Via Podiensis: Charming Occitanie

Today marked the beginning of my second week on Camino. During the first week, I walked 151.4 km, give or take. This second week started with a great day! Two very big climbs, but oh so worth it.

After a hearty breakfast at the gîte, I left at just after 6:30. For the first time in days, there was daylight as I started walking. It was blissfully cool outside, and the high today was only in the upper 70s. Still not ideal trekking weather, but delightfully better than the past few days.

The road out of town was well marked, and even if it wasn’t there was a cadre of pilgrims ahead of me to follow. Asphalt, of course, but the the bridge over the River Lot was a charming arched bridge. 

Right after the bridge, the Camino left the road and once more plunged into the forest along the banks of the river. The path soon narrowed, and continued to duck in and out of tree cover and alongside meadows and cornfields. I was even road walking for a bit.

And then the long ascent began, along a soft, well-maintained forest trail. At some of the steepest parts there were even stone steps, although whether these are natural or man carved I do not know. Although the air was still relatively cool, I had already worked up a sweat. The forest was just beautiful, tangled and wild, very much a contrast to the trail which was well-maintained, almost groomed, with the flatter sections covered with soft wood chips.

The hill was very steep, and at one point there were even wooden stairs. 

I reached a large clearing at the top, and the cool breeze put me in mind of the prophet Elijah, finding God not in the storm or the earthquake, but in the gentle breeze. In the distance, I could hear the melodic sounds of cowbells. 

At this point, I found myself walking with a friendly young Bavarian lady named Nina. I was faster than her on the uphills, much to my surprise, but she was much faster than me on the downhills, so we kept running into each other on the flats.

We walked together along the top of the ridge for a while, stopping frequently to admire the panoramic views on both sides. 

To the right, you could catch glimpses of the valley of the River Lot with beautiful Saint-Côme like a jewel set in emerald. To the left, we would occasionally catch glimpses of a ruined castle on a distant hill.

Finally after another climb, we came to a great statue of the Virgin Mary overlooking the river valley, arms spread like a protective mother embracing her children.

And then, after spending a moment to take it all in and luxuriate in the cool breeze, it was back down the hill. It was just 8:00 in the morning.

The descent was steep and rocky at first, and Nina was far ahead of me and out of sight, but the path soon smoothed out. At one point, I was nearly run down by a jogger pelting down the hill behind me. And in places, there were obviously artificial stairs cut into the stone.

The path took me all the way down to the valley floor, where I came upon the incredible 12th century church of Saint-Hilarian-de-Perse. Its tympanum depicts the final judgement. The interior ceiling frescoes are absolutely exquisite. Unfortunately, every other decorative element appears to have been stripped out of the building. The architecture is beautiful and solid, but it is like an empty shell. I stopped and prayed a while, and when I left the church a cool misty rain had started to fall. I can walk forever in weather like this.

I walked on, along a relatively flat dirt and gravel road into the city of Espalion, primarily through a lovely riverside park that very much reminded me of Wright Park at home, where Francine and I did many of our training walks.

The city itself is beautiful, charming beyond words. I can only hope the photograph does it some justice.

I arrived in the city center just after 9 AM, and it was market day! The route was crowded with people and with booths selling everything you can imagine from fresh vegetables to bread to meat. I grabbed a quick second breakfast and continued walking on the street next to the river and out of town. By now the rain had stopped.

I ran into Nina having breakfast at a picnic table by the river. She is walking further than me today, so I am unlikely to see her after today. Although she says she’s walking to Saint Jean, so who knows? We may meet again further down the Way. This is the way of the Way.

Sadly, the path left the river to begin walking through suburban style neighborhoods. Well, I say suburban, but there were occasionally large yards with horses grazing. The yards grew to fields, and the road gave away to dirt and gravel again.

The air was temperate, but muggy, as I continued, at first through another suburban neighborhood, possibly a village in its own right, with very modern houses. And then, it was back to roadwalking. A motorist honked at me, and I about jumped out of my skin.

The route got wider and busier, and soon I was given the gift of a gravel path next to the road. Eventually, we made a left turn towards Saint-Pierre-de-Bessuéjouls. As in parts of Spain, it seems that here the villages with the longest names have the fewest inhabitants.

What the village lacks in population it more than makes up for in its little parish church, which dates to the 11th or 12th century. The main part of the church is beautiful enough, but if you go through a narrow door up a winding and impossibly steep set of stairs, you come to the crowning achievement: a tiny chapel in the tower. The original stone altar is in place, and the carvings at the top of the columns are just a delight.

It’s obviously been stripped of its furnishings, but unlike the church earlier today, it somehow retains a living presence, if that makes any sense. I prayed there a while before descending to the main church. As I was leaving, I met Nina coming into the church. I sent her up the stairs to the upper chapel. 

Before continuing on my way, I stopped in the village bar for an Orangina to fortify myself for the last 10 km of the day. It was about 10:30 in the morning.

As I was drinking my Orangina, Nina passed by, and then, to my surprise, Dominique, who I originally met on my first day walking. She had expected to take a (poorly waymarked) alternate route through the mountains a few days ago, but had apparently gotten lost and needed to be rescued. She was back on the main path for a couple of days before heading off on another (better marked) alternate route.

The way out of the village was a lovely stone and wood chip path that climbed steeply into the woods, a hill every bit as challenging as the one earlier this morning. In parts, there were stairs. And in other parts, there should have been. It was definitely warmer now, and the humid air was stifling.

Although the views were slightly less spectacular than this morning’s climb, I noted that the ruined castle on the hill was now to my right rather than my left. It must tower over the city of Espalion, now far behind me.

By now the path was dirt and loose rock. In some places, it was just bare stone. 

Once to the top, I came to a broad clear meadow with a strong breeze and, somewhat incongruously, something that looked very much like a lifeguard’s chair.

I followed a rough single lane asphalt road down through a charming little village with beautiful old stone houses and one extremely ugly concrete cinderblock barn. 

The Camino turned onto a rough dirt and stone road through open pasture land before eventually dwindling as usual to a narrow dirt path through trees and brush. This path, which soon acquired ruined stone walls to either side, trended increasingly downwards. 

Eventually, the path spilled me into what is either a small village or a large farmstead. When I got past it, it looked more like a castle. And then it was back to walking on asphalt to the little church of Trédou, where I arrived just as the bell rang out noon.

Marten, one of my roommates last night, and Nina were eating their lunch on a picnic table outside. Two Bavarians had found each other! It turns out their hometowns are only about an hour’s drive apart.

According to the sign outside, the church was built in the 16th century. It’s sort of quasi-Gothic. The stained glass windows are relatively new and quite lovely. The church retains choir seating and a marble tabernacle and altar. I suspect this may have been monastic church at some point.

After visiting the church and praying a while, I went outside to find Marten and Nina already gone. So it was back to roadwalking for me. I considered digging into my leftover half sandwich from yesterday, but at this point I was anxious to get to my destination.

Eventually the asphalt turned into gravel, as I walked a long flat relatively straight road through open fields. In the distance, steep hills rose on all sides.

It was overcast now, and wind had definitely picked up. It looked like a storm was brewing. 

The Camino made a right turn onto a gravel path next to a busy road. I passed a farmhouse with a flagpole out back flying the flags of France, Scotland, and Wales. No, I have no idea either.

As the Camino approached another village, it left the main road entirely and struck off across a much smaller country road. As the road wove itself through the French countryside, it passed through several quaint villages, with their sloping slate roofs and stone walls, sometimes with flowers and vines growing up the sides.

At some point, I was on a main road again, running above and roughly parallel with the River Lot. The Way left the main road to go up a ridiculously steep hillside covered in loose slate. Soon I was walking on a ridge above the road, which itself was on a ridge above the river. it was almost 1 PM, and I was regretting my lack of sandwich decision earlier, but there was no place to stop on this narrow, stony trail.

After perhaps a kilometer or so, the path descended back to the road. And it was along this road that moments later I arrived at the otherworldly (and very vertical) town of Estaing. 

I almost immediately ran into Marten and Nina sitting at an outdoor café having coffee. I joined them, and we had a great conversation before they left to do their last 7 km of the day.

I am staying in my first gîte communal, which is a large facility run by a town or community. It is very clean, and Mary, the hostess, was extremely helpful and friendly. I will need to find a café or restaurant for dinner, but that’s OK.

Although there are three beds in my room, right now I am the only one here, in fact I am the only one in the whole facility right now. It seems that the heat this week caused many people to cancel their reservations. 

having showered and stowed my gear, now I am off to explore the town!

Date: 25 August 2023

Place: Estaing

Today started: Saint-Côme-d’Olt

Today’s Photos!