At last I have an internet connection again. This post was written on September 26th, but I am only getting to post it on September 28th
There were 4 of us travelers staying in the Gite in Yenne last night, all of us people walking the Chemin de St. Jacques. The Gite, which was once a monastery, serves breakfast at eight o’clock, and all four of us were there promptly. As we ate, we talked about our plans for the day. The others had no definite destination, but seemed to be taking things at a relaxed pace. And so we set off.
It was about 8:45 as I went through the centre of Yenne. In any major city in the world that would be the middle of the morning rush hour, but as you can see in the heading photo, it is as if provincial France does not rush. Yenne is an old town and much of the town buildings and features are rooted in its history. As I walked down the main street, a man asked me if I was walking the pilgrims’ way. I said I was, and he wished me “Bon courage”. Any day tthat starts off with such a good luck greeting from a complete stranger has to be a good day.
Leaving Yenne, I had a choice of what route to take. The “main” GR 65 would go through a lot of forest, while the “variante” would take me through some forest but also some small villages. So I chose the variante. Immediately on leaving Yenne, it is flat, but soon it ascends the mountainside, through the village of Les Couleurs to reach Charosse. At this stage, my walk has taken me through quite a few small mountain villages, and it is interesting to see the dynamics of village life in each one. I have seen some villages where many of the houses are boarded up, or have plaster crumbling away, and are slowly falling into dilapidation. In those villages, the houses in good condition seem to be weekend houses for people who live most of their lives somewhere else. Charosse seems to be an exception. Not only are most of the houses in good condition, but several new ones are being built. But somehow, even the villages where the houses look prosperous are lacking in liveliness. These smaller villages seem to have no shows, no cafes or bars, and many just have a post box instead of a post office. In Ireland, a crossroads hamlet of five houses would have a pub. It is hard to keep a village alive without a focal point, and that seemed missing in several that I have passed through. Charosse also has a monument to the Maquis, those brave men and women who, during World War Two fought a guerilla war against the occupying German forces. Looking at it, I realised that this is almost ideal guerilla country: woods, mountains, and so many places to stage an ambush or hide away when necessary.
From Charosse, the trail continues rising slowly but steadily, passing through some smaller farming settlements, to reach to Col de Mont Tournier. At 851 meters above sea level, this meant that I had ascended 600 meters from Yenne. The col is higher than most mountains back home in Ireland, but here in France the tree line is much higher, so the col is in forest. In Ireland it would be bare mountainside.
From the col, the trail descends rapidly through farmland. There are several villages on the way: Le Borgey, St. Maurice de Rotherens, and Gresin. Gresin has a public fountain of potable water, which was very welcome, as I was quite thirsty by that time. It also has a church whose cool interior offered welcome shade on a hot day. The church is nicely decorated and worth a visit if passing. Also welcome on leaving Gresin was the service provided by one of the local farms. In an open barn they had set up a fridge and tea/coffee making equipment. At the modest price of €0.50 for the ingredients to make your own tea or coffee, or €1 for a canned drink from the fridge, I was happy to support this endeavor. There were several times on this trip when I wished that the local farming families would do more of this.
Walking through the woods, I was very much reminded today that this is the season of harvest. There were nuts everywhere. The acorns are probably only of interest to the squirrels, but in places the ground was carpeted with a mixture of walnut, hazelnuts and sweet chestnuts. I saw plenty of people out foraging. It seems to be a September pastime in France. For my own part, I will leave the bounty of the harvest to the foragers and the squirrels.
I had no problems with waymarking again today. There have been times in the last few days when I have been indebted to someone called Martin. Martin has left stickers here and there proclaiming that he was walking the way in 2017. However, Martin’s route is no ordinary one, since he seems to have started in Frankfurt-am-Oder, which is on the German-Polish border, and he has walked across most of the continent on his way to Santiago. His stickers have helped me when other waymarks were less evident. So would it seem churlish and pedantic of me to point out that in his stickers he is missing an apostrophe?
It also happens from time to time, not just on this walk, butt on others as well, that I come across something totally incongruous. Today, it was a stand of bamboo plants near to my journey’s end. And I don’t just mean a small group of plants. I mean a stand of bamboo large enough to hold a family of giant pandas. As tall as a house, and covering a large enough area, the photo shows only part of it. But what was it doing in Haut Savoy in France? This is not China. I can only wonder.
And so I came to my place to stay tonight. Due to a map-reading error, I actually went passed it, and only realised my mistake about a kilometer further on, so I had to come back to “Cotenvert”, just east of St. Genix. This place is an absolute gem! The house is a restored Savoyard farmhouse. And when I say it is restored, I mean that this place could feature in a magazine, it is so well done. Just look at the photos. I have stayed in some good hotels, and I have stayed in some interesting places, but this is both excellent and interesting. The establishment comes under the “Chambre d’Hote” system. That means that I have my own room, but I share the bathroom with any other occupants. However, since I am the only occupant, that is not a problem. The furnishings and décor are superb. The proprietoress is a lovely lady, full of chat, and even though I was the only guest, she seemed quite happy to prepare a good dinner just for me. Her welcome was great: as soon as I had dropped my rucksack, and even before I had time to loosen my boots, I was holding a beer. She uses local food as far as possible: local pork, local mushrooms, local cheeses, and local wine. Only the rice was not local. She is quite happy to talk and also to listen. You would feel you could tell your life story to this lady without fear of anything coming of it. I would recommend this place to anyone travelling this route. The house has no internet, so this blog entry will have to wait a day or two, but it is worth that small inconvenience for the quality of this place. And by the way, if you ever do come here and the door is closed, do not worry. The owners live next door, and their dog (who is called Paddy, after Paddington Bear) will soon alert hem to your presence.
I mentioned dinner, which was great, so now I am replenished in terms of food and liquid, and about to sleep to prepare for another day. But before I go, the step count today was a little over 36,000.
Walkingman 