Via Tolosana Day 36: Guardian of solitude

Anoye to Morlaas – 16kms

It was going to be a hot day, so after waking, I wrote pages and left by 7.20am. I’m so glad I did, because it has put me in the swing of things again.  It was good to do, and meant I would arrive early at Morlaas.  Jacques had written to me “Are you following? Am in Borce. Are you well?”

I left the lovely gite and doubled-back to where I’d noted a fig and peach tree on the same street, and ate second breakfast.  I was thinking about the bath mat at Anoye and that the options for home decorating are immense with the coquille shell design.  There were beautiful old homes in Anoye, and they seemed to be well looked after. I walked up and out of the town,  climbing out of the cool air, the rising sun on my back casting it’s orange light everywhere.  I began to sense pockets of warm air, a portent of what would come later in the day.  Francois was right, it would be hot.

Grape vines. The Pyrenees peeking above the trees. Orange slugs – on the road now.  A dedicated group of volunteers is strong in Anoye as the gite had a great feeling and there were many details to make the pilgrim feel welcome. Chocolate being a prime one! Drinks in the fridge, potato crisps all purchased on the honour system. The volunteers who plant the trees also made their presence felt today – there were many more fruit trees planted by the road, but I noted that they were Amis de Chemin from St Jean Pied de Port.  I suppose I am getting close to there now (even though my route won’t pass through there – it is the gateway to the Pyrenees for the three other routes in France).

Aire de Compostelle provided a lovely picnic spot, but I didn’t need a break.

The architecture of the area seems to reflect the landscape. More horses.

I decided on a Cosmo Cosmolino soundtrack today, the Streetsweeper album. I was feeling cosmic, and cosmopolitan all at the same time.  I don’t know why I needed a sound track today, but I did.  I saw chestnuts again, buddleias and heard church bells.  Cows stared at me – what an easy life they have compared to their provoked brothers/sisters.  More running water.  Sarah McLachlanAnswer.  A warm wind blew.  Another river. The sweet smell of honeysuckle.  Fresh air (the temperature type not clean type).  I saw a pheasant today, crossing a road – that was a surprise. It was a busy road too, the D7.  It begs a ‘why did the pheasant cross the road’ joke, but I only have one joke in my repertoire, and everyone I know has heard it already.  “What’s brown and sticky?”… “A stick”.

I stopped for morning tea by a big fresh and clean river. It was a beautiful place.

Be near water. Be like water.

After my stop, I walked over the beautiful river I’d been observing (I ended up crossing six water courses by Morlaas), and then off on a road to the left to skirt another town, Raguet.

I started listening to Oriah Mountain Dreamer.  I am glad she is on my playlist.  Her talks, “Choosing a joyful dance” and “Dance of shared silence” spoke to me, not least because in the second one she mentioned Meister Eckhardt, who Matthieu had spoken about two days before.  She re-authors his great quote:

“There is nothing so much like God in all the universe as shared silence”

and called to my attention a beautiful idea from Rainer Marie Rilke

“… a good marriage is one in which each partner appoints the other to be the guardian of his solitude, and thus they show each other the greatest possible trust.”

The Waterboys continued to buoy me with Preparing to Fly.  I saw a snake by the road, there was a rock on a pole and funghi accompanying a balisage on a tree.  It was once again a day of walking between many more cornfields and a little on bitumen roads. It was a happy day!

The battery to my phone went flat, and I was faced with listening to the growing sounds of Morlaas civilisation as I approached.  Something’s burning. Acorns appeared on the beautifully soft path and in the distance the views of the Pyrenees grew more and more stunning.  There are so many pots of gold, so much treasure to see and feel.  The sounds of big roads and even airports came into my consciousness with the whirring engines of light planes approaching from behind me.  Bullet casings again littered the path.

I crossed a busy highway, and began walking through the outskirts for longer than was comfortable, with the sun burning in the near-midday sky. I saw signs of public transport, bus-stops, and was contemplating taking a bus straight to Pau, but decided against it and kept walking.   The way had the feeling of approaching Castres, but Morlaas is much smaller than that, and Castres is more like the size of Pau.  Pau city centre is not actually on the route, though I was to find out it was really worth seeing. After visiting Lourdes, I thought I’d return to Morlaas and walk on to Lescar. Morlaas to Lescar actually borders the northern-most part of the outer suburbs of Pau (previously referred to as ‘the boring bits’).  In my experience though nothing is boring to a pilgrim.

I arrived around 11:30am to Morlaas – perfect timing.  I got a quiche at the boulangerie, along with a pain au chocolate with almonds and a soft drink as it would probably soon close for lunch. I went to the Office de Tourisme on the square facing the back of the church.  They couldn’t help me with a booking for Lourdes, but gave me the number of a place that could.  The office contained a number of interesting relics of centuries past, including a carved stone canard (duck), a carved musician and a great relief map of the Pyrenees.  It was a nice little collection along with the pilgrim’s staff.

It was really hot already and I was exhausted even though I’d only walked 16 kms. It was a slow saunter to the camping municipal (camp ground), which was right next to the public swimming pool and behind the park office. I booked my accommodation for tomorrow night and it was 45 Euro. A bit steep, but I wanted to see the place and it is always worth it.   I also decided that I would take the bus into Pau early the next morning, then the train to Lourdes.

At the gite behind the office, I met Julie, another pilgrim.  We had a nice chat about the way, and the insights and challenges it brings.  She was resting up, nursing a foot that she thought might be broken, but had been walking on it for some time.  She was also a ‘wild-camper’, and had her tent and tarp out drying on the washing line as she was doing a giant pack clean out.  She was also busy binding her St Jacques coquille shell to her staff – not an easy feat.  She was a real sweetie and we had a long chat about Australian history. She noticed that I felt very strongly about indigenous issues and that maybe I could move in that direction with my work when I got back.  Later Francios and Cloudine arrived.

I went off in the afternoon to get some cash, buy a new pen (my kilometrico had died and I had been working though my felt tip pens in my pencil case and other biros, but none were satisfactory.  It was a few days later that I realised the new pen was a Cristal M.  I don’t know what that says about me, but at least I wasn’t injecting the ink. I’d have to wait to get home to write again with a kilometrico).  I also took a walk through the beautiful, cool church. The stained glass windows threw bold colours onto the floor, walls and vaulted ceiling. It was beautiful.  And the portal  door is absolutely gorgeous.

On returning to the site, I found that Francois and Cloudine were going to go for a swim as we’d been told by the woman from the office that we could get in for free, so I decided to go too.  My first summer swim. Next time I’ll swim more, it is so nice after a day of walking.

I also went around to see whether there might be wifi somewhere and my walk took me to a bar.  I saw Virginie and Sophie there, they were staying somewhere else in probably a little more luxury than the campsite, although our accommodation was very clean and adequate.  They were going to walk to Pau to go home to Lyon/Marseilles the next day.

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There was a big supermarket on the other side of the fence from the caravan park and I went there to replenish supplies with once again, too much food, but it meant I ate well that night.   I ate dinner with everyone outside, and later still another walker, Bernard, arrived.  He sat separately to us though, which was a bit curious.  My dinner was a melange of rice, tuna, celery salad from the supermarket (which I really love), tomato and with a panacotta chaser. Nice work!

The warmth continued well after the sun went down and we all weren’t long out of bed. Back inside the common room, which was another large room the same size as the room with several bunk beds in it (but with no kitchen – that was outside in the same block as the toilets and showers), we realised that some budding young artists had helped with the decorations.  They were beautiful and I couldn’t help capturing them all.

Via Tolosana Day 35: Donkey Kong dodging sprinklers

Maubourguet to Anoye – 22 kms

I awoke to Christian’s alarm.  I didn’t get up until about 6:30am though.  I half packed and took my pack out on the tiny verandah and wrote my pages from 7am – 7:45am. I said goodbye to Christian when he left.  I found this intriguing.  He arrived before the others the day before, and he left before the others.  I admired this independence. I wonder whether men can tolerate it of each other more than women can.  Maybe I will evolve into someone who will really be at ease with ‘going my own way’, because I certainly can’t feel it quite yet. If I had come on a long ride with my friends, I would feel that invisible pressure to go with them, not go my own way.  Is this how we are socialised as women and men, or is there something more primal about the difference between testosterone and oestrogen and it’s effects on our relating?

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I got my pages finished and then Patrice appeared, and later still Laurent.  Patrice rode to find out whether Casino (supermarket) was open, and it was.  So I gathered up the final few things into my pack and said goodbye to the guys.  It had been a great night. Off I went with my pack, after taking a photo of them in front of our cute chalet.  Seeing people on bikes took me back to my Vezelay route ride.  It is still a taxing way to travel, but riding another 5 kilometres to find a place to stay at night is less arduous than walking it.  I envied their mobility.

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Espaliered plane trees

I walked back into town to Casino also for today’s lunch, tonight’s dinner and the next day’s lunch. In some parts of the walk, it really does require that much forward planning, if your next stop is not in a town with an epicerie/boulangerie. You also have to consider that everything you carry is weighty, and after 20 kilometres, it can make a huge difference to how tired you get.  I bought pain at the boulangerie. All set.  It was 9:00am already – a late start. On the way out of town I passed my favourites, the Gendarmerie.  Matthieu said there would be a lot of corn from now on, and there was.  All day, right to the end.  There were also great views again of the Pyrenees, although this time it felt like instead of looking across hills at them, you were starting to look up at them from the plains.  It was a flat walk to start with, then a gentle hill took me upwards towards Lahitte-Toupiere.

The gazelle may have bounded away in the flesh, but I walked with him most of the day, thinking about the things he said and did, carrying some faint hope that I might, by some weird coincidence, catch him again.  Blackberries reminded me of our slim pickings, and his concern for other pilgrims and I said to myself, no, toujours beaucoup (no, always plenty) for everyone when you take only what you need.

I feel like a walking smell. I stink, my pack stinks, my t-shirts are manky and even after washing, they still reek. Yuk!

I came to a big road, the D943, and observed that the GR101 crossed heading south towards Lourdes. It was well-signposted. Perhaps this is where the guy in St Gervais sur Mare was heading. If I’d had more time, maybe this is the way I would have reached Lourdes.  As it was I preferred my detour-by-train plan.

10:10 when I next checked my phone.  Loud helicopters made their presence felt overhead as I was getting to Lahitte-Toupière, where Matthieu was planning to stay the night. The gite advertised yoga. I thought that was a lovely coincidence as he had said he’d like to take it up, and I was encouraging him to, given I had got so much out of yoga at various times in my life.

Just past the gite, thoughts a little diverted by a beret, I neglected to take the right fork in the road, and continued along a road – distracted also by the La Poste van that met me.  So when I got to the main road, I decided instead of just taking it into town, to re-trace my steps so as to walk the marked way.  It rewarded me with the most beautiful little paddock of sheep, some with big bells around their necks which tinkled and clanged in time with their tugging at the grass.  After some minutes recording this and photographing them, one walked up to me. I wondered if they’d also chatted to the gazelle this morning. (I might add, that I hadn’t realised that a possible reason for Matthieu’s sporting of a beret was a very good one. They had been produced in the town in which he lived since 1840 – I only found this out months after the walk.  If I’d noted out loud his unusual head gear, I might have found this out yesterday!).

Another four kilometres on and I rested for a while under the verandah of a church in Vidouze to eat a peach. There was a fantastically signposted water tap also, especially for pilgrims.  Just as I was going to leave, along rode Patrice and Laurent – they hadn’t left Maubourguet until 10am.  We chatted and joked again and then they rode off down the hill that I was to walk down.  What lovely men. What a happy meeting.

I left the road again, and was walking in fields of high corn, with sprinklers just starting up.  I crossed a small creek on a footbridge that had a hidden approach, and then walked onto farm tracks made of orange clay and small rocks.  The tracks were wet, and I realised this was where I play Donkey Kong Junior for real, and dodge sprinklers. I made one attempt, between two circulating pivots, and realised I wouldn’t make it through so I retreated.  Maybe those 24 hours playing these little beeping games high in the skies between Melbourne, Bangkok and Dhaka when I was twelve paid off. Thanks Nintendo 1982, I managed to make it through without getting soaked. Thanks Paul for the heads up about the sprinklers.

I looked down at the path I was walking along after this, and realised the set of tyre tracks differed.  Sometimes there was water pooled on one side, and not the other. Sometimes it was dry and rocky on one side and not the other. Some sides were tricky, and the other you could navigate without watching your step.  I realised that you may be walking in the same direction, on the same track as someone else, but still experience different terrain. Everyone’s path is absolutely unique.  I heard the helicopter overhead again. Out in the open for a while and I came across a large dry paddock of pigs.  They had some mud, and seemed happy in it.

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It was getting on to lunch time, and I had continued on in the cornfields for some time past Dexpers (nice name for a settlement), when up ahead, who do I see but my cheeky friends, Sophie et Virginie sitting down to have lunch on some big wooden crates on the edge of the track. How lovely. I joined them for lunch and for the next few hours of walking.  There were a few big hills to ascend and descend today, but thankfully the destination, Anoye, was in a valley.

In one part that was more dense trees, there were these strange contraptions in the forest.  It looked like there were platforms suspended high up, with ropes and pulleys to bring things up and down.  They were a little more sophisticated than what could be made by children, but it certainly looked like someone liked playing up high.

Today I saw espaliered plane trees, signs that said Arles was 560 kms away (which didn’t seem quite right), more orange slugs and road signs that now say ‘Cami’ rather than ‘Chemin’.  I spotted Chinese lantern plants again and a new occurrence that would last for many kilometres and the final days of my walk, ancient fruit varieties.

Planted by friends of the way, partly I suppose in commemoration of the trail, and partly to feed the pilgrims that traverse it, they were a sweet reminder that the path is cared for by a whole army of unseen caretakers.  It was nice to see these ancient varieties being resurrected, and the signs on the plants gave great information about them.

Just past Lucarré, there is a big lake, and the girls wanted to take their time and stop by it, so I walked back up another hill, on through Momy, stopping to look in the beautiful l’eglise with another rendition of St Roch with his sore leg, chuckling at a place called ‘Samson’s Lion’ and finally getting back on the road down the hill into Anoye.  It was a hot day on the road today, so I wanted to make sure to leave earlier tomorrow. I will have more sleep and less wine!

I arrived in the small town, once again being welcomed by fast-running water and found the communal gite which was a beautiful two story house.  The large front door was open and I went in, left my shoes downstairs and then climbed (with difficulty), the creaking wooden stairs, opened the tight door at the top and got acquainted with the sleeping quarters. Around 15 minutes later so did the girls.  And then who should show up, but Francois and Cloudine.  It is strange isn’t it?  You could hold on to make the good times last longer, clinging and desperately orchestrating your travel to stay with nice people, or you could continue in your own way, never knowing if you might come into contact with your lovely friends again, but in the intervening times, experiencing the lessons that are just for you to learn. The posse was back together again.  The way is a great teacher about letting go and having faith in your own time and pace. And of course, F & C had spent the night in the same place as the gazelle, so it was nice to share my excitement at having met him.

Even though it was upstairs, it was cool, and comfortable. The bunk beds were nice and the bathroom was good, and appropriately decorated with shell motifs.  What none of us realised was that there was also a little epicerie downstairs, that is magically opened when the clock strikes 6pm by local volunteers who look after this communal gite. All kinds of supplies can be purchased. Nice supplies, like chocolate! The kitchen upstairs is small and basic, but well stocked with cooking utensils for preparing food. I needn’t have hung around for Casino and the boulangerie this morning, but who would have known. The table was large, and would easily fit us all around it when we’d prepared our food.

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After showering I tried writing my journal, outside on the picnic bench but couldn’t seem to get into the mood. That and les bothersome moustiques. I went for a small walk around the town: past donkeys that were well on heat (what, is this spring or something??), to the little church – which was shut, and to the fontaine (fountain) – a pure spring, said to have healing qualities, made in 1652 according to the plaque. It was close to the gite, just around the back, luckily for my tired and aching legs. A few of us cooperated and chipped in for the 3Euro washing machine fee and got our clothes washed.  We were really late, so they didn’t quite dry, but that’s what all the spare bunk beds are for – drying washing while you sleep.

I’d bought some nice bio rice with salmon and I heated in the microwave for dinner. We all ate together at the kitchen table.  I finished writing my journal, and went to bed.