I breakfasted early again today. I was very pleased with the hotel in Beaurepaire, and I can see that they provide a good service. I was the first one down to breakfast, at seven o’clock this morning. Others soon followed, but I was finished and ready to go by twenty past. It is a short walk down to the main bus stop in the town; I hesitate to call it a station, because it is not one. People were already waiting as buses came and went. Mine was a t 07:45, and it brought me back to the line of the trail. I was on my way again.
It was about eight-thirty when I passed through Revel Tourdan, and I was struck by the lack of goings on there. Truly, rural France has a different approach to mornings compared to most of us. And as I left Revel-Tourdan, I was treated to a magnificent sight. A farmer was moving his goats from the shed to pasture, filling the street with his animals. I saw plenty of livestock yesterday, but I don’t think I have seen as many goats at one time before as I saw this morning. Goats’ cheese is important in France. It is not to everyone’s taste, but I like it. And I was glad to see that someone is looking after the goats that will continue to provide for people like me.
As I have walked in the last few days, it has been interesting to notice the names on the roads. Very often a road will be named in a way that pays homage to the fact that this is a pilgrim route. And so I was pleased to find myself walking along the Chemin de Saint Jacques at one point.
But mostly, today was a day of panoramic vistas. In some cases they were spread out below me in the valley. But in other cases, it was as if they had come right up to meet me. I have included a few here to show what I mean.
A little more than an hour into today’s walk, I came to a choice. There was once again the main walk, and a “variante”. The variante is shorter, but it had some disadvantages, the main one being that I could see nowhere on the way that I would be able to replenish water. I decided to take it anyway. My plan for the day involved walking more than 30 km, and the fact that the variante route was 5 km shorter was an overriding factor. It starts with the forest of Bois du Taravas. The forest is thought to be named after Taramis, a god of the ancient Gauls, worshipped by druids. I can believe that from the number of oak trees that I saw. The panoramic vistas continued as I emerged into open countryside, but alas nowhere that I could get water.
And so I came to Assieu. I was greeted by a statue of St. James himself as I entered the village, surely a good omen. The guidebook said that there was a café or restaurant, butt initially, I did not see it. I stuck my head in at a beauty salon, knowing they would realise I was not there for their professional expertise, and asked for directions. Yes, they said, down the street. And so I arrived at the café for my first beer of the day. The bar was propped up by middle-aged men, all farmers or laboring folk, and all discussing god knows what, while the barman acted as master of ceremonies. I eventually got his attention, we shook hands in greeting, and I got my first beer of the day. As you can see here, it came in an interestingly shaped glass. After nine kilometers since the last time water touched my lips, the beer did not last long, and I asked if could have another. My French is not good, but I understand enough to know that the answer was something like “Of course! Naturally a man needs two boots to walk”. I love the dry wit of a good barman.
And then I was on again. I had met two young ladies at the entrance to the Bois du Taravas, where they had paused for a morning snack. Here they were again on the exit from Assieu, again snacking, unaware that just three hundred meters away was a restaurant. I put them right, and went on. The country west of Assieu is flat agricultural country, with the hills of the Haute Loire and Auvergne beckoning in the background. It was getting quite hot, and even with the light breeze that was there today, I was struggling in the heat. Nevertheless, I made it to the bridge over the Rhone.
I had last seen the Rhone on the way to Yenne. It seemed a big river then. But now it was truly mighty. Just crossing it, on the bridge, with the sun burning down seemed to take forever.
And then I was on the west bank of the river, in the village of Chavanay. Should I go for something to eat, or go directly to my accommodation for the evening? I whipped out the phone, which told me that my accommodation was just 900 meters away. So that was that. I arrived, showered, and had a short rest, before going out for something to eat. And so, fed and watered, I am ready to sleep and see what tomorrow will bring.
Today is day seven, and that has put me thinking. It is not that seven is important relative to the total number of day. I planned to walk for 11 days, and both 7 and 11 are prime numbers so they would have difficulty to relate to each other. No, it just means that I am walking for a week now. I am not going to try to claim that everything has been easy, with no pains or aches, and that I am enjoying every minute. When the sun is beating down in late autumn heat, and my shoulders are aching from the weight of the rucksack, that would not be true. But I have had great moments of experiencing special sights sounds and people. And I have walked some 226 kilometers. Just 114 kilometers to go to get to Le Puy, journey’s end for this trip. I am already thinking forward to the next piece, and what I might do differently, but I will come back to that later. Let’s get to Le Puy first
And the step count today? Just over 54,000.
Walkingman 