Pilgrim's Progress – Long Distance Walks in Europe and the UK

Travel is fatal to bigotry, prejudice and narrow-mindedness.

Mark Twain

One of the great pleasures of going on pilgrimmage is that you bump into such a variety of delightful and stimulating individuals. Dan was undoubtedly one of them.

As I hit the sack the previous evening I had a bit of a panic attack. For the life of me I couldn’t manage to recharge my phone. The chsrger just wouldn’t connect in my phone. 39% battery power to last the best part of a week. Such are the challenges of 21st century life. How I managed to survive (book accommodation etc) on the Sentier de St Jacques from Le-Puy-en-Velay to St-Jean-Pied-de-Port in 1989, is anybody’s guess! Before the invention of portable phones or the internet, phone kiosks weren’t two a penny in ‘La France Profonde’ in those days!

A speedy whatsapp exchange with Olivia soon sorted things out. Shrewdly she ascertained that more likely than my phone going on the blink, a more likely cause for the charger connection issues was some sort of gubbins wedged in the connection point. And so it proved. After an unsuccessful attempt to remedy the issue with my toothbrush, a needle proved more fruitful, successfully disgorging a husk from the charge point. Panic over and normal service resumed!

Despite a somewhat fitful night’s sleep (the bearded French pilgrim snored like a drain) I made it down to breakfast with Mireille at 7.30am, bright eyed and bushy tailed.

The visitor’s book was full of glowing encomiums to Mireille’s hosputality. I did my best to translate the comments left by a couple of Korean pilgrims in hangul.

We bade Mireille a fond farewell, thanked her for her charming hospitality, took a selfie and headed on our way.

I struck out towards Castres with Dan, an amusing, erudite and convivial Greek American from Wisconsin. Over the ensuing couple of hours we chatted about everything and nothing: from Dan’s time in the US Peace Corps in the Solomon Islands, to his love of cross country ski-ing, to the current state of US politics and back to walking, including Dan’s fledgling plans to walk a section of the Via Francigena in Italy next year. Needless to say, I waxed lyrical about the Via Francigena, mentioned my own plans for 2024 when I hit the big 60, and gave some tips about the pilgrimmage to Rome.

All too soon we had reached Castres where Dan was due to stay the night. It was only 11.30am but there are probably worse places to hang out during the Rugby World Cup ( Castres is a rugby centre!) We took a selfie on the bridge, bade each other a fond farewell and headed our separate ways.

Disappointingly neither of the two monasteries in Dougne had been able to accommodate me. After a gentle afternoon amble under threatening skies which never quite turned to rain I reached Dourgne shortly after 4.30pm.

A visit to the Mairie confirmed that the municipal campsite was closed for the season. With both abbeys either closed (on an away day to see the Pope who was in the vicinity appatently) or fully booked, there was little option but to check into the only hotel in town (8 rooms) and enjoy the luxury of sleeping in a bed without the need for earplugs!