Via Podiensis: Windy!

Last night was the first time I sang “Ultreïa” on this Camino. It was in the darkened church after compline, and we processed around the interior of the church singing it before ending up before a carving of the blessed Virgin Mary. And then we sang the Salve Regina.

This morning I stayed for breakfast in the refectory. I continue to love the custom of drinking your morning coffee out of a bowl. thanks to chatting with fellow pilgrims, I left much later than I have the past few days. After 8 AM! Such decadence!

Even after all that, leaving Conques was bittersweet. I could easily have stayed here for days. But consolations never last.

There was quite the parade of pilgrims leaving, which is also market contrast to the past few days. In keeping with my plan to stop in every church along the way, I took a slight detour to visit the chapel Saint Rich up on the hill as you leave the town. I was rewarded with a spectacular view of the town from below. which is just as well, as the doors to the chapel itself were locked. I was now far behind the crowd of pilgrims.

After descending through the town to the river, and crossing over a beautiful stone bridge, we began one of the roughest climbs I have done on Camino. Sort of a cross between the Madeline climb of a few days ago and the walk out of Grado on the Primitivo, but with more slick rocks and boulders.

After the steepest part, near the top, we came to a chapel of Sainte-Foy with a bell the pilgrims are supposed to ring when they arrive safely to this point. Friends, I rang that bell like nobody’s business.

It was already about 8:45.

The slope up from here was much more moderate, but just as rocky. The morning was cool, but I was already bathed in sweat. Up and up through the forest I went, sometimes on dirt with loose rock, and sometimes just over solid rock – which Francine calls “walking up the dragon’s back”. Finally broke out the trees and into a meadow full of wildflowers with a spectacular view of the valley.

With just a bit more of a climb, I came to a rest area where I broke out some cookies for second breakfast. An hour’s worth of walking, and I’ve only walked 2.6 km. At the picnic table, I met four Australians and had a bit of a conversation with them. I had met one of them coming out of the cathedral in the pool on the 18th and hadn’t seen him since.

After this the trail was much more moderate, with gentle ups and downs. The path soon joined a dirt and gravel road through vast sloping meadows, and I was soon back among the cows.

And then it was back to my favorite thing: roadwalking. And there was a lot of it today. Fortunately, at least some of it was on a gravel path next to the road, rather than on the road surface itself. Much of the day was also on open, exposed terrain with a strong cool wind. Not quite cool enough for my fleece, but I was very thankful for my long sleeve hiking shirt.

The nice thing about walking much of the morning upon the crest of the hills was the spectacular views of the valleys below, sometimes on both sides.

I saw my first llamas in France today – three of them. That means at this point, I’ve seen 50% more llamas than sheep in France.

At about 10:15, after a short, sharp forest descent, I entered the only village of consequence today, Noailhac. I was hoping for a bar or café where I could pick up a little pastry or some thing, but no such luck. I did find a little shop which allowed me to restock my food supply for lunch. Pro tip: if you want to order a Snickers bar in France, it’s pronounced “sneaker”.

I also stopped inside the parish church to pray a moment before moving on. After that, it was uphill again after the village, and the locals have created a Way of the Cross on the side of the hill leaving town. It immediately put me in mind of my old marching cadence from the Camino Primitivo:

We’re walking the Way
The Way of the Cross
The Cross of Christ
Who died for our sins
And rose again on the third day

The Way of the Cross culminated at the top of the hill at a lovely little chapel dedicated to Saint Roch. I prayed there a moment, and then continued walking. 

After a great deal of roadwalking on an exposed ridge, the overcast skies turned to spitting sort of rain. Fortunately, at this point the Camino turned onto a little dirt track going down off the hill and into the shelter of some trees.

I reached the trees just as the squall began and walked uphill for a while under their cover. By the time I emerged from the trees just a few moments later, the rain had already stopped. By now I was looking for a likely spot to eat that sandwich I picked up in Noailhac. The Snickers bar was, of course, long gone.

No sooner wished for than found. Just before noon, I came upon a lovely sheltered picnic area, complete with a fountain and outhouse. What more could you ask for? I was about 13 km into the day, slightly more than halfway to my destination. I was soon joined by a pair of French pilgrims, the first I had seen since leaving Noailhac. 

Soon enough, I was on my way again. This time wearing a jacket. The temperature dropped noticeably, and the wind had picked up as well.

I walked and talked with one of the Australian pilgrims, an older fellow named Malcolm, for quite some time as the Camino slowly descended into the suburban villages surrounding the industrial city of Decazeville. By now it was warm enough that I had again taken off my jacket. Malcolm stayed behind to meet up with his wife, who is driving the route due to a broken foot.

About this time I also had to hook up my external battery to my phone. I use my iPhone on the trail primarily for GPS tracking, taking notes, and of course taking photos. I would never need to recharge the battery during the day if the iPhone wouldn’t randomly switch off the battery saving mode for no reason several times a day.

The Camino runs through the edge of the city of Decazeville, and while the guidebooks tend to paint this as a giant urban blight, I disagree. While I wouldn’t exactly call it charming, it has nothing like the awful endless rows of towering apartment blocks that you get in cities like Lugo or Burgos for instance.

I walked through several neighborhoods, some nicer than others, and up a stupendously steep street up to one last quasi-rural neighborhood. Pretty soon they were cows on one side of the street and neat suburban homes on the other.

By this point, my feet were aching from all the roadwalking and it was 2:30 in the afternoon and approaching the hottest part of the day, which admittedly wasn’t so bad today. And for some reason, the Camino just kept going uphill.

The houses got farther and farther apart, and also larger and larger, until they finally stopped all together. And still, uphill the Camino went.

After a very short walk through the woods, I suddenly came upon a knot of large modern houses. Another posh neighborhood? A suburb? The next village? Who knows ? By my calculation I was less than 3 km from my destination, and had been for at least an hour now.

I came upon an oddly painted but charming little chapel of Saint Roch. There was a beautiful little side altar of the Blessed Virgin giving the rosary to Saint Dominic, but it was full of racks of vestments. The whole place looks like it might’ve been a parish church once. 

I stopped a moment to pray, and then I checked the guidebook. Yep. Three kilometers to my destination. Still. 

As I went on, I noticed the bare ruins of older buildings and rusting agricultural equipment amongst the trees. I suspect that this was once a village and was annexed by the city to become a haven for the well-to-do.

When I finally passed the “leaving town” sign, it indicated that I was leaving Saint Roch, a neighborhood of Decazeville.

Blessedly, the Camino took a sharp right turn on a dirt path going downhill through the forest. Certainly made a nice change.

When I finally caught sight of the town of Livinhac-le-Haut, I would have leapt for joy if I thought my feet would take it.

The town surrounded on three sides by the River Lot, which at this point is quite wide and deep. The way into town is on a narrow sidewalk at the side of an automobile bridge. With the wind and the cars whizzing past, I was something of a wreck by the time I got to the other side.

I visited the church, which was locked up tight. Or, at least the main door was. I found my way in through a small side door with an accessibility ramp. It was uncharacteristically hot and stuffy inside. This is particularly odd considering how cool it was today. 

The interior was full of interesting choices, including an off-center crucifix, a beautiful pulpit shoved in the corner behind some pews, some sort of starburst lighting fixture behind the altar, and the tabernacle (with bare bulb tabernacle electric light) on a Marian side altar.

All that remained now was to find a gîte. Easier said than done. The town has at least six gîtes, and I had already contacted three of them yesterday with no luck. still, things often change at the last minute, so I was hopeful.

And indeed, I was soon checked into the first place I came to when I left the church, a funky little place called Bio Gîte La Vita è Bella. 

I almost immediately ran into Nina the Bavarian, who had I thought was a day ahead of me. It turns out she spent an extra day in Conques. In fact, there are lots of familiar faces, including Ávila. 

Date: 28 August 2023

Place: Livinhac-le-Haut

Today started: Conques

Today’s Photos!