As I got up and got out of bed I banged my head against the shelf above. Some books came crashing down on me. It was 0530 in the morning. Damn I thought I screamed. Over on the other side of the dorm I thought I heard someone say “ Mon Dieu.”
“Darn”, as pilgrims are not supposed to swear. So I go up. It was pitch darkness and I did not want to wake anyone. As I was walking, no tip toeing towárd the heads (toilet), I banged my big toe against the leg of the bed. “Damn, merde, shit” I screamed again to myself. Owee, that hurts. I then thought I heard my dear wife whisper in my ear: “ John, not only are you a slob you are also a big klutz.” Yes dear. I thought to myself.
I made it to the head only to see or feel that some guy, er pilgrim, was sleeping on the floor by the heads. Oh yeah, I remember. This guy was sensitive to snoring so he moved his mattress by the heads. Snoring or smell? Take your pick. Anyway, I tried to be a quiet as a mouse as I opened one of the doors to the stalls: caaaw-reeek, the door needed oil. ” Mon Dieu” I heard from th other side of the dorm. I went into a stall and closed the door only to see no toilet seat. No matter. I am a male after all and this is the call of nature for numero uno. Then I tripped on something and fell down and low and behold the toilet was not secured to the floor. With a bang it fell sideways. “ Holy shit.” I said. “Mon Dieu.”I heard again and the guy on the floor beside the toilet just grunted and turned over. Finally, I got out of there, brushed myself off and tip toed back to my bed. Then again my big toe banged again on the corner leg of the bed and I tripped and fell into the bed beside me. That guy was not amused. “ Mon Dieu” I heard again. I apologized to the man in the bed, got my things together, strapped on my rucksack and made my way to the door. I then hit a table as I was opening the door. “Mon Dieu, mon dieu, mon dieu monsieur.” I heard over again and with that I started my day. As I opened the door to leave I yelled back into the darkness of the room: “ Mon Dieu to you too, adieu.” And with that I was on my way.
They are not kind to pilgims. Crozant was at the top of a big hill by the Creuse River. A beautiful site but not to a pilgrim at the end of the day. We made it to the top, found our accommodations, unpacked, then proceeded to the cafe. I could not believe it. We had chickenm wings and beer. And they were some of the best wings I have even had. Great. Had some red vino as well and pickd up another bottle for later in the evening. Gawd, how I love this pilgrim life. “ Mon Dieu.”
This is Netherlander Berry. Good company. Pascal from Strasbourg, also joined us. Great evening.
In the morning when I left, the trail had us go all the way back down to the river bed to start our hike. We basically covered off over 100 meters of elevation in less that 500 meters. That was brutal. We followed the river bed into a magical land of streams, woodland and moss. It was cool and very pleasant. The water cascaded over the rocks and weirs and gave it that fresh relaxing aura. It made it even more enjoyable to the senses:
It was a hard slog again today. 24.5 km in 31 degree heat. And it was all uphill. Obviously our elevation was increasing as we headed south. Coming out of the beautiful Creuse River Valley was akin to a death march, or as I like to refer it to as the Compestello Sweat. We did come into a few villages but I am not going to bore you with that “F” word anymore but it was Thursday after all and everything was………….
But there were also some lighthearted moments:
“You talking to me? Are you talkimg to me? Yeah you, you. Are you talking to me, huh?, Huh? Well are you? Okay, then how about you guys?”
Pascal from Strasbourg. He is 64.
Another great tune to listen to as you are doing the Camino Sweat March!
Gargle more or Gargle less. It,s entirely up to you.
Well after my meal last night with 2 bottles of vin rouge I really needed to gargle this morning. And what a fine dinner me and my colleague had. Barry from the Netherlands, who was also with the Von Trappe family. Just he and I now as the family ended their hike in Gargle more or less. I know…..groan.
We celebrated the milestone of completing the Nevers southern variant in fine fashion:
Fine French food.
Gargleless is a bohemian village set low in a lush valley among low lying hills and valleys. A old rustic, ancient church and castle anchors a town of local and regional artists. Pottery, sculpting, painting – well just about any type of art you can think of. Steep hilly streets with quaint houses and shops give the place a homely but affluent feel. Warm and inviting restaurants, bars and terraces complete the scene. Marvellous.
Hey, maybe I should keep my shirt on. 20 years old I am not.
Today,s hike was brutal. The worse day yet. Hill after hill after hill. Entered and came out of the Cruise River valley with a hill of about 2.2 km in length with 4 switchbacks. Massive. That was followed by another, then another. We crossed valleys. We did,nt follow them. We crossed them. Whenever we descended we cringed for we knew we had to go up again. What goes down, comes up. There were a few times where I wanted to puke…out of exhaustion. It was tough. I am so glad I trained for this. The hike was 22.2 km. Temperatures were mid 20,s. Okay. Only saving grace to all of this misery was the fantastic scenery and landscape.
A have had a few queries wondering if I was enjoying this. Perhaps my posts have sent the wrong message. Yes, there have been frustrations but I am only reporting on things I observe. Rest assured I am loving this. It has been great. I may sound upset at times but I like to see things in a humourous light. Imagine! I haven,t read the news in over a month, no tv, no anything. Only the present – no past,no future. Just today. Wonderful.
Thanks for reading and following this blog. Love to receive more comments. Hey Georgina?
Ran into 4 more pilgrims today. Gave the secret codeword. Cannot tell you what it is as it is a secret. I think there is a secret handshake as well but I am not sure.
No wifi for 3 days, one of which cost me euros and the loss of my cell phone. You can still contact me via the morrisonjohn@shaw.ca or enter a comment on this blog. Indeed I would welcome comments here as long as they are relevant to this trip or short and sweet.
I am tired of jeets or pilgrim hostels advertising wifi only to discover they don,t have it. I had to top up my cell plan 13 Aug via the internet so I purposely picked accommodation that said they had it. When we arrived tired a nd hungry, registered and payed only to find out they did,n have it. As a result I lost my top up and automatically lost all my services, which will end up costing me 50 euros. When I complained to the madam at the jeet all she would do or say was “Pardon monsieur, cest la vie, cest voici, cest voila. “ Cest it aint so said I”
By the way. If I am not up on this it means that I have no access to wifi. I will catch, unless of course I trash this IPad tablet.
Day 12: Chateaumaillant to Le Chatre
Got out of the campsite early. Gate was locked but this time I cut through a hedge that turned out to be nettles with thorns. In the early morning darkeness I got caught up in the brambles. It was dawn,s early light so I let out a muffled scream, drew blood and almost woke up the entire campsite. That would not have been pretty.
DISASTER! I left my “doby” kit in the salle de bain in Chatelet. Damn. For the unitiated doby is military jargon for bathroom stuff. This was definitely the bane of my existence. A real disaster. Pouquoi? Well over here you just cannot go down to the local store and get new stuff. Why? Because there is no local store. And if there was it would be closed. Indeed, last night I decided to go into town being Saturday night and all. It was about 1930 (0730 pm). The area was known for its wine. Well, imagine that. It was a ghost town. Nothing open except some pizza burger joint. Finally I did find a cafe open.I walked over. Great I thought. They have a menu board up. Looking I could make out lasagna provincale. Oh I knew that. When the garcon came over I said in my best French: I,ll have some of that provincial lasagna, and a beer. “Sorry Monsieur” he said. “La cuisine est ferme!!!!!. “ I lost it. Have you noticed a recurring theme throughhout these posts, as in “FERME.” So here I am in the midst of some of the finest wine country ever only to find out I have to settle for cheeseburger, fries and a Cabernet “ fanta” to wash it all down with. And to make matters worse I spilled some ketchup down my newly washed white t-ee shit. I could just hear my wife Marijke yelling in my ear: “ you really are a slob John”
Back to camp. I was mad at myself. How could you be soo stupid. You are always forgetting stuff. You know, I could write a book on this as in:
How Not To Camp in France…by John Morrison or
Camping in France – The Hard Way…by John Morrison or
Lost in France…by John Morrison
Anyway, I got on my way. A beautiful day. It was going to be a hot one. Skies were clear, air was crisp and pungently fresh and the winds were still. Landscape was flattening out from previous hikes. I walked up and over hill and dale, past deserted farmhouses and barns that were architecturally works of art unto themselves. Through small quaint villages, frozen in time it would seem, all asleep until awakened by a roosters call. Sometimes I would walk past some old dilapidated farm being used as a dog kennel. Of course they could smell me coming from a mile a way. And who couldn,t. Even I couldn,t stand myself. I loved this for all of a sudden, all hell would break loose. A cacaphony of hoots, barks and yelps that covered across the entire sound spectrum. I laughed because I felt karma. If you are going to raise or keep dogs in filth then I am going to make you pay the price by awakening every one of those dogs at 0600am. The owners were pissed. Too frigin bad…oops, pilgrims are not supposed to swear. Hell fire and damnation!
The other thing I noticed was how patiotic the French were. Every town, village and hamlet had a mounment for fallen soldiers.
Beautiful churches and Abbeys
Wonderful People
And the countryside. Magnificent.
I
Met up with the Von Trappe family again. Great people. We walked all the way into Chatre, an old medieval city situated at the top of a large hill. Of course it was. We ended up in a old pelerin hostel, code for dump. Run by some obscure religious order, one paid by donation as long as it was what they expected. Another thing I hate about this pilgrimage. I do not like being told what I have to donate. No wifi, no services whatsoever. Turns out the house we were in used to be owned by the founder of the French newspaper Le Figuro. This guy died in 1853 and I don,t think they have changed the decor since. Le Chatre was also the playing ground for the famous French female author, George Sands.
We ended the day on a terrace with a nice dinner in a great setting in a square that dates back to the 1400s. Life of a pilgrim is grand.
Day 13: Le Chatre to Neuvy Saint Sepulchre
Left early, 6 am. It was a dark and stormy looking day. Cool with a slight drizzle brewing. Headed out with the family. Walked hard. Not much to tell today because it was gloomy weather. Passed an impressive looking castle.
I told these two women that I would give them this castle as a Queen and Princess.. I lied! Oh and I found out what that bird call was from…a pigeon. Nothing at all exotic. Just a lowly pigeon. As it turned out this day was a physical slog. Only 18km but it was hill after hill. We were climbing almost the entire way. We were all exhausted as we entered Neuvy Saint Sepluchre. And again, nothing open. What really ticked me off was that our place advertised wifi and they didn,t have it, as I mentioned above. I lost all my coverage. I said that didn,t I? Pissed? You bet but pilgrims are not supposed to swear. Sorry.
We had a great evening dining out in the garden. And it was here that we were introduced to Olion, a young French dude with not a dime to his name. Slovenly and dirty but he was a nice young fellow nevertheless.
Now Olion had a stoned expression about him. Dazed and confused. I introduced myself and went to sake his hand but he just waved me off and speard out his arms as if he could capture the moment with his arms.
”I am not of here “ he said. “ I am of the universe. One to grace the earth with all its blessings” he continued. I know this tune. This is code for begging and as he said that he pulled out his pack of smokes. Oh but you can afford to smoke I thought to myself.
“ Mother earth is in my bosum,my heart, my mind and in my soul dude. Capture the spirit of Gaia and you will be free.”
“Whoa” is all I could say Dude. I think I will hold on to my stuff a little bit closer I reminded myself.
I opened a beer and offered him a glass. He looked at me in one of those hippy days daze and smiled and said: “no, I don,t want to poison my body, “ as he took a long drag and toke on his cigarette.
”Whoa” is all I could think of. And with we all sat down for dinner, including Olion, dazed and confused.
We all had a great time. Even Olion.
https://youtu.be/-rmtJ6-EY1E
Day 14: Neuvy St Sepulchre to Gargilese.
Anyone who would name their town after a mouthwash is alright in my books.
Again an overcast day, cool, about 20 degrees Great for walking, or hiking, or slogging it out or whatever. After awhile one becomes comfortably numb doing this as if off in another world, in a never, never, never again land. One dreams many dreams, has thoughts of many thoughts, tales of many tales.But not too dreamlike as the terrain can be brutally unforgiving at times. A sprain would end it for me so I háve to be careful.
After a 90 minute walk we arrived at Cluis. Cluis is a famous place as it was the site of a major Roman/Gaul battle, of which Julius Ceasar kicked butt. It was also the hub of a string of fortresses during the 100 years war (who fights for 100 years – that is a major grudge). The 100 years war culminated was under the leadership of Joan of Arc who finally kicked the brits out of France for good. For that she was burned at the stake. I wonder what they would have done to her if she lost!
After Cluis we walked straight to Gargilese, a beautiful village set in the hills and valley. Unbelievable, gorgeous
Milestone today: completed the Nevers southern variant. 300 km done. It,s all downhill from here. Limoges is my next milestone. All roads lead to St Jean Pied de Port. Can,t wait. Barry and I celebrated with a great dinner and a fine bottle of grape.
No wifi yesterday. Storm knocked out electricals in many places. Or that was their story and I believed them.
Day 10: St Armand to Chatelet.
I bid adieu to the Von Trappe family and headed to my campsite. Big mistake. It was about 2 km off my route and the site was crap. I say this literally as there was only one male “shitter” for the whole place. And, and this is the real stinker, no papier de toilet and they removed the toilet seat. And no amenities. All for 11 euros. Crap. I decided that I would no longer camp as they were getting worse as I headed south. In the morning everything was damp. And, and the gate was locked so I had to climb over the fence to get out at 6 am. Sacre Blue, mon dieu. It must have a site seeing an old fart like me climbing over a fence at 6 am.
I got going well enough but got into a bit of trouble again. As I was singing a few of my favourite Eagles tunes I missed a marker and ended up walking about 6 km more that I had to. I was very upset with my own stupidity. Finally walking through a small village and by a garden that had the biggest and reddest and juiciest tomatoes you will ever see. I felt like grabbing one but then thought of those dogs from the day before and thought better of it.
Finally made it to my first stop: Loye-Sur-Arnon. As I walked into town I thought I was seeing a vision, an oasis,for there, right in front of me was a cafe, open, with a terrace.Seated outside were 3 pilgrims like me. How can you tell? Other than the backpack being a dead giveaway,the sort of unwashed look about them was also a clue. Frederic,his partner Daughine and Bruno, from Paris. Younger than me but great people. Had lunch together in the French way. Long, tasty and rich. Fun. They could speak a little English and with my shattered French we got along just fine: the 3 Musqueteers, er 4 counting myself.
Frederic, the top pic turned out to be a real character. You know, the world needs more characters. And you find characters in every country, no matter what, and they are always people you are drawn to. Natural leaders. Frederic was fun loving,great sense of humour and very positive outlook on life. Wonderful.
We all met later at Chatelet and they shared dinner with me. And that is something because of the lack of services on this route one has to carry their food. We all sat outside at Chatelet and had a wonderful time till very late. Daughine is Frederic,s partner and Bruno is their friend. Bruno recently lost his parents so he is doing this walk to re-think his own sense of being and belonging. Good luck to him.
And just to prove to you that I am really here:
All she wrote:
Thought of this tune all day today while walking:
https://youtu.be/Lq0fUa0vW_E
Day 11: Chatellet to Chateaumaillant – famous for wine.
The 4 Musqueteers are all staying at the same place. An over priced gite. I pronounced this git but it is pronounced jeet. No wonder I was getting these crazy looks. I said goodbye to my French friends as they were going to Chartre, some 30 km away. I decided to only do 10 km as I needed a break but rather take a whole day off I decided to only do 10. But some how these short days end up being the longest. Today was no exception. I arrived at Chateaumaillant early but all of the hotels,gites, and hostels were full so I had to camp again,and the campsite was about a km off my track – bummer. Oh well, finally here and settled.
The short walk was fine. Countryside was gorgeous. Hilly, meadows skirted by shallow but lush forest canopies. One village in particular was very quaint. They were having an outdoor flea market. They call it something else here but one thing is certain: junk is junk no matter where it comes from. The other thing I noticed was this unique early morning bird call. Goes something like this: oooooooo-whooooooo, oooooooo,whooooo. Don,t know what kind of bird it is but it is always singing that tune each and every morning.
Being a short day I thought I would spend some time on some stats:
Completed 11 days,
Completed 245 km
Drank the equivalent of A Great Lake in water
Highest temp: 44 Celcius in Premerly. 8 days of over 34 degrees
Spent about 30 euros per day on average
Hate my Ipad
Walk an average of 25 km per day
Have met many people
Physically demanding in hills
Most villages deserted and very few services
French beer is surprisingly good
I hate my Ipad
Better than I expected. Way better.
I should be thin but I am not
French distance markers are wrong. In fact the French kilometer is longer than anywhere else in the world. I,ll give you an example. On day two I was nearing my campsite at Guipy when I came up to a roadsign that indicated Guipy-3.5km. After about 30 minutes I came up to another roadsign that indicated Guipy-3.5 km. F@#k I sceamed. How can that be I screamed again as I was tired and anxious. After another 30 minutes walk I came up to another road sign that indicated Guipy-3.5 km. Being a good catholic I yelled to my lord: Holy F@#k. I was freaking out.True story,and
I really hate my Ipad as it takes twice as long to correct mistakes as in making them.
Woke up with a full stomach, a good night,s sleep and clean underwear. Life was good
Did 34 kilometers today but it did not start out very well. Got up and left at 0545, first light. Beside my campsite was a main road to my first goal of the day. But it didn,t follow the Compestello guide. So I walked into town, quiet, everyone was still asleep-smart people, and picked up the route. All was good and well directed until I was about at the edge of town. The Compestello signs all but disappeared. I kept going into the dark and unknown landscape. I went on for over 6 km and still no signs. Finally, caught among the killer cows and deserted farmhouses I came to a dead end. What to do? You can imagine my concern having walked over 6 km with nothing to show for it. As much as I hated doing it I decided to return to Le Veaurdre, 6 km back. I was lost and really ticked that I did about 12 km with nothing to show for it. It is an awful feeling.
When I got back I made a command decision. I returned to the main road, stuck out my thumb and the third car that came my way picked me up and drove me to my first destination – Lurcy Levis-10 km away. So I figured that St James still owed me 2 km. All was well again.
The walk today was grand. The landscape has flattened out somewhat from the Morvan. The hills are less pronounced or steep-thank gawd for that. The temp was about 27C- thank gawd for that. Imagine? About 17 degrees cooler than last Friday,s 44C and still 27 degrees.
Lots of cows out to keep me company. I always lash out with my best cow call but they are not fooled. They just ignore me while munching on their cud, while waiting for the udder hand to drop. Often I can sense their presence while walking between the hedgerows that separate the fields. They are dairy I believe but I have never seen this shade before-a pale white colour. Sickly! I refer to them as my killer cows. Zombie cows.
I love going past the sheep. They always gather in a gaggle so when I pass them I,ll give them one of my best bahhhhhhhhs. It always works. Startled, they,ll come running over to me out of curiousity only to be let down by this ugly human sheeple. Funny.
Fields look fresh in the early morning light. Most have been plowed. They emit a pale dusty brown colour. Most of the hay fields have been harvested. The odd field of sunflowers appear as do the occasional field of corn. Amazing. Fresh, even in this heat. The trees and the small forests are beginning to show their seasonal colours. I can always tell when the end of summer is near because the leaves begin to show a slight silvery sheen when blowing in the wind.
Thought of Marijke and Ruby all day. Marijke passed 8 months ago today and of course Ruby, our first grandchild, was born on Easter Sunday, 01 April 2018. Ruby will have fun with that birthday all of her life. Lots of jokes.
That,s all she wrote.
Oh yeah, met a German Pilgrim today from Dusseldorf. We had a coupleof frosty beers together then bade adieu. He was younger than me (64) so I could not keep up. Also, he was doing about 40 klicks today. Good luck Gunther.
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French Cowboy