What a difference a day brings. I must admit that yesterday was terrible but after a cold shower and a few pilsners, while looking out over the beautiful French countryside, one,s hiking troubles seem to fade away. And yes Scarlette, tomorrow is another day.
One last note about the Chateau. Yes the place was grand from the outside but the inside was a dump. He charged 18 euros for just the bed and shower. No food, no drinks, nothing while the town was over 2 kilometers away. Now you may say 18 euros is cheap. Yes but in the pelerin refuge business 18 euros should bring some extras. Crap,he did,t even provide toilet paper. I left him a calling card in response to that. Oh, and I think the original owner of that Chateau lost his head at some point in time. Spooky.
Today I did 33 kilometers in 6.5 hours. In comparison yesterday I did 24 kilometersin 7 hours. That is what the hills do to you. Slow you down to a crawl while tiring you out:
I don,t know if the grade of the slope shows in this photo. Oh and this is for my friend Pascal:
Not sure if this is a nice horse or not Pascal. And this is me almost passed out in the heat yesterday:
Things are a lot better. Todays walk went very well. Off at 0615am and before I knew it I had knocked off 10 kilometers. Landscape is changing again. Lots of southern pine and a few palms. Lots of forests and the homes are beginning to take on a more Spanish vibe as we, or should I say I, edge closer to Basque country. Today was overcast with a high of about 25 C. Humidity is sky high as we had a massive storm last night. Oh, it would have been nice sleeping in the Chateau during that storm…for sure.
I have entered Bergerac country. Wow, I have dranked about this place, er sorry, dreamed about this place all of my adult wine drinking life:
Can ya read the sign?
Just look at this country side. Red, red wine, as far as the eye can see. Mouth watering!
Now that is a grape field!
You may not be able to read it but an area here is called Vignobles. Now the French would pronounce that as Vee-know-bla, silent at the end. But us Canadians would pronounce that as Vig-naw-blahs, as in, well you know, hey that woman over there has very “ vig-nob-blahs “ don,t ya think? Definitely lost in translation. And I passed a town called Fleix. Now the French would pronounce that as in “Fvlew” while we Canadians would say “Flees”and there is no way on God,s green earth would you get me into a town called “Flees.” No way. Again lost in translation. And this is the sort of stuff that goes through my mind while doing a 900 kilometer walk.
Come to France they said. I,ll drink to that. Cheers!
Today was by far the worst day of my life. But first Chateau.
When I first arrived I thought wow, a real Chateau. Look at this place. Once inside though things took on a more sinister tone. The owner or caretaker met me at the door. He told me to follow him. He had a sinister look about him, long black hair, as black as hades itself, curly too and fell back over his shoulders into one ot those man buns. He wasn,t tall, perhaps just shy of 6 feet. His mustache and beard were unkept and he seemed to walk with a slight limp.
”This way” he said
I followed him up three flights of stairs into the tower. Everything had a morbide look and feel. The air was heavy, dank and stale. The smell of death! It was a gloomy dark staircase and when we got to the top he had to swipe a veil of spider web to clear the way for me. He then blew on the shelf by the door where the key was lept. A cloud of dust filled the air. He coughed and his cough was bronchial and deep. He started to hack and hack, unrelentlessly and as fast as it began it stopped.
”This way”was all he said.
We walked down a very long and dark corridor. The walls were painted blood red, but faded into a pasty looking tone of pink and purple. The curtains were old and stank of mildew. The floors creaked and creaked. Suddenly I thought I heard moaning, a soft cry, then laughter. But not the ha ha kind of laughter but laughter that was maddening, sick, tomented.
” This way” he said again.
Finally we stopped at a massive door that was locked with gigantic shackles. All I could do was look around me….and gulp, and gulp again until I could gulp no more.
” This is your room” he said to no one. I gulped. Slowly he pushed the massive door open. Caaaaaaawwwww-reeeeeeeek, caaaawreeek followed by a squelching noise, then that moaning again, screams but from where? Not my room I hoped. All I wanted to do was turn and run. Run and get the hell out of there. But I could not move and then the door swung wide open. And then my host reached for a torch. And then we walked inside. And then, and then and then……….
BOOOOOOOOO!!!
I left the Chateau at the witching hour of 6 am. It was dark but, as you can imagine I had a restless sleep. Hopefully a nice day. But the weatherman scewed up again he called for a high of 26. Not bad but what did we get? 36. Awful. And what made it worse were the hills. One after the other. Only this time short but very steep. By 8am I was covered in sweat. My shirt was soaked, my glasses fogged up and my hat drenched. Not rain – sweat. I have never, ever sweated like this. Not with playing hockey, football (American) or anything else. And the hills? Well imagine a staircase with 10 steps. Now look at those steps from the side. Each step equates to a hill about 1 km in length at a grade of about 20-30 degrees. For my Mill Bay friends walk up Noowick from Mill Bay road to the highway and do it 10 times. Or walk up Mount Doug 10 times. That is what I am dealing with in 30 plus degree heat. No wonder I am crazy.
This is not fun. It is no longer a pilgrimage in my mind but an endurance or survival test. I was really worried about water today for the first time. And I had no time for that pilgrim rite of self reflection, self expression, well being, sense of belonging or how and why the sun comes up. No, for me today it was all about how I was going to make it up the next hill, and the next, and the next. Step after torturist step all the while the sweat was stinging in my eyes. And, as an added bonus today, we had those small black bugs. We call them smidgens. They abound in the north late August, early September. They don,t bite. They swarm around your eyes, nose, mouth and ears. They are annoying.
So, it was a great day for hiking……NOT!
I need something to cheer me up and make me happy:
Before I even get started today, you will not believe where I am staying tonight. In a real Chateau- Chateau Puyferrat – my destination. Check this out:
That,s my room in the tower. And the front entrance you may ask:
Those are my servants you see there. They are taking my rucksack up to my suite. They wouldn,t touch my shoes though. Radio active they said. I gave them the day off. Hey Marg!
Back to Perigeux. Our host last night was a Quebecois from Riviere de Loup. He told me that his ancestor was born in France in 1640 and came to Quebec from St Rochelle back in 1670. Obviously he never returned. So Michael decided to close the loop and return to France and to the very village where is ancestor was born and baptized. I forgot where it was. Full circle. I told Michael that I was a Toronto Maple Leaf fan ( I am not ). That got him going.
There was also a young couple there. I would say they were recently married. They were doing the Camino in stages and were now about to go home to Paris after a weeks worth of walking. It seems that everyone I meet is going home. Could it be my smelly socks. They are very keen on the Camino life and would love to open a Pilgrim,s Refuge. Good luck to them.
You know, there is a huge interest in doing the Camino. A world wide interest. Amazing. I had never heard of this until I talked to my friend at home.
I noticed from the hostel log book that Guy, the Anorexic Pilgrim, had stayed there the night before. That means he is now a day ahead of me. That also means he walked 41.kilomters. Unbelievble. You know, Guy is skin and bones and he looks like death itself. Totally unhealthy looking. I,ll never under#tand why people at our age feel they have to look like they are in their 20s and not their 60s or 70s. After all why did god invent suspenders? And if he wanted us to look like the walking dead he never would bave invented beer or…French cooking, or…..Orangina. Never.
The walk today started badly. I had to navigate though 4 major hills. By 9am I was soaked in sweat. I could wring out my hat,s perspiration. Awful. Two of the hills were so steep and the terrain so bad with strewn rocks, pebbles and loose soil I really was worried I was going to sprain or break an ankle. That would be the end of my Camino. Finally it flattened out for the back half and I arrived at my Chateau safe. – 25 kilometers later – but the last kilometer was straight up. By the time I arrived at my Camino I was beat. There was nothing my servants could do. I was not happy with the pilgrim gods. They are letting us down. I can still her Gill the mathematician model screaming to the heavens:
”Sacre Blue. You gods think you are so smart with us pilgrims. You are not. If you think you are so smart you come down here and you try to do this…you….you pilgrim gods you. Sacre Blue”
Or something like that. Gill cracked me up.
Oh yeah, here is the view from my bathroom, shower area:
Perigeux! Finally. I had dreams of Perigeux as well but unlike Limoges they were not nightmares.
Perigeux – two thirds finished. 600 kilometers completed or, for those piedometer freaks out there, that equates to about 660,000 steps. 300 kilometers to go, or 330,000 steps.
I can’t believe it!
Looking back there has been a multitude of experiences and many, many people I have met:
Robert from Leavan Belgium – encyclopedia man;
The girls from Maastricht. Violin and guitar players – great;
The nuns of the Vezelay Abbaye:when they sang they were like angels from heaven;
Humberta and the Dutch family at the L’Esprit le Chemin. Dutch torture;
Peter from Belgium – cue ball without a hat;
Jean Pierre from Paris- therapist;
Michael and Stepheny from Paris – the vapourizer;
Angelina fron Uzbekistan – an angel;
Boules man and wife at Premery- in love forever;
Crazy Dutchman at Premery- where is my cruise ship;
Bistro owners at Premery – Basquing in the sun;
Philip and Antonia from Dachau Germany – bonding;
Gunter from Dusseldorf; a 10 beer a day man;
Berry, the flying Dutchman
The Von Trappe Family from Normandy
Frederick, Dauphine and Bruno from Paris – wonderful charactures from Paris
Pascal, from Strasbourg
Samuel the philosophical Frenchman trapped in a Hell’s Angel’s body
Fabian at the Dognon – not Favio Dave – Fabian;
Yannick from Denmark – happy with his girlfriend here;
Michel from Belgium – the organic farmer;
Laurent- as in Saint Laurent;
Guy, the anorexic Pilgrim
Gill, the model mathematician – curses the gods of the Pilgrims
Bridgitte, the woman from Lyon -awesome!
As I am sure there are many more to come.
Another nice thing about this trip is that I haven’t watched television since leaving Canada 15 July. Doesn’t really matter as there is nothing on anyway.
Thiviers is quite the place. Coming into town on the road it does not look that interesting. But get to the church via the big hill – is there any other kind – and one enters another era. Yes the centre ville is anchored by the eglise and a small but beautiful square buttressed by quaint streets alleyways and paths. And no cobblestones, which are awful on the feet, especially in heels – or so they tell me.
For once the ville’s core is vibrant with shoppers and looky louies like moi. I sat at a corner cafe and had 3 grande cafes. It was grand. In some cases you have to be careful as a grande cafe means a large cup but with a petite dose of cafe as in demi-tasse.
Interesting that a woman pilgrim stayed at the shelter with me. Her name was Bridgitte and she came from Lyon. Her family was in the wine business. And she travelled alone. That took guts. Her English was as good as my French so we got along just fine. We chatted at dinner for about 2 hours. She and a girlfriend had backpacked in America for almost a year. Visited California, the east coast and even Quebec – in January and February- brrrrrr. She was headed for Limoge though. In her 50,s I would say. Great.
I left Thiviers about 0630 am. As I was heading out of town they were setting up for the village market. In some respects I wish I could have stayed.
I arrived at Sorges around 10. The Pelerins were all full, which confuses me as I haven,t met any other pilgrims for awhile. And again what frustrates one to no end is the lack of response from these sites. They want a day’s notice but never answer your emails and ignore your phone calls. A waste of time. I got here and it started to rain so I booked into an Auberge. I can afford to treat myself once in awhile. Again I had to laugh at the French mileage markers. At Thivier the road sign said Perigeux 37 kilometers. I then did 10 kilometers and the road sign said Perigeux, 33 kilometers. So do not trust French distance road markers. The datums are much more accurate.
Sorges is the truffle ( Truffe ) capital of the world or so they say! I did see a boar cross the road earlier this morning so perhaps they are right about Sorges.
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Why do this? Someone asked. Why this walk, this pilgrimage, this Camino? I don’t have an answer for that question. People do this for a variety of reasons: religious, spiritual, forgiveness, a life crisis, physical challenge, atonement, absolution, penance, clear the head or out of sheer boredom. Everyone you meet here will have an answer. Some will not answer you at all, saying it comes from the heart, from within, while others will tell you their life story when asked about their mtivation behind this excursion. For me? None of the above really. My good friend Ted who did the Camino a few years ago tweaked my interest in it. Ted lost his wife quite awhile ago to cancer as well. But unlike my wife his wife died a lot younger than Marijke did. I can’t speak for Ted but for me this journey has provided me with a distraction from the grief. A focus in which to see if life really is worth continuing. From what I have seen and experienced so far there is beauty all around us with a spirit of giving, a selflessness that deserves our attention and our recognition that life really is worth living to the fullest that one can possibly achieve.
I find that when I am alone with thought, walking and attuned to my surroundings, experiencing an “ah ha “ moment or some epiphany of recognition, that I can reach a level of happiness, of sheer joy and acknowledgement that there has to be some presence, spiritual or otherwise, watching over us, protecting us and guiding us through this journey. We are not alone. There has been only one other time in my life when I have experienced a similar high. And that was when I was sailing. At the age of 22 / 23 I had the fortunate opportuniity to sail to the island of Saipan from Honolulu Hawaii. As you can imagine, alone at night, with nothing but the stars to accompany you and the dancing, glittering phosphorescence of the sea for entertainment that your mind wanders with a myriad of thought. Things become clearer, enlightened and not complicated by the day to day nuances, distractions of living. One is at once at peace with oneself and with the world at large. One is happy. And that is how I feel right now with this walk, each and every day.
Like Michel and Yannick I was confused about my life’s direction when I was sailing. But I was fortunate to have had a mentor in Mr Ted Culp. I met Ted and his wife in the sailing community at Waikiki. He was a lot older than me at 49 years but he treated me as an equal and like his son. There were many hot Hawaiian afternoon get togethers over some Oly,s where he would share his life’s experiences with me. As a US Navy WW 2 veteran he had much to share. Ted convinced me to consider a Navy career once I had sown my restless ways.
Ted gave a great deal of himself to others. He volunteered his time for over 5 years at St Jude’s Hospital for Children in Memphis Tennessee. Ted was from the Bremerton Washington area. He passed on in May 2011 at the age of 87. Ted would have been able to see the logic in a Camino. He died 37 years after I joined the Royal Canadian Navy. And it pisses me off when people apologize to me for thinking I may be an American after finding out I am a Canadian. Some of the best people I have ever met are Americans.
Ted is the inspiration for the Ted Culp character in my book KUROFUNE: The Black Ships. I was very fortunate to have met Ted and Laverne. I can only hope that Michel and Yannick have a similar experience as I had and sort out their own lives. I am sure they will.
This song is a reflection of an easier time in my own life:
The Kinks were one of the most under-rated band ever.
I don,t know if the grade of the slope shows in this photo. Oh and this is for my friend Pascal:
Can ya read the sign?
Now that is a grape field!
Those are my servants you see there. They are taking my rucksack up to my suite. They wouldn,t touch my shoes though. Radio active they said. I gave them the day off. Hey Marg!
