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

The truly rich are those who enjoy what they have.

Yiddish Proverb

Entering Cathy’s house at the end of a 31km walk from Arès to Moulin des Baronnies was like stepping back in time. A time when life was simpler.

The previous night’s mosquito attacks were quickly forgotten. The proprietor of the gite drove me several kilometres to the nearest village where there was an automated 24/7 meat, veg and fruit dispensary which stocked produce from local farmers. I bought some freeze packed sausage, cheese and ham as survival rations for the days ahead.

Back at the gite I got chatting to Jean-Claude, the Vietnamese chef. It turned out that cooking was but one of his many talents.

Born in Laos to Vietnamese diplomats, he had spent his youth in several African countries before going to the US to study mechanical engineering. Several career changes followed including stints as a software programmer in Silicon Valley an agricultural machinery salesman in California and a film producer in Hollywood.

Having time working as a head chef in a monastery near Poitiers and then moving to his current role as a chef at the gite, Jean-Claude’s current project was to set up a personal development company targetting young professionals and offering a combination of walks in the area with yoga and cooking courses. If that didn’t take off, Jean-Claude was dead set on returning to Vietnam to make his fortune. I wished him lyck and asked him to send me his Moquequa recipe.

After rejoining the GR78 at Nestier I made my way towards Lortet. A grizzled pot bellied farmer in a tattered vest, chopping wood, wished me a ‘bon chemin’.

Nestled on the banks of a river at Lortet was the pretty Mont d’Aure restaurant. It was only just midday but it seemed the perfect place to indulge in a spot of Sunday lunch and get a few beers down the hatch. I hadn’t made a reservation but the proprietor found me a table on tbe terrace overlooking the river. The place soon filled up with customers. As I tucked into a burger and chips followed by some chocolate ice cream with Chantilly cream, I felt very decadent and ever so slightly guilty.

I’d been trying all morning to contact the gite at Moulin des Baronnies, without any luck. Evemtually somebody from the gite left me a message saying they were closed, but somebody called Cathy  who lived nearby, could put me up. I gave her a call and she offered to come and pick me up from the little village of Batsere when I arrived later.

The afternoon took in a couple of knackering hill climbs which made me question the wisdom of consuming such a large lunch. I wondered how on earth I was going to manage three consecutive 40km days after the stage to Lourdes. Maybe I had bitten off more than I could chew. Maybe I should just revert to my lunch regime of tinned mackerel and grated carrot.

After a bit of a mix up, I eventually met up with Cathy on a bridge near Moulin des Baronnies. I squeezed into her battered silver Peugeot which I noticed was missing a passenger side window and also sported an extensive serpentine crack across the front windowscreen. This didn’t seem to phase Cathy in the slightest as she drove at great speed to her tumbledown house in a wooded valley, veering to avoid several cars we encounteted en route.

The house appeared to have seen better days. I noticed that the windows had foil taped to the panes rather than having shutters. As the door opened to a dining area with a woodburning stove and a dining table, two aggressive mongrels appeared in the doorway which Cathy had to manhandle into an adjoining room.

Supper was a fairly grim affair although the food (mushroom quiche, pork chops and roast potatoes followed by pots of yoghurt) was rather good. Conversation, however, was another matter entirely.

There were seven of us for supper. Besides myself and Cathy was her sister,who had arrived from Alsace that afternoon and appeared to be in a state of deep depression. She seemed obsessed with the fact that there was going to be a lunar  eclipse this evening although the fact that it was lashing down with rain outside put a slight dampener on proceedings. Nevertheless, midway through the meal, she suddenly downed her cutlery and walked outside into the rain to try and see the lunar eclipse.

Opposite me sat another depressed looking lady who spent much of the meal gripping her fork in a prehensile way as she tried gamely to dismember the pork chop on her plate. Apart from remarking that chanterelle mushrooms were more expensive in the supermarket than field mushrooms, she remained silent throughout the meal.

At the end of the table were two gloomy looking men. I presume one was Cathy’s husband. He appeared totally bored by proceedings and spent much of the meal looking gloomily into his plate and picking his teeth with a tooth pick before leaving the table and slumping into a chair in front of the minuscule stove underneath a dust covered wall clock which wasn’t working where he peered intently at his mobile phone as the table was cleared by Cathy.

Finally there was a balding slightly built middle aged man wearing dungarees, who might have been a neighbouring farmer who spent much of the meal adjusting his mud spattered baseball hat in a disconcerting fashion and picking half heartedly at his food.

Eventually the meal finished at around 8.50pm and everybody stood around the dining table either staring at their feet or peering intently at their phones completely lost for words. I felt a bit like a gatecrasher at a funeral! The contrast with the spirited discussion with Jean-Claude over breakfast could not have been more pronounced. Eventually I could bear it no more and made my way up to bed.

I guess you could say it was the simple life, without a radio or TV or any modern creature comforts other than a ratty red sofa that had definitely seen better days.

Apart from a huge Apple PC on a table by the window, there was no sign of luxury in the house. No pictures on the wall, no family photos, no ornaments of any variety other than a few deer antlers jumbled together in a cracked bowl by the window.

At least my bedroom was clean, there was hot water in the shower and there were no mosquitos. What more could I wish for!