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

There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
On such a full sea are we now afloat;
And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures.

William Shakespeare – Julius Caesar

I would be lying òif I tried to claim that today’s walk between Mirepoix and Pamiers was one of the most memorable I have undertaken over the course of my life. The combination of persistent rain, limited visibility and uninspiring landscape meant that the day’s walk is not destined to linger long in the memory.

Despite the dreich conditions, the day was illuminated by three incidents.

Mid morning as I was approaching the village of Teilhet, I encountered a group of walkers heading in the opposite direction. Upon sighting me, without prompting, one of them promptly exclaimed ‘ You must be the English pilgrim’. Momentarily taken aback, I responded that she was correct. Whereupon she announced that her name was Elizabeth, apologised profusely for not being able to put me up for the night in Pamiers but immediately suggested I contact her friend Christy. This I promptly did, thankfully confirming a bed for the night. As the walkers disappeared into the gloom I was left wondering who on earth Elizabeth was and how on earth she knew who I was!

My host the previous night has recommended I visit the 12th century church in the village of Vals. Built into the side of a rock face, entering the church was much like entering some sort of pre-Christian dwelling. A narrow staircase led up to a small chapel whose roof was decorated with paintings of scenes from the bible. They simple yet oddly moving, testimony to the faith that had moved our ancestors to carve a chapel deep into a rockface.

By the time I reached Vals I was completely drenched, either with sweat or by the incessant drizzle which had penetrated my rainwear. Thankfully there was a small cafe in the village, so it seemed sensible to take a break for a couple of beers as well as eating the picnic lunch my hostess had kindly prepared. The beer and cheese sandwiches were delicious.

The rain continued to lash down as I made my way through fields to the little village of Ludiès. Taking shelter from the rain in a little covered alcove commemorating the village’s war dead, I noticed a marble plaque on the wall behind me. It commemorated the Loreks, a Jewish couple and their four young children aged three to nine. Originally from Poland, they were seized on 26 August 1942 and transported to Auschwitz, whence none of them returned.

From 1942 to 1944 a stream of Jews were rounded up by Vichy authorities, and by the end of the war some 76,000 had been deported to Nazi concentration camps. Although under the overall control of the SS, the main transit camp of Drancy, from which 63,000 people were sent to their deaths, was run by Paris’s police force. It’s a shameful part of France’s history which is only now coming to light.

By mid afternoon the clouds finally lifted and the sun put in a belated appearance. I arrived in Pamiers shortly before 5pm. I have to confess, first impressions of the town were less than impressive. Cars passsed me with windows open and rap music blaring out at high volume. As I made my way to the diocesanal office to meet Christy I passed a mangy dog hobbling around on three legs and a group of kids dejectedly hoofing a football up and down a street. The main square boasted a couple of cafés but was mostly deserted. The tourist office was completely empty.

Three other pilgrims were staying at the diocesenal house. Neil and Sarah, a jolly Australian couple from Canberra and Andy from Switzerland who was walking from Arles to Compostella. Over supper we swapped stories of pilgrimages we had undertaken in Europe.

As the wine flowed, conversation turned to more serious topics including the recent mushroom murder case in Australia and historical child abuse scandals at educational establishments in the UK. Neil and Sarah were both church ministers and were fairly horrified when I regaled them with the atrocities committed by John Smyth which eventually led to the resignation of Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury.

On this rather sobering note, it was time for bed. I was sharing a room with Andy. I just prayed that Andy didn’t snore! I had a long day ahead of me with considerably mire climbing than I had encounteref so far. If there was one thing I needed above all else, it was a good ni