Pilgrim Again

Well, day 1 was ideal. Walking beside a lovely canal with trees shading the flat path. Lots of bikes peddling by and everyone in fine spirits, including me. Twelve miles from Moissac to Auvillar was like a fairy tale walk.

Day 2 was different.

I knew it would be a long day, but I kept making stops when maybe I shouldn’t have. I saw a woman ahead of me head into a corn field to relieve herself. That’s not cool. I walked a half mile off the path and found the most lovely, quiet village with nice public toilets and a beautiful church. I always want to move to these quiet, peaceful villages along the Chemin. There was a school and even one home for sale for me: maison à vendre.

An hour later, I had to get my daily Orangina & fresh fruit at a cool village where everyone including new new friends were hanging out.

My next goal was Miradoux, but I ran out of water and needed to rest in the shade before climbing the hill to it. A nice lady offered me some of hers. Once I made it to Miradoux, I visited the church, lit a candle, and soon discovered there was nothing else open! No place to get food except a very warm & crowded cafe where many pilgrims were waiting patiently for a late lunch. They were all staying overnight there. But I had another half a day to cover. It was here I walked back & forth looking for water, toilets, food for more than an hour – and I even left my walking sticks at that busy cafe, where the only woman working had graciously sold me a water, an apricot juice, and an apple tart – to go – even before many of my friends had ordered! I explained that I was only half way and couldn’t sit down but needed food and drink to survive. Barbara, an American pilgrim I walked walked with earlier, gave me an energy bar too. Finally, I left that town!

After Miradoux, I never saw another walker. I made it to another deserted village, Castet-Arrouy, where I got another Orangina & changed socks while resting. I had 2 1/2 more hours to hike to get to Lectoure, I learned. Oh dear. More solitude as I walked through woods and farm fields. I kept hoping for another village with a bus stop. Nothing. Lost my way for a bit, and a man in a small white van helped me find the right path again. He pointed far in the distance to my destination: Lectoure. Is there a village before? No, but you go this way, away from the road, into the fields.

After quite a bit more walking and praying for help, a pretty young woman in a small red car stopped. She was heading to Lectoure to the bakery (La Boulangerie). Do you want a lift? Yes! I told her she was an angel. She told me I should watch France play rugby in the World Cup that evening. She dropped me off in the center of town. It was easy to find my historic hotel not far from there. I checked in about 7:20. They said they were worried about me, and they were so glad I made it. Me too.

It was a long, lonely, tough day for this modern pilgrim. But I realize how very fortunate I am. I’m resting today and will head out again tomorrow morning.