Tag: Camino

Vezelay France: The French Camino’s Starting Point

Another excerpt from the book I am working on: My Camino: A First Hand Account”

Vezelay…Vezelay. How to describe it. It was not an exceptionally large town, but it had a unique footprint. It was wide and bulbous like a bowl at the summit of the hill where the Abbey stood and then narrowing down considerably like the long neck or stem of a bottle at its lower end, where the two main thoroughfares mentioned earlier intersected. It was as if Vezelay came about as a glass blown artifact of nature.

What appeared to me as being the main street of the town had a very steep gradient. It was cobblestoned and surrounded on both sides by neatly pointed brown coloured stone buildings. They were not tall or large but functional for the various commercial enterprises. From what I could see the upper floors were used as rooms to ‘let’ or quarters for the store’s owners. There were many cafes and restaurants with small outdoor terraces, courtyards, boutique hotels and what seemed to be high end fashion establishments.

Vezelay was extremely affluent and from what I would learn later it was an expensive tourist trap. This was due to the draw of the Abbey itself; the associated Pilgrim starting point on the way to Santiago de Compestele and the ambiance of the surrounding countryside that is steeped in history, culture, food, and wine, especially wine. The surrounding landscape of this hilltop enclave is picture perfect, as if sculpted by heaven itself. Every shade of green can be seen on the hills and in the valleys. The hills themselves seem to undulate in the heated air of the hot and hazy late afternoon sun but in perfect harmony with the environment. You see meadows and forests, separated by ploughed fields that emit a shade of gold, amber, and even bonze: dazzling colours. Now this may not be Canada, with its wild scenery, robust landscape and raging rivers, nevertheless, this countryside is no less spectacular than Canada is but in a more peaceful, subdued, and sculpted sense. Added to that is the rich tapestry of culture, history and hospitality of the Bourgogne and you have a heavenly recipe for happiness and well being. Indeed, I almost became emotional myself when viewing this scene, as I have been given the opportunity and blessing of being here at this moment in time. For the first time in months, I was happy, extremely happy, and not just for the circumstances I have found myself in but for the adventure that was soon to begin. I felt like crying. Tears of joy welled up in the tear ducts of my eyes. Moreover, the road up to the hilltop Abbey was like a stairway to heaven itself. And like the heavens it dominated the landscape. Why would anyone go to Paris or any of France’s major centres with all of their social ills, filth, and crime when they can visit a region like this is beyond comprehension?

Another Johnny River’s Classic:

Enjoy

St Leonard de Noblat

An excerpt for my latest story about the Camino – The French Camino – Vezelay. I haven’t got a title as yet but I am leaning toward: “Camino de Vezelay: My Existential Journey.” What do you think?

“I walked fifteen kilometres today of which twelve were uphill, including the two-and-a-half-kilometre uphill climb coming into St Leonard de Noblat itself. Nevertheless, the countryside was gorgeous. Despite the never-ending hills, I was beside myself with joy. There were rolling hills and farmer’s fields that appeared golden brown in the early morning sunlight. The shallow valleys and checkerboard squares of green and fallowed fields, or the awakening splendor of a thousand sunflowers, and the bright yellow fields of rapeseed or canola flooded my senses.

On my way to St Leonard, I passed though several small villages and hamlets that separated these different fields of grain. One town, named Le Chatenet en Dognon, had an interesting house on its main street. Architecturally it resembled Canada House on Juno Beach, Normandy. That was the famous house that was captured on film as the Canadian Queen’s Own Rifles landed on D-Day to begin the arduous and dangerous liberation of France during World War Two. Interestingly, that house was the very first property in France to be liberated by the allies. And here it was in Chatenet en Dognon, an exact replica.

How can one explain the medieval tone of St Leonard de Noblat. Picture yourself sitting on a café terrace having a grand café au lait in a town’s square that is surrounded by buildings and structures that go back to 1200 CE, with a church even older than that. Visualize narrow cobblestone streets that harbor an array of shops, bakeries, and patisseries. Smell the aura of scents that are innumerable. Imagine the women of the town shopping and vying for bargains as the men chat and smoke and curse one another but laughing as well as they go about their morning rounds. Envision that and you would find yourself in the center of St Leonard de Noblat, a medieval town restored in all its medieval glory and patina. A town that was named after a sixth century hermit who lived in a dark forest during the dark ages. An individual who was canonized even though he was hermit. Tell me, how does one achieve sainthood in those circumstances?  

Despite being old St Leonard de Noblat was a lively place. It was one of the few places that I have come across thus far during this Camino that showed some form of life. Yet the problem for a hiker like me to be able to take in and enjoy this scene as a welcome respite in the day’s grind was the requirement to climb a two-and-a-half-kilometre ascent from the countryside to the town center. “Closer to God than thee” – so the saying goes. If only I had me a donkey as St Leonard in all probability had.

I sat in the main square enjoying that coffee grande and a chocolate filled croissant and enjoying the scene that unfolded around me. It was a beautiful day with not a cloud in the sky. At long last the temperature was comfortable with little humidity. I had time to kill and enjoy a respite from the daily grind as the Tourist Office that controlled the access to the municipal Gite here would not open until noon. So be it. I was happy and content except for the constant pestering of the yellowjackets that were attracted to the sweetness of the croissant. And just like home at this time of year, August, I found myself swatting, brushing and cursing the onslaught of these bees while trying to enjoy my repose. This was a major irritant for me on what was an otherwise a faultless morning.[1] Mon Dieu.

[1] They call these bees “bays” in France.

Love these old rock n roll tunes. Remember Johnny Rivers? The 60s? 1960s that is.

Simple classic rock! Those were the days my friend.

Read ya later.

No Title As Yet

Writing a new story. It is a fictional account based on a true story about my Camino Journey in France and Spain. I am about half way finished. I do not have a title as yet.

The Camino?… The Camino… The Camino? ” What is that?” I thought to myself.

Tyler’s words were still running through my mind, as I began my drive home. What did he say?

‘It’s a Pilgrimage Jim, or in this case, a walk across the top of Spain. The French Way. Eight hundred kilometers (or 500 miles!).

“Holy shit” I said to myself under my breath. “Eight hundred kilometres? That’s no mean feat. He must be nuts. He has to be.”

I couldn’t get the Camino out of my mind for the entire drive home. “I will check it out.” I said to no one aloud and when I arrived home, I immediately, hurriedly, went down to my computer room to ‘Google’ the ‘Camino.’ To my surprise hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of hits popped up.

“Where’s the fire? What’s the emergency?” My wife yelled from the top floor. Can’t you at least say hi.”

“Oh sorry…hi…nothing Maray, just something Tyler mentioned to me tonight that I want to check out. Something called a Camino.”

“A Camino?” She yelled. “What’s a Camino, or do you mean Casino.

“I am not sure. Something to do with an eight-hundred-kilometre Pilgrimage in Spain. Tyler is going to do it this spring. I want to check it out and then I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” She said. And then “don’t forget to take out the trash.”

‘Hmmm, yeah, I will.’ I thought but didn’t respond.

“Holy shit.” I said aloud as I looked at the computer screen and Google’s response to my search term. “This is way…way too many hits to grasp. What on earth, how on earth have I not heard about this?” Then again, I wasn’t into walking or hiking so I had no reason to know or even think about long distance trekking such as this Camino. I had other things on my mind, sailing being the primary one for me. But having sold my boat a year ago perhaps I needed a new focus on life. Perhaps the Camino or something like it would fill the bill for me. I’ll check it out in the morning.

I don’t know what Johnny Depp or Aiden Quinn have to do with this song.

141 days to go until I start Le Puy en Venay.

Cheers

Happy New Year or Life is Great

Happy New Year everyone

 

Don’t read the news. Don’t watch the news. Get out there and enjoy nature.

I am 72 years old and I just finished the 800 kilometer Camino Frances, 26 September. I am planning to do the Le Puy en Venay to St Jean Pied de Port next August to September, when I am 73, God willing. These Caminos give one a focus and a goal, not to mention the physical conditioning that goes along with it. And while doing it you tear yourself away from all the stresses and anxiety of the world around us and immerse yourself into God’s creation. Nature’s masterpieces. Beautiful!

Meet great people for memorable times.

Including the “SHADOW”

 

Life is beautiful

Get out there. You will not regret it. Your anxiety, stress and worries will wash away.

A good start to a Happy New Year

Out

October 6: Post Camino: Lisbon

Lisbon is fantastic. Of course we are having fantastic weather.

One of many squares.

Beautiful sunset over Tagres River.

Belem Tower

Tribute to Portugese explorers

Went to Sintra, and the Pena Palace, a palace built by King Ferdinand the First who was then assassinated because of his poor decorating style and poor choice of colors.

and Cascais, a small seaside village.

Enjoying that favorite European pastime of sitting on a terrace enjoying a cool one.

Fatima tomorrow.

 

Next is Faro in the Algarve.

Read ya later.