Day 21. June 26, 2014. Saint-Pe-d'Ardet to Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges. 17 kms
L'Eglise Saint-Just-de-Valcabrere and la Cathedrale de Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges
On mange comme des rois
I have been reflecting how different the gites have been over the last few days.
At Le Mas-d'Azil with Paster Bordes the ambience was somewhat religious. I slept above a chapel. He said Grace before breakfast, and asked questions about my religious beliefs. He was not dismayed when I said I was non croyant and seemed interested in my Protestant background and the state of the various Protestant denominations in Canada. With the community at La Mauraude, the discussion was more intellectual as we discussed the relationship between Esperanto and other languages. At Portet-d'Aspet chez Jo, the atmosphere was rural French, a slice of life the way it must have been for 100 years or more. Singing, dancing, loud discussion with voices rising to emphasize a point.
Last night was different again. Apparently, the old farmhouse had been bought and was being developed by a group of nine partners, and one of them confessed that they didn't all get on. Imagine! Even a partnership of two or three could be a risky venture, but nine! Two of the partners were there at the gite: one, rather severe; the other, friendly.
Monique, my camarade du chemin, was perturbed when she found out that the cost for the stay, demi-pension, was 40 euros. It was more than we expected, particularly when the gite had been recommended as pilgrim accommodation. She wouldn't let it go. She pointed out that pilgrims couldn't and wouldn't pay more than 30 €. Her budget, she said, was 29 €. "Well, I guess, today, you'll break your budget," said the severe partner. The friendly one said nothing but looked uncomfortable. This conversation continued more or less pleasantly (I'm not being sarcastic) over dinner.
At breakfast this morning, Monique took it up again with the sister of the friendly partner, who seemed to be the resident cook. She agreed that 40 € was too much but it was the men who decided these things. However, she thought 30 € was fair, and we paid her that amount. Monique continued to argue her case even after the deal was done. I don't know whether the men had already decided to lower the price, or whether the friendly partner's sister was to face the wrath of the severe partner later in the day.
I have been reflecting how different the gites have been over the last few days.
At Le Mas-d'Azil with Paster Bordes the ambience was somewhat religious. I slept above a chapel. He said Grace before breakfast, and asked questions about my religious beliefs. He was not dismayed when I said I was non croyant and seemed interested in my Protestant background and the state of the various Protestant denominations in Canada. With the community at La Mauraude, the discussion was more intellectual as we discussed the relationship between Esperanto and other languages. At Portet-d'Aspet chez Jo, the atmosphere was rural French, a slice of life the way it must have been for 100 years or more. Singing, dancing, loud discussion with voices rising to emphasize a point.
Last night was different again. Apparently, the old farmhouse had been bought and was being developed by a group of nine partners, and one of them confessed that they didn't all get on. Imagine! Even a partnership of two or three could be a risky venture, but nine! Two of the partners were there at the gite: one, rather severe; the other, friendly.
Monique, my camarade du chemin, was perturbed when she found out that the cost for the stay, demi-pension, was 40 euros. It was more than we expected, particularly when the gite had been recommended as pilgrim accommodation. She wouldn't let it go. She pointed out that pilgrims couldn't and wouldn't pay more than 30 €. Her budget, she said, was 29 €. "Well, I guess, today, you'll break your budget," said the severe partner. The friendly one said nothing but looked uncomfortable. This conversation continued more or less pleasantly (I'm not being sarcastic) over dinner.
At breakfast this morning, Monique took it up again with the sister of the friendly partner, who seemed to be the resident cook. She agreed that 40 € was too much but it was the men who decided these things. However, she thought 30 € was fair, and we paid her that amount. Monique continued to argue her case even after the deal was done. I don't know whether the men had already decided to lower the price, or whether the friendly partner's sister was to face the wrath of the severe partner later in the day.
The walk today was very easy: down through a couple of little villages to the bank of the Garonne, and then along a cycle path to Saint-Bertrand. The workers at the gite decided that I needed a stick.
Tonight's Accueil Pelerin chez Mme Huchan has a very homely atmosphere and comprises a couple of rooms attached to a house. Very comfortable indeed. The lady cooked us a simple but superb meal: an unbelievably tasty vegetable soup, consisting of carrots, peas, squash, onions and a variety of herbs, and then stuffed zucchinis and a kind of pate cake. This was followed by two of the cheeses of the region. Accompanied by wine, of course.
I haven't mentioned the weather for a while because it hasn't been spectacular. But it's been good for walking, cool, often raining overnight, heavy clouds above the mountains always threatening a storm but holding off. I haven't needed to get out my rain gear. But this afternoon after I arrived, it started, so I borrowed an umbrella to walk up to the high town to visit the cathedral.
Cathedrals seem to have sprung up like mushrooms in this part of the country. La Cathedrale de Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges is famous for its magnificent choir stalls, 66 in all, beautifully carved with their wooden misericordia and panels behind. And there is a very fine organ at the back of the nave. In fact, perhaps because it was a religious community with few townsfolk in the vicinity, the choir occupies most of the church and the nave is relatively small. The lower town was served by its own church, and nearby, now standing alone in a field is the magnificent Romanesque church of Saint-Just-de-Valcabrere.
Tonight's Accueil Pelerin chez Mme Huchan has a very homely atmosphere and comprises a couple of rooms attached to a house. Very comfortable indeed. The lady cooked us a simple but superb meal: an unbelievably tasty vegetable soup, consisting of carrots, peas, squash, onions and a variety of herbs, and then stuffed zucchinis and a kind of pate cake. This was followed by two of the cheeses of the region. Accompanied by wine, of course.
I haven't mentioned the weather for a while because it hasn't been spectacular. But it's been good for walking, cool, often raining overnight, heavy clouds above the mountains always threatening a storm but holding off. I haven't needed to get out my rain gear. But this afternoon after I arrived, it started, so I borrowed an umbrella to walk up to the high town to visit the cathedral.
Cathedrals seem to have sprung up like mushrooms in this part of the country. La Cathedrale de Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges is famous for its magnificent choir stalls, 66 in all, beautifully carved with their wooden misericordia and panels behind. And there is a very fine organ at the back of the nave. In fact, perhaps because it was a religious community with few townsfolk in the vicinity, the choir occupies most of the church and the nave is relatively small. The lower town was served by its own church, and nearby, now standing alone in a field is the magnificent Romanesque church of Saint-Just-de-Valcabrere.
Day 22. June 27, 2014. Saint-Bernard-de-Comminges to Montserie. 22 kms
Last night I slept in a feather bed
The gite last night was the most comfortable I have experienced. It was more of a chambre d'hôtes really, as Marie, our host, supplied towels, and the beds were made up with sheets. She said that she doesn't have any other guests; she just wants to cater to pilgrims. In the morning, she led me out of town to the beginning of the footpath.
At first the going was easy. I climbed slowly with a nice view of the cathedral on my right. I passed a group of randonneurs who were out for their weekly hike. I ran into them again after I had missed a turning and made an unintended detour. Their leader, Jean, was a little odd. At first he was willing to give me directions, but when I had a follow-up question, he walked away and didn't want to talk to me. He may have been a little embarrassed because he had just led his group in the wrong direction. Oh well, it takes all sorts. I continued along the GR which sometimes followed a track through the woods and sometimes the road.
Suddenly, it left the road and took off at right angles down to the river. I slid down the slope, slippery after last night's rain, and followed the muddy path around the river through tree-high weeds and nettles. I was assailed by March flies and mosquitos and midges and ticks, and other sundry buzzing insects. After that experience, I resolved to follow the GR only on the high ground.
The trouble is that you ever know what it is going to do. Sometimes I have taken the road only to find out later that the walk along the path was spectacular and not difficult at all. Other times I have taken the GR to find it difficult and interminable.
The gite last night was the most comfortable I have experienced. It was more of a chambre d'hôtes really, as Marie, our host, supplied towels, and the beds were made up with sheets. She said that she doesn't have any other guests; she just wants to cater to pilgrims. In the morning, she led me out of town to the beginning of the footpath.
At first the going was easy. I climbed slowly with a nice view of the cathedral on my right. I passed a group of randonneurs who were out for their weekly hike. I ran into them again after I had missed a turning and made an unintended detour. Their leader, Jean, was a little odd. At first he was willing to give me directions, but when I had a follow-up question, he walked away and didn't want to talk to me. He may have been a little embarrassed because he had just led his group in the wrong direction. Oh well, it takes all sorts. I continued along the GR which sometimes followed a track through the woods and sometimes the road.
Suddenly, it left the road and took off at right angles down to the river. I slid down the slope, slippery after last night's rain, and followed the muddy path around the river through tree-high weeds and nettles. I was assailed by March flies and mosquitos and midges and ticks, and other sundry buzzing insects. After that experience, I resolved to follow the GR only on the high ground.
The trouble is that you ever know what it is going to do. Sometimes I have taken the road only to find out later that the walk along the path was spectacular and not difficult at all. Other times I have taken the GR to find it difficult and interminable.
I had my crust and cheese at Lombres, and made my way by circuitous country roads via Hautaget to Montserie. I passed some spectacular gardens. Sometimes the flowers were displayed in unusual ways.
Tonight we are staying at a municipal gite in the middle of nowhere. IIt's a fine modern gite with a washing machine, so I was able to wash most of my clothes. I prepared a fine meal of sausages and lentils. This is an old favourite of mine. Last year I carried an emergency can of the same for those occasions when nothing was open. Tonight's can for two was provided by the mayor.
Later, I extracted a tick that was embedded in my hip. The ticks here are tiny little buggers, not like our old friends in Manitoba.
Tonight we are staying at a municipal gite in the middle of nowhere. IIt's a fine modern gite with a washing machine, so I was able to wash most of my clothes. I prepared a fine meal of sausages and lentils. This is an old favourite of mine. Last year I carried an emergency can of the same for those occasions when nothing was open. Tonight's can for two was provided by the mayor.
Later, I extracted a tick that was embedded in my hip. The ticks here are tiny little buggers, not like our old friends in Manitoba.
Day 23. June 28, 2014. Montserie to Moulin-des-Baronnies
For this relief much thanks
Marie at Saint-Bertrand gave us a new itinerary for pilgrims to follow from Montserie to Lourdes. It follows the GR where practicable, but most of the time it takes the little country roads from village to village. It is shorter and easier than the GR in its entirety.
I left the gite early and stopped for a chunk of cheese at Lortet. A group of randonneurs were assembling by the river and set off soon after my arrival, a couple of dozen females from eight to eighty, and one man, who of course was their leader. I hope he doesn't lead them astray.
As so often happens, a fellow who had walked the Camino came to chat and we shared experiences. It is always a pleasant interlude during the day.
It is interesting country, forever changing. I can remember walking for days on end beside the Loire, or across the plains, or over the moors with little change of scenery, but here, one minute it is flat with corn fields on either side, and then it's lush pasture with ruminating cows, and then I'm up on a ridge or down in a valley. And the high Pyrenees are never very far away.
After a long descent into a valley, always to be regretted, because it means a greater climb tomorrow, I arrived at the campground at Moulin des Baronnies, where we are staying tonight in a gite.
This is a very peaceful spot beside a stream which runs under the old mill, which in its present form has become our gite. When I arrived, a couple were sitting in their chairs outside their caravan. Three hours later, after my second Leffe, they were still there. Several elderlies were playing pétanques. And all the while the stream gurgled by.
I have another experience to add to my collection of bizarre bathrooms.This time a trickle issued forth from both the hot and cold taps in the shower. Miserable buggers, I thought to myself. They are really trying the save their water. This despite the fact that the old mill stream flows right underneath us. I was soaping myself up when the trickle threatened to dry up altogether. Bloody hell, I thought, I'm covered in soap. I'm buggered. Then there was a trembling, a pulsation, and a sound like a steam train pulling out of the station, and the water started gushing out of the shower in a veritable torrent. Apparently, some pump had started operating and was making up for its earlier deficiency.
Day 24. June 29, 2014. Moulin de Baronnies to Bagneres de Bigores. 22 kms
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another!
It was a gradual climb for most of the morning through lonely little villages in the hills. I passed several old mills and marvelled at the innocence and simplicity of harnessing water power to drive machinery. Until the invention of the steam engine we lived in harmony with our planet. Later, the road became steeper until eventually I passed through the Col de Palomieres at 810 metres, having climbed about 1500 feet from our campsite.
It was quite wild at the top, and lonely, but for a rather posh and popular restaurant, where I popped in for a salade tomate. For the first time on this walk, I was cold.
And then down again into the valley, with the GR providing a more direct route for a change, and along the river to the town of Bagneres de Bigorre.
We are staying tonight at the Accueil Notre Dame, a rather dilapidated industrial building which is soon to be refurbished.
Bagneres is fair-sized town, the first opportunity in several days to stock up on supplies. No restaurants were open on Sunday night, but I was directed to the casino for a meal. I suspected that other restaurants were closed because they couldn't compete.
The menu at 14 € began with a complimentary glass of champagne. What a nice touch! And then a salad, duck steaks, and strawberry ice cream. As the French say, It was correct.
I will arrive in Lourdes tomorrow, where I must stop. I have run out of time.
I have just learned that an old friend, David Riesen, has died, the third great teacher-colleague-friend to go in recent times. He was well respected in his church, in the Mennonite community at large, in the city of Winnipeg, and further afield, and much will have been written and spoken about him. I travelled with him, and we had many a glass of wine or brandy together. I am sad that I will not have the chance to do that again. Some people make other lives richer. David was one of those people.
He was a Christian, but he never once mentioned Jesus to me. I have known Christians who manage to squeeze Jesus into every sentence, and do their faith no credit, but David was silent on the subject. He lived his faith, and by his example made agnostics like me keep an open mind. Farewell, David.
To one another!
It was a gradual climb for most of the morning through lonely little villages in the hills. I passed several old mills and marvelled at the innocence and simplicity of harnessing water power to drive machinery. Until the invention of the steam engine we lived in harmony with our planet. Later, the road became steeper until eventually I passed through the Col de Palomieres at 810 metres, having climbed about 1500 feet from our campsite.
It was quite wild at the top, and lonely, but for a rather posh and popular restaurant, where I popped in for a salade tomate. For the first time on this walk, I was cold.
And then down again into the valley, with the GR providing a more direct route for a change, and along the river to the town of Bagneres de Bigorre.
We are staying tonight at the Accueil Notre Dame, a rather dilapidated industrial building which is soon to be refurbished.
Bagneres is fair-sized town, the first opportunity in several days to stock up on supplies. No restaurants were open on Sunday night, but I was directed to the casino for a meal. I suspected that other restaurants were closed because they couldn't compete.
The menu at 14 € began with a complimentary glass of champagne. What a nice touch! And then a salad, duck steaks, and strawberry ice cream. As the French say, It was correct.
I will arrive in Lourdes tomorrow, where I must stop. I have run out of time.
I have just learned that an old friend, David Riesen, has died, the third great teacher-colleague-friend to go in recent times. He was well respected in his church, in the Mennonite community at large, in the city of Winnipeg, and further afield, and much will have been written and spoken about him. I travelled with him, and we had many a glass of wine or brandy together. I am sad that I will not have the chance to do that again. Some people make other lives richer. David was one of those people.
He was a Christian, but he never once mentioned Jesus to me. I have known Christians who manage to squeeze Jesus into every sentence, and do their faith no credit, but David was silent on the subject. He lived his faith, and by his example made agnostics like me keep an open mind. Farewell, David.
Day 25. June 30, 2014. Bagneres de Bigores to Lourdes. 24 kms
Do not seek to know for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee.
Monique was joined last night by a friend whom she had met on a previous chemin. I have enjoyed walking with Monique, well, not walking exactly for we both preferred to walk alone, but meeting up with her at the gites in the evening. She is continuing to Oloron-Sainte-Marie. I wish her well.
The hospitalier at the gite had given us a copy of a google map with a highlighted route to Lourdes which was even shorter than the itinerary we had been given a couple of days ago at Saint Bertrand. He showed us the way out of town, and mentioned something about the equestrian centre.
I set out about half-past eight, passed the equestrian centre, and followed the only possible route. As I passed the lovely couple above, I wondered what you called a baby donkey. An asset?
I was a little uneasy when I seemed to be heading south-west instead of north, but there was no way I could have gone wrong. I climbed and climbed, and eventually ran into Monique and her friend who had left before me. We had indeed gone wrong, but a kind old man put us right and drove us back to the right road. He dropped me back at the equestrian centre where apparently I should have taken a road so insignificant that I wouldn't have noticed it unless I had been looking for it. Of course, I should have been looking for it, but our hospitalier had spoken so quickly that I hadn't understood.
To make up for lost time, for I had a train to catch, I decided to take the most direct route possible, even if it was along a busy road. I was racing along, and as I climbed a hill, I was passed by a couple of motor bikes. At the top was an ambulance with flashing lights, and I feared that one of the bikers had failed to make the turn. But no, it was an older man on his back on the road. The paramedics were working frantically on him, but to no avail. Perhaps he was a farmer who had stepped out onto the road and been hit by a car. A woman was sobbing nearby. So sudden, so unexpected. So many lives changed forever.
I wouldn't recommend this route, the D937, although it was certainly fast walking (5.4 kph), as the shoulder was narrow, and the traffic quite heavy, but I wanted to get to Lourdes to catch a train.
So I gave Lourdes short shrift, but from all I have heard, it wasn't my kind of town.
This was not my most enjoyable walk. I'm not sure why. Perhaps I was having to do too much road walking. Perhaps I was always rushing. Perhaps it was too hilly for me.
I leave you on a lighter note. I wish to apologize to all the dogs whom I have criticized for barking at me. Truth is, they only bark when they are in their yards. Often, when they are out walking with their master or mistresses, they come and greet me in a friendly fashion.
A couple of days ago, I was walking through a little village and ahead of me was a raised garden. Four dogs barked at me as I approached. As I walked passed the garden, a woman leaned over the wall and apologized on behalf of her dogs. The dogs put their front feet on the wall and looked down at me. They too looked contrite.
Tous les chiens aboient a moi
Je sais pourquoi ils aboient a moi
C'est parce qu'ils guardent leur territoire
Que tous les chiens aboient a moi
Monique was joined last night by a friend whom she had met on a previous chemin. I have enjoyed walking with Monique, well, not walking exactly for we both preferred to walk alone, but meeting up with her at the gites in the evening. She is continuing to Oloron-Sainte-Marie. I wish her well.
The hospitalier at the gite had given us a copy of a google map with a highlighted route to Lourdes which was even shorter than the itinerary we had been given a couple of days ago at Saint Bertrand. He showed us the way out of town, and mentioned something about the equestrian centre.
I set out about half-past eight, passed the equestrian centre, and followed the only possible route. As I passed the lovely couple above, I wondered what you called a baby donkey. An asset?
I was a little uneasy when I seemed to be heading south-west instead of north, but there was no way I could have gone wrong. I climbed and climbed, and eventually ran into Monique and her friend who had left before me. We had indeed gone wrong, but a kind old man put us right and drove us back to the right road. He dropped me back at the equestrian centre where apparently I should have taken a road so insignificant that I wouldn't have noticed it unless I had been looking for it. Of course, I should have been looking for it, but our hospitalier had spoken so quickly that I hadn't understood.
To make up for lost time, for I had a train to catch, I decided to take the most direct route possible, even if it was along a busy road. I was racing along, and as I climbed a hill, I was passed by a couple of motor bikes. At the top was an ambulance with flashing lights, and I feared that one of the bikers had failed to make the turn. But no, it was an older man on his back on the road. The paramedics were working frantically on him, but to no avail. Perhaps he was a farmer who had stepped out onto the road and been hit by a car. A woman was sobbing nearby. So sudden, so unexpected. So many lives changed forever.
I wouldn't recommend this route, the D937, although it was certainly fast walking (5.4 kph), as the shoulder was narrow, and the traffic quite heavy, but I wanted to get to Lourdes to catch a train.
So I gave Lourdes short shrift, but from all I have heard, it wasn't my kind of town.
This was not my most enjoyable walk. I'm not sure why. Perhaps I was having to do too much road walking. Perhaps I was always rushing. Perhaps it was too hilly for me.
I leave you on a lighter note. I wish to apologize to all the dogs whom I have criticized for barking at me. Truth is, they only bark when they are in their yards. Often, when they are out walking with their master or mistresses, they come and greet me in a friendly fashion.
A couple of days ago, I was walking through a little village and ahead of me was a raised garden. Four dogs barked at me as I approached. As I walked passed the garden, a woman leaned over the wall and apologized on behalf of her dogs. The dogs put their front feet on the wall and looked down at me. They too looked contrite.
Tous les chiens aboient a moi
Je sais pourquoi ils aboient a moi
C'est parce qu'ils guardent leur territoire
Que tous les chiens aboient a moi
