Burgos to Segovia and the Feast of John the Baptist

After a great nights sleep in hotel El Cid dreaming of great knightly quests I set of for Segovia some 200 miles away. At this juncture I left following the Camino’s traditional route which would have taken me westwards to Leon but I was keen to visit Segovia for its impressive cathedral, castle and roman viaduct. Then the following day to visit Avila the birth place and home of St Theresa of Avila one of the west’s greatest Christian mystics and on to Salamanca which is Oxbridge in Spanish terms their premier university.

As I pulled the car out of the cool of the underground car park and felt the blast of heat as I entered the sunlight I knew I was going to be in for another very hot day. I put lots of sun cream and made sure I had plenty of water then set off for another day’s adventure.

I now feel very nomadic and the call of the road is an odd thing and generates a mixture of feelings which can sometimes be overwhelming. At one level you just want to get to your destination in my case Santiago and the Shrine of St James' then you feel you would just prefer to be back home and can feel extremely homesick. However then another feeling comes in which is that you never really want the journey to end, that you would be happy to spend day after day travelling as if some unseen force is constantly calling you on. I know that all of the books I read by seasoned travellers before leaving on this adventure spoke of these feelings. It seems to take several weeks before this begins to happen. The first couple of weeks can seem just like an average fortnight’s holiday but once into the third week this disappears and you are no longer a tourist but a traveller or true pilgrim. I have met several pilgrims who have been walking for over 6 weeks now who have homes and families but they too echo this new existence. Maybe this is what Jesus was referring to when he said that foxes have their holes and birds there nest but the son of man has no where to lay his head. As I sped along the very dry long straight roads of the Spanish plains I had plenty of time to contemplate all of these new feelings.

My first stop was St Domingo de Silos where there is a huge monastery which was rebuilt be St Dominic in 1041AD over the sight of a previous abbey which was destroyed by the moors. Here I picked up another Camino which comes via Barcelona. The setting is very rural and it’s quiet and tranquillity has been an inspiration to many artists. The monastery is still in use today so access is limited but I was able to see the magnificent cloisters and the pharmacy which has been recreated as it was in the middle ages. Sadly they were very strict about photography so I was only able to take pictures of the outside of the building and as I had arrived at ten to one just managed to get inside but not able to by a postcards of the interior as they shut the gift shop for lunch and it would not reopen until 4pm.

By now the temperature was 32 degrees Celsius. I knew this as one of the very small shops in the town had a sign which flashed the time and temperature alternately. I found a very old looking hotel and headed inside. It was blissfully cool not due to air-conditioning but the 4ft think walls and small windows. Ironically in the foyer there where pictures of the little village deep in snow and ice showing the great fluctuation in temperature in this part of Spain. The hotel was empty apart from one other elderly couple taking refuge from the heat and a few flies buzzing around, the noise of there tiny wings adding to the atmosphere of the place rather than being an annoyance. A lady dress as a Spanish maid [nothing like a French maid more like a nun sadly] was in the café bar and I asked her to make me a tortilla and mixed salad. Tortilla is basically chunks of fried potato with onion and then egg sometimes referred to as Spanish Omelette. This is very much childhood food to me as my mother being Spanish would make this regularly and still does when she comes to look after the boys on Wednesdays.

I would have liked to have stayed in the cool of the hotel with the flies until 5pm when it would have cooled but I had a long way to go and had to brave the heat. I pressed on to Valladolid but by the time I got there it was so hot I didn’t feel like walking around. I managed to fuel the car and find a small bar to have a long cool drink of orange and lemonade. The car had attracted some attention the barman very please I had parked it outside of his establishment. Unfortunately I had to shout at three young lads who where taking pictures of themselves with the car. This was fine until the third and largest of the three decided he was going to sit on the very fragile fibreglass wheel arch. They seemed surprised and I explained but the bar man came out and told them to clear off and was very apologetic for the local youth.

I had intended a planned stop at Coca which has another ancient monastery but I was running late and the heat was too intense to consider a detour so I pointed my horse for Segovia. It was to some relief that I began to descend from the hot plane into a deep valley with trees and shade bringing a welcome drop in the temperature. It was not long before I set eyes on the fairy tail turrets of the Alcazar Segovia’s castle a welcomed site for any knight on a quest. In fact it impressed Walt Disney so much when he visited the place that when he came to build Disney Land he said he wanted the castle to look like the Alcazar in Segovia.

I have not had a lot of luck with my intention of camping through a mixture of heat, tiredness and late arrival and tonight was going to be no different. I headed to the campsite just outside the city but when I arrived had second thoughts as it resembled a traveller’s camp rather than a campsite and my little car was already attracting too much attention. I was concerned that I might wake from my tent in the morning to find it stripped so decided it was going to have to be another hotel.

I punched up a list of hotels on the sat nav and headed for the nearest one with parking. Now here’s a travellers tip for you. If like me your moving from hotel to hotel and don’t have a reservation take a mini PC note book that will let you connect to the web. I parked up and went into reception to ask the price of a room with parking this was a three star hotel Holiday Inn in fashion nothing particularly spectacular. The girl at reception asked if I had a reservation to which my reply was no. The total cost for my stay was 85 Euros nearly £80 a lot for one night. I asked if they had free Wi-Fi which they did. I then went out of the hotel sat on a bench and logged on to the internet and did a search for the hotel. Several sites came up with offers a few minutes later I had reserved myself a room with parking and breakfast at the same hotel for 46 Euros half the price about £38 much more like it. The girl was somewhat surprised when I walked in and then said I had a reservation. She said no and I asked her to look and watch her eyebrows rise as she found my booking. 46 Euros I said waving my little note book. She said that she didn’t think this was allowed and phoned the manager who said if I had a booking on the hotel computer with a credit card for that price then it was valid! I rewarded my ingenuity with a shower and cold beer before heading of into town.

It was a Tuesday night but there seemed to be a lot more people out than I would have expected more like a Friday or Saturday and they were all dressed up in their best. Elegant old ladies like Spanish galleons floating up and down the wide open vistas of the town centre.

I found a cheap and cheerful restaurant which de Platos Combainons which means combination plates and tucked into chicken fillets, fries and a small salad with a house wine all for 9 Euros oh and as much bread as you can eat, very good value. I decided to give the hotel restaurant a miss as I had no reservation!!! Seated next to me were an English couple who live in Andalusia for 6 months of the year returning to the UK in the summer they where heading for Santander and the ferry but love Segovia so much they always stop on the way up.

At this point I discovered there was about to be a fiesta which was why their where so many folk around for today was the feast day of John the Baptist. I haven’t really been looking a diaries but a quick glance at my iPod confirmed that this was the case. It was only 9pm so things wouldn’t liven up for another hour or so. After a pleasant meal and conversation with my expat neighbours I headed up to the Cathedral in the old part of town. Sure enough a large stage had been erected outside the Cathedral and a huge bonfire built. The tradition in Spain today is that bonfires are lit all over the county it is also midsummer’s eve so a hit of the pagan mixed with the Christian. At 10:30pm dry ice started to waft from behind the curtain on the stage and various lighting effects began to a cacophony of music as the curtain slowly rose. Three singers a girl and two guys with a large band then jumped into a compilation of Spanish favourites and in no time at all the square outside the cathedral was heaving and everybody dancing young and old many families with young children too it was all very friendly and you felt completely safe.

I can’t imagine this happening in Swindon my experience has been that the fighting has normally broken out at this point as people stagger senseless out of the bars. In Spain and France so far despite being out late and bars open every night to gone two I have not seen one drunk or experienced one act of aggression we have a lot to learn from our European cousins about how to have a good time.

The dancing went on until the small hours and for the most part I enjoyed the atmosphere enormously but it’s the first time I have really experienced how lonely you can feel in a large crowed. I’ve spent hours on my own over the past weeks and never had this intense feeling. But with everyone around you dancing with their friends, wives or lovers you do feel very lonely and I wished that my beloved Kate was here with me to dance the night away. To take my mind of this I decided to capture as much of the event on my camera as possible and then turned in a 1:30am but the party continued till 4am.

I have never experienced a whole town let alone a whole nation sharing a collective hangover! I was up at 8:30am and out of the hotel and looking for a café for breakfast but many where still shut and the streets very quiet. By 9:30am more people had ventured onto the streets and were heading for work. You need to remember that this was no bank holiday everyone worked yesterday and would do today but I think the boss would be sympathetic too the situation as he or she would as likely be nursing a sore head to. I watched with some amusement drinking my coffee feeling rather bright eyed after a good nights' sleep as weary Spaniards passed by often looking a little dishevelled.

I had a couple of horse to walk round the town visit the cathedral which is the last great Gothic Cathedral in Spain dating from 1525 built to replace an older building. It is huge and you strain your neck trying to look up at the high towers and vaulted ceilings. While there I joined a mass said in Polish. I then headed up to the Alcazar castle which I have visited before several times but it was good to walk around the new military museum and armoury as well as taking in the magnificent views over the battlements. It was not long before that feeling returned of being driven on and I new I was time to head back to the hotel check out and Head for Avila as well as some old childhood haunts.

Day 15 Loyola and Burgos.

This morning I headed up to Loyola with Bob which for the first time in a week took me off the Camino route but I have always wanted to visit Loyola the birth place of St Ignatius [1490] founder of the Jesuits. It’s a place I have passed by many times on the way to Madrid but never had time to stop. Ignatius was an army general and was wounded in the leg by a cannonball during the battle of Pamplona. Legend has it that while he was recuperating in Santa Casa [Holy House] he asked for a book of heroic exploits of knights instead his sister gave him the life of the saints. He was so disgruntled that he through the book across the room.

However not being provided with any other reading he red the book and this led to a profound religious experience and he decided to renounce all and become a priest. After his ordination he along with several other friends who had also been ordained set up the Jesuits and order of priest that where there solely to do the Popes biding.

They did indeed do many good and charitable works but as with any organization politics took over and the order become one of the most wealthy and powerful in the church. It played a large part in the Spanish Inquisition which is unexpected as Ignatius himself was imprisoned at one time by the inquisition. [No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!!!]

At Loyola there is now a huge basilica which was built next to Santa Casa the size of the building, built in the 17th centaury gives a good indication of how wealthy this order was [and still is] as the dome of the basilica can be seen for miles around. Unfortunately as it was Monday Santa Casa was closed so Bob and I could only explore the basilica. After a spot of lunch it was time for us to go our separate ways as Bob had to be in the office and I had to get to Burgos by the evening a good 4 hour drive with the two stops I had planned.

By now the sun was at its zenith and the heat was like that encountered when opening an oven door. I have to say that my journey took on something of a penitential nature as driving with the sun beating down and hot air being blasted into my face I looked with envy at the air conditioned cars driving pass with cool refreshed passengers on board. This was the opposite too the driving rain in previous weeks but even so the experience of driving a convertible in these conditions was not pleasant. I found myself stopping every half hour to reapply sun cream.

Thankfully every small village I passed had a water fountain by the road back from the days when people journeyed on foot or horse back and needed such refreshment, these are trough like structures with one or to brass taps which constantly run fresh water. Though it’s not advisable to drink the water and I had 2 litres of drinking water in my drinking system it was very refreshing to wash ones face soak my base ball cap and bandanna which I had round my neck which when wet helped to keep my cool.

Often their was a bar across from these water stops and folk would come out to look at the car. I was flattered on several occasions when people said I was a Caballero which means knight and the car was my horse. The Don Quixote in me was most impressed with this and naming the car Rocinante seemed very much the right decision. When I told some of the locals this they laughed and agreed that only a mad man would be driving such a car in this heat. As they say only English men and mad men go out in the midday sun!

One of my stops which was most welcome was Santa Domingo de la Clazada which is right on the Camino from Pamplona. St Domingo wanted to be a Benedictine monk but was rejected so he went to live as a hermit in the woods through which passed the Camino. He began to help the pilgrims by building roads and bridges and also a hospital which is now an impressive Spanish Parador a government run 5 star hotel with prices beyond most pilgrims. The town sprang up around this including the cathedral which now houses the saint’s remains and I was able to go down into the crypt and pray as there was no one else around and ask for safe passage to Compostela.

Back in the car again the heat had not diminished and the final hour and half to Burgos was literally hell probably hotter. I arrived late and really could not face a campsite having to put a tent up and then go and find food. So I headed to the centre in the hope of finding a reasonable hotel with secure parking. I drove round for some time beginning to lose faith that I would find somewhere. Clearly my prayers at the shrine of St Domingo had been heeded as I ended up right by the cathedral and found a hotel named Hotel El Cid after another great Spaniard.

My luck was in as they had a room and parking which they would give me at a special rate as it was late and they where keen to sell the rooms. The hotel was very traditional the sort of place Don Quixote would have approved of particularly as each room was named after a knight and the walls in the lobby where covered with tapestries of knights undertaking great quests.

My first quest was to try and wash some of my clothes as I smelt anything but knightly. I managed to was my chinos a top and several pairs of pants and socks. As I was on the top floor and my window was set back in the roof I was able to hang them all out to dry without them being seen. To give you and indication of how hot it was when I came back only a couple of hours later after my evening meal everything was bone dry.

Burgos was founded in 884AD and has been a key strategic city from day one. It was the capital of the Kingdoms of Castile and Leon from 1073 until 1492 when this honour was passed to Valladolid. In the 15th and 16th centuries it became very wealthy from the wool trade and more recently Franco chose it as his command post for the Spanish Civil war. El Cid was born here and severed Fernando I fighting against the moors but he got caught up in politics with the Kings’ sons and was banished at one point fighting for the moors. He was really immortalized by a romantic poem ‘El Cantar del Mio Cid’ and he and his wife are buried in the cathedral and an impressive statue of him now graces the main gate way to the old part of the city.

Unfortunately the Spanish seemed to have picked up a nasty habit from the British charging people to go into cathedrals. Not once in France was I asked to pay a fee but always gave or paid several Euros to light a candle. Burgos cost 4 Euros and though beautiful inside there was no opportunity to light a candle and even the stoups found in the doorways of European churches had no water in, the custom being to dip ones finger into the holy water and touch your forehead to remind oneself of your baptism. I am saddened that these great places of worship and pilgrimage are becoming nothing more than tourist attractions. If France a secular country can afford to keep its cathedrals open and maintain them primarily as places of worship then we and the Spanish should be able to do the same. The past three cathedrals have had no place set aside for prayer, or where prayer request can be made very poor!

Supper consisted of tapas in a lovely bar with a very friendly barman who took time to describe the different dishes and help me with my Spanish. He was clearly a fan of the UK as he had various items hanging up in the bar including an old fashion policemen’s helmet. After a couple of glasses of what I believe to be the best wine in the world Rioja and several tapas I enjoyed a walk round in the cool of the night before heading for my ‘knights’’ chamber [get it?]

Day 14 Pamplona

Today I crossed the Pyrenees and said farewell to France but not hello to Spain, as this is the Basque Country. Being in this part of the world and saying I was in Spain would be like standing in Swansea and saying I was in England. The Basques are a proud people with there own culture and distinct language and many of the signs [as in Wales] are written in both languages. Sadly in recent years ETA has not done much to help the Basque cause like the IRA has isolate the people rather than endured them to the rest of Europe.

While I was in Taize there was a young Basque woman in my group and we spent some time speaking about the tensions between the Basque country and Spain. She was very impressed with how the British had managed to be one nation but with its four distinct countries Ireland, Scotland, England and Wales. She felt that something like devaluation as in Wales and Scotland would work very well in the Basque Country and would satisfy most people. I felt quite proud to be British and part of a nation that honours the distinctiveness of its peoples and culture under one Queen.

However Spain has more similarities to the UK than one would first expect it’s really not one nation but several distinct Kingdoms with their own heritage, culture and language in some cases. Ask most Spaniards and they will proudly tell you they are Austrian or Castilian a bit like a proud Yorkshire man in the UK. Over Spain’s history these separate kingdoms have been brought together under one flag the red and yellow strips of the Sangri e Sol [blood and sun] and it was the Spanish civil war and General Franco that finally achieved this.

Crossing the Pyrenees was fantasist I was pleased I put a polo neck on for as I climbed it got colder. The Caterham simply relished every bend and it was almost as if Rocinante was alive with its engine making noises of delight as I went up and down the gears. Hair pin bends are taken as if on rails. My Sat Nav predicted that it would take two hours to traverse the mountains in the end it took me an hour and twenty minuets and I wasn’t pushing it at all as I didn’t know the road. With empty roads and an experience driver a Caterham I’m sure could do this in under an hour no problem!

As I sped by engine roaring I saw many pilgrims both on foot and bike trudging up the very steep roads with and expression of determination etched onto their faces and one or two of desperation. I decided not to stop as this might result in a lynching but I’m sure many thought if they did the pilgrimage again it would be in one of those funny little green and yellow cars. At the summit I did stop by the pilgrim chapel and several pilgrims came to chat and have there picture taken with the car. When I explained that my journey was one of 3000 miles and in aid of Leukaemia Research any bad feelings or misgivings they had about someone driving the Camino disappeared and they wish me well. The cyclists have a distinct advantage on the way down and on two occasions as I gingerly approach a hair pin bend was rather taken aback to be over taken by a cyclist who must have been doing more the 40mph and shot round the corner like the Olympic cyclist in a veladrome.

I arrived in Pamplona at 3:30pm earlier than expected and in true Spanish style everything was closed for the siesta. Being Sunday as well Pamplona resembled a ghost town. When I found my hotel it was closed with a note on the door saying come back at 5pm. I drove into the old part of the town parked the car and headed for a place I have read about many times Café Iruna. This is the café where Hemmingway would sit and watch the world go by and make notes for his books. It also appears in ‘The Sun Also Rises’. Without two much trouble I found the place and apart from the modern canopies at the front which now said Café Hemmingway – Irune the interior is much as he described it in his books, art deco almost Parisian in style.

I sat and enjoyed a cold beer and watch a rather harassed waiter who could have been Manuel from Faulty towers as the square was packed with people relaxing on a Sunday. For all I knew I could be sitting right next to my hotelier who was enjoy a Sunday drink but I would have to wait.

Just after 5pm I headed back to the hotel and was met by very Spanish looking girl dark complexion even darker eyes like black pearls. I then discovered that what I had booked into was an apartment. I found this on the web and it was a good deal but the building I was staying in was 1km from the reception. The girl who I think was keen for a ride in the 7 which by now had attracted much attention with people lining up to have their photo take, jumped in and showed me the way. The parking was good right under the building but I was handed no less than 5 keys for various doors.

The girl explain that these where apartments used by the university for conferences and when there was nothing on they let them out. I had a large bed room, walk in wardrobe, huge bath room with a Jacuzzi bath and a smaller reception room. I felt rather a guilty pilgrim thinking of all those pilgrims in the refuges in bunk beds three high. Then I remembered I was and English Man and a chap and when one travels one does it with a certain amount of comfort but nothing ostentatious.

I had a rendezvous planned this evening with another English man and good all-round chap Bob Slater a regular at the Men’s Breakfast. Bob’s company has offices near Bilbo so he had managed to be over during this time so we arrange to me in Pamplona. It was great to meet up with Bob outside his hotel and stroll into the centre of town having a good conversation. Something I have not engaged in since I was with the 7 Club at le Man. We headed for Café Iruna and had a glass of Vino Tinto [Red Wine] while I brought Bob up to date on my adventure so far. We were served by the same waiter as earlier who by now was a little more composed but just as slow.

After this we head from bar to bar drinking wine and eating tapas as is the custom. The price difference between France and Spain is staggering. At the first bar we ordered two glasses of wine and four lots of tapas this came to E6:50 amazing. At one point we ran into two lads from the US who were walking the Camino. Pamplona is very much a recharging point after the Pyrenees and in preparation for the heat that lies ahead. Both had finished university and were on what seem like an old fashioned European tour the Camino being the first part, Hemmingway would have approved.
As it was Sunday by about 11:30pm the bars and cafes were shutting up shop just as well as I had lost count of the tapas and the glasses of wine and Bob and I headed back to our respective hotels after getting a little lost but thankfully I had my sat nav in the bag and this along with some help from the locals got us back.

Lourdes

Lourdes is a place that evokes many emotions both positive and negative. This was my first visit and though I have had opportunity to visit before have not done so because I felt it was a little to over the top. Though I enjoy visiting the Shrine of Our Lady Walsingham it is far more and English affair with plastic and tat kept to a minimum and emotions only reviled politely over a cup of tea with fellow pilgrims.

It all began back in 1858 when a young girl named Bernadette visited a cave by the river in the then small hill village of Lourdes and had a vision of the Virgin telling her that people will come here to seek healing. With in a very short space of time 1860 the church endorsed the vision and the miracles have continued ever since.

So first impressions of Lourdes is that its Disney Land for Catholics, the main church and complex has a uncanny similarity to the entrance of Disney Land with the church perched up on a hill just like the castle and long avenues leading to it. It certainly has a wow factor about it. However instead of Mickey mouse or Pluto to welcome you there are statues to Our Lady at which the faithful have left flowers or sanctuary candles. It’s also clearly a place that nuns come on holiday as I have never seen so many in one place. I thought at one point half of the convents in Europe must be empty. It’s some what disconcerting sitting in a café having a quite coffee to suddenly be surrounded by a gaggle of sisters eyeing this sinner suspiciously.

I should add that my experience of sisters in orders in the UK has been nothing but positive as they all no matter what there age seem to have a huge joy and affection for life and people.

On top of all this there are rows and rows of shops selling religious rubbish form glow in the dark Madonna’s to rosaries so large they could be used to anchor a large ship. Ironically many of these shops as well as selling religious artefacts also sell knives, crossbows and replica guns but nobody seems to get the disjunction between the two.

I have never really understood the obsession the Roman Catholic Church has with the Virgin Mary though being half Spanish I see this devotion played out in relationships between sons and mothers in Hispanic countries and Italy. Its not just Mary but female saints in particular seem to develop a far great sense of euphoria than the many male saints. However ask one of the faithful at Lourdes if these women are so important and contributed so much to the church why dose the church not allow women to be priests? At this point if an insult is not hurled you are looked at as if you are completely mad!

With all of this one almost feels like just moving on as faith has been turned into an amusement park and commodity but patience is the key and you just need to go along with the flow for a while and stop looking at the tat and start looking at the people. It soon becomes clear that you are surrounded by fellow Christians with a deep and sincere faith. It may be expressed in quite a different way than us Anglican are used to even those of us accustom to the more catholic side of the Church of England. Here people are either searching for an answer to life’s purpose, healing from some illness that medicine has failed to cure or have returned to give thanks because prayer has been answered and healing taken place. In a short five minuet stroll you can encounter people from all four corners of the globe and it reminds you that as a Christian you are part of a truly world wide family.

I attended as much of the program as I could in the time I had which included a huge service of Benediction in the massive underground Basilica which resembles a multi story car park, A Holy Communion in English led by a charming Priest form Canada but the most moving thing was the evening candle light procession with thousands of other Christians sing hymns and praising God and of course our Lady. Though a traveller in a strange place along way from home it was the first time on the trip that I actually felt that I belonged rather than just being an observer.

So my advice is don’t dismiss Lourdes it’s worth a visit but when you do ignore all the religious tat and nonsense instead look into the eyes of your fellow Christians and there truly God is to be encountered.

Day 13 Le Puy en Velay to Cahrors

I awoke this morning to the sounds of a city stirring which is actually quite enchanting. Lying in bed trying to guess what each of the new sounds are. The slow build up of traffic noise is the most obvious but then behind that are lots of layers of sound. There is the bee bee of lorries reversing in the distance, the brushing sound of a street cleaner and the clatter of waiters putting out tables ready for breakfast and the fast coffee for those on there way to work. I don’t think I would like it everyday but it was a pleasant change from the pigeon that sits on the vicarage roof and wakes me up most mornings.

After breakfast I headed up to the Cathedral. Le Puy is built in the cone of a volcanic bowel with several rock out crops. The oddity is that it always seems as if you’re going up hill. When I left my hotel I was going up hill and when I arrived back I was still going up hill. It reminded me of that famous optical illusion with monks seeming to be walking constantly up stairs.

The oldest part of the town, which is known as the Holy City was built back in 926BC after the Bishop of Le Puy made one of the first pilgrimages to Compostela. It consists of a maze of medieval streets and passageways and is very easy to become completely lost in. The Cathedral has a black Madonna and there are several references to the Camino. Though the place was not swarming with pilgrims I did see several walking around wearing the scallop shell and passed some of the refuges where pilgrims can stay the night. One in particular which was run by the Franciscans had quite a buzz about it.

After the cathedral I made my way to the Chapel of St Michael d’Aiguihe which is built on top of one of the rock out crops. When planning the trip I had seen it in one of my guide books and was determined to climb to the top. There are 250 step steps to the top and I am very pleased I have lost a lot of weight otherwise it could have been the end of the pilgrimage. The climb took me about 10 minutes and I was pleasantly surprised that I managed it with out getting breathless the little chapel is quite beautiful and the views of Le Puy spectacular. The decent was much quicker and I headed back to the hotel and was on the road by 11:30am

The driving today has been the most fun but also the hardest as it was a constant string of bends and steep climbs often following narrow roads so as to avoid motorways. This demanded all my concentration even though there was little else on most of the roads. The 7 was being driven hard but not particularly fast with all the climbs and for the first time I saw the temperature gauge rise above 80 but settle around 95, much to my relief as I have had nightmares about the car over heating on these mountain passes.

As I passed through small hill top villages I came across more pilgrims trudging the Camino. Many smiled as I passed in my little car with its scallop shell but there where a few who gave me looks of utter distain that I should be following this pilgrim path in such a contraption. I believe envy is one of the [7] deadly sins!!

Lunch today was a picnic of French bread with a small tin of Pate Champagne and a couple of mouth full’s of wine from my wine skin. This was eaten sitting next to a tiny pilgrim chapel by the road which intersected by the Camino path. The odd looks from fellow pilgrims soon turned to smiles when I offered them a slug of my wine flask to help them on their way but no one asked for lift. I will have to buy another bottle of wine tomorrow to replenish the wine skin for the Pyrenees.

The afternoons driving was even more intense than the mornings not helped by the fact that the French seem to have resurfaced every D road in this stretch of my journey leaving fine grit everywhere. This meant I had to go at a snails pace often for several miles to avoid sliding around and protect the paint work from chipping. When I undressed this evening I also had gravel and tar stuck to my neck and back which had been flicked into the car. The result was I arrived at Conques two hours later than intended at 5pm but it is regarded as one of Frances most spectacular medieval villages and abbeys so I felt I could not miss it. Traffic is not normally allowed in the village you have to park in either a top or bottom car park. This results in a ten minute walk to get to the village. Thankfully the young guy on the gate was so impressed with my car that he gave me a special sticker and let me drive into the village and told me to park right by the abbey. St James be praised!

The abbey is dedicated to St Foy a young girl who became an early Christian martyr her relics are at the abbey so it ensured that this became a stopping off point for pilgrims heading to Santiago. The abbey also has one of the finest collections of treasures from the 9th – 16th centaury. I could only spend about half and hour having a look round as my sat nav indicated it was another 2 hour drive to Cahors and I was suppose to be camping.

The final part of the drive was the toughest with more small roads and resurfacing. I arrived in Cahors just before 8pm. I decided I couldn’t cope with finding a camp site and putting a tent up. I had also not had time to by any provisions for an evening meal or breakfast so felt a motel was the best bet. Again the sat nav came up trumps and gave me a list of hotels with in a kilometre radius of the town centre. On the list I found a Formula 1 these are run by the same people that run Ibis but are very basic so I headed straight there. It was about 1km out of the town by the out of town shops. A room was available and only 30 Euros around £28.

Its very basic a bed in a square room, wash basin, chair and TV and the décor is not up to much but I was very tired and it did exactly what it said on the tin ‘room for the night’. Finding something to eat was a little more problematic as there was no food outlet near the hotel so I drove into town. Cahors is very disappointing apart from the amazing fortified bridge across the river there was no main square and I drove round and round hoping to find an area of bars and cafes but with no luck. By now I was so tired I felt like just going back to the hotel but then I passed a Kebab shop so it was a donner and chips. This admittedly is a disgrace in France but needs must. I was very pleased to get into bed and very quickly fell asleep.

Day 11 Taize to le Puy

I was up early this morning as I wanted to get the tent packed up and to be away before 9am. Thankfully it was another bright sunny day so there was no trouble packing up. I dread the day when I have to pack up the tent and it’s raining. Trying to pack things away into the 7 wet is not going to be easy.

After a Taize breakfast of a bread roll pat of butter and hot chocolate I said my farewells to the group I had joined and then headed 5km down the road to Cluny. The Abbey at Cluny was once the most powerful and wealthy community in Western Europe it was founded by William the Pious Duke of Aquitaine in 910. It finally closed in 1790 and much of it was used for building materials the French even built a road through the central part of the nave. Can you imagine what English Heritage would do at this suggestion!

Unlike William I was not feeling particularly Pious and decided that the 7 needed a clean as it was caked with 10 days of mud and cow manure, which when heated on the exhaust makes a rather unpleasant whiff. There’s hardly any point of cruising through beautiful French villages waiving at the young ladies if your car leaves a rather organic odour in its wake. The first garage I found I fuelled up and then used the jet wash to clean the car. It made a pleasant change too actually by using on of these to clean the car rather than a rain shelter. Rocinante was soon sparkling and turning heads once more as I left Cluny.

The drive to Vichy was fantastic. The D roads were virtually empty and the car just eats up all those wonderful bends. I had to stop twice to reapply sun lotion as by 11am it was scorching and even though the breeze was cool through driving I could feel my arms and the back of my neck burning. I got lost at one point. A new bypass has been built and it’s not on the sat nav or any maps so I kept taking the wrong exit. This then involved driving about 4km to a junction where I could turn round. At one point I though I would be condemned to drive this labyrinth until someone came to the rescue or I ran out of fuel.

On route I chanced upon an old garage whose forecourt was filled with rows and rows of classic French cars in various states of repairs so I had to stop. The owner was an avid collector and in the workshops he had the ones which had been fully restored. He was very impressed with the 7 and let me walk round a photograph all the cars and the rather provocatively dressed manikin he had standing by the side of the road looking like she was trying to hitch a lift.

I arrived in Vichy for lunch time and had no problem finding a secure underground car park. Vichy is the French equivalent of Bath. It has thermal springs and bath house which the wealthy Parisians flocked to just like the London aristocracy in Georgian times. For this reason parts of it look just like Paris and it very easy to think you are there. There are lines and lines of small boutiques selling all manner of luxuries. Kate would love this place and when I phoned her this even suggested we visit together sometime in the future. At the centre of the town is the Parc des Sources the main focus being the Art Deco bath house built in 1900 it is reminiscent of the design found on the Paris Metro and has a long colonnade that enabled the wealthy to stroll around the park from the bath house to the Opera and Casino with out getting wet.

I found a very pleasant restaurant offering a buffet of very healthy salads and pulses which on such a hot day was most welcomed. My French is also improving daily I can now order several types of beer rather than just beer! After lunch I had a stroll round and sampled the waters as is the fashion and then wished I had not. The thermal spring water in Bath England is not the most delightful beverage one can have but the water here is ghastly I actually wanted to spit it out but had to swallow as French folk where knocking it back like it was Champagne.

As I continued my walk round I heard loud claps of thunder and the sky turned black. Shortly after it began to rain so I thought I would be in for a wet second half of the day. Half an hour later it was gone and the sun was out once more so I set of for Le Puy with the hood down. As the air had been renewed by the rain it was very refreshing driving along often through clouds of steam caused by the rain on hot tar mac.

However I was soon to catch up with the rain as it was moving in the same direction and it was not to long before spots of rain appeared on the windscreen. As I could see clear blue skies ahead so I hoped I could out run the rain [just like everything else on the road]. I got some odd looks form folk as I drove by pouring with rain and the hood down. As long as I kept above 30mph its fine the water just goes straight over your head. Twenty minutes later I was at the centre of the storm and could not see anything as my glasses where covered in water and huge clouds of steam rose for the road. Again I sort shelter in a jet wash which I had spied up ahead.

Ten minuets later it was all gone and I continued on my way hood down and headed up the mountain passes. The driving was excellent and every so often there would be two lanes to let people pass slow moving traffic mainly logging lorries. At these points it was down into third gear and foot to the floor. Now I know why Catherham’s are always successful in hill climbing races they just gooooooooooooo!

After an hour of driving upwards round tight bends which the 7 grips as if on rails I arrived at the top in the small village of La Chaise –Dieu whose abbey appears quite menacingly out of the trees as you approach. This is part of the Camino so it must have been a welcomed sight for pilgrims who had just traversed the mountain and were looking for refreshment and a bed for the night. The Abbey like so many others no longer functions so modern sore footed pilgrims today have to settle for the many hostelries displaying the scallop shell and by the looks of some of the prices they realize that have a captive market as the nearest refuges are down the other side in Le Puy a good half days walk. I was very please I had brought the 7.

The abbey has the most magnificent choir with 144 oak stalls. Above each stall is a separate carving for each brother that sat there depicting vice and virtue many are very amusing. Above the stalls hangs a series of 16th century tapestries circling the choir depicting scenes from the bible. They are spectacular now but in there hay day it must have be incredible to sit for prayers as a brother and look at the bible stories portrayed in brilliant colour.

The drive down the mountain was lots of fun using low gears and making sure the car does not run away with you was important as there are some sharp hair pins. This is where the sat nav come into it’s on. On the 3D setting you can see the road ahead mapped out so a quick glance enables me to see where the bends are and which way they will go and how sharp they will be. This is just as well as the French only put blue and white hatchings signs when you come to a 180 degree bend so it’s easy to get caught out and by the rather dented crash barriers on the side of the road several people have been. Thankfully my decent was fun but uneventful as I kept full concentration until I saw the Chapelle of St Michel rising up from a rock outcrop signifying that I had arrived at Le Puy. I nearly didn’t find my hotel as it has been renamed All Seasons rather than Ibis but as I had programmed the address into thee sat nav there was no mistake and the receptionist confirmed the hotel had been rebranded but was still part of the Ibis change owned by Accor.

My room was very pleasant with a fantastic view of a large square with a fountain surrounded by cafés and bistros. My lighting of candles and prayers at shrines on route had obviously been heard as I discovered I had a bath and not just a shower as normally found in these hotels. A quick trip down to the bar and armed with an ice cold beer I had a good soak in the bath which was heaven as my knee and shoulders where acing from the hard driving. Constant gear changing and being pushed left and right in the cockpit round those bends.

Supper was Moule and Frits normally fantastic when I have had them in Brittany. I was concerned as to quality as we are miles away form the cost but being France I was sure they would be perfect. Disappointment ensued when the rather large bowel of Moules was presented and I discovered that the mussel inside many of them were no bigger than a pea.

After an evening stroll and writing my blog I headed for a very welcomed bed with fresh linen sheets.

Taize

It’s good to be back in the Taize Community where I first accepted my calling to the ordained ministry nearly twenty years ago. It was during my first visit to Taize with a small group from my home parish of St Peter’s Burnham that I decided to put my name forward for ordination. It was something I had been thinking about since the age of 17 but had been advise to do something else first thus art collage and photography, but the calling never went away.

It was one evening while praying in front of the Icon of Jesus and the Believer that I felt the time was right and after evening prayer I went and spoke to my Vicar who was leading the trip and the journey began. Since that time I have returned to Taize on several occasions, once to live in the community to test my vocation to the monastic life but realized that my path lay else where namely Kate who I had just met before going to live there for 4 months.

Every week young people from all over the world come to spend a week in Taize. To take part in the daily prayer of chants, simple bible readings and silence three times a day. They also have a daily bible study and then help with the work of the community, be it cleaning cooking or gardening. During the holiday period there can be over 5000 people here mainly aged 17 – 30. Being with so many Christian is a very powerful experience as for once you feel like a majority rather than a minority and can be open about your faith with others, something young people and adults for that matter find difficult at school or in the work place. In Taize talking about ones pilgrimage of faith is commonplace. Then there is the addition of the international dimension sharing with Christians from all over the world of many denominations. Here the divisions of nationality, wealth and denomination all fade away as the common focus is Christ and his unconditional love.

The community was founded by Br Roger a Swiss Lutheran at the end of the Second World War. He wanted to do something to bring reconciliation between peoples who had fort a long and bloody war. As you drive to Taize you are always reminded of this as you pass the war cemeteries where so many young men of both sides lay, there lives cut short through mans inhumanity to man.

My stay this time is very different than before as it’s only two days rather than a week but even in this short time I have been able to engage fully in the experience. I was part of a small discussion group which consisted of a South African Minister, and Irishman, a Basque, and several Germans. We shared a bible study on the Sermon on the Mount as well as sharing our own spiritual journeys and our work was being part of the washing up team. Things have change a lot since my first visit nearly twenty years ago. There are now proper toilets, showers and many more permanent buildings rather than the large circus type tents that use to be used though the adult meeting place was tent of this kind. In times pass the best way to describe Taize was like a refugee camp they even used the same large blue tents that are provided by the UN in international emergencies.

Something’s never change and that is the Taize food which is very simple enough to survive a week on but not more. My first night I was delighted to see chicken nuggets on the menu board. However when it came to the meal it was one chicken nugget each with some peas and carrots so little chance of putting any weight on here. As I had my own tent I slept in this as it offers some privacy. There are barracks but quite often the snoring let alone the smell can lead to an international incident so a tent is best. I have found my rather thin self inflating sleeping mat very comfortable. I think it must have some kind of honey comb structure in it because I find I can’t feel the hard ground or any bumps and have slept very well with it. The other possibility is that my backside is now permanently num from spending so much time driving the 7!!!

Another early start tomorrow as I want to be away by 9am it’s a long drive to Le Puy so I will sign off now as I want to be fresh for the morning.

Day 8 Troyes to Taize

It was fantastic this morning to wake up in a bed and not until my alarm sounded at 8:30am. After a shower I then had a leisurely breakfast in a large open room with bright sunlight pouring through the glass walls. Already today was showing far greater promise than the misery of yesterdays constant rain.

Before I had gone to bed the previous evening I went down to the underground car park in the hotel to see if I could resolve the problem of the faulty driver’s headlight. I managed to unscrew the casing using my multi tool pen knife. No mean feet after having drunk three glasses of wine at dinner. I discovered that the problem was simply a loose connection. This I presume the result of too many cobbled streets which had shaken the connector loose from the bulb. It was quick and simple to push it all back and have a set of working headlights again.

After breakfast I headed out into Troyes which at its centre is a maze of 16th centaury courtyards and churches. Apparently it’s shaped in the form of a champagne cork which is appropriate for this region of Champania. However many of the buildings are in a poor stat of repair with rotting wood and render falling from the walls with several of the streets having a rather shabby appearance so clearly the fact that this is the place where the most over priced wine in the world is produced has not at least recently benefited the city.

As I walked down the main parade I was rather disappointed to see very familiar shop signs, Etam, Next, Burton, Top Shop and even and M&S which to a Brit was rather reassuring. I suppose this is the result of globalization but it would be nice to see genuine French shops though the share holders of these multi nationals would probably disagree.

To me it’s a bit like travelling to Spain or Greece and then to go out in the evening looking for Pub Anglaie serving fish and chips. Why travel at all if you’re never going to see or sample the local delicacies.

In the church of St Nizier I found my first real link to the Camino a statute and altar dedicated to St Rocher. He was a pilgrim who suffered from leprosy but was cured by making the journey and was protected by an angel and had a dog who brought him fresh bread each day. Though thankfully leprosy is not one of my concerns on this pilgrimage I decided to light a candle and say a prayer hoping for a better day as I travelled to Taize.

I had hoped to find a morning communion service but there was none not even in the Cathedral of St Pierre et St Paul. The problem is that the Roman Catholic Church in France is desperately short of priests and they have to be shared around covering large areas. Maybe they can learn a thing or too from us in the C of E perhaps its time for the Roman Catholic church to think seriously about ordaining women.

After getting lost in the maze of alleyways I finally found my way back to the hotel and got underway just before 11am. The sun was shining but it was chilly and there were dark clouds in the sky. On several occasions I found my self reaching for the leaver that turns the heating on in the 7 to get some hot air in the cockpit. The roads were great and virtually clear apart from the odd lorry carrying logs moving slowly with flashing beacons on the rear. I was rather surprise the first time I over took one to discover they are twice the length of a conventional articulated lorry so I needed to take this into account when passing. Thankfully the acceleration of the 7 makes this rather simple.

After a couple of hours in the car with one short fuel stop the temperature had risen and all clouds disappeared and I stopped to put sun cream on. It was not long after that than the fields of wheat, corn and sunflowers was replaced by rows and rows of vines. I had entered Burgundy and saw signs for another great place of pilgrimage for wine buffs Chablis, which I arrived in by 1:30pm. It has to be said there is nothing like sitting in Chablis drinking Chablis over lunch. By now all the trauma of yesterday’s wet drive had vanished and my heart was singing at this great experience. Chablis unsurprisingly was full of Brits and I chatted to several outside the Bistro who also had beautifully polished classic cars park about the town.

I still had a 200km drive to Taize and a stop at Abbaye Fontenay so couldn’t linger in Chablis so reprogrammed the Sat Nav and set of the Fontenay. Sadly there was no room in the 7 for a couple of bottles. The next forty minute drive was exhilarating with clear roads in dispersed with small French villages whose residents waived or gave me an approving thumbs up as I passed through at a crawl to respect there speed limits, reminded of all those people who speed through Shrivenham as if they had to get to a fire.

Abbaye Fontenay is the oldest surviving Cistercian foundation in Frances founded by St Bernard in 1118 who was from noble birth and with his families support the order grew. Sadly there are no brothers these days and the Abbey is privately own. In the past it had been used as a working mill, the working mill wheel is still in place but in 1906 it came into the current family who carried out all the restoration and it has been beautifully restored, with immaculate lawns that our bowling club would be proud of. By now the temperature was around 29C so it was very refreshing to walk though large cool chapels, refectories with courtyards containing splashing fountains.

Again the French aren’t big on facilities at these places unlike our National Trust who cater for every whim of the English middle class. The Abbey had a toilet [note the singular] which considering the numbers that visit and the queue was inadequate. There was also advertise in a small out building café but upon inspection no cream teas or French pastries but vending machines so it was an Oragaina rather than a pot of Darjeeling. I was half tempted to get the camping stove out and make afternoon tea in the proper way to demonstrate to our French cousins how a visit to a heritage site should be concluded with tea and cake. Unfortunately the tea lesson would have to wait for another day as I still had 170km drive to get to Taize if I was to arrive by 6pm when the community welcomes new arrivals.

The final 170km was a delight with more clear roads apart from the odd tractor and the 7 performed admirably on all the lovely bends and hills. My drinking system proved its worth again and this avoided dehydration in the hot sun. With the top down and the wind blowing through your hair you don’t realize that you are actually sweating a lot so its very easy to suddenly not feel well and light headed if you have not been drinking regularly. I pulled into Taize at exactly 6pm and was welcomed by a young Dutch girl who made my day thinking I was under 25 and putting me with the young groups. When I told her I was 40 she did not believe me thinking I was just trying to get a better camping pitch in the adult section so the diet has paid off. I should add that adulthood begin at 30 in Taize. Those under 30 are considered young people and camp in a separate area. Upon inspection of the adult section I was glad I had aged 15 years as the grownups have proper showers, toilets and tables to eat our meals but more about that tomorrow as I must get my tent up before evening prayer.

He who would beset him round with dismal stories..

Today has been the most difficult day so far of the pilgrimage and I am feeling quite miserable this evening though a good meal and a couple of glasses of wine have lifted my sprits. Oh and that I am spending the night in a hotel after four nights under canvas.

This morning I rose at 6:30am as I wanted to get packed and out of the campsite at Le Man before 9am. The weather forecast had predicted overcast skies all day with high humidity but no rain. Sure enough as I stuck my head out of the tent at dawn the skies where grey but it was warm and no sign of rain. As there was no queue for the showers I took the advantage and went straight to them. Breakfast was a meagre black coffee and a few all butter biscuit I felt scrambled eggs and all the washing up would only delay me.

I managed to get everything packed into the 7 by just after 8am. The hood was down as no rain was forecast and I set off from the camp site right into the Le Man rush hour added too by all the others who like me decided to get away early from the race track. It took me well over half an hour to clear Le Man and by then I had already noticed spots of rain on the wind screen but felt confident it would pass. About 10km out of Le Man I passed a trucker's café bar and stopped for breakfast. Determined not to put the hood up I open my large golf umbrella and covered the cockpit while I went in. Breakfast consisted of a very large white coffee and fresh French bread and as much butter as I could speared on.

By the end of my petit dejeuner it was raining hard and I was soaked while I put the hood up and set off with windows constantly misting up. It then rained solidly until I arrived at Troyes at 6:30pm and I was not a happy bunny to say the least. I had been particularly looking forward today as my route followed the Loire Valley crossing the famous river every so often as I passed through villages with impressive stone bridges. However there was more water on the road and falling from the sky than there was in the river. I stopped at Troo, Vendome and Orleans but there was little point in site seeing as it was raining so hard so there was no pleasure to be found in walking around, though I did make an effort to go into the cathedrals.

I also discovered that the French don’t seem to do Mondays. Everything was closed including garages and even though they advertised 24hrs service none of the automatic pumps would accept my British credit card and I watch with some alarm as my fuel gauge pass the ¾ empty mark and passing garage after garage that was closed. I finally found one of a section of duel carriageway and I filled up even though the price was much higher than else where. The same was true of trying to find something to eat or a toilet. Even the supermarkets close for two hours for lunch imagine Sainsbury or Tesco’s closing for lunch people would panic thing the world was coming to an end.

At Orleans I parked in a huge underground car park which was directly below the cathedral so at least the 7 was dry. I went up and walk into the cathedral and asked for the loos to be told there where none in the cathedral. Can you imagine visiting an English cathedral and there being no loos or a tea shop it just wouldn’t happen. I went across to a bar brought an espresso and then headed for the loo to discover the in cost 20cents. After then getting change I tried twice to open the door but to no avail and upon asking the bar tender he simply responded it’s not working. The problem shall we say was managed by stealth.

By now I was running 3 hours behind with a mix of bad weather and set after set of road works and a 20km detour because of an accident. I should have been at Orleans by 1pm but it was now 3pm and I had 200km to go to Troyes no fuel and no food.

The psalmist shows how we can be angry with God and my prayer or conversation in the cockpit as I drove out of Orleans was far from reverent and more akin to a husband and wife arguing about directions in the car. Just as I though it couldn’t get any worse I realised with horror that the passenger door was not secure and the hood bag which holds the roof when its sunny was missing and had clearly dropped out somewhere along the road. At least it didn’t have the hood in! I will just have to roll the hood and stow it with out the bag and order another one when I get back to the UK. Then to top it all I realized in the reflection off another vehicle that my driver side head light was not working and in this rain it was important to be a visible as possible!!

I felt like Job in my 7 wondering what calamity would strike next and how could this happen to one who has set out on pilgrimage with the best intentions. The journey from Orleans to Troyes was miserable with driving rain and more delays. I see on the French news this evening that there has been serious flooding in parts of France so in some respects I have been lucky. I was also reassured to receive a message on my phone from the hotel saying they where looking forward to seeing me and that a space had been reserved for my car in the hotel underground parking.

I arrived in Troyes at 6:30pm feeling very miserable and wet through wishing I was back at home. I was met at the hotel by a lovely French girl whose smile raised my spirits and showed me to a very nice room. The hotel is an ibis the European equivalent to a travel lodge. I always thought all the rooms were the same but the room I have seems much larger than usual. This is either due to receiving sympathy from the nice receptionist for my drown rat look or that having lived in a tent for the pass four days and then spent the past 5 hours in the cockpit of a 7 with my luggage taking up all the spare room that anything seems big after this.

It finally stopped raining at 7:30pm so I decide the best therapy was a good meal and several glasses of wine. It was a five minute walk into the old quarter of the town where restaurants and bistros where in abundance and unlike everything else today OPEN! Two hours later I am much rived and the forecast for the next four days is sunny. We shall see! I think it was Mark Twain who said that ‘until you have been delayed on your journey you have not really travelled’.

24hrs Le Mans

I have discovered over the past couple of days that there are many different types of pilgrimage. There are those which lead the faithful, to Jerusalem, Assisi or Santiago de Compostela and then there are those which lead fans to gather in there thousands to worship that which they hold most dear. Be it their football team or the smell of rubber, oil and the roar of an engine which is to be found here at the 24hr Le Man.

For one week every year the town of Le Man is the focus for the thousands of people [mainly men] who worship the motor car commonly know as petrol-heads whose patron saint is not our Lady but, Clarkson. In some respects it reminds me a little of the International Air Tattoo at Fairford which Shrivenhamites are familiar with. Every spare field around the circuit becomes either a car park or camping site.

I’m in the posh bit ‘Private Camping’ for members of Motor Clubs the petrol heads equivalent of belonging to a monastic community. Our 2 acre site is shared between the Lotus 7 Club, the Lotus owners Club and the Porsche Drivers Club. I don’t know who let in the German cars!!! We have our own shower and toilets, marquee with bar and restaurant and big telly which I mentioned before. Most of all we are only a 3 minute walk from the main entrance and have seats in the main Turbine Stand 34 which overlooks the pits and the start/finish line. We even have our own race girls know as the ‘Speed Chills Girls’ who are here to make us feel special and not middle aged as we all are. I’m please to report that our girls are no bimbows. Though they sport short skirts and small yellow shorts depending on the time of day they are all studying for a degree at Oxford Brooks [where my beloved wife study] so our girls not only have looks but brains one was even studying philosophy so I was able to engage her in philosophical debate.

The worship of the internal combustion engine does not only take place inside the circuit but around the camp and in the neighbouring villages. At night people gather on the streets and roundabouts to watch cars go by. If you are driving something sporty be it Ferrari, Porsche or a Caterham 7 you are stopped and asked to rev the car and burn rubber. Failure to do so is met by a soaking with water pistols. The French Police are all over the place but let this pass as it is part of the ritual. Instead of plaster saints being paraded its horse power and polished paint work. I received a round of applause and cheer for my efforts even producing smoke from the rear wheels! However as these tyres need to last me another 2800 miles once was enough and Rocinante is safely parked in the camp site and will remain there until Monday morning.

The start of the race is overwhelming and the atmosphere is electric. At around 2pm the cars are brought out from the pits and lined up diagonally along the pit straight. Years ago the drives had to stand on the opposite side of the track and when the green flag was waived they had to run to there cars and start the engine and go, these days as the drivers have to be fastening in properly and the car started by the pit crew this is mainly homage to days gone by. At this point the main straight is a hive of activity with technicians making final adjustments to the cars the press taking photos and the race girls posing with the cars yes and even our ‘Speed Chills Girls’ with oddly enough ‘Creation Racing’. Then the national anthem of each driver is played and the flag of the nation paraded. The Brits even out did the French when God Save the Queen way played with around 80% of people in the stands standing, doffing hats and singing and then a huge cheer. In fact I’ve hardly heard a French voice since I’ve been here.

The testosterone level at this point is off the scale!!! Finally at ten to three an official waives a green flag and the cars go off on their warm up lap. Then the most amazing thing happens. Once all the cars are clear absolute silence descends on the stands the tension is incredible. The President of the French Automobile Club then walks out on a gantry above the Rolex Clock and the digital time flickers two 24:00:00. As the sound of the cars in the distance gets closer he unrolls the Tricolour [French Flag] as the cars approach the start line he waives it and the race begin to the most enormous cheer, sound of air horns which is all drowned out by the drivers flooring the gas pedal along the straight some reaching nearly 200MPH in a few seconds and the Rolex timer displays 23:59:59 and counting down.

You then realize that this race is going to continue until 3pm Sunday afternoon and after about half and hour everyone gets up and goes to have a drink or to by provisions for the evening meal at the local supermarket. The race is quite amazing really each car has up to three drives and apart for fuel, tyre and driver changes these cars will drive non stop at constant speeds in excess of 150mph for 24hrs. The aim is not only to win but to finish it is the ultimate engineering challenge. It’s because of races like this that you and I now have cars that only need servicing once a year or two in the case of diesels.

The battle this year is between the French and the Brits. The Brits are racing 3 Lola Aston Martins numbers 007 008 009 petrol engines in the famous Gulf colours of orange and light blue as in the Le Mans film staring Steve McQueen. The French are racing Peugeots which are HDi diesels just like the engine I have in my Peugeot 407 family estate but my bigger.

I will venture back to my stand this evening after my dinner and when it’s dark and the night racing begins.

Day 4: Acigne to Le Mans

After 3 days of not being on the move it was good to set out again this morning. For the pilgrim or traveller to be stationary is not a good thing. It took my about forty minutes to load the car and get ready. I will need to improve on this time if I’m going to make real progress when I’m only staying over night in places.

Thankfully the sun was shining this morning and continued to do so all day, getting hotter and hotter. After leaving my friend Tom’s place I pit stopped to take on some fuel. As the 7 only had a 25 litre tank it’s important that once the indicator has passed the half way mark you stop at a garage if you see one. As I’m avoiding all the main roads the likely hood of finding a garage is reduced so it’s better to play safe and fill up when I can.

I headed out of Acigne on the D57, 38km towards Vitre and there was very little traffic and the road was great, so I was able to be generous with the throttle, but not over zealous. At last I was driving through beautiful French countryside with the top down the wind in my hair and sun on my skin.

When I arrive in Vitre I found a parking space next to a small café. I sat outside and brought an espresso, believing that if I gave them my custom they would be more likely to keep and I on the car. It certainly attracted some attention and one chap Michael who had recently moved back from Brazil sat next to me over a coffee to ask all about it.

After this pleasant and rather technical interlude I then went for a stroll round the town. Vitre is fortified high on a hill overlooking the Vilaine Valley. Walking round it you could be mistaken for thinking you are on the set of a pantomime such as Sleeping Beauty or Repunsel as there are tall towers with pencil point turrets though on this occasion no damsels in distress. Most of the buildings are from the 15th – 16th centaury. I first went into the gothic style Cathedral of Notre-Dame which had quite beautiful stained glass particularly in the East window, which featured the resurrection. After lighting a candle and saying a prayer I headed down to the Chateau. There is real only a shell left though the town hall and a small museum are inside the ramparts. My exploration was rewarded down by the station with a delightful café where I stopped for a café frappe and to write some post cards.

My ploy of buying a coffee at the café where I had parked seemed to pay off as the car was all in one piece when I returned and I then set off for Laval. Again beautiful roads and there was nothing for it but to put my Top Gear album on the IPod and listen to some great driving tracks while I sped along the open roads. There nothing quite like driving a 7 down a road lined with trees listening to ‘Keep your Motor Running’ and like a Bat out of Hell!

I arrived in the centre of Laval at lunch time after a small detour to avoid a Peugeot garage that had caught fire which was surrounded by fire engines and police cars and belching the most acrid black smoke. Imagine going back to collect your car after a service to find not only no car but no garage either!

In the old medieval part of Laval, not as extensive as Vitre, is a car park covered with Lime trees providing much needed shade where I stop and went to a Bistro opposite. I had the Plat de Jour which today was mutton, not something often found in the UK but it was delicious. I was lucky to be joined by a very glamorous female called Charlotte for lunch who took a liking to my immediately and sat on the chair opposite for the whole meal. I should add that Charlotte was the Bistros’ cat.

After a very leisurely French lunch I had a stroll round the old part of Laval which is very small indeed and decided that the best thing to do was to head for Le Man so I programmed the Sat Nav to avoid all the main roads and I set of down the D357 which again was another fantastic road. It was very hot so I had covered my face, neck and arms in sun screen before leaving and was also able to utilise my drinking system. This consists of a 1 ½ litre camel back which cyclists use stuffed behind the passenger seat with the drinking tube coming from behind the seat so that I can just grab it with my left hand and suck to get water.

I arrive in Le Man around 3:30pm and although the race doses not begin until Saturday there was already a carnival atmosphere in the town. As I drove passed in the 7 there where many cheers, raised thumbs and claps. My camp site with the Lotus 7 Club is Camp Blue which is fenced off and has security at the gate and patrolling so you don’t have to worry about the car or your kit. We have a marquee with bar, eating area and a huge TV which is about 8ft by 10ft that has the racing beamed directly to it. There were already lines of 7s by tents and I was directed to a nice shady spot by a tree and only 50yards from the shower and toilet block. No tardis like blue chemical toilets here these are all plumbed in and there is piping hot water in the showers all the time. The only negative thing is a very noisy generator which powers the bar, kitchen and large TV. Apparently this is only an emergency one as the main generator had broken down but would be back on line tomorrow.

It took me about an hour to set my pitch up but apart from the generator I think it will be very pleasant. This is as long as it doesn’t rain other wise it will be a quagmire.

I cooked my supper of chilly and rice and then had a stroll round the race enclosure and even though it was 10pm and dark cars where still practicing for the night driving that would take place during the race and there was a buzz in the air as the sound of very large V8’s sped round the track followed by the red blur of their tail lights. There will be much to explore tomorrow.

Day 3, Rain rain go away!!!!

I had a bit of a lay in the morning but was woken this morning not by children getting ready for school but heavy rain on the skylight. As I was planning my route I was imagining beautiful French countryside bathed in sunshine often illustrated in my many guide books. The scene outside my window this morning resembled them in no way what so ever. Would this rain ever go away? At least I should be thankful that I was not under canvas!

Tom, Steff and the children where all at home today as Children under the age of 10 in France don’t go to school on Wednesdays so we had hoped to all go out somewhere but the weather was so bad that it was a day indoors.

I spent some time with Tom in his workshop which is full of big boy’s toys, large saws, stump cutters, shredders trailers and several chainsaws and now my 7. On wet days he can’t get out to do tree work so spends time maintaining his equipment and paper work. Today he needed to sharpen 16 very large metal teeth that fit into a machine for removing stumps, this takes several hours each week and has to be carried out with a special diamond grinder as the teeth are made of tungsten.

Later in the morning Steff took me to the local out of town shopping area to see if I could get pay as you go mobile broadband. In the UK we often bemoan the amount of red tape we have and how our French cousins pay little heed to this. Well it’s not always the case particularly with regard to mobile phones and broadband. In the UK I can go into any phone shop and for a relatively small amount walk out with a new phone or broadband dongle on pay as you go no questions asked. In France even for pay as you go you have to have a French bank account, and more id than would be needed to get into GCHQ at home.

After several shops we finally ended up in SFR and they produced a box with a pay as you go dongle all I needed was a credit card and driving license, but Steff had to vouch for me and give her address as my residence for the month. So I have discovered that viva le revolution is not always the way here particularly with mobile phones.

The afternoon was partly spent trying to register the dongle even more red tape. The dongle came with a 30 page booklet and showed how to register and get online. After an hours messing about Steff call SFR to say we were having problems, only then did they say that it took 48 hours to register. Why that couldn’t be in the booklet I’ll never know. I've been rereading ‘Around the World in 80 days’ Phyllis Fog never had this trouble. In the end I’m connected and can now access the internet using the SFR dongle and hopefully will be able to top up once the number is registered. However though this is the glorious EU I will have to go through the whole process again in Spain as the French dongle will not work there. You would think that in a continent that has a single currency that there would be a single mobile net work that you could use everywhere.

After lunch there was a break in the rain and I managed to give Tom and the family rides in the 7 but on the final run the heavens opened and Tom and I got rather wet. The rest of the afternoon was spent play Piou Poiu with Steff and the children. The aim of the card game to get your chicken to lay three eggs. Unlike poker I was surprisingly successful at this new game but betting with a 7 and 5 year old would not be correct.

All the weather reports on French TV say the summer begins here tomorrow which bodes well for the 24hr Le Man which I head to tomorrow morning passing through two places synonymous to the Camino Troo and Verom.

Day 2 Acigné

This morning was another early start as I was up with the Jenkins family as they got ready for school and work. The sounds of parents telling children to turn the telly off and get ready for school and “where’s your home work” were reassuring waking up in a strange room and bed.

The night before Tom and I had spent the evening reminiscing about our school days, and all the scrapes we got into. We shared a room with a bunk bed, Tom on the top bunk me on the bottom. You get to know people pretty well when you have shared a room 12 x 15 foot for two years. This reminiscing was accompanied by the bottle of scotch I had brought Tom for putting me up for the next couple of days and my head was slightly the worse for wear!! A confession! We remembered when we borrowed a pub sign from Bideford which had been taken down to be re painted ‘The Portobello’. We carried this about a mile back to our boarding house and lent it against the wall. Beets a traffic cone. As it was so large it was impossible to conceal so when our House Master came to make his nightly inspection he was some what taken aback with our knew décor. He had to hold back a smile and after a half serious telling off told us that we would have to get up a 5am the next day and take it back, which we duly did.

After the family had left I set to work cleaning the mud that had covered the 7 in the rain the previous day. The sun was out so the hood came off and I headed into Rennes having my first taste of driving in this beautiful country with the hood off enjoying the sun. The Sat Nav took me straight to a secure underground car park so there were no worries about leavening the car. I then selected a café that had plenty of buzz and people walking by and engaged in some people watching.

The French are all so elegant no track suits here unless they are actually jogging. The word CHAV is thankfully not in the language. Even the teenagers though very casually dresses seem to look like they are in a teen soap. Us Brits used to be renowned for our smartness abroad but these days its locker room rather than club house. However I’m doing my bit to keep the British end up and sported my pink striped shirt and sleeveless cricket jumper.

One of my tasks for today was to get mobile broad band on pay as you go. Would you Adam and Eve it there is no such thing in France. You must have a French bank account in order to get Broad Band even if it’s not on a contract. A very helpful chap in ‘Phone House’ [Car phone Wear House in English] who spoke perfect English explains this to me. I’m therefor some what concerned as to how often I will be able to up date this BLOG. Apparently free Wi-Fi at MacDonald’s is the ticket.

By lunch time the early starts of the past couple of days had caught up with me and the sky was turning grey so I headed back to Tom’s for an afternoon nap which was most welcomed. I was woken by the sound of very heavy rain on the sky light and with horror thought I had left the 7 on the drive with the hood down, but then remembered I had gone back down and pushed it in the garage.

After writing a couple of post cards I walked into the Village of Acinge to find a post box. It’s a similar size to Shrivenham with a lovely church of St Julian but not quite up to par with St Andrew’s though the rearadoss was very impressive as it had no east window. The village has a couple of bars, to Boulanger, pizza parlour and a one stop shop type set up and a small school. There is a working water mill and a beautiful river running around the out skirts of the community.

Tomorrow I hope to visit Fougers and with a bit of luck the sun will finally shine.

Day One

It seemed to take an absolute age to get everything packed into the 7 yesterday. Every available nook and cranny was utilised. I wasn’t really sure if I was going to get everything in and in the end a few non essential items had to go. By 9pm all was loaded and the car sat in the garage ready for my 5am start.

After watching the first episode of the new series of Kingdom, realising I would now miss all the other episodes I turned in for the night. I slept well to start with but then had a nightmare about the car over heating with all the addition luggage as I tried to cross the Pyrenees which woke me at about 2am after which I found it hard to get to sleep again but did doze off.

At 4am my alarm clock signalled the start of a journey I had been planning for over a year and I leapt out of bed like a small boy on Christmas morning. Made a very strong think coffee but I was wide awake. I started the day by saying Morning Prayer in my study and praying particularly for the journey and my family that would be left at home.

I had cheated the night before and showered and shaved before going to bed so that all I needed to do in the morning was a quick wash and brush my teeth before putting on my clothes that I had laid out in the spare room so as not to wake Kate. Then the first difficult decision, do I take my old trainers or the new? I opted for the old as I knew they where broken in and comfortable I’ll save the new ones for the trip to the US in August.

At precisely 4:45am I slowly pushed the 7 out of the garage and onto the drive. My gamble not to put the hood up had paid off; it was cold and cloudy but dry. After putting in my ‘Man Bag’ as my wife calls it I went and woke the family gently to say I was off.

After big hugs and kisses and lots of take care from all sides I slid into the cockpit and fired the engine up and that beautiful deep throb indicated that Rocinante was alive and ready to go. With some excitement and sorrow as I would not be seeing my lovely family for a month I pulled up the drive and away.

I decided to go via Bourton to pass St James’ Church to symbolically mark journeying from St James Bourton to St James Compostela. This was done at a snails pace as they had resurfaced the road the day before and there where lose chippings everywhere. It would not have been a good start to puncture the radiator before I had even left the Benefice.

The Vale was shrouded in mist and very beautiful and serene. As I drove I thought of the many different places I would see the sun rise in the coming months and felt the exhilaration of and adventure beginning.

This euphoria was soon lost as it was very cold driving with the hood down even with the heater on full blast and I began to question the wisdom of leaving the hood down. By Southampton my legs were boiling hot through the heater and engine wash while my right arm and head was num so I was overjoyed when I pulled into the Portsmouth Ferry Terminal and about 6:30am an went straight to buy a hot coffee.

Much to my surprise the terminal was packed full of children all going on school trips. So no chance of getting a kip on the boat and I felt my first pang of missing my boys as I saw lads of a similar age already spending the money Mum & Dad had given them for France.

The car was put on the lower deck with the motor bikes as it won’t make the ramps. At least this means I was first on and will be first off. I then encountered the first problem of the solo traveller there is no one to keep your seat so I just had to take a chance and leave my bag and jacket on the seat while I went and got my breakfast.

As I arrived at Cherbourg the sky was leaden so the chance of driving with the hood down was looking less likely by the minuet. I managed to drive for about half an hour before the heavens opened and I took shelter in a Jet Wash of all places which was covered and managed to put the hood up. In order to do this I had to put all may luggage in the passenger seat so it was rather cosy after that. From then on it rained no stop with torrential down pours every so often and I could feel my right arm and side getting wet. I was very please that I was staying at friends tonight and not camping so that I and the car could dry out.

I managed to stop at Coutances for lunch [saucisson beget & espresso] and looked into the cathedral and lit a candle at the Altar to our Lady as a thanks giving for safe passage to France. As the rain got harder there was not much chance look around so I decided the best thing was to head straight to my friends house.

The weather got worse as I continued but on the D40 I came across the tomb of St Leonard quite the most extraordinary place just by the road side. An avenue of trees which was decorated by cut flowers and hundreds of objects many children’s toys.

According to Catholic on Line, he was a Frank courtier who was converted by St. Remigius, refused the offer of a See from his godfather, King Clovis I, and became a monk at Micy. He lived as a hermit at Limoges and was rewarded by the king with all the land he could ride around on a donkey in a day for his prayers, which were believed to have brought the Queen through a difficult delivery safely. He founded Noblac monastery on the land so granted him, and it grew into the town of Saint-Leonard. He remained there evangelizing the surrounding area until his death. He is invoked by women in labor and by prisoners of war because of the legend that Clovis promised to release every captive Leonard visited. His feast day is November 6.

I finally arrive at Acigene at around 5:30pm and was very please to see my old school mate Tom and his family. The car was put in his garage to dry off and I was brought inside and given a Scotch which was most welcome after a hard day in the saddle.

Well day one is over and apart from the rain it has been a good one but hope its sunny tomorrow.