Walking in France from Le Puy en Velay

It used to be August was back to school time for me. Now it’s time to get ready to go back to France to resume my pilgrimage from LePuy en Velay to St Jean Pied de Port. Three weeks from today, God willing, I will start my walk again. The city of Moissac is where Elizabeth and I ended last year, and this old hotel offered kindness and comfort and delicious meals even when we were their only guests! I love that this spot is where I will begin my third section of my French pilgrim’s path.

Knowing the hotel I’m in the first night is wonderful. Knowing the train station is less than a mile away is helpful.

Knowing that the path leaves along the Tarn River, just outside my hotel window, and that my first day’s walk will be flat all help me look forward to this next leg of my journey with some confidence.

I hope to make it all the way to Spain, at least placing my hiking boot over the border. Some people go all the way from Le Puy en Velay in south-central France to Santiago in Western Spain in one thousand-mile hike. Me? It’s taken me 2 years to get about 250 miles down the way. This year I will cover about another 250 and, if all goes well, before October, will say, “I did it.” I’m giving myself plenty of time; I know it’s not a race. “Everyone walks their own Camino,” as they all say. I love each day’s walk and each little village, so much that I’m staying two nights in some of the towns, so I can rest my weary legs, read local history, meet fellow pilgrims & innkeepers, and soak in more of the French language.

But before I leave, I have to get my house in order, my heart in the right place, and say good bye to family and friends and my beloved new volunteer endeavor. Gardening this summer at the Creighton University Retreat Center (near Griswold), and having a super bountiful crop of veggies makes me so happy! I’ve learned that gardening isn’t hard-you just plant the seeds, put in the plants, and they grow! That quote came from Tim the former farmer/now maintenance man here who helped prepare the soil and repaired the garden fence. Of course there’s a bit more to it, but tending a small vegetable garden this summer and giving some of my time has brought me great joy. I appreciate what gardeners do more than ever. In France, I will understand a bit more what is going on with gardens and fresh produce. And as I greatly appreciate what our cooks here do with my produce, so I will appreciate all of the delicious foods along le Chemin (the pilgrims path).

After next week, others will continue the harvest. Especially more tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, and later: winter squash and pumpkins. I’m thankful for having had this opportunity to work with the land and help good stuff grow! Joy is finding your first red tomato!

I leave September 4 from Chicago. It is hard to believe that three weeks from today I will be hiking from Moissac to Auvillar ( just 11 miles). I hope to reflect daily and share with others. What makes a blog interesting? Sharing beauty, information, inspiration, observations, funny stories? I’m hoping to be more attentive, more mindful, and more compassionate as I walk along the path this year. Last year I had dear Elizabeth with me, and I also had my torn meniscus pain – and ibuprofen. Going solo this year will make for a different walk! I hope you will read my blog occasionally – or check out my Facebook posts. Knowing other folks care about me back home really helps. We go away in search of something else and miss the dear ones and beautiful things we have under our noses. But it calls me and I must go.

It’s time to get ready to go back to France to complete the pilgrim’s path from Moissac to St. Jean Pied de Port and hopefully into Spain and on to …

Getting Ready for Year 3!

Blog Attempt Year Three:

Well, I’ve tried to blog about my pilgrimage in France for the last two years, with very limited success. I might as well up for one more year, because I hope to walk the 3rd section of the Le Puy Way from Moissac to St. Jean Pied de Port this September. I also want to step from France into Spain. Stay tuned for more news and some new and improved features on this site. Thanks for your patience. My husband Greg says starting something is VERY important. I argue that doing something well and FINISHING is better. We shall see what I can do this time around. Happy July!

This was the start of Elizabeth’s 50K Ultra at Whiterock Conservancy on Saturday July 8th. She started AND finished and did well. That was 31 miles, just fyi. It is great when your children start inspiring you.

Here she is FINISHING! Bravo, Elizabeth! Even with a hurt ankle and a bit of trepidation. You did it! We are proud of you and happy you accomplished your goal. Maybe folks will cheer me on with my blogging journey too.

The gravel road to the east from the farm was a study in grays. I needed to stay in the center where cars had traveled to avoid the deep mud on the sides of the road. Met no cars during the first hour.

Once I saw the church, my goal, I decided to turn back. One hour out was over 3 miles so I’d need to cover 3 more to get home before sunset. After turning south, for my return, I met several pickups and a few more cars, probably folks coming home from work. A few slowed to ask if I needed help, but I waved them on or explained I was just out for a walk-on this gray day, 33 degrees, mist turning to snow – as I trudged homeward. I had to get in the soft mud when encountering vehicles. Tired. No real problem with the knee, but tired leg muscles, back, and pinched left toes. Just normal things! I’m training again and I love it! Who needs sunshine when one can walk without limping or pain? Almost 7 miles on my Strava upon returning to the washhouse around 6 pm. A good day in Van Buren County.

I purchased this map last fall in France. Les Chemins de St Jacques de Compostelle in France (and in Spain) – all of them eventually ending in Santiago in northwestern Spain. I put it on a bulletin board to help me dream about my next walk, God willing, next September, from Moissac to St Jean Pied de Port, and into Spain (at least over the border).

I wouldn’t have walked on such a cold, icy day, but Cy phoned from Ames, where he was finishing early from his conference. Come meet me at Jester to see the ice on the trees! So I did. We walked about 2 1/2 miles over icy snow and even icier trails. Spots on the road were fine and others-be careful! But it was all worth it. it was about 8 degrees with beautiful sunshine and chilling wind.

Last weekend I had a beautiful, peaceful walk (except for being chased by an angry wild turkey shortly after crossing the bridge) from Farmington to Indian Lake and then traveled the lightly snow-covered path all around the lake. I found a perfect walking stick right before I needed it to go up and down the trails on the far side. “The path provides all that we need” was certainly true for me that day. A total of 5 1/2 miles and joy in my heart.

What a holiday. I know other people have had busts of family get-togethers, but this one was MY worst. And I could say it was all my fault. Or it was Covid’s fault. Or it was all of us being so relaxed about Covid that we didn’t even want to think that any of us could have Covid – because we wanted to be together and we wanted that cough to just be a cold – like in the old days. So we proceeded with our plans, will-nilly.

To make a long story short, my vaccinated and boosted three-person family gave Covid to my 37-year-old son, his lovely wife, and his two adorable daughters. They were all perfectly happy and healthy when they drove more than four hours across the state to spend a night at a farmhouse AIR B&B (with us) so we could spend some quality time with my special brother who lives nearby in a Griswold nursing home.

The three of us weren’t feeling so well, but we figured it was just a cold, so we did not test. All of our plans went forward, but by Sunday morning my 37-year-old son was really sick, and then on Monday his three-year-old got feverish and by Monday evening, the whole little family was ill. We, the three original sickies, got tested on Monday morning, after all of the damage was done, and sure enough – we each tested positive! Eeks! What schmucks!!

Ice-cream makes Charly happy.

I also had to call the nursing home and tell them about our situation. Bonus fun. But, the good news is that so far my brother in the nursing home is Covid-free. And the family is on the mend – even though a week of school and work will be missed. We are still getting better and we just feel like total losers.

I’ve been told to erase my guilt with a pencil eraser. Another friend said everyone is in easing up on precautions. There are folks who aren’t vaccinated and don’t ever worry. There were no restrictions at the nursing home. As I look at it now, at least I can say, so far, that no one is in the hospital. Is that because this variant spreads easily but is not as serious? I hope so. I am not so smart. I make mistakes. I am humbled, and I hope that I will do better the next time. And maybe I should just not plan any more family get-togethers! Much safer.

But my friend with the pencil eraser theory differs: “It’s fine to take precautions and consider the community good (safety), but at some point one has to create community.” It had been forever since my brother had seen his nieces and nephews. He had NEVER met the 3 1/2 year old little Leda. And her 7-year-old sister Joanie was a baby the last time he saw her. It (our special weekend) was supposed to be all about Charly. So, I put my blinders on to all of the warnings, and forged on, so that Charly could have family time with all of us, a special time that had been planned for so long.

Moving forward, I will do better. I will test before gatherings. Thanks for listening to this less-than-inspiring confession and exit interview from my Thanksgiving holiday. How was your Thanksgiving?

France was beautiful, and their way of life and their food so different from Iowa’s. I would’ve liked to stay longer to reflect on it all and just be-without moving forward every day. But it made no sense for me to stay on for my planned immersion week in Collioure once I got a phone call from Charly’s nursing home that he was not doing well again. So, I came home the same day Elizabeth did. Whew! A long day of waiting for busses, seeking non-existent train seats, and carrying our luggage over Barcelona streets to get to IMT (Iberian Motor Tours) where my rolling carry-on was waiting for me.

It was a very long day getting to Barcelona and the next day even longer getting home. But being back in Iowa has been good. Greg met me in Chicago. The fall colors were just beginning to be amazing. The farm was waiting for us to have our second overnight as I recovered from jet jag, and, I was closer to Charly and all things home.

What started in Le Puy en Velay, France, my pilgrimage to St. Jean Pied le Port, in southwestern France, has now become something different than a dream of a long walk. Now it is a personal challenge. Hiking with an injured knee was harder and different. Hiking with my daughter also made it different and more lovely because of her kind and steady presence all along the way. Why was I doing this walk? Do I really need to go all the way to Santiago in western Spain for it to be a pilgrimage? (Darn Canadians who argued thus, saying that otherwise I’m just doing a long walk. But what’s wrong with that?) Mostly, right now, I’m just wanting to be able to enjoy easy walks around home or at the farm. Walking in the grocery store shouldn’t be hard. I’ve tried physical therapy and it is now time to talk to my primary care physician and get a referral to an orthopedic surgeon. I want to be happy about walking again. And, hopeful about life in general. This torn meniscus has given me pause and lessons in patience and a newfound compassion on others with mobility issues, but after 6 months, I’m ready to be healed.

Spending more time in southwestern Iowa with Charly and communicating regularly with his staff and providers have been important. After his appointment in Clarinda, we drove to Stanton for our walk down memory lane and for our lunch at the Fika Coffee Haus. Charly knew the new owner; he has old friends wherever we go.

But leaving Collioure a week early, trekking home, re-entry, checking in on Charly, and dealing with a tired and painful knee, and making sense of it all, is sometimes hard. How to connect France, hiking, pain, blessings of all sorts, and this call to be home to help my brother. Perhaps committing to blog about one thing at a time will help.

Our maps app kept taking us around and around an unidentified building. Finally we learned the former museum was demolished to build the new cinema (a magnificent modern city building) and the temporary museum was really just an archive space next the the Red Cross building.

But we ended up having an awesome afternoon with volunteer Jean-Luc Couderc. We said if the museum was closed, we did not want to waste his time. He said we had already done something to merit his time. Our American soldiers had left their homelands to come France to free him and his fellow citizens from Nazi control. He felt he could never repay the Allies. He offered us coffee and started explaining the situation in his home, the area of the Lot, during WWII.

We had lots of time to listen and ask questions before we got to go to the archives space.

Such an unexpected private conversation and amazing tour!

But we definitely had a chance to understand more today!

We flew from Chicago to Montréal, and now we wait for our overnight flight to Barcelona. French stewards on the Air Canada flight. Now in this open, artsy, and uncriwded airport, Children are playing in French, a man on his cell is doing business in French, and we noticed thé Bistrot Trudeau as we walked to Gate 67. I love being surrounded by the beautiful French language again. I even watched a French language film; Aline, about Celine Dion’s early life. I loved every minute, but unfortunately didn’t get to see the end.

Nice warm-up for my 6 weeks in France. I hope it comes back to me! Greg and Scott will be with me for the first two weeks when we explore the Pyrenees. More later.

I gave my friend Janis a ride so she could complete her 3-day silent spiritual retreat. I got to room next to her but we spoke nary a word! She was able to converse only with her spiritual director. Mass was offered every day in a beautiful chapel set in the woods. I walked 5 miles twice and 2 & 1/2 miles on my easy day. Thankful for pain-free walking in such as beautiful spot.