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

For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move; to feel the needs and hitches of our life more clearly; to come down off this feather-bed of civilization, and find the globe granite underfoot and strewn with cutting flints.

Robert Louis Stevenson – Travels with a donkey in the Cevennes

It was just past 6pm. Forked lightning periodically illuminated the hills surrounding Aumont-Aubrac and heavy rain was pummelling the streets. I had just walked nearly 30 miles and every gite I had contacted in Aumont-Aubrac had been fully booked. The Hôtel Prunières was my last realistic chance of getting a bed for the night. If there were no rooms available, I was faced with a further 3km walk through the downpour to the campsite outside town and a night under canvas.

The young man at reception looked uncertain. It seemed as though the hotel was fully booked. Then he looked at the biblical downpour outside once more and something seemed to cross his mind.

“I’m sorry, but all our rooms are booked for this evening. But wait a moment. We do have one single room on the third floor. It’s really reserved for emergencies but I could let you have it for €55 I suppose”. Needless to say, I nearly bit his hand off!

First a bit more detail about the metaphorical dark clouds of the previous day.

An English neighbour of ours and a close friend phoned Olivia at around 9am yesterday morning. He was in a state of shock. He’d just discovered the body of his 59 year old partner slumped on the floor – he had just died from a heart attack. Not knowing what to do he had called Olivia for help. She had sprung into action, rushed to his house and spent most of the day consoling the bereaved, organising a visit from the deceased’s doctor as well as the undertaker, dealing with the legal formalities and, driving to Toulouse  airport after mudnight to meet three friends of the bereaved who had flown out from the UK, and then driving them to his house. A friend in need is a friend indeed. I am so proud of Olivia and everything she has done to help our friend through this awful time. I don’t think he could have coped without her help and comforting words..

After the previous evening’s hazelnut spitting excitement by our host, breakfast at the Gite Le Chalet du Pèlerin was an altogether more relaxed affair. A septuagenarian Swiss walker from Berne (nicknamed ‘The Bear) sat down next to me and proudly informed me that he’d once walked 100km in a day when he’d been in the Swiss army. My 40-50km daily efforts were put firmly in their place. Mind you, ‘The Bear” did let slip that he’d been 25 years old when he’d walked 100km in a day. “The challenge was as much mental as physical” he informed me with a smile!

He did also divulge that he’d recently walked the Via Gebennensis from Geneva to Le Puy and recommended I check out the Acceuil Jacquaire in Sangy just after Geneva – he showed me pictures of the chateau with swimming pool where he’d stayed on a donativo (€20-30 a night) basis. The owner of the Chateau had told him that one of his pilgrim guests had been the CEO of UBS (remuneration circa €10mn pa) and that he’d put €2 into the donativo box to pay for his stay!

Of the few things that I remember about my walk on the Chemin de St Jacques in 1989, two things stick out: eating aligot, a calorific local delicacy made of cheese, potatoes and garlic in a restaurant in the Aubrac and staying in a fantastic gite on top of a hilltop promontory in the Aubrac that was built as a tower to defend the local community against the marauding English brigands (think ‘The White Company’ by Arthur Conan Doyle)  during the 100 Year’s War. Today’s challenge was to track down some aligot while tomorrow’s was to return to stay  in the ‘Tower of the English’ in tbe Aubrac.

Much has changed on the Chemin de St Jacques since I last walked it 35 years ago. Although maybe not on the scale of the Spanish camino, entrepreneurial enterprises lurk behind every corner nowadays!

There is clearly a fair bit of money to be made from modern day pilgrims just as was the case during medieval times. I spotted a Porsche parked in one of the villages.

On a brighter note, the countryside was delightful and for most of the day the sun was high in the sky. The area between the Haute-Loire and the Lozère is known as the Margeride, characterised by granite outcrops and flocks of sheep.

The region was reknown for its wolves which preyed on the local flocks of sheep. Between 1764-7 the area was in the thrall of the ‘Beast of Gévaudan’ a huge and fearsome wolf which preyed equally on sheep and humans.

I stopped at the chapel of St Roch to consume my packed lunch of pasta provided by Jean-Claude – it was far tastier than my usual fare of a ham and cheese sandwich!

I didn’t stop and chat to many other pilgrims en route but one couple caught my eye with their dog. I stopped for a brief chat with them.They were only walking as far as Cahors but it was their dog’s 2nd birthday!

St Alban-sur-Limagnole had a certain charm to it. A group of bikers were enjoying a lazy Sunday lunch when I passed through the village during early afternoon.

I was intrigued by the English connection. St Alban was martyred in what is now known as St Albans in 305AD making him the first English saint. But what was he doing in a small village in the south of France?

My long day in the Margeride was rewarded by supper of local sausage and aligot in the restaurant of the Hotel Prunieres. It was every bit as delicious as I remembered 35 years ago. Thank god some things in life don’t change and thank god for aligot!