VF Britannica Via Campaniensis Voie de Vezelay 2025

We had an enjoyable breakfast with the Irish couple in anticipation of a 22 km hilly day. The breakfasts here are usually only baguette, croissant or toast with coffee, tea or hot chocolate. And plain yoghurt and sometimes apple sauce. I don’t know what’s with the plain yoghurt but I think the intent is to add the jam or honey of your choice. But on these farm places the jams and juices, even honey, are often made on site or at least local. Peanut butter is not a thing here but Nutella is huge! Today there were hard boiled eggs and we pocketed them for our lunch (during which Ken’s fell into pieces when he tried to peel it and I spit mine out it was so gamey and inedible – not sure what those chickens were eating 😬)

Back on the grinder for a bit – the corn harvest is ongoing and we have to move off the road, which is annoying, especially if there are nettles (France excels at nettle growing) or only 1/2 an inch of shoulder.

That’s a lot of corn!

This beagle (above and below) was running ahead of us for quite a while, dodging up into the fields. The boys thought he was just out exploring. I hope so.

Never pass up a bus shelter! It’s another beautiful day so time to strip off some clothes… And it is always snack time!

We went up the hill into town on the off chance the Mairie (town office) was open for a pilgrim  stamp – it wasn’t but this guy made sure we had a howling welcome.

Aw, I am sorry for howling at you.

Two boys were pulling wheelies in front of the bus shelter. I would say to show off and entertain us but it’s the only flat section of road in the town. I asked him to do one and he was happy to oblige. I don’t know why they weren’t in school but lucky them.

Every region is different and we are now beginning to see these old concrete Camino markers. They have different symbols on each side but I’ll have to research their meaning.  It’s always gratifying to know we are on the right track… Which admittedly sometimes we are not. We are using an app called Camino Love to guide our way and which shows us where we are in relation to the route. We probably should have paid more attention to it today! Foreshadow of things to come.

There have been corn kernels all over the roads ever since Mont – de – Marsan.  Corn has replaced the grape in this region.

I stopped to watch the corn harvest for a whole. Mostly I was try to get photos of the egret. There were hundreds – France’s version of gulls following a tractor. But the egrets were very uncooperative and took off whenever I got close. Jerks.

Patiently waiting for his momma, watching her bag while I ran off to look at corn.

We had to climb from our bus shelter and you just barely make it and the boys on bikes out in this photo.

House architecture is beginning to change.

This town is L’Hopital d’Orion, so named because it was the site of a pilgrim hospital/stopping place since the 1100s. Only parts of the original church remain. It is humbling to think that as we walk this route, countless others have gone before us for a thousand years. No merino clothing or fancy shoes, no Twix bar or Powerade from the local shop – only a gourd and a creek for water.  Always on the watch out for brigands and thieves.  The only thief I worry about is the guy who sneaks into my chocolate stash when I am not looking. No names mentioned.

The older churches here have these enclosed timbered entranceway, which we have not seen elsewhere.

Lunch time at Chez Bus Shelter. Where the hard boiled eggs were found to be of dubious quality.  On the other hand, the Mairie was supposed to close at 1230, we got there at 1233, and the lady was kind enough to give us our pilgrim stamps.

Slowly making his way up the wall. If you are wondering why sometimes I post pictures of minutiae it’s because these things are part of our walking memories and I intend to turn the blog into a memory book when we get home. I took a picture of a kernel of corn on the road to remind us of how we followed a corn trail for several days and how we have moved through the different regions of France.

Sauveterre-de-Bearn tonight, Saint Palais tomorrow. You can see the town names written in the Basque language below.

Ken is ahead of us, trying to escape the yipping/blabbering/yammering/yakking/chatting between Terry and Scott, who were deep in conversation about many important things.  We somehow missed our turn and had to backtrack…but Scott found us a “shortcut” through a grassy field.

Some sections of the forest trails are very difficult in that they are steep ups and downs as we climb over ridges, they can be extremely muddy, slippery and rutted.  And some are just lovely trails.

Don’t touch the babies!

We go in and out of forests and villages throughout the day. Gives a nice variety.

Trail was torn up by cows as this is a shared farm trail.

Walk behind the barrier and not on the grinder. They should do this more often. We hate grinders (Peter’s word for busy roads that we have to walk down.

Scary looking clouds.

A unique altar.

Our pilgrim refuge for the night. And a bathroom stocked with all kinds of soaps, shampoos, creams, even conditioner. Usually you have to supply your own. We always appreciate a day with no rain, enough to eat and drink, and a warm place at night.

And Ken appreciates even more finding two English speaking buddies to share a beer with! Ex-pats from Wales (Graham, left) and Netherlands (sadly don’t remember his name). They get together once a week on Wednesdays, and apparently there is a large group of ex-pats in the area who stay connected and maintain a bargaining economy”. Ie I can paint your house if you fix my plumbing.  The Dutchman and Ken got into deep conversation on the Camino as he had done it too. Although he says it cost him a divorce from his German wife when he met his second wife on the Camino.

The cucumber jar was to collect the money for the mini-game. If you could get your coin to sit on the lemon without it falling into the glass, you won what was in the cucumber pot.  I had no coins so didn’t try.

The only restaurant in town, also the only bar, and dinner was not served until 700 pm.

Good night.

Breakfast by ourselves this morning, no bachelor brothers. Louis was off doing farmer stuff long before we strolled downstairs – the usual chocolate chaud for Scott and me, coffee for Ken and wow, two bananas.  Raoul kindly drove us back into Sault-de-Navailles to the trail.

This water pump and well are over 200 years old!

Louis painted a number of art pieces and they are dotted around the house.

Their pilgrim stamp is based on this old tile, which is one of the original floor tiles, several hundred years old.

The farm cat was in love with Ken’s backpack. Hmmmm. What exactly does it smell like???

Raoul.

Well, back on the road again – let the bantering begin.  It’s looking like a nice day so Scott takes off his hoodie.

Ken:  How can you wear that thing? You must be a cold blooded lizard.

Scott:  At least on the fire line I dress appropriately instead of flying in circles in a little airplane dressed in an Elvis suit.

Terry:  How quickly can I lose these guys???

By the way, there is a twee bit of truth to the Elvis story. 

Every day is a different dynamic. We walk together, we walk apart, one is ahead of 2, 2 are ahead of 1. Conversations and no conversations.  But there is usually at least a few minutes of pithy sometimes witty repartee between the two boys, some of which is quite funny. But darned if I can remember any of it by the time I post the blog.

I’ve never seen a water pump where you spin the thingy instead of turning a tap or pumping a handle.

This door must be ancient.

We are so grateful for these outdoor laundromats by grocery stores.  Our clothes were still wet from washing them the other night – some of our places have washers but never a dryer. It was too cold in our room for clothes to dry overnight so we made use of the dryer here while we did a grocery shop. Getting hot so I am ditching the leggings and walking in the skirt.

These guys came running across the yard to us, bleating all the way, and were rather annoyed that we had nothing for them. They must get fed by passers-by pretty regularly to behave like that.

Strawbie taking a rest in a random bird box on the forest trail.  Not sure what it was for as it had no base.

These ferns are growing straight out of the tree.

Ancient picnic table base and seats. Not something you could actually sit on.

Biker stopped to chat with Ken mid-way up the big hill.

Ken was excited to see this placque to the Battle of Orthez as he got interested in the history of the peninsular war when reading the Sharpe novels and watching the series.  This is the same Wellington that defeated Napoleon at Waterloo.

The plaque was on this gate, which looks old enough to have been around at the time of the battle.  It doesn’t actually act like a gate as you can walk right around it and water the plants,  if you know what I mean.

I like how they decorate their mailboxes.

I am majestically ignoring you.

Feed me.

There was a short detour / trail variant to thus belvedere (lookout) which we debated taking but we are so thankful we did. The view was magnificent, and the photos come nowhere near to doing them justice.

We see pockets of bamboo everywhere, which Scott informs me is very invasive. I just wanna know where the pandas are.

A different take on October Rose month with pink butterflies.

We hate walking on grinders, especially at quitting time. We are constantly having to move onto the shoulder, which is pretty much non-existent.  Lots of tractors hauling corn kernels today with the odd kernel littering the road.

Arriving at our chambre d’hotes,  I got the impression this place liked cats

We are in a Chambre d’Hôtes tonight with a cold room again, but not bone chilling like the farm manor.   We had the pleasure of a communal meal with the two other guests, a couple from Ireland and their dog Bailey. They are spending a year travelling around in their tiny car, staying with friends, working here and there. Ken always lights up when he has someone new to talk to.  But I completely forgot to get a group photo. Heavy sigh.

This place came with a meal and at the risk of insulting out host, I asked for no duck. I couldn’t face it again (I felt bad insulting Raoul but at least I ate the duck pate thingy) and Ken is no fan either. Of course the first thing I see when I walk in the yard are ducks. It’s very popular here. But luckily it was pasta and salads. Yay.

As Ken and I were walking yesterday, we talked about the Via Francigena zoom call and about the purpose of our walking these pilgrimages. On the other two routes, the Camino Frances and the Via Francigena,  we had clear goals, at least in terms of getting from here to there, with arrival in either Santiago or Rome. Whether we walked for spiritual reasons, or the culture, or the physical challenge, or the social aspects, or all of the above, we have never been able to pin it down to any one thing as I believe it changes day by day and even during any given day. This trip is different. It’s been disjointed, whereas our other walks were straight uninterrupted runs with only the occasional rest day.  The end goal this time was to connect the two routes.

The dynamics are different – having Peter with us, then not, taking him back to Paris, having Scott alone with us, the canal trip in the middle, never meeting other pilgrims.  So we have days when we wonder why. but still…we walk.

Scott’s companion for night (the picture was huge) – Mr. Nutty.

Bird of Paradise.

Our bountiful breakfast. This was such an excellent place to stay, almost luxurious beds, kitchen with washing machine, such welcoming hosts, and of course Biscotte the Cat, who reminds us of our Fred.

Blandine and Biscotte.

Placing a pilgrim stone on the cross.

We have walked into the next province and there are clear differences. One, there are so many blinding white statues and two, huge crucufixes along the roads. We also saw many iron crosses in northern France but none in central France. We are starting to see them again. The Christian roots are deep here.

Saint Michael the Archangel slaying Satan.

Woof. Play with me.

Lunch stop by the local church and mairie.

October Rose still up in support of the fight against breast cancer.  Every village has done something.

We don’t know what these “missions” are. We’ve seen a few such monuments with different years.  We’ve also found it interesting that since leaving the Limoges area, we haven’t seen memorials to resistance fighters. And the cenotaph in the last town didn’t list any souls lost to WW2, only WW1 and Algeria.  This was unoccupied France and the route we are heading down would have been one of the routes taken by downed allied airmen escaping into Spain.

So flat.

Very unsociable goats.

Ok. Seeing a switchback sign at the bottom of the hill you are about to start climbing is never a good sign. You are a bad sign!

Chateau on the hill, which you can just sort of make out on the opposite side of the valley as I climb a switchback in the next photo.

We LOVE Camino angels (note that the geese are not the Camino angels of which I speak, although I am sure they are very nice geese! They just happened to be in the yard). We get to the top of the steep long hill only to find that a kind lady and former pilgrim had set up a pilgrim rest area in her yard, complete with hot water and coffee, tea and sugar, and an invitation to sit in her garden to rest.

This town is very neat and tidy, with people leaving pots on their windowsill to cool – I could have taken a taste as it was right beside the road. Even these little bunnies… They were right there and no one takes them.

Mailbox painted to look like a cow.

This van reminded Ken of the flashy boogie vans of the 1970s. Rock on!

Scott interpreted this sign to mean “Careful! Giant children in the road crashing into cars”.

You can just barely make out the Pyrenees in the background.

I snuck into someone’s yard to take a picture of their peacock mural. If they don’t want people sneaking into their yard to take pictures of their peacock mural, they shouldn’t have peacock murals in their yard. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!

We waited by this church for our pilgrim host – he lives about 4 km from the Camino and comes into town to pick up pilgrims.

Our chambre d’hotes for tonight is in this farm house built in the 1600s, almost 500 years old, still in the same family.  It is owned by what we assume to be older bachelor brothers, in addition to running beef cattle.   Dinner was duck and pasta, and I just could not force myself to eat the medium rare duck. I was quite happy with the pasta but Raoul insisted on giving me a cooked but cold leek with a vinaigrette dressing. I tried but…thank goodness for Scott who helped make it look like we ate quite a bit. The brother was Louis.  They spoke no English but bonded with Ken over his 2CV (deuxchevaux) that he has at home.

What a cool newel post topper.

Our room was incredibly cold, actually  freezing, when we first got in but I couldn’t find anyone to fix it. Only when we went down for dinner. They have 2 more pilgrims coming the next night so hopefully it will be warm for them.

This was such a cool house and I wish I could have poked into all the nooks and crannies.  There are so many antiques and cupboards and forbidden doors.  A little different than the mobile home we stayed in  a couple weeks ago!

While I was in the church yesterday, Ken had already found a beer at our hotel…but a slightly drunk Frenchman was chatting with him, talking about his wife and /or his girlfriend with 7 children and her pilot husband but I think he was an ex husband and maybe she was his wife or just a girlfriend in addition to a wife and French and English cultures are so different and she wanted to learn French and on and on. It was all very confusing and stream of consciousness on his part and he was difficult to dodge. Turns out he works at the hotel – the proprietor must have seen the look on my face and said something to him because when we came down for dinner he avoided us. Not that he was unpleasant but he was smoking and going on about his soap opera life and we just wanted to get to our room after a long day walking (and lets not forget walking up that mountain!).  but in retrospect, he added to the flavor to the day!

Ken was able to start his day with a coffee.  To this, Terry and Scott say yay.

I created quite the kerfuffle in the church this morning. I was signing the guest book and saw a little sign that said I could get a pilgrim stamp in the tourist office (closed) or in the sacristy.  There were some ladies preparing for mass so I asked them about a stamp, which then involved 3 ladies running around like chickens till they found a guy who spoke English who went to check on things.  I didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed when one lady told the other lady that I couldn’t speak French but I could understand it. I was told if I waited 15 minutes the priest would come. Left the church to find the boys in the bakery, bought myself a brownie and went back to the church. Another gentleman came to find me and took me into the sacristy to stamp our credentials.  The priest ignored me.  I got my stamps, was asked if we were staying for mass, to which I replied that we had a long walk and it was already late.  The gentleman said that they would say a prayer for us during the mass. I have to admit to a bit of Catholic guilt for not staying. And as I was leaving the first English speaking guy came to make sure I got my stamps. More guilt.

For Ethel.

Judgmental kitty.

Painted antique store.

We couldn’t figure out what these two giant slugs were surrounding. Some jellied mass.

Imagine having a creek of crystal clear water running under your house.

We’ve seen a lot of these large mole piles but this is the first one with the actual entrance/exit hole.

The inscription is in Latin, loosely says whoever lies here, may they rest in peace.

The flowers in these cemeteries are phenomenal.  They turn a somber place into one of joyful remembrance.

After hardly seeing any open churches for several days, the last couple of days there have been many. I am lighting most of them for a dear friend.

These frescoes are about 400 years old. I really need to read more about this church. It is built around a Roman altar.

Hello, Bugsnax.

Yucca.

We are starting to see several of these large crosses every day.  Each region in France seems to have their own style.

Rain storm moving in. Let’s hide here for a bit.

Rare blue sky to the right of us.  Black sky on the left.

This oak tree is eating the metal cross. I wonder how many decades that has taken?

More October Rose umbrellas and ribbons. 

We are also seeing religious statues near most of the villages, something we did not see further north.

A pilgrim tradition is to place rocks on crosses.  This was the first place  we had seen on this whole trip where there were rocks.  It stems from the Cruz de Ferro on the Camino Frances, where pilgrims bring a stone from home to leave at the cross, with the stone representing burdens you carry or sins you want to atone for.

More hunting.

The traffic circles have pictures of the local “products”. Today it was geese, yesterday it was chickens.

We still have a kilometer to go but the heavens opened up and we took refuge in the entryway of the church.

Pub closed. Ken sad.

Arriving at our lodging for the night is always a relief, and even better when you are greeted by a ginger cat. The cat’s name is Biscotte!

We are in a lovely Chambre d’Hôtes tonight with blessed heat and a most welcoming hostess. When she found out we had no booking for tomorrow, she phoned for us and secured a place. I had emailed but no response. We had use of a kitchen and a washing machine. Scott made his famous lentils and rice (he carries both) as it is Sunday and everything is closed, including the Irish Pub that we passed, much to Ken’s continued chagrin.

Time to catch up on the blog. Ken and I sat in on a Via Francigena conference call last night so no time for blogging, and I was already behind.

An interesting noisy night with a car horn blaring in the wee hours, as if someone was honking for someone else to hurry up at 300 in the morning. And two people who sat on the front steps at 500 am having a loud coversation  – the doors are glass and not well sealed – I tapped on the door and they left.  Plus we had the only patch of grass around so every neighbourhood dog came to visit.

In the morning as we were getting ready to leave I had the front door open and a little old lady  ( older than me) just popped in to say hello and to tell us what time mass was (all in French). We had contemplated taking the bus for 3 km to avoid the city walking but she told us there were no busses as it was a holiday. As she was leaving she gave us a “bon route” and ended with “bon courage” because there was a mountain to climb into St. Sever. What?!? A mountain???Off we go and while we’re waiting at a crosswalk, an older gentleman came over to talk with us, asking if we were doing the St. Jacques de Compestelle.  He was very proud that he had walked the Via Francigena as well – that is a big accomplishment to go from Canterbury to Rome. I’m pleased that I am at least able to have rudimentary conversations with people.   But here’s the thing. He also finished with a Bon route and a Bon courage…and repeated courage. He showed with his hand that the route was flat and at the end very steep.  Hmmmm.

Seriously? I am taunted with yet another interesting market, but this one is your typical Saturday morning farmers market.

Ken was excited to see this 1966 Ford that belched it’s way across the parking lot. Very unusual to see any American pickup in France much less this old big v8 powered dinosaur.

Well, it is Halloween so I guess you need a fluorescent Halloween doughnut.  Scott and I were just grateful that Ken found his morning coffee. We were reaching the edge of town and there would be no services until we reached the “mountain ” for which we needed courage.   Scott and I need that additional courage to walk with Ken if he hasn’t had his morning coffee!

We’ve come into bull fighting country and have seen a few arenas. These are the regional offices.

The ‘Snax like getting out in the forest and cavorting on conks.

Today is All Saints Day and mass had just let out when we sat and took over the garden to have lunch. A tradition here is to bring flowers to the graveside on November 1. The cemetery was loaded with chrysanthemums and it was beautiful but I didn’t want to take a photo as there were people still bringing flowers.  Gotta be respectful.

I think Scott is worse than me in trying to befriend all the kitties.

The history of this church is incredible…from the 1200s and even earlier. They kindly had a description in English and that rarity, a pilgrim stamp.

The enclosure on the left is thevgrave of a bodyguard for King Louis the 16th.   Plus a small example of the fresh flowers.  But I felt soooo bad. I was calling out to Scott from the doorway of the church, thinking we were alone but when I stepped outside I saw a young couple had come while I was in the church and were now saying the rosary and praying over a grave- I had interrupted.  I apologized and scuttled away. So embarrassing.

Owowow woo!  We lose count of how many times we give dogs a bit of excitement in their otherwise drab and dreary lives.

I was tryingvto capture a photo of the leaves “snowing” from the trees.

Bit of mud and sandy trail through pines today.  Sure beats city walking.

Waiting patiently for the slow old folk.

An old Peugot where they’ve attached a Cadillac emblem on the front.   Ken notices these car things. I don’t. Nor do I apologize for that!

By now, Ken is looking for a bench, a wall, any place to sit.  This actually worked out well, if you ignored the cars whizzing behind your head.

They’ll never find his body thinks Terry as she sneaks away quietly.

The Adour River flowing through St Sever. We still haven’t seen the big mountain for which we will need courage.

Fish ladder.

Oh oh! The mountain!!!

It was steep…but very short. No courage needed by us. Now the guy who took his car down (even though it’s blocked off) and started slipping probably needed courage! Check out his tire tracks.

So I paid good money for this type ivy at Independent, and I’m trying to baby it through the winter, and here it is thriving in a drain pipe. Sheesh!

We are not lost. People apparently steal these on the Camino in Spain. They cost about 200 euros to by new (as opposed to from the guy selling watches from his raincoat).

I snuck in to light a candle for Ethel.

The resident hotel cat. Ken fed it some leftover duck.

My fingers are frozen as I type this two nights later because once again our room is freezing. But at least it had warmed up after we came back from dinner downstairs, where Ken had a burger and Scott feasted on duck breast (yuck).

Once in the room, Ken and I joined a zoom call about the Via Francigena, hosted by the Confraternity of Pilgrims to Rome,  to which we belong. It’s an opportunity for people from all over the world to talk about their experiences on the VF or to ask questions if they are in the planning stages of walking, so no blogging that night to catch up.  It was good to connect with people that know why we do this as we were starting to wonder ourselves. Great especially to talk to Nick Dunne as the last time we saw him was over supper at the Angel Pub in London a long two months ago.

We spent the morning exploring the market/ fair and then headed to the train station for a ride to our next pilgrim town. We had to go to Bordeaux, then had 10 minutes to switch trains to Mont-de-Marsen, about an hour for each ride.

The view from the apartment.

If you trample me, we will trample you! Respect me!   Thought this both funny and sad because there were hardly any plants growing in that spot.

So many things we could say about this…I’m not sure where to start… or even if I should start.

How sad is it to go to the biggest outdoor market you’ve ever seen, knowing you can’t buy anything? Waaah! 😭

Oysters? We are only an hour away from the ocean.

Oh oh. Ken sees another maple leaf 🍁 . Methinks he is a tad homesick.  Poor boy.

Only 7900 Euros (about $13000 Csn) for this futuristic looking quad.

And only 500 Euros for that olive tree. About $800.

Persimmons and yellow pomegranates.

What a strange delightful market. Everything from cheap sunglasses and cheesy junk to cars and quads, to fresh produce, oysters and cheeses, to hot tubs and camping gear…so many things to explore and only one small backpack to carry it all.

I think Ken lost.

Fruit trees for only 15 euros…about $24 cdn.

Ken wanted to cross the bridge over the river Garonne (one of France’s largest) as that was the pilgrim route we were supposed to be taking if we had the time.

And look. We could have walked with a cat.

The cheese seller spoke English and was giving us all kinds of cheese to taste. He tried to get Scott to buy a 2 kilo wheel of cheese, said he could roll if it was too heavy. We declined the wheel – too bad as it was sooo good – but we did but some smelly cheese for the road. It went in Ken’s pack because his pack was already stinky and he wouldn’t notice a new smell.

Buying Turkish treats.

I had to buy chichis. Basically a sugar churro without the cinnamon.  He gave us an extra one as a gift.

I gave a chichi to Monsieur Fred who was selling candles and a few odds and ends. I couldn’t buy anything but he sure was happy to get a chichi. I also offered one to the sad lady working in the tourist office where we stored our bags for the morning. She looked like she would rather be at the fair but her face lit up at the sight of the chichi and she said she loved them. It felt good to bring smiles to two faces with such a small gesture as the offer of a chichi.

This is a very interesting town architecturally – this is one of two art deco style buildings. It’s still a theater as originally intended but it no longer has the glass dome on top.

In one of the town squares, when they need electricity for an event, the plugs pop up and when they no longer need it, it flips down to just become cobblestone pavement again. Ingenious idea.

Waiting at the train station. The station closes at lunch (as do most things in France) and the station master takes off. But there is no bathroom (what train station doesn’t have a bathroom?!?!?) And I had to walk back into town and buy a drink from the closest café so I could use their toilet. The boys found their own local solution.

A Camino shell on the train?

I was trying to capture all the egrets in the field. Those would be the tiny white dots on the right. You can see them, right?

This sweet baby came to visit me.

Sleepy Ken.

Our first bull fighting ring of the trip. Can’t say we approve.

How does the tree survive with that big of a hole in it?

Sheep across the road from the train station.

Right beside the sheep was a needle dispenser and a needle disposal unit. Inner city versus pastoral country within feet of each other.

We are staying at another pilgrim refuge. This one was much older than the last and there was no resident hospitalero so we were all by ourselves. A lady came to settle us in and stamp our credentials but she didn’t stay. It was also freezing and the radiators weren’t working except in one room, so she told us to use all the blankets. In this place, the beds and pillows were covered in plastic to prevent bedbugs and had disposable sheets and pillow cases.

To get in, we had to walk down the street to get the key from the Asian supermarket.  A little strange but we got into the building, which used to be the old town baths.

How much is that little doggie in the window?! Because he is real.  And of course he tried to attack Ken through the glass…sadly no photo of that little exchange. The store / dog owner was outside assessing her display at the time.

Halloween night. Only a few trick or treaters and they all carried very small candy collectors (the usual pumpkins and skulls). I couldn’t help but compare to some older kids at home who come around with pillow cases.

This pilgrim refuge is what is a “donativo”, meaning there is no set price, and you pay what you can, based on the facility and whether you get a meal or not. It’s very helpful for pilgrims travelling on a budget. Unfortunately, there are a few who assume it means “free.”  The going rate without a meal would be 13 to 18 euros on this section of the route, but we give more because we appreciate that these places need maintenance and have power bills and the like.

Too cold for us to take showers but it wasn’t a hard walking day and we look forward to getting back to walking tomorrow. Always something new to discover around every corner!

Narrow little bar.

This weekend is La Reole’s annual Millennial Festival – it’s supposed to be huge…and we will be missing it 😢

The cables from the suspension bridge are in this café. So very odd.

Ken wanted me to take a picture of this lady in the kebab place because her head wrap reminded him so much of VerMeer’s Lady with a Pearl Earring”.

Cobblestone crosswalk.

Le mew. Pet me.

The town is built on a cliff above the river so they’ve put in an outdoor elevator which goes from river level up four stops.

I felt sorry for this dog. He was so happy playing with this stick and he dropped it five times for his owner to throw it but she kept ignoring him. Finally he dropped it right at her feet so she gave it a toss.

The Bugsnax are being tourists today.

Teensy came out too.

I had to laugh at the sign at the entrance to the church.

Please close the door to avoid the invasion of the cats.

The dastardly feline invaders. They do look pretty shifty-eyed, don’t they?

We were lucky enough to hear the organist practicing on this huge pipe organ.

This candle is for my dear friend from high school – Mary Ann OG.

The church had a map of France and a world map and asked pilgrims to stick a pin in the place you are from. For some reason Lac La Biche didn’t make the map so I had to make an educated guess. We are the red pin north of the 2 pins in Calgary.

For Halloween, stores that were giving out candy put these stickers on the doors so kids would know they could stop in for a treat.

Medieval timbered house but it really bothered Scott that they were able to grow pitcher plants on the windowsill…and we have to go trudging through swamps in spring and summer to find them.

Not sure what I think about this fuzz.

It’s always good to have a rest day every 7 days or so  to give feet and knees and backs a rest. Scott and I did most of the exploring while little Kenny had a nap.

We’ve also strategized the remainder of our trip and booked a November 28 flight home (November 29 flights were $400 more each!)   In order to keep to our schedule and be able to walk into St Jean Pied de Port plus meet Antonio in Santiago, we are skipping ahead by about 80 Km. So tomorrow is a train day.

We had a 20+ km day in front of us and the rain was pouring down. Christine offered to drive us all the way to our next destination and after much hemming and hawing we agreed for her to drive us about 8 km out to Couture and we would walk from there.

We are the blue dot in the middle of that dark green rain system.  Bring out the brolly! But it actually wasn’t too bad and the rain stopped after a couple of hours.

The lovely Christine.

Always sign the guest book.

The chickens were hiding under the hedge to escape the rain.

You meet people on these pilgrimages, and spend so very little time with them, but you remember your Camino angels forever. Christine is certainly one!

Our chariot.

Are these gargoyle-ish enough, Ruth?

Ken doesn’t quite fit into the confessional. Just as well.

The bell, made in 1861, was cracked and had to be replaced a few years ago. I didn’t get to ring this one 😕.

Ken found a new hat in the ditch. He didn’t seem to notice the top was full of holes.  He is so…dapper.

We followed this oil slick for several kilometers. Ken left his footprints in it but they soon filled in.

Ken held an oak leaf up to the sign to make a Canada flag – he couldn’t find a maple leaf. It’s interesting how his mind works. But I also think he is getting a little homesick.

I have one of these arum lilies in my sunroom but it has never flowered. This one is just growing randomly in a ditch. It would probably cost fifty bucks at home. Beautiful!

Trailing abutilon. Never saw it before.  My plant ID app has come in so handy on this trip.

We found a bus shelter where we could sit and have our lunch (hard boiled eggs, apples and carrot sticks…and maybe a cookie or two.)  We were laughing so hard at a video Scott was showing us that when two people with small packs walked by, they looked at us askance and scurried up the hill like scared rabbits. I don’t think they were pilgrims or they would have stopped to talk. Ken tried to say hello a little later when he caught up with them but they ignored him and sped up.

Big dog. Little ferocious yappy dog.

The chateau and church are essentially attached, reminiscent of the old feudal days.

We saw quite a few of these water bladders on the Via Francigena but not so many this trip. They are used for fire fighting in towns without ready access to water.

Look at the size of this worm. I watched him lift his head, slither half an inch, then lift his head and repeat. I moved him off the road so he wouldn’t get squished.

Another very steep hill. Oddly enough, I do better on the hills where the footing is very uneven.  You are concentrating so much on not slipping or tripping that you don’t notice the climb.

Ken finds an opportune chair beside the cow shed.

Moo.

Look at the view.  We are high up on a ridge…that we know we are going to have to go down.

Twins.

Judging from the picture, I thought this meant “beware the bull” so I told Ken to wear his red jacket 😁. But troupeaux means herd, not bull.  There were no cows, though. I should mention here, though, that the hunters also concerned me because Ken’s fleece is the same colour as the deer (and a forest slug, as you might recall from an earlier post).

Very strange to see this kind of modern subdivision here.

Why oh why did I not take pictures of the art they call pastries in this patisserie? Had some time to kill waiting for our place to be ready so had lunch here.

Not sure what this giant topiary is supposed to be.

The street where we live.

A pleasant walk today, if a little damp at the start.  But thankful for the ride given to us by Christine, as i think we would not have arrived in such good spirits. And tomorrow is a rest day. Yay!

I think I forgot to mention that the last two places in La Gatarde and the Chateau that we stayed at were geared for pilgrims. That means that the extra beds could have been taken up by other pilgrims and we would share the facilities with them. No other pilgrims though, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your point of view. But it also meant that dinner was provided to us, garlicky pork chops and scalloped potatoes the first night, and duck sausages and rice the next. As we basically stayed in the equipment yard of a winery, we were also treated to a bottle of wine.

We ordered a meal at last night’s gite as well, as there are no restaurants or stores in this place.  Everything was prepared in advance, as our hostess was away. Scott just had to boil the pasta and add the cream sauce and veggies. There was again a bottle of wine but we didn’t drink it with dinner. Oddly enough, the bottle was empty the next morning. Hmmm?

We said goodbye to the cats, who were desperately trying to get into their house and we set off down the road.

Yes, you have to look at cat pictures. And barking dog pictures too.

I always turn around periodically – with the steep ups and downs, you can often see where you’ve come from. Which can be both encouraging and discouraging at the same time. That’s our house on the hill back there.

Why is your Fanta Orange dark red, Ken? And what happened to the bottle of wine our hostess left us? Hmmmm? Methinks me knows the answer to that question!

France is anti-pesticide use. This vineyards signs indicate they don’t use any.

Some of the acorns are bright pink in colour, from the same chemicals that make maple leaves look red.

Starting to see umbrella pines the further south we go.

Not sure what this pile of mashed up grapes was for.

This apricot tree is heavy with fruit…just out of my reach 😡

What’s for lunch?

What are these?

Ken enjoyed a baguette with head cheese. No photo of the head cheese, though, as it is disgusting. Blech!

Alas, the pilgrim refuge in Pellegrue was closed.

I’ll let the aque explain the large crane medallion in the street. We have seen a lot of cranes the last few days.

These two very friendly cats were wandering in front of the old church.  They obviously know each other and the black pooch. I did warn you about cat and dog pictures today!

This gentleman was from Sweden. We chatted for a while, wish I had taken a better picture.  We are always happy to meet up with English speakers.

Wow! That’s a first.  A sign warning drivers to slow down as there are pilgrims on the road. As a note, I don’t think any of the drivers slowed down to 70.

A golden carpet of leaves.

Their English owner came out and spoke with us awhile. She said during the summer there are a lot of pilgrims walking by but not so many now. I guess the dogs let her know when someone is passing and she comes to say hello. We’ve also noticed that a lot of the households with dogs have one big one and one ferocious little yippy one. Why is that?

We can’t get into the pilgrim refuge until after 4:00 pm so we have some time to kill. At least it’s not raining.

My eagle eye noticed the Camino shell embedded in the wall.

Combination post office, information center, and baguette distribution.  Strange. But closed until the 30th.

Our home for the night. One of the five official refuges on the Vezelay route. You get a bed and a meal, all by donation, and are looked after by a “hospitalero”, a volunteer host. The refuges close for the winter on October 31st so we are just sneaking in under the wire.

A great supper of pork chops, beans and salad, and a plum pudding type dessert. Delicious and we didn’t even have to wash dishes (but of course we offered!). The best, though, was just sitting and getting to know Christine, our wonderful hospitalero, and sharing stories.

These two. Always going on about something!

There is only the three of us so we all got a bottom bunk with no snorer up above (just beside us! 😴).  The bins were for the packs. A good idea to keep cruddy pilgrim packs from sullying the beds and, more specifically, to prevent the potential migration of bed bugs, which can become a real problem on these Caminos.

A warm cosy night, although at first it was noisy and boisterous from some gathering next door. We thought from the gradually increasing volume and energy it was some wine fuelled party but precisely at ten just before Terry was ready to pound on the wall, the noisy shutter rolled down and there was silence.

Go past the field with the donkeys and turn right to walk down through the vineyard to get back on your trail. That’s not something your car GPS will ever tell you but those were the instructions from our hosts.

Can we just leave him in there?

The grape vines have been stripped bare.

Two typical aloof French cats.

A Camino sign. The fine print says “you are here. You can rest in 1020 km!

A random water fountain with a dog bowl, which Ken kindly cleaned out and refilled. He’s a nice boy.

These sad looking little cypress trees remind me of the Via Francigena in Tuscany.

Big hill ahead.

Ancient tower beside a modern radio tower.  We’ll see these again from the other side of the Dordogne River.

Nature already decorating for Christmas.

This incredibly steep long downhill was a bit scary and caused my almost healed foot to rebel.

Ste Foy la Grande on the Dordogne River.  We will walk south to the Garonne River.  Our hosts said the locals refer to the land between these rivers “from sea to sea”. Bordeaux wines come from here.

Ken was blinded by the bright colours.

You can see Ken’s red tree in the distance.

Scott waiting patiently while we stock up on chocolate bars in the Tabak.

I chatted with the gentleman selling these flowers (I would have bought so many if I could have – they were gorgeous). He gave me a “bravo” for walking the Chemin de Saint Jacques.

Scott led us to the only open restaurant,  a kebab place. So…toilet paper is often an issue as most places we stay in give less than a roll so we have to carry some….and we were running out. The kebab place had none either but I snooped through their cupboard and replaced their empty roll.  Then stole one for us.  But don’t worry. I confessed my felony when I was paying and the guy just laughed and said no problem.

That’s a big bottle of wine!

Ken thought this house looked very angry.

Another memorial to resistance fighters executed by the Germans. I usually use the term Nazi rather than German but this memorial specifically used the term Germans, which is a little unusual.

I told Scott a real pilgrim would have crossed by the log rather than a modern bridge but he ignored me.

Bananas and palm trees. I hear it is snowing at home.

You can see the two towers we passed by earlier in the morning.

He was too lazy to actually stand up and bark at us.

Ken’s reflection in the gravestone.

Hmmmm. The bell rope. Hmmmm.

Terry: Should I or Shouldn’t I?

Little devil on the left shoulder: Yes, yes, you should.

Little French devil on right shoulder (in a heavy French accent): Oui, reeng zee bell!

So I did!

Do I look contrite? Scott wanted to know if bell ringing was on my bucket list. I told him no but now I was going to put it on the list just so I could cross it off.

Baa baa black sheep…

French fighter jet – Ken figures a trainer jet.

Hunters everywhere.  It’s very disconcerting  as they hunt near towns and residences. It’s very controlled – many have signs on them, some have flashing lights. But they do tick me off. They travel in groups and park at the corners of vineyards and are in constant communication,  then they let the dogs out. Poor wild animals have no chance whatsoever.  Not a sport here. Gun shots all around.

I stopped to talk to this British couple who were exploring the area.

Gotta love mud. By this time, my foot is extremely unhappy.

I got very worried when I saw these three little guys. They moved into the vineyard and hunkered down, and I didn’t hear any shots, but…they just get trapped with no where to run or hide especially with the leaves coming off the vines. I’m not against hunting in general but this doesn’t seem right.

They are hiding here.

I limped into the yard of our next place for the night. Nothing brightened me up more than finding there were two resident cats.

Paula the cat spent the night with us.   The cats were left outside for two nights but obviously are allowed in the house.

Our hosts were away so they hid the keys “under the stone sink in front of the frog pond” and we were to leave the money in the bathroom drawer when we left. Very trusting.  I spent the night wondering if I could walk the next day and wondering what to do if I couldn’t. (Spoiler alert – I’ve continued walking)