Hello from Bourges

OK – apologies to children for not being in touch. Can’t charge mob without adaptor for plug or sitting in sun all day with freeloader – it’s too risky to cycle with it on the basket.  Have bought phone card today so will ring. Love you all, of course.

Update … after Chalons we spent night in Vitry Le Francais, camping.

Thursday 18 September Vitry le Francais to Radonvilliers (33 miles)

18 Sept – saw church with pilgrim grafitti, crossed Marne,  timber framed churches and houses. Brienne le Chateau where Napoleon went to school. Tourist office lady didn’t speak english. Stayed at camp site in Radonvilliers, near Tac de temple or similar. Templars used to aid pilgrims round there. Now reservoirs to control Seine.

We woke in the tent after a warmer night than the one before in a bed and breakfast. We made porridge for breakfast, and asked the camp site manager to kindly charge the battery for our new camera.

The very first picture with the new camera. Peter is tweaking the cycle loads before setting off.

That, and packing up the tent etc took quite a long time, so it was 10.30 before we set off. We started off on the horrid inner ring road with a queue of czech/slovak/german lorries – Vitry seems to be on a direct east-west route. But then we took off through an estate and flats, alongside the river once again on a rough and overgrown path. This took us out and through Fignacourt where we bought bread for the day. Our road was straight, with villages off to one side, so we tended to cycle through them for interest.  In Cloyes sur Marne  we came across a dear little church; 12th century with a 13th century porch.

Looking out from the church porch in Cloyes sur Marne

Graffiti on church wall in Cloyes - said to be done by pilgrims

Detail of pilgrim graffiti

More graffiti close-up

We spent quite some time enjoying this church with our new camera. The door was locked, so we used a little hole in one window to try to get some pictures of the inside.  While we were there we heard a couple of distant explosions which made the church door rattle – but couldn’t work out what they might actually be! After a snack of bananas and chocolate, we set off again, still on a village road parallel with the proper road – it turned into a grassy track which was just about rideable on our laden road bikes, and we imagined medieval pilgrims tramping along.

Next village was Moncetz L’Abbaye, where we crossed the River Marne. Either side of the river here was a low-lying piece of ground planted with poplars planted to a strict grid plan. The poplars were hosts to masses of mistletoe.

The next village was St Remy en Bousement. The landscape was becoming greener, with ‘dimples’ rather than hills. There were woods and copses, white cows and blue flowers (that might have been chicory?) on the verges.

At lunchtime we came to Drosnay.

Peter stands in the porch of the church in Drosnay

The seventeenth century church was an ‘eglise au pan au bois’ – one of the timber-framed churches our Topoguide had informed us about.

She has taken off her clogs before praying

St Roch retable

St Roch altar

A Jesse Tree windowLook closely at Mary's head!

There was plenty to look at and enjoy here; as well as taking photos Bridget had a little sing in the church, while Peter got the picnic lunch ready in the churchyard – baton, cheese and tomatoes, and a white peach each.

The peach was very nice...

We never have such accessorised graves in English churchyards!

After lunch we were refreshed and it was a good ride past fields – the  sunflowers, maize, hemp(?), gradually disappeared as the vast vistas of cabbages took over, the area being famous for its ‘choucroute’ or saurcraut, – through Chavanges to Brienne le Chateau – a town that has a ‘Psychotherapie departmental’ in a grand mansion at the top of a steep  gated drive up a hill overlooking the town.

Brienne is famed for being the place Napoleon went to military school, as we found out in the Tourist Office. This was the first T.O.where no-one spoke english – we managed fine! They rang ahead to a camping site in Radonvilliers for us, to confirm it was open. We should have shopped in Brienne, but didn’t.

By 4.30 we arrived at the campsite at Radonvilliers, under the steep banks holding the waters of the Lac Amance in – the three reservoirs here were constructed between the 60s and the 80’s to control the Seine and the risk of flooding in Paris.

The camp site was mostly filled with long stay caravans, but there was a nice grassy area near the entrance where the chatty but fast-speaking site manager directed us. He told us there was no commerces in Radonvilliers, so we knew we’d have to survive on the supplies we had with us. Actually, after cups of tea with slices of chocolate torte, a route planning session with the maps and hot showers, we ate a feast consisting of couscous with tinned mackeral, followed by stewed windfall apples and hedgerow blackberries, topped with crunchy oat cereal!

After supper we had a quick ‘recce’ on the bikes to locate access to the  ‘piste cyclable’ for our journey tomorrow beside the reservoirs, before bed.

Friday 19 September Radonvilliers to Prusy 47 miles

19 sept.  Morning along lakeside cycle track. Afternoon got to Chaource – probably fav church so far. Never heard of it or the town before.  Masses of C16 carvings, paintings, etc. Tourist office lady sent us to entirely free and empty Halte de St Roche in village of Prusy for the night in out tent.

After a coldish night in the tent we woke at 7.30, but it still took us until 10 to leave, even though we tried to be quicker. Peter’s panniers seem to be more fiddly to strap than Bridget’s – better with both sets of fingers! Friendly Monsieur impressed his campsite ‘cachet’ in our pilgrim passports and the sun started to come  out of the haze as we pulled away.

We got up the the ‘velovoie’ on the embankment as some hikers with serious backpacks  going the other way gave us a cheery wave. On the cycle path we were passed by quite a few couples on bikes, going both ways, but none were laden for touring. Some had dogs attached running alongside.

The sun came out, and the lakes were magical in the haze.

In the wooded areas it was still quite chilly – autumnal! The area of forest on the north between Lac Du Temple and Lac d’Orient is called la Petit Orient; the whole area is the Parc Naturel Regional de la Foret D’Orient and the names reflect the Templars who as landowners on the 12/13th centuries gave succour to passing pilgrims. On the other, south, side of the lakes  the forest – le Grand Orient – is more extensive and probably easier to get lost in)

We bowled along fast on the smooth and traffic-free cycle path and stopped in the village of Gerandot on the Lac d’Orient for a snack and a photo of the church with open doors behind locked gates!

Geraudot church

Looking inside the church

We bought lunch stuff at Lusigny sur Barse, a town at the west end of the lakes. In spite of his shop being called a ‘8 à huit’  the shop keeper was keen to close for lunch at 12.30 so our selection was hurried! We sat at the edge of a corn field beside a wood somewhere between Lusigny and Clérey to eat our lunch – bread bought from a van at the campsite, sausage, big fat ‘marmande’ type tomato, plums and the last wedge of chocolate torte! We examined the corn cobs to see if they were worth scrumping, but they were ripened past consumption as sweetcorn – perhaps they are intended for oil or animal feed?  It was a sunny lunchtime, and we saw a lizard darting through the dry leaves.

On through Clérey which was the last of the towns with lots of chestnut timber framed houses. The wood is generally painted or stained in shades of brown, but also red or even pale blue. The infill plaster areas is generally white, or shades of cream or even cheese (Double Gloucester orange) on occasion, and a soft pale pink.

We crossed the River Seine here, then using our map on to very minor roads towards the forest of Crogny. There the roads become gravelly tracks, gently climbing.

The road through the woods

We were delighted to see autumn crocuses on on the verge.

What's growing on the verge?

Autumn crocuses

Piles of logs waited for collection beside the track

with some beautiful fungus

A downhill rush into Chaource, a nice-looking small town, with a few timber framed houses with overhanging upper storeys. We reached the Tourist Information counter with five minutes to spare before it closed at 5pm.  I asked if there was anywhere to camp – madame explained in a loud voice (to make the french easier for me to understand) that there was nowhere in Chaource but 10km down the road towards Tonnerre there was a place beside something I heard as ‘Plan d’or’ in the village of Prusy.  She dismissed my maps – I think the big scale was confusing.  The idea of getting a bit further towards Tonnerre was good, as it would shorten our last day into Vézelay.

Although it was after 5, and we had further to go before setting up camp, I recalled that I had read in one of the leaflets pressed into my hand by the campsite owner at Radonvilliers about a famous 16th century carving by the ‘Master of Troyes’ of Christ being laid in the tomb in the church, so Peter slightly reluctantly agreed to us popping in to the church to have a quick look.  Thank goodness he did, or we would have missed one of the most unforgettable experiences of our pilgrimage so far.  On entering, we were informed about the ‘creche’ (Nativity figures) being the oldest in France, by an older lady who may well have been a local, who was on her way out of the church. This left us alone to discover all the other treasures of this amazing church. The light was not good enough for photos of the wooden creche – one of the wise men was travelling with a creature that must have been a camel carved by someone who had never seen one, because it has a neck like a giraffe!

But the light was good enough for just a few photos of some of the other delights of this church – so here goes…

At first sight it's a little gloomy and even dull

with lovely height and ceiling

and beautiful arches and vaulting

A rose window

a grand-looking organ raised up at the west end

on magnificent barley sugar stick pillars

After taking in the bigger picture we started exploring. Every corner, side chapel or embrasure had something amazing to see and enjoy. From highly moving and inspired to naive and simple – it was a delight and I can’t encourage people enough to ‘go and discover it for yourself!’

Down in a dark crypt-like corner is the masterpiece by the 16 Century 'Master of Troyes'

Christ is being prepared for burial

His grieving disciples are depicted as beautifully tender, humanly lost.

This old man is one of the guards posted by the tomb - flash shows how much paint remains on the statues

In the same crypt, quite unannounced, is this painting of Adam and Even on the ceiling - I would have come to the church just for this!

Other treats include decorative painted wallsand columns,

this little fellow reminded us that all those funny or grotesque heads (and bottoms) we are so used to seeing in stone may well have been oroiginally much more striking!

A relief of the Last Supper, which of course included a dog under the table

Another relief shows St Hubert challenged by the vision of Christ in the deer's antlers

Another relief/painting which repaid close scrutiny

if you have an interest in medieval punishment and torture.

I thought this wall painting depicted a donor family, with lots of pious daughters

and sons who respectfully removed their feathered helmets before prayer

St Roch is there, of course - he's everywhere

And more - wonderful paintings including this of the Holy Family returining from Jerusalem having just retrieved Jesus from the Temple. Who can blame Mary for giving him a little smack?

A painting of St Nicholas included this detail of the three boys slaughtered for sausages being restored to life

And last, but not least, St James the pilgrim, staff, hat, cockle shell, uncomfortable-looking feet and all

After all this we finally set off to find our mysterious campground at nearly half past 6! First up a hill which was the right gradient for a steady effort, needing neither to stop nor to walk. Down, up, down, up for about 3 or 14 km, noting that the white cows here have stupid faces, and snuffle their noses when they eat, like pigs!. Over to our left were wide views of rolling fields bright with the remains of the day’s sunshine.

Eventually we arrived in Prusy. On the left was a ‘Halte St Roch’ – a mowed grassy stretch equipped with a little pavilion containing a wash basin, urinal and squat toilet, drinking water tap, picnic tables and bins. This was just past two artificial fishing ponds – ah-ha – the ‘pleins d’EAU’ – now we understood!  There were fish in there big enough to make significant splashes, although we could never see them jump.

No-where was there any notice mentioning permission for or prohibition of camping. It all looked too beautiful – like a village green – putting up a tent felt cheeky!  There was no-one around to ask, execpt a big brown dog, so Bridget set off to find a local to ask. A van driver stopped to ask her something – at first she offered him a look at our maps, but then understood he was looking for someone or something (maybe the dog?). When asked about camping he didn’t seem to think anyone would mind. So, as it was getting dark now, Peter put the tent up while Bridget cooked a supper of pasta, sausage and courgettes in tomato sauce, followed by sliced bananas and cereal.  The bikes were chained up together to a nearby tree and we piled everything else into the tent before going to sleep listening to owls.

Prusy: tent and supper in progress

Looking out from the tent to the bikes in the darkness

Early morning at the Halte St, Roch, Prusy

Saturday 20 September Prusy to Vézelay 48 miles

20 Sept. Prusy to Vezelay viaz Tonnerre.  Long day. Hills. More hills. A very long hill to Vezelay itself.

It was a very peaceful night all by ourselves. A bit warmer – didn’t need the woolly hats. We woke at 6.45ish. We used the millstone picnic table again to cook our porridge and pack up. This time we made a point of airing the tent and putting it in the sun for a few minutes to dry out the condensation. We were ready of the off by 9.30.

The sun was out all day, and our jackets came off quite quickly. It was 10 miles of long ups and downs to Tonnerre – reaching a height of 272m and down to 137m in the valley of the river Armoncon at Tonnerre.

We entered Tonnerre after cycling through the village of Epineuil, crossing two canals and two river channels, and going under the railway.

Then up the hill to the tourist office which is in one end of the enormous 13th century hospital built by Margaret of Burgundy for the often ill and injured pilgrims who had overwhelmed the local facilities for the sick and homeless. We were actually feeling quite fit and healthy, so we used the tourist office to but postcards and a colouring book about the Camino to send to our granddaughter, and to chat in our poor but enthusiastic French to the woman at the counter. Peter managed to make his well-rehearsed request, ‘Ou puis-je acheter l’alcool de bruleur?’ which got a very helpful response with marks on a map of the town, which sent us through the market to the Brico-logis. Peter asked his question again, and we were sent up to the back of the Aladdin’s Cave (shop) where we were presented with a bottle of meths – the woman at the front of the shop had phone the man at the back!

We then studied all the available food in the market before buying a seeded loaf, two sausage patties, potatoes, yellow french beans and two plum tomatoes, a round local cheese and a piece of chocolate brownies (approx 10 euros.)

Thus supplied we retrieved our bikes and set off up the inevitable hill out of town, stopping to buy cold drinks for lunch and taking a photo of a good example of the ‘French Hairdressers’ Apostrophe’. (Others noted so far include ‘Coiff’homme’ and ‘Jenny f’hair’.)

A fine example of the Hairdressers' Apostrophe, Tonnerre

We took a long time to climb (walk up mostly) a very steep and beautiful road out of Tonnerre – old houses on the Fauberg St. Michel, then wild flower covered verges – sadly a sky blue butterfly which perched on a delicate purple scabious took off at a puff of wind while I was still getting the camera out.

Long slow hill out of Tonnerre

Lunch time

And Bridget...

We stopped at the top of the hill and enjoyed our bread, cheese and tomato, apples and drinks, as well as the view, and set off to complete the rest of the 54 km from Tonnerre to Vézelay.  Heights marked on the map, beginning at the river at Tonnerre go as follows: 137, 334, 309, 249, 156, 271, 223, 313, 129, 132, 300m. So there was a lot of hard slogging uphill, and some walking , which provided opportunities to scan the scenery – rollig landscape with ploughed fields, small copses of trees and blue, blue sky.

We made reasonable progress, especially with a couple of tremendous downhills when we touched 30 mph, and stopped at Joux la Ville with 24 km still to go for a snack of chocolate cake, and dry brioche with a cheese triangle at 4.30. (Supplies getting low!!)

Then a really super downhill into the valley of the river Cure where we briefly joined the main Auxerre-Avallon road, before taking  quieter parallel roads that went through villages and seem more likely to have been the pilgrims’ way in the past.

So we were on a quiet lane with a steep hill to our left when we turned a corner and got our first sight of Vézelay- a town on a hill – a ‘colline’. It’s a round mound of a hill like an individual boss stuck on the flat space at the confluence  of several valleys, with a distinctly familiar shape on top. A large building with two towers – one at the end, and one early at the other end – its profile immediately brought our own Ely Cathedral to mind! Interestingly both churches are dedicated to women – Vézelay to Mary of Magdelene, and Ely to St Etheldreda, who founded a religious community there. The origins of the church in Vézelay apparently go back to a comunity of nuns, too. So quite a lot of correspondences!

Another few minutes brought us over a long bridge and into Asquins – the last village before Vézelay, and, unwisely dismissing the modern road which skirts round the colline, we set off boldly up the straight road which goes up the hill from Asquins to the very top, and the basilica. It goes from 132m to 300m in perhaps 1.5km. We pushed our laden bikes all the way.

So it was a very weary pair of us, with aching arms, who finally arrived at the sunlit west front of the basilica at 7pm.  We admired it for a bit, then pushed the bikes all the way down the main street past the closed galleries, post card shops, wine merchants and esoteric book shops. (It seemed like a smaller, nicer, version of Mont St. Michel.)

The auberge de jeunesse (youth hostel) cum campsite is a mile down the road on the west side of the village, (on the opposite side of the hill from Asquins). The site is pretty scruffy and will loads of signs about where tents should go and where campervans should not go (which seemed widely ignored).  A cheery man in reception had no milk but plenty of wine on sale.  Bridget started cooking while Peter put the tent up. It was not perhaps the best night to be cooking meat and three veg. on a Trangia lightweight meths cooker. At 7.30 it had been already feeling cold in the chilling wind, after the hot and cloudless day. By 9 when the two sausage patties, potatoes, french beans and courgettes were ready, it was b….y freezing. Still, the meal was very good, and followed by chocolate. Peter had a shower, bravely, while Bridget made do with a quick wash, before we got into bed with quite a lot of clothes on.

Sunday 21 September Rest day in Vézelay.

Second day in V _ camping at youth hostel/campsite. VERY cold. P wore all his clolthes including jacket in bed. Went to mass in cathedral. Did lots of photos of capitals (tops of columns)

We woke still chilly at an autumnal 7am, our breath clouding in front of our faces while Peter made tea and porridge. Bridget had a shower, which was very pleasant and properly hot.  Peter washed some of our dirty clothes, Bridget washed the pots, then hung up the clothes to dry with the seven available clothes pegs.  Then we bundled everything into the tent, zipped it up and set off into the town for Mass, in a hurry because Bridget was anxious that it would take ages to struggle up the hill.

But no, after we padlocked the bikes to a post in the car park at the bottom of the hill it was easy to walk up in ten minutes or so. And the sun was getting hotter so that we almost felt warm by the time we got up to the top, and cheered because we had found a copy of the Guardian to buy.

We ventured into the basilica to find out the time for Mass, and as it was warmer inside we stayed in to look around for the half hour or so before the service. We were surprised to discover that there is a second grand set of portals inside – thus we discovered what a ‘narthex’ is – a large porch area to keep the unwashed hordes in.

We read the notices about the history of the basilica and admired the tympanums above the doors, until the time came to take our place for the service. A sister handed us a service book with words and music, and a separate sheet for today’s service.  Gradually the church filled up, then at the last minute a big group entered and filled up all the seats near us.

Nearly all the service was sung. Even with the books and the sheet it was difficult to follow, but we tried and thought we understood bits of the sermon. We exchanged the Peace with our neighbours and some of the nuns who came down the aisle specially. We did not receive the bread and wine because the service book made it clear that non-catholics should not, although obviously no-one would have known. There was no option to receive a blessing, as there would have been at home, which would have made us feel more included.

By the time we emerged it was warmer outside in the sun than inside, so we basked a bit before going off in search of lunch material. We found some interesting savoury pastries which we brought back to eat sitting on the south side of the building out of the wind and in full sun. Peter nodded off and Bridget read the paper.

Eventually we livened up again and returned inside the basilica armed with the helpful guidebook to look at everything! We studied a lot of the 60+ capitals, in conjunction with the explanations in the guidebook, but eventually Peter got tired and hungry again so we called it a day and returned to the outside world! We popped in on the Amis de Pelerins de le Voie de Vézelay (its office is indicated by a mannequin dressed as a pilgrim outside a shop which you pass through then climb some ricketty stairs) and spoke politely but with only little comprehension to the gentleman on duty, who gave us a stamp for our pilgrim passport. He sent us back to the basilica to ask for their stamp as well, which we did. The lady who did the stamping spent a long time reading our previous stamps and working out our journey so far. I think she was impressed!

We found a shop to buy food to cook for our evening meal and a bookshop selling the IGN maps we need for the next part of our pilgrimage. It was a shop selling lots of slightly ‘new age-y’ or wacky books eg ‘Le Gnosu Jesu’ and such like.  In there we met a dutch pilgrim called Pieter who had walked from Amsterdam (where he’d departed on 29 August) aiming to reach Santiago by 20 December. He was retracing his steps looking for his hat which he had mislaid somewhere earlier in the day.

Back at the camp site we snacked on tea, bread and cheese. Peter went to do more washing, but got distracted by a very pleasant but talkative Dutch lady motor caravanner so did not manage to get the clothes hung up in the sun while it was still hot! She told us that she took no notice of the ban on protestants taking communion! Her husband was a camino buff, although she herself was not that interested.  We moved the tent so that it would get as much of the evening sun as possible, and then watched a new motor caravan arrive and spend ages moving about trying to decide on the perfect spot, then shunting back and forth to get as level as possible.  Lots of potential here for matrimonial tensions!  (Almost as many as pannier packing!)

We scaled down our evening meal, having snacked rather too heartily on the bread and cheese, but boiled eggs for our picnic next day, prepared the porridge, water bottles etc so as to be ready to make a quick getaway in the morning. Peter really did put on all his clothes before getting into bed, in the hopes of a warmer night!

Monday 22 September Vézelay to Arbourse 36 miles

22 Sept. Vez to Arbourse – less hilly. Dear little pilgrim refuge in tiny village. Bunks, hot shower, cooking facilities. Heaters. (Its only been cold at night. Days have been sunny every day so far). Shared our lunch with a walking pilgrim who didn’t have any _ shops mostly shut on Mondays.  Passed tiny church with undecorated or even plastered stone walls, an unfinished- timber-framed bell tower and stone benches round the walls. _ the opposite of Vezelay.

We did not manage to leave very early – it was about 10am again. It’s difficult to get going very brightly when it’s cold! Porridge was nive (sweetened with Nestle sweetened condensed milk from a tube!) We had made quite a muddle of our belongings over the two nights so there was a lot of re-packing to do. Then we tried to dry the tent out in the sun, which wasn’t really hot enough to do the job completely before we felt we ought to get going. While we waited we enthused to Peter’s Dutch lady friend about Chaource, as they were on their way home in that direction.

We had hoped that there would be a little supermarché on the way out of town, as where we had shopped yesterday had been a pricey mini-mart, but there wasn’t! We did the first 8 km or soon a mainish road as the signed Voie de Vézelay leaves ona footpath which our laden bikes would not have liked.  After that we wiggled our way through lanes and little villages approximating to the marked route on the helpfully large scale maps provided in our comprehensive guide by M et Mde Chassain.  We managed a short stretch down the Canal du Nivernais, and then, arriving in the village of Asnois, bumped into Dutch Pieter again. He had left Vézelay, walking, at 7.30, and like us had not found anywhere to buy any food.  As we did have some, (not a lot, but enough for a light lunch for three) we sat together and shared a midday meal before hugging and setting off at our different speeds, never to meet again. (Although, strangely enough, today, 20 June 2009, just before I sat down to continue putting our journal on to this blog, the new edition of the Bulletin of the Confraternity of St James arrived, and I read the account of a pilgrimage on the Voie de Vézelay last autumn, by a Canadian pilgrim who also met a Dutchman called Pieter!)

It seemed quite a hard day; some of the lanes were poorly surfaces and there seemed to be a lot of long uphills and and few counter-balancing long downhills, where you can cover three miles in ten minutes! There were delights to make up for it, of course. At Saligny, a tiny village just after we separated from Pieter. we stopped at a tiny village church with a side door and west doors wide open and welcoming. Inside there were a few rough wooden benches and stone ledges around the bare stone walls, and the floor was dirty and uneven. There were a few very knocked-about statues on the walls, but the most moving thing was the timber framed stubby bell-tower built on the north side – a Heath Robinson structure with exposed rough cut beams which suggested enthusiastic parishioners a few hundred years ago who were inspired to add the music of bells to their public expression of their faith.  So different from the  polished artistry of the enormous church we had left behind on the top of the hill, but speaking of the same motives?

We got to Varzy, a town of reasonable size, about four o’clock. All the shops in town seemed to be closed (it was Monday) but there was a MaxiMarché on the edge of town. As we had a ‘light’ lunch we were both hungry and Bridget struggled to work out an efficiat shop for an evening meal and next day’s supplies, with ‘low blood sugsr’ head. So chocolate biscuits were bought, as well as tea-bags, porridge oats (Peter’s snacking favourite) of which our supplies wre all dangerously low! We ate four chocolate biscuits each,, and a banana while packing the supplies in the panniers, discarding cardboard packaging in a bin. We were befriended by Alfonso who offered us walnuts from his pockets and directions in pretty good English for someone so very desperate to talk to passing pilgrims!

Then off to Arbourse, 22 kms off, with a Pilgrim Refuge. We weren’t sure if this was wise, given how we had been flagging before our injection of calories, and yes, the first stretch was another long slow hill that we mostly walked up (up to 388m according to the map), then a short downhill to Champlemy. After this a levelish minor road along the Nievre river and a final couple of shorted climbs brought us to the very quiet village or Arbourse, where the Refuge de Pelerins de V de V is situated in the grounds of the Mairie, a wooden hut built into a barn-type structure. We alled at Mde Shafer’s house, second on the right down the hill, as instructed by a notice onthe door, and she let us in to a delightful home from home for the night – there are two sets of bunks, a kitchen corner with cooker, fridge and sink, a table with four chairs, a loo, a shower and a cupboard full of tins and packets of  pilgrim fodder, all labelled with very reasonable prices. The beds were made up with sheets and duvets and there are heaters to keep the place warm. It was Bliss!

We ate a tin of lentils with sausage and petit salé, yogurt, swiss roll and blackberries picked en route, downed several cups of tea, and each enjoyed a hot and powerful shower. We settled down on the two bottom bunks, close enough to clasp hands affectionately before rapidly falling asleep – Peter first, because I heard him snore!

Tuesday 23 September Arbourse to La Charité-sur-Loire to Baugy 35 miles

23 Sept Arbourse to Baugy. Flatter now. Almost goy mixed up in un chasse in the forest – man on horse with horn, hounds like Pluto and any amount of poeple in cars including the gendarmerie. La Charitee sur Loire – this is the church that KIng Louis Phillipe or Philippe emanuel or someone had to be dissuaded from putting a new road through. It has half its nave missingbut is still enormous. Think I saw a sheela na gig.  Baugy another warm municimap pilgrim refuge that you get the key for at the Mairie.

It was a  very cosy night! With no tent to pack up we were full of porridge and ready to go by 9 o’clock. We tried to find Mme Pravot who, according to our information, should have visited us during the evening, and we hoped she would stamp our pilgrim passports. Her house was the one down the hill with the ‘grille vert et lavandres’ (none of the houses in the village had numbers) but when we identified it there was no answer to the bell. We went back to Mde Shafer’s house, as she had let us in the night before, and eventually disturbed M Shafer (I presume) and gave him our donation! Sadly no stamp was forth coming!

Then we walked down the hill with a chatty man (our French seemed to be coming on in leaps and bounds – we discussed how ‘calme’ the village is except for the dogs, and how few young people there are, and where they have to go for work). Then we had to find the bins so we could dispose of our rubbish (as requested in the refuge) which included all the individual paper packets from the tea bags we bought the day before, stripped off to make them more packable!

So in the end it was neared 10 when we set off up a hill our of Arbourse through a dark and chilly ‘bois’, and into an adventure!  We were on a forest track, quite rough but generally bike-able, when two cars shot down the hill past us and pulled up, screechingly, at the side of the road just behind us. All the men got out and stood about.  One, in forest ranger type dress, warned us not to ‘reste ici’ but to continue on through the forest.  Next appeared a huntsman on a horse who blew on a hunting horn,  accompanied by three hounds.  We continued on, as instructed, and after a while a gangling scooby doo type hound came out of the trees in front of us, looked about soulfully and listened before taking off again.  At a cross-roads (cross-tracks?) more cars appeared at speed and stopped abruptly in clouds of dust. They included expensive looking 4×4s, beaten-up run abouts, white vans, and even the gendarmerie’s SUV.  Men got out and stood by the open doors , listening for braying. Someone asked us if we had seen any dogs (I think). We didn’t know how to say ‘he went thataway’ in French, so waved vaguely. This went on for a while,  and another couple of dogs crossed our path.  We weren’t sure if these men were  following the hunt or trying to round up lost dogs.

We stopped for our mid-morning snack at an ‘etoiule’ meeting of tracks in the centre of the forest, then set off down a better paved road through tiny hamlets of La Vache and Raveau to La Charité sur Loire.

La Charité was just shutting down for lunch time. We bought delicious baguettes from a baker, and ate them in the sun. We explored the cathedral church of Notre Dame – romanesque, Cluniesque, absolutely delightful!  Some of the nave was demolished (allowed to fall down?) at some point, so that there is a ramshackle row of houses, including the tourist office, in between the existing east end of the nave and the west front. However, this is better than what might have been – the French King Philippe Emmanuel (maybe) wanted to drive his Route Royale through the gap, but Prosper Merimee dissuaded him.

What remains of the church itself is plenty, though, and we spent a long time looking and imagining how it changed over the years. So many bits showed signs of having been blocked up or ignored when newer alterations were made.  Outside there are lots of heads, strange creatures and even what might have been a sheela na gig!  there was little information for the tourist and little sign of major ‘tasrting up’ although this is a World Heritage site with connections to the Camino, and also as Cluny’s ‘eldest daughter’.  There were even indications of a worshipping community using the church regularly and encouraging people’s faith, which you don’t always see in all historic religious buildings, not just in France.  There is an octagonal tower over the crossing, which we always like to see, although clearly not as magnificant as in Ely, our diocesan cathedral!

Around the church were other old buildings and the remains of abbey buildings and another church. It was still lunch time and very quiet, and the slightly delapidated feel was very atmospheric. Photos were taken, of course!

Eventually the Tourist office opened, and we went in to get a pilgrim stamp. I asked about the hunting to try and make sense of what we had seen ( I think I had read somewhere that the hunting season did not start until the next day) but the girl in the office was Croatian and although she spoke better English than French she knew as little as I did about ‘La Chasse’.  When we came out people in suits and black cars were gathering for a funeral in the church, so we removed our scruffy selves with bare arms and legs and our laden bikes quickly, pushed them through the streets via a Spar shop, towards the river Loire.

Why do so many French rivers not confine themselves to one channel? And like to add a Canal Lateralle for good measure?  Anyway, it was a lovely bridge, with smashing views of  La Charité sur Loire from the other side.

Now we were on the plain of Berry, I think. It was much flatter cycling. Our route was via Jussy – la – ?? and Couy to Baugy. We ate another snack in Couy, sitting on a bench outside the cemetaryu walls, wherre we were joined by and old lady, who was complaining about the cold wind on her ears. (Note how well our French comprehension is improving!)  More chatting followed, assisted by the dictionary when Bridget asked about the red lichen-y bushy growth seen mostly on hedgerow plants like roses, brambles (mûres) etc. Not that madame knew what it was either! She left us saying something like ‘le bientôt je vais, le bientôt j’arriverai’  which seems a useful line to remember! We popped into the open church in Couy and saw the pilgrim cockleshell symbols on the font, and waved at our companion of the bench who was still on her way through the village, chatting to someone else.

Then further flat cycling under the enormous wide sky with ‘voice of God’ sunlight beaming down from between the late afternoon clouds took us into Baugy.

Baugy was an unpretensious small town with a wide main street. We called at tha Marie where the refuge key was handed over, and the kind girl took us over the road to show us the way to the Municipal pilgrim refuge next to the presbyterie. It seems to be much more used than Arbourse, from the names in the record book, and also very nice.  It only had a microwave for cooking, and very few containers to cook in, so we comandeered the bowl being used for fruit, to cook some courgettes in, then added flavoured couscous and tinned chick peas, which turned out to be a good combination. This was followed by stewed windfall apples, swiss roll and plain yogurt, a stroll round the town, route-planning, showers and bed!

24 – today. Baugy to Bourges. This gets the prize for the cathedral with the mostest…. and haven’t been inside yet.  Staying in a foyer for the homeless (pilgrim annexe) with one other canadian pilgrim.

Time up – using library (sorry, Bourges, Mediatecque) internet access for free.  Must go and see if the inside of the cathrdral will win us over. Five naves, five portals, six tympanums and more flying buttresses than any amount of flying butlers could ever want.

Will try to post again soon.