Day nine Saint Comê d-lot to Estaing

( my apologies as I am now more than a few days behind - the lack of wifi at times topped with a total exhaustion and then maybe spending too long with aperitifs with fellow travellers means I am getting behind on my postings )

The Mother superior is at breakfast with us this morning and I thank her for the delightful breakfast that the convent has provided- it is just what you need when facing a long day of walking - cereal, banana, yoghurt, hot chocolate and of course the bread and jam. We are finding that just the coffee and bread leaves us feeling light headed after two hours of walking and hence a good sustaining breakfast like this helps to avoid the 10.00 o'clock swaying.

It is strange how when you don't carry much with you that the disappearance of an item or two appears as a real loss. And so it is this morning when I realise that I have finally succumbed to losing two articles of clothing - they have become orphans on the chemin. I remember taking off the singlet and the neck scarf yesterday when I got hot but I was sure they went Into the bag but a distraction of paying for a coffee, a chat to another walker- who knows but somehow they have not travelled with me. I am missing not having the neck scarf this morning as it is a stretchy material that either goes around your neck or you can pull up over your ears and it would have been good to combat the chilliness.

I greet everyone at breakfast and mention to those near me about the loss of the scarf, more as a way to share the silliness of how easy it is to lose things.

We are told that even though it's Sunday there is a market in the town square and we are preparing ourselves with bags, poles another photo of the convent in the early morning mist when out runs Rosanna. She is calling for Anne and there in her hands she has her own neck scarf ( similar to to the type that I lost) and she is giving a it to me as a replacement. As you can imagine I had tears in my eyes as the extreme generosity of this gesture, from someone who we had only just met and who wants to replace my loss with her own possession. She says that she has another scarf and it would be most important for her if I could wear it. I have been wearing it ever since and the old scarf I lost is now insignificant- the new gift is far more important symbolically and spiritually.

We walk briskly in the crisp morning air to the market in order to buy our fresh produce. We remember in time not to pick up the fruit ourselves as the fellow who owns the produce is the only one with that right. Several bananas and pears later we wander out of this ancient medieval town. The spire of the Gothic church built around 1520 has literally got a twist and is described as being flammé ( like a flame) I have never seen a spire like it.

It's delightful to follow the river as we head out of town and we are even treated to the sight of the fish swimming in the waters below seen from the bridge. It is especially amazing walking into Saint Pierre-d-Bessuejouls with the river as our main companion. This stretch that we have been walking is recognised as a world heritage site. We are accompanied by the Sunday morning walkers with their dogs in tow and it is just like anywhere in the world with the dogs more interested in meeting new friends or sniffing interesting smells than obeying their owners.

I reflect that this chemin is similar to walking in the past. We are in very rural areas, the old machines of by gone times are still in the paddocks, the way of the farmer's are I'm sure still the same way as many years ago, there are the tractors trundling along but often not much evidence of new machinery or high technology. The farmer still walks his cows through the village to the paddocks, or as we see today the farmer and his dog heralding the sheep along the country path.

We walk through hamlets, villages and towns that look as if they are still from the medieval ages and when you enter the old chapels and churches the feel of 1000 years ago ( more or less) is overwhelming. It's a rare opportunity to be able to experience partaking in a times of the past.

As we walk down the rural lane we can hear the church bells tolling of the hamlet ahead. Being Sunday I assumed it was a call to mass but it was finally when we arrived there we realised that there were no people and it was just the daily clock reminder to the people of the area that it was 12 o'clock. Fantastic if you don't have a watch but could be annoying you live next door. The setting of the church is delightful as it is perched up in a hill and the autumn leaves surround it and compliment the ancient old stone.. We visit the church and even encourage our legs to climb very steep stairs that wind their way inside the church up to another platform and there is another small area with an another small altar and stone carvings - its beautiful and provides a feeling of peace.

This feeling of peace is quickly replaced by the next section of the journey. We are heading towards a very steep section that is all clay with strong roots, boulders, very little chance to get a grip for either the feet or the poles. We are feeling a wee bit nervous and it takes a lot of effort to get through this section. I am just glad that it is not raining as I think this would have been impossible to ascend.

The cows are facing competition today - we are met by a farmer walking his flock of sheep towards us along the country lane supported by his trusty sheep dog bringing up the rear and keeping two little lambs who appear as if they are still trying to understand what this all about and are not sure of the rules. I stand to one side to let them pass by and fumble with the phone in an attempt to film it.

We are treated to a very special treat as we walk along the Lot River valley- the water reflects the trees and the different bridges we come across. The camera is very busy. I can't get enough of the old buildings and the colours of the various plants, trees and leaves. Rosanna has caught up with us but as we approach Espalion she breaks away in order to make the 11 o' clock mass.

Our mid morning rest stop is next to the river to consume our pastries bought this morning. We did not see a cafe near the track as we walked through the town and decided not to search for one. The river view break is delightful enough and we continue on our way. As we exit the town my mind starts regretting the lack of caffeine (am I really addicted?) and the thought that there would be no more coffee until our final stop for the day played on my mind. Oh well I will have to put up with that situation I said to myself. As we were making a final climb out of the town we noticed a young couple standing outside a little table and writing something in a book. There was a sign next to them welcoming pilgrims to take a rest. The owners of the house had put out a little table and provided hot water and coffee/ tea facilities for pilgrims. There was a book there for those who sat and rested or had a coffee to leave a message. The young couple were able to have a chat to us but then I said 'where are your packs?' Surely you are not doing this without a bag - with much merriment they explained that the young man was the son and he was out for a walk with the girlfriend so they thought they would leave a message in the book about how wonderful the home owners were to look after travellers. With much merriment we wished them a good walk.

.

We are staying in Estaing - the huge old castle that dominates the town is owned by Giscard d'Estaing (the former president of France) the castle has been clinging to this village for over 1000 years - it looks a little lonely and too many stairs for us. The beautiful city clings to the edge of the river totally made out of the stones we have been stumbling over - I reflect on the charts I have seen back at school where they give you alternate words for commonly used words- I need other words to describe beautiful- these towns are nothing like what we have at home, - there is the history their is the geography, the overflowing baskets of geraniums clinging to the river edge, the flats flowing waters below babbling against the many rocks dominates the town The fact that it is a Sunday means that there are people strolling through the towns obviously after a long Sunday lunch , often there are also biking groups both cyclists and motor bikes who are taking the pleasure of visiting this beautiful old towns to lunch in such scenic surroundings

We have walked the last three kilometres into town with an old distinguished gentleman walking in front of us - as fast as we walk we couldn't close the distance between us. He walks into the town and sits down at the same bar that we have arrived at, meets up with his friend, has his coffee and then walks a completely different direction again out of the village.

Our Gite for the night is similar to that in Le Puy where you meet the owner and he gives you the door code and that is the las you see of him. It makes it a bit more impersonal and very much a self serve style. Dinner and breakfast are at bars in the town. In this gite none of our boots, poles or back packs are allowed upstairs to the rooms. It is a measure to prevent bed bugs that brings freak to not just the gite owners but also the walkers- if you get infested with that someone said you have to use pesticide for three days and another said the only answer is to burn everything. I don't mind therefore following his rules. It makes for some inconvenience but he provides shopping bags similar to Aldi to empty your backpack and to take with you.

Your feet ache at the end of the day - it is like you have three hearts as we can feel is a three sets of beating- trying to walk aver the many rocks without finding flat ground for hours takes its toll.