Day dawned bright and clear on the last day of our walk. This part of the journey is not described by Stevenson; we had left his travels behind us. We breakfasted in the gite, similar to the previous evening, paying for the food we took, based on the honour system. And with breakfast over, we headed out. The route took us down the street, but it leaves the street before the end of the village to take to the fields. The trail swings around to the left to join a road heading up a side valley. A short distance on, we crossed over a stream that is a tributary of the Gardon de Mialet, the Ruisseau de Roquefeuil. Then the trail started upwards. The first bit is fairly steep, so the trail takes a zig-zag pattern to make it easier. After a while the route opened up onto a forest road heading northwards and uphill. Here and there, there were fossils in the rocks. It looked as if we had left the volcanic rocks of Velay and Gévaudan behind us, and we were into sedimentary rocks instead. It was a long slog up that hill, but it was worth it for the view from the top. We could see well into the distance, with stunning views.
After the highest point at 670m, it was downwards until we came to a road junction at l’Escoudas. The last bit before the junction was steep and rocky, but it was only a foretaste of what was in store. The next section of the route was along a narrow ridge with small rock outcrops. At times, it was more like scrambling than walking, and we had to take care in many places. There is a substantial drop n the northern side, and the route is very narrow in places, going perilously close to the edge. The route goes up and down on this section, descending a few metres, then going up again. It continues like this until a little after Moncalm, and then starts to descend in earnest.
The route joins a forest road and then winds its way towards Alès. It snakes through the forest, sometimes going in a northerly direction, sometimes, more southerly, but always with an overall eastwards intent. As we got nearer to the city, we began to see signs of civilisation: a mobile phone mast, a building, and so on. Closer still, we came across litter and broken glass on the trail, sure signs that we were approaching a city. And suddenly, we found ourselves at the end of a street. Still going downhill, we continued on into the centre of Alès. We crossed the bridge over the Gardon d’ Alès. The river was little more than a stream when we crossed, but it flows through a wide channel, and we speculated that it is prone to flooding at times.
We didn’t stop but went directly to the train station to organise our train tickets for the next day. I had already booked my ticket from Alès to Basel, but a communication from SNCF the previous day indicated that there was a “perturbation” of the schedule due to social action locally. That sounds so much more sophisticated than saying that there was disruption due to a strike. Joff needed to buy a ticket to take him to Lyon, so we both needed assistance. The lady in the ticket office was very helpful, and we arranged an early morning departure from Alès the next day.
Then we went to our hotel. Yes, after twelve days of walking on the trail, we finally treated ourselves to a budget hotel. Once washed, showered, and rested we could go out to celebrate our completion of the walk. First, there was a visit to the local Irish pub, where we savoured a Guinness each. While there, we met another group of walkers that had been on the train. It was not a group that we had shared a gite with, but nevertheless, we saluted each other with congratulations on finishing the walk. And then dinner in one of the city’s good restaurants. We felt that we deserved it.
The hotel we had chosen does an early breakfast, and we were there at half past six. The breakfast is an excellent buffet. The other group of walkers had also stayed in the hotel, and we met them again at breakfast. Then it was off to the railway station again. ANCF had organised a bus from Alès to Nîmes, and we went together. In Nîmes, I said goodbye to Joff. His journey home was on a different route from mine. I had to wait a bit longer in Nîmes, but eventually my time came, and I boarded a train, first to Mulhouse, and then from there to Basel.
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The adventure was over. We had walked close to 300km through France, thoroughly enjoyed it, eating and drinking with fellow walkers, and generally had a great time. And as I remarked to Joff about coming to the end of one guidebook, that just means that it is time to get another guidebook. There will be other adventures in the future. I am already looking forward to the next one.
Life is a combination of looking forward and looking back. When I look back on the walk along the Chemin de Stevenson, there are a few things that stand out. The cheeseboard in the restaurant in Ulles is one. That will probably forever set the standards for restaurant cheeseboards in the future, though I doubt that any will even come close. The various gites we stayed in will remain memorable. They all had something special in their own way, though the gite in Pont de Burgen stands out for the nature of the building, the geniality of the hosts, and the quality of the dinner. When talking of dinners, the campsite at Gare de Cassagnas is also memorable. If I ever see a cartoon of Betty Boop again, I will think of Chaudeyrac. And then there are the many walkers we met at different time. Jim stands out, as does the trio with the two dogs, all quiet people just getting on with doing something special.
As to the future, there are so many possibilities. We often complain about what is happening in the world, but the world is still a beautiful place if one takes the time to look around. I have a long list of walks that I want to do. Whether I can do them all is the question. But for sure there will be another long walk next year. A year without one would seem desolate indeed.
Walkingman 