Via Podiensis: Everything is Grace

20 August 2023 Thom Pilgrim Reports, Via Podiensis

Today was a story of unexpected grace and of seizing opportunities.

Last night I had dinner with several French pilgrims, and we discussed the logistics of today’s walk. Specifically, we talked about how to best beat the heat while also dealing with the fact that there is very little in the way of support today.

We learned that one of the local boulangeries was scheduled to open at six in the morning, so we decided to meet there at opening, stock up, and head out. Bear in mind that the sun wasn’t going to rise until almost seven.

As it turned out, it didn’t open until 6:30. Supplies laden, three pilgrims set off together. Besides myself, there were two French ladies: Ávila, who related the first miracle story of her Camino to me when we first met in Saint-Privat-d’Allier, and Appolina, who is much younger.

We started right off with a long steady hill, which was nothing so bad as yesterday. In fact, it was walking beside a road, so the incline wasn’t too severe, but it was constant. Once we left the last vestiges of town, the road was surrounded by beautiful hilly meadows, golden in the dawn.

Soon enough, it turned onto a dirt road. We continued through the meadows and occasional woodland areas. It was a little odd to see cows wandering in the forest.

After the forest cows, the road got a little rougher. I don’t actually see how you could drive a vehicle through it.

We soon arrived at the village of Le Clauze, with its impressive medieval tower, complete with a moat. And a cute little cannon next to it.

Somewhere between the cows and the tower, we lost Appolina.

It was back to roadwalking over asphalt and eventually dirt through a string of tiny villages whose bovine inhabitants vastly outnumbered their human ones.

Meanwhile, there’s some plant growing around here that smells like Indian food. It’s making me seriously hungry.

By 9 o’clock it was already hot. At one point, we passed a spring bubbling out of the bank, and I wet my buff and put it around my neck to help cool off.

We stopped at a wayside food truck outside Chazeaux, just 5 km from what I expected would be the end of my day. My plan was to get an Orangina and eat that sandwich I bought this morning. We ran into Appolina there and had a small reunion.

And then the craziness started. Crazy with grace, I mean.

So, some background.

Point one: I hadn’t been to Sunday Mass because the only scheduled Mass in Saugues was at 11 o’clock, and we’d practically be to our destination by then. Our destination, Domaine du Savage, is essentially a giant farmstead/inn in the middle of nowhere. There is no town or church anywhere near it.

Now in Spain, the bishops have dispensed pilgrims from the obligation, but I haven’t been able to find out if that’s the case in France.

Point two: Saint Roch is an extremely popular saint in France (and Spain) along the Camino. In fact, there is a little chapel/shrine dedicated to him, complete with a healing fountain, that we will be walking past early tomorrow.

Every year, on the Sunday closest to his feast day, Mass is celebrated outdoors near the chapel – the chapel itself is too tiny to hold the crowds. An indulgence is granted to anyone attending the Mass, venerating the saint’s relics in the chapel, and drinking from the holy fountain.

Ávila got it in her head that she was definitely going to go, even if that meant calling for a car to get her there. So that’s what she did.

I had taken maybe three bites of my sandwich and was only halfway through my Orangina when she told Appolina and me that if we wanted to go, the car would be in the little town down the hill in five minutes.

So I re-wrapped what was left of my sandwich, strapped on the pack, grabbed the Orangina, and the three of us hoofed it down the grassy hill to the highway. In the scramble, I managed to spill Orangina all over my sunglasses, essentially making them useless until I get some water to clean them up.

So we got a ride – and French drivers are every bit as mad as Spanish and Italian ones – and we were there about twenty minutes before the start of the Mass.

The chapel is apparently an exact replica of the original, which was so damaged in a 19th century fire that they had to entirely rebuild it. It is indeed tiny, but we were able to make our visit.

The Mass was celebrated outdoors in the hot sun – it was 80° by now – and most of the crowd had forsaken the concrete benches to sit under the trees on a grassy hillside. The temporary sanctuary was under an awning, and the young priest was assisted by two extremely reverent servers.

(Side note: I was interested to see that so far all of the altar servers I have seen in France use the same movements and gestures that I teach to our own parish servers.)

The Mass was lovely, and it included the baptism of three infants, one of whom was wearing sunglasses.

Then it was to the fountain, where I observed the locals taking water in two-liter jugs. I filled one of my water bottles and had a good drink of it.

Afterwards we said our goodbyes to Appolina, as she is staying in a different place than we are. Avila secured us a ride to Domaine du Savage, but this time the driver was a sweet little old lady who drove very slowly and carefully.

The place that we are staying is essentially one of the few examples of the early medieval hostels that have been restored to their original use after centuries of being the center of an aristocratic estate. It’s sort of looks like a fortress from the outside, but it’s cozy inside.

Although my day was 5 km shorter than I expected it to be, I am not sorry in the least. Sometimes you have to abandon the plan and trust that God has a better one.