to play fetch kept me company and I watched 40 years of Woodstock on French TV. A good night’s sleep and in spite of another rainy day ahead I set off the next morning. I only got damp, managing to shelter from the worst of the rain under a chestnut tree. The quality of some of the French gites is a constant source of pleasure for me. What a contrast to Spain. Last night I stayed at Gite Dubarry, a recently completed total rebuild of a barn space. There was only one other guest, the owners had gone out for the afternoon to a family function and Mariepole and I marveled at the amazing newly created stained glass windows set into hand carved sandstone. The gite owner is a stonemason by trade. The owners returned at 6 pm and supplied us with farm produce and wine and lit a fire for us. They were lovely people. I found an entry in their visitor’s book from Margaret in Palmerston North who had stayed there in 2008. They remembered her well. Small world. The rain has finally stopped and the rest of the week is meant to be fine. Better go now, need to check into Hospitalet St Jacques, where I have booked in for the night. Love; Gitti 24 September 2009 Arzacq Arraziguet Two days of fog and humidity and finally after a couple of boring walking days through endless brown agricultural flat land and run down depressing hamlets, the foothills of the Pyrenees are approaching and the landscape is becoming greener with undulations and more variety. Normally one would have had panoramic views of the Pyrenean mountain ranges from Miramont Sensac, but the fog put a stop to that, sadly. After quite a bit of motivational downturn after 32 consecutive days of walking, I ended up having a fantastic and inspiring night last night. Earlier in the day I met a wonderful couple from Washington. Both in their seventies, they were biking the route! They had already walked and biked many other routes in Spain and France. We had just negotiated a whole lot of sticky mud crossing a motorway in construction and their bikes were as caked in clay as my shoes. In the evening I stayed in a gite on a farm which specialises in the production of Foie Gras. Not my kind of thing; don’t like what they do to the birds in the process. That aside, I was greeted by a gregarious Austrian man in his sixties Gotthart and his friend Klaus from Germany. They were staying in the posh part of the farm and invited me over for dinner. I was able to use the washing machine there too. Great! We bought provisions from the farm shop, wonderful pate made from Poularde, homemade bread, organic tomatoes and a superb stew made from haricot beans and duck legs. There was a heated swimming pool for everyone to use, comfortable sun loungers and grapes for the picking, small delicious and seedless. We drank Rose also from the farm’s production and spent all evening joking and laughing, thanks to Gotthart’s infectious sense of humour. It was great not to have to struggle with French for the night. Well I paid for my sins this morning when I set off still chuckling reflecting on the night before, when I took a wrong turn and ended up back in Miramont Sensacq. I had just added close to 10 km to my 26 km day. I realised that was a no go and ended up rearranging my schedule for the last few days once again. I will arrive on schedule in St Jean on the 29th of September. six more days of walking 120 km to go. Tonight I am staying in the gite Communal, reputedly no bedbugs, looks clean enough, so fingers crossed, tomorrow I am off to Pomps. Love, Gitti

26 September, 2009

Hi from Maslacq

Just arrived at a wonderful gite called Cambarrat, another one of Margaret’s recommendations. Again they remember Margaret; la reine du chemin, very well. The property is a tastefully restored farmhouse; lots of character and simple style, set in fantastic rambling gardens with mature trees and three little wagons, a little like mini gypsy caravans, quaintly fitted out dotted under the trees. Very charming and a nice change from the rather institutional gite communales I stayed at over the last two nights. When I went to bed 2 nights ago at Arzacq Arraziguet the two Canadian women in my room had found little black particles on the sheets and we started to worry about bedbugs. Marie Paule was there too and between the four of us we pooled insect repellents, essential oils and perfumes. You could hardly breathe by the time we had liberally covered ourselves and our bedding with various concoctions. We were in hysterics all the way through. One of the Canadians has the most incredible husky, yet shrieking laugh and we call her ¨La femme quit rit¨as opposed to ¨La Vache quit rit¨ a French triangular processed cheese. We did not get bitten by anything that night, great! Last night we stayed in the gite communal in Pomps, a rundown sports hall converted into pilgrims’ lodgings. All was well, same group of 4 women and two lovely guys, one from Quebec, the other a Spaniard living in France. The two had met some years ago on the Camino and have since walked a number of routes. Their two families have become very friendly over the years. We had just finished doing the washing and were relaxing over a beer and snacks of local ham and cheese, when several PGV,s arrived (high speed walkers, the 35 km per day variety, as opposed to TGV,s the high speed trains). One, a young German guy installed himself in the bed next to me. As he removed his pack, I just about passed out with the intensity of the BO and if that was not enough, he removed his shoes inside and the rotten cheese stench instantly dominated the entire space. I fled within seconds to a spare bed next to Marie Paule behind a little partition and next to the window. Later I moved the smelly boots onto the verandah with the rest of our boots, only to find that as I was drifting off to sleep another ¨helpful¨ pilgrim suggested to the guy that the shoes might get damp and moved them back inside! My strategy backfired! We had had a fun night with the Quebecoises, who tried to teach me their accent! It was a bit like a scene out of My Fair Lady, instead of the Rain in Spain, it was ¨Demaing mataing je prends du vaing, c’est biaing! Our bellies ached from laughing so much. Tomorrow it is off to Navarrenx, 24 km from here. The others are staying a little closer in the Gite communal in Maslacq, but I liked the sound of Cambarrat better and am glad that I am here. Have booked a restaurant table for tomorrow night with the two Canadian women and Marie Paule, at the Restaurant Commerce, meant to be great and affordable mixed with a bed at the gite communal. Four more days to go. The fog has finally cleared after two days and it is lovely and sunny, but still no view of the mountains due to a persisting haze. Love, Gitti

27 September, 2009

Hi from Navarrenx

A hard and long day today 26 km with lots of ups and downs on little roads. Lovely countryside though, undulating, green meadows, beautiful old farmhouses dotted here and there, little patches of shady forests. The night at Cambarrat was a delight. Isabelle, a stylist has created a fantastic interior using Basque traditional materials, including heavy cottons which are used to make Espadrilles in amazing colours. Nicolas her husband has been responsible for the exterior restoration of the buildings and also plays the banjo after dinner. A great evening with a lovely group of pilgrims from Norway, Denmark, France and Switzerland and England. John from Liverpool was staying for two days to rest his feet. A rather overweight pharmacist, who had new insoles, which have created mega blisters. The Compede plasters he had applied made things worse and created a soggy mess. I was able to put my first aid kit to good use and after various treatments and an afternoon of exposing his feet to sun and air, he was able to walk on the next day. Navarrenx is a fantastic little ancient town complete with thick town walls and an amphitheatre, have not had time to read up about it yet, as I arrived late and there is a Vintage Car Festival on, the town centre cordoned off and finding the Gite Communal was a mission. Off to dinner soon with the Canadian girls and Marie Paule. Have all had to change bookings for tomorrow, because the gite in Aroue has bedbugs! Love, Gitti

30 September, 2009

At St Jean Pied de Port

The last tree days have gone in a flash. Lovely walking, lovely weather, sunny and 34 degrees. The Pyrenees at my side today. The day after Navarrenx was shortish and once again in the company of the French Canadian group, we stayed at a Maison Bellevue just before Aroue, an old farmhouse/gite run by a lovely elderly couple. We sat in the garden under vines around a huge stone table and ate figs and grapes from their own production accompanied by a fresh Rose. Our host took us for a little excursion up to a little church on the hill to show us the three pointed church tower peculiar to a small region only. Afterwards he dropped us at the local restaurant where we had a wonderful meal of creamy vegetable soup, platter of charcuterie, roasted pork loin served on a rich Piperade, salad, cheese and homemade coffee and praline ice cream, liberal quantities of red wine to go with it. All for €12 per person. It is incredible how well one can live as a pilgrim on around €37 per day all in. The following night I had booked into a gite in Ostabat, the others went a little further on. I installed myself, had a shower, did my washing, walked up to the village for a beer and then decided that I really did not want to stay there. Instinct I guess. I had not warmed to the people who were there and I was facing a dinner out alone or a readymade microwave meal in the dingy kitchen of the gite. I spotted a poster for a newly opened gite on a farm around 1 km away and decided to call and book a bed. It worked out very well, as someone arrived looking for a bed in the gite I was about to vacate, so that person took my place, no harm done. I packed my bag and once again climbed the hill to the village, when Irene a 67 year old pilgrim who had shared a table with us the night before walked towards me. She said she had come to collect me because she had heard from the Canadians where I was and because she had stopped at the gite an hour earlier and found bedbugs crawling on her mattress, so she left. How kind of her and how pleased I was to have checked out. Again I ended up with my mates and we had a wonderful last night together. The host a Basque wearing black clothes and a black beret was a chanteur and he entertained us all evening with Basque songs, which ended up in a very loud sing-along. There was a Basque group of walkers led by a feisty woman wearing a bright red beret and t shirt to match with the Logo of " Basque Attitude". It was a great night in spite of the chanteur being a little gropy with the girls. I arrived at St Jean with Marie Paul and have booked into a little room of my own as I am off to the station at 6 am tomorrow and don’t want to wake people up. It feels a little sad to have finished, I could just keep on walking, as I am in really good shape, no problems apart from a little niggle with the Achilles tendon. The whole thing was almost a piece of cake this time, apart from the shoe saga. Off to dinner now with Donald and Chantalle, more Canadians, Donald remembers Max and Fran well from Conques and sends his regards. Lots of love, Gitti