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

The deepest truths are found in silence, not in speech

Carl Jung

The 14 nuns of the Cistercian convent of Notre-Dame-de-la-Paix at Castaigniers have their work cut out at the moment making chocolates and praying for world peace. I was maybe naive to have expected to encounter a merry throng of  nuns with whom I could have chatted away merrily over supper and breakfast. They were all at prayer and besides, I noticed an admonition on the dining room wall advising that all meals were to be eaten in complete silence.

Breakfast was self service. I was the only person up and about so couldn’t really seek practical guidance about how to operate the ancient coffee filter in the kitchen which appeared to be on it last legs. A tepid brown sludge was lying at the bottom of the cafetiere. I turned it on, rummaged in the cupboard, added some brown powder which looked like it might be coffee, added some water and prayed.

Sadly my prayers went unanswered. What emerged from the cafetiere was an unappetising brown sludge that tasted strongly of chicory. I poured it down the sink, paid my dues and made my way 3km back up the hill to Aspremont in search of a coffee and a croissant. One of the nuns reported to my wife later in the day that I had already left the convent but was on good form and had eaten well! Little did she know!

As I made my way back up the hill to Aspremont I noticed an aging Renault in somebody’s garage by the side of the road. Was this a previous winner of the Monte Carlo rally I wondered. It seemed not entirely impossible – hadn’t a Mini won the Rally in the 1960s?

Fortified with a pain au chocolat and a gratifyingly thick unctious slab of pizza from the tabac in Aspremont I headed off down the hill towards the Var river and the village of Gattières.

It rained for much of the day which could be summed up in a couple of words – dreich and desultory! Much of the day was spent treading tarmac between enclaves of gated communities.

Vence was one if the larger towns I passed through – the apartment blocks on the hillside and the surprising number of Indian and Vietnamese restaurants in the town, suggested it might be a dormitory town for people plying their trade servicing the wealthy denizens of the Cote d’Azur. One of the ladies I sat next to for supper that evening at the Foyer of Charity at Roquefort-les-Pins wryly informed me that the town’s major claim to fame was that it had the most swimming pools per capita of anywhere in France. The chances are that a number of those swimming pools would be serviced by somebody from Vence!

As I passed through a wooded valley while the grim weather improved temporarily and the sun put in a brief appearance, I got thinking about some of the temples and monasteries I had stayed in which were ruled by a vow of silence.

I once spent a pleasant weekend in a Zen buddhist temple in Taiwan. The Daehungsa Temple in South Korea was another place I remember spending a peaceful retreat from the hustle and bustle of life in Seoul.

I also remember staying in Po-lin monastery on Lantau Island in the 1980s before the peace and tranquillity was destroyed by the construction of Hong Kong’s new international airport!

I’m not sure I could become a full time Zen Buddhist or a Trappist monk, but I always appreciate the sound of silence. In fact silence is one of the things I appreciate most about where I currently live in south west France. There are days when the only sound you can hear is bird song. Paradise on earth!

I eventually arrived in Roquefort-les-Pins shortly after 6pm. 10 hours walking and 40km covered. They lady at the Foyer of Charity who stamped my pilgrim passport, shook her head when I told her how far I had walked that day. She had never come across a pilgrim who had walked so far in a day. 85km down, just the small matter if anither 1915km to go until I reach my ultimate destination, Cap de la Hague. Should be a cake walk as the old saying goes!