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.