Via Podiensis: The Fraught Journey to Arzacq-Arraziguet

14 September 2023 Thom Pilgrim Reports, Via Podiensis

Last night, for only the second time since I’ve been in France, I had all of my clothes laundered in a machine. As much as the daily hand washing of clothes is something of a ritual for the pilgrim, I know that it’s really only getting the clothes cleaner, not actually clean. It’s amazing what a difference a washing machine can make, both to the clothes and to the person wearing them.

Despite my best efforts, I did not get out of the gîte until 7:30 this morning. I think that probably qualifies as my latest start yet. I had trouble sleeping last night, and that’s most of the issue. But even when I did get up this morning, I was moving slower than usual.

The morning air was cool and crisp when I finally left, and the sky was mostly clear with some clouds in front of me and the city haze behind me. Today was going to be a longer day, to a place I couldn’t begin to pronounce, and once I was out the door I was moving pretty quickly.

The first kilometer or so was along a busy street, but the Camino soon turned into a quiet residential neighborhood. This gradually turned more rustic and rural, until one side of the street at housing, and the other was a vast open field of dead sunflowers.

Two things of note this morning: the first is that once again my tracker glitched first thing, so my first two or three kilometers disappeared into a long straight line. So frustrating.

The second thing is that yellow arrows as a trail marker became much more prevalent today. I had seen a handful of them since I started in Le Puy, but there would be days or even maybe a week that would pass between them. Yesterday coming into the city, I started noticing stickers with the Camino logo and the yellow arrow. This morning, they became the dominant trail sign, appearing far more frequently than the red and white blaze of the GR 65.

By 8 AM, I was back to alternating through woods and fields. Soon I was walking near the shores of a small lake. it looked beautiful in the morning light. Mist rose from the surface, and there was a single duck swimming nearby.

Also, happily, the Camino was now a dirt path through the woods. It was an absolutely lovely morning walk. The Camino eventually left the lake to strike out uphill through the forest. The forest smelled so fresh and green, you could almost taste it. Birdsong filled the air.

The path was damp, but not muddy, and in many places carpeted with leaves or pine needles. Some of the trees, particularly the oaks, were starting to lose their green and seek out their autumn colors.

Eventually, the Camino left the forest and headed for open country, passing under a highway, and then along a busy road for once more beginning the usual cycle of gravel and dirt roads and paths through forest and field. Early on, I met some grazing cows. They reacted somewhat indifferently to my hearty “Bonjour!”

I’ve probably said the word “bonjour” more times in the last three weeks than I have in the entire rest of my life combined. And this, despite the fact that I had two years of high school French and that when my children were young we all frequently sang along to Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast”.

For many hours this morning, the Camino was very flat and passed on an asphalt road through vast cornfields. In many places, the plants were tall enough that it limited the scope of my vision to the road and the wall of corn stalks on either side.

It was, perhaps, the worlds easiest corn maze.

In other places, the corn had already been harvested, or the fields were fallow or planted with a shorter crop. In these places I could see something of the vastness of the agricultural operations here. These are not small family farms.

About 9 AM, I put up the umbrella. This was more because of direct light than because of heat. As I was doing so, I noticed that far ahead of me I could see the shadowy outlines of mountains on the horizon. This was my first glimpse of the Pyrénées, the mountain range towards which I was walking and over which I would pass in just a week or so.

This was quite an emotional moment for me. I even had to stop for a bit and text Francine.

Soon enough, it was back to the corn maze, and I could see the mountains no more.

A thing of note: today I saw my first Frenchman wearing a beret. He was driving a bread truck this morning through the countryside. He was an older gentleman with a fine looking graying walrus mustache and big square glasses.

About 10 AM, I passed a group of abandoned farm buildings, falling into ruin. Relics of a bygone era. there were a couple of scattered nearby houses – cottages, really – that seem to still be in use. Perhaps this was a thriving village, once.

I passed a few scattered houses after this, a mix of old farmsteads and new construction. They all very much had a “retire to the country life” feeling about them.

And trees. I’d been seeing small stands of trees for about an hour or so. Sometimes they would even line the road for a couple hundred meters, blocking the cornfields from view. But now I was moving from the cornfields to a dirt path with embankments on both sides, down into the forest. It was only when I felt the cool air in the woods that I realized how hot I had been in the exposed sun, even with the umbrella up.

When I emerged from the forest at about 10:35 AM, it was to a little collection of farm houses, and then back to the endless corn maze.

I arrived in my first actual village of the day, Miramont-Sensacq, at about 10:55 AM. This more or less marks the halfway point of the day. I filled my water bottles up at the cemetery, as one does, and visited the village church.

It’s Romanesque, though it’s clearly had a lot of work done on it. The arches are brick, which leads me to believe it may actually be Romanesque revival, unless the arches were replaced at some point. It’s not spectacular, but it’s very homey.

Strangely, where there evidently used to be side altars, there are now simply posters, one of Saint Martin, and the other of the Resurrection, indicated as a 15th Station of the Cross. There’s an older statue of Saint Joseph in a corner that I suspect may have once stood atop a side altar.

In place of candles, there appeared to be an arrangement of driftwood on the main altar. I have no explanation.

I prayed for the intentions of the Camino and then headed for the café for my customary Orangina. I also dipped into my food stash for some bread and (very melty) cheese, as well as a couple of cookies. And then, after a brief false start down the wrong road, I was on my way again.

I was more than halfway to today’s destination, a town whose name I could not only not pronounce, but actually looking at that combination of letters made my eyes cross.

At first, I walked through pasture land. There were even cows. Soon enough, I was back in farm country, but the tracts seemed smaller, and there were certainly now collections of farm houses and barns every so often. I even passed a vineyard. There were occasional grazing cattle, and many more trees than there had been this morning.

Now I could even see hills and valleys to my left, checker-boarded with pastures and woodland and dotted with tiny villages. The landscape was changing again.

At one point, there was a cow with her calf just standing in the middle of the the dirt road that was the Camino. And they were not easy to avoid; there was a fence on one side of the road, and a hedge on the other. She had an odd, haunted look in her eyes. I’m not sure if it was some residual guilt for having slipped out of her enclosure or she was just freaked out by my umbrella. maybe both.

There were some tense moments as I passed by, loudly singing the “I’m just a friendly pilgrim who doesn’t want to bother your calf” song. Cows, I probably don’t need to remind you, are very large animals.

The Camino was now heading directly into the landscape I had seen earlier, and it looked like the hours of endless cornfields were finally over. Soon I was walking through the cool green forest. It was mostly, but not exclusively, roadwalking, and it would take me through the usual litany of forests, fields, and farms.

In about 12:40 PM, I came up on the relatively isolated 12th century church of Sensacq. It’s an unusual structure, though the core of it is Romanesque. It is much dilapidated, and there’s evidence of water coming in through the roof.

It looks as though at some point it was vandalized, and the altars and furnishings were ripped out. There is one medieval altar remaining in place in the side chapel which now appears to be used for storage for what’s left of the altar rail and the old pulpit. The floor in the side chapel has been largely ripped out, although there is the remains of a memorial plaque, possibly covering a grave here.

The other side chapel has what remains of a baroque altar, though the stone has been torn out and the paint is almost completely gone. Of the sanctuary altar and furniture, nothing remains, except possibly a statue of Virgin and Child, much damaged. Some modern furnishings have been added.

There are two stone fonts in the back of the church, and based on the design I would guess them both to be original, or close to original.

This must’ve been quite a lovely church at one time, but it is clearly suffering from neglect. I prayed here, and hastened to move on.

After just a few minutes, something didn’t feel right, so I checked my app. Indeed, I had taken a wrong turn when I left the church, and had to backtrack. Fortunately it wasn’t too far.

Unfortunately, it appears that once again the app was at variance with the actual Camino Route. I backtracked to the church, and then slightly past, to discover signage that indicated I had been going the correct way all along. For the record, this is the exact opposite direction that the app insisted I should be going. I think I wasted 20 minutes because of the stupid app.

So once again, I retraced my steps, and it was back to roadwalking through pastures and farms again. Apparently, I can get lost even when I’m not lost. I turned the app off.

And to top it off, just as I had gotten back to the point where I had originally turned around, I was basically run into a ditch by a farmer driving a wide tractor down the narrow road. Fortunately, my trekking poles saved me from falling too far. It could have been really nasty.

He looked exactly like Larry “Bud” Melman from the old David Letterman show, except he was wearing a ball cap.

Meanwhile, corn on one side, sunflowers on the other.

At some point, the selfie stick attachment on my hiking pole snapped off the pole as I was walking. Not sure if it can be repaired.

As the Camino turned into the forest, the only pilgrim I have seen since I left my gîte this morning zoomed past me.

So far, a dispiriting afternoon.

By the time I entered the village of Pimbo at about 2:05 PM, I was running about an hour behind where I’d hoped to be by now.

Workmen were cleaning the façade of the village’s monolithic Romanesque church, so it was not possible to gain entry. Instead I ducked into the local café for an Orangina. Because of course I did.

I still had six or seven kilometers to go, meaning I wouldn’t get to my destination until around 4 PM, which is much later than I am comfortable with arriving.

After the village, the Camino followed the road on a long, steep switchback down into a valley. It was a valley basically full of cornfields. In this valley, I passed the smashed up chassis of a car that had been set up on a giant tree stump. This bit of roadside art neatly encapsulated my mood this afternoon.

And on the other side of the valley, the climb. It’s been a couple of days or more – I’d almost forgotten what hills were like. I got to the top to discover a small village with some very stately homes, a barn with some cows, and acres of farmland.

Occasionally within the farm lands, I would pass little clusters of two or three suburban homes or older style farm houses. The asphalt was beginning to feel warm under my feet. The smell of hot asphalt always reminds me of childhood summers in Chicago. Finally, about 3:25 PM, the Camino moved briefly off the hot asphalt to a dirt trail next to it. This was definitely more pleasant, not to mention safer.

I finished off my dried fruit. I’d give anything for some real trail mix or, better yet, Francine’s “hiker crack”.

Finally, the Camino left the road altogether, and I was soon walking a gravel road between endless rows of corn. The road eventually emerged in a sunny suburban neighborhood. I was walking on the sidewalk now into town.

By 4:10, I was sitting on my bed in the Gîte Communal of Arzacq-Arraziguet, trying to summon the energy to shower.

Less than two hours later, I made my visit to the parish church. I walked into a group of pilgrims singing “Ultreia”, and they immediately had me join them. I don’t know the verses, but I joined in the chorus.

The bones of the church are Romanesque, and if you wanted a lesson on how to update Romanesque to a more modern style, this place would be a textbook. While I’m not a huge fan of the lack of decoration in the two side chapels, one for the reserved Eucharist and the other a baptistery, I have to admit that they both absolutely work on their own terms. Based on the stained glass window in the Eucharistic chapel, I believe this was originally a Marian chapel. There is an amazing sixteenth century statue of Virgin and Child elsewhere in the church that I’m sure was here originally.

And the main altar is magnificent, with appropriate furnishings throughout the sanctuary.

The place felt very calming, and I prayed Vespers here for the Exaltation of the Holy Cross.

And then I found a café to grab a beer and plan tomorrow’s walk. Today was long – 34.5 km – and the next two days, while shorter, are still going to be 30+ kilometer days. They will, however, be the last for a while. I will be deep into Spain and wearing a new pair of shoes when that happens.

I’ve been walking so far for four weeks. I have walked 688 km as of today or 427.5 miles.

Edited to add: for the first time ever, I was turned away from a basically empty restaurant because I was a pilgrim staying at the gîte next door. There was definitely some rudeness involved, and it was not on my part. What a day.

The hilarious part is that the place was recommended to me by the helpful lady at the tourism office.