VF Britannica Via Campaniensis Voie de Vezelay 2025

Camino magic! It turns out that I do know the Cindy in the guest book! Cindy was the first person Ken and I had met on the Camino Frances in 2019. I knew she had done the Voie de Vezelay last year but didn’t know she and her husband were here again. What a small world!

Off we go.

This springer spaniel was running around the yard while the two we knew lived here were tied up.  Hmmm.  We got to a house about 1/2 km down the road and there was a frantic lady in the street and a man in a car. She asked (in French) if we had seen a spaniel and I was able to tell her (in French) that it was up at the gite. Just then another vehicle came up  also looking for the dog. They were worried it would get on the main road because the cars drive too fast and there are many hunters around. Glad we could help.

We came upon this family grave along the road and not in a cemetery, which we thought was odd. Once we got into town we saw more places named after the family and I saw a sign that said Mr Joyne had been Mayor from 1947 (just after WW2) to 1983.

While we appreciated this pilgrim rest stop, the town was actually kind of creepy, as every house was newer and exactly the same. Mr. Joune must have ruled with an iron fist. Only the church was different (and locked)

Flock of egrets but they wouldn’t come any closer 😕

Strange little circles on this leaf. Egg sacs, maybe?

Flock of noisy cranes.

Back in the vineyards.

Poor geese.

A rudimentary counter for petaingue nailed to a tree beside the pitches behind the church.

We have not seen this architectural style of church since Spain, they are very common on the Camino there.

France is very anti-pesticide use.

I was at least 50 m or more away from Ken when he let out this huge belch which sounded as loud as if he were beside me.  I was calling out to Ken in disgust that someone was walking right behind him but the guy just laughed and gave Ken the thumbs up. Men!

Camino signs on these two houses.

Your typical aloof French cat.

Please tell me we are not climbing over that hill with the vineyards. Please?

More grave stones along the road, much older than the last. Why not in the cemeteries?

And yes, climbing up the very steep pitch through the vineyards we go.

But we are rewarded with a beautiful view of where we have just walked from.

But Ken wants to go higher for a better view…both unusual for him and unnecessary. Sigh.

It was worth the extra climb for the 360 degree view!  Looking intrepid! (Says Ken)

Unfortunately, the steep little pitch back down to the road aggravated my foot a little

This is a common saying for pilgrims.

Aw! Look at all the babies!

A very old Peugot truck which caught Ken’s eye.

Why aren’t these in cemeteries??? She asks yet again.

This guy told us he was making waffles in the morning! (Shades of Shrek)

Our home for the night.

Ken amusing  himself.  He wanted to mention that his groin problem hasn’t given him a twinge in the last two days so it must have been a pinched nerve.  What a magnificent man! (Again, this is Ken’s contribution.  Insert Terry eye roll here).

Another pilgrim refuge.

Dinner of duck sausages and rice, with cake and pear compote for desert was brought to us, along with a bottle of their own wine. Our hosts own the vineyards around us.

Tomorrow we  cross the Dordogne River so progress has been really good the last few days. Fingers crossed we stay limber!

The three musketeers are back together again. Or is that drowned rats? Rain, sometimes torrential, for much of the day.

It was raining for the 1.5 km walk to the train station, where we took a 15 minute train to Mussidan to begin today’s walk. But okay once we got off the train. The best / worst was yet to come!

But first…

I still don’t understand how this extinguisher ball was supposed to work. Good thing we didn’t start any fires!

Yes, it’s true. I actually captured the elusive Ken having to wash dishes.

For some reason, Scott and Ken found the title of this book to be the basis of many bad jokes.

The trains were so crowded and there was a guy with a bike trying to squish in. The driver had his head out the window waiting to make sure everyone was aboard who was going aboard.

Aren’t nature’s colours magnificent?

Gotta walk out of our way to find Ken a coffee. Gotta keep him caffeinated in the mornings.

Look at this fluffy kitty in the trampoline!

This cat saw us and came running, then sat in front of the door meowing VERY loudly to be let in. I must say, I was tempted to open that door!

Wild cyclamen and a ratty transparent mushroom. This is what you see when walking.

Ken’s face when he came up with a new insult about Terry.

The consequence.  And as Peter would say, Ken never learns.

Who lives down that hole?

Ken was fascinated by this vine. To him, it seemed like it couldn’t make up it’s mind, trying to reach for a support, giving up and then going for it. Finally made it. Sorta like life, says the old philosopher.

It’s wet but not yet raining. Stay tuned.

We met this British couple out walking their dogs in the middle of nowhere.

We walked through a lot of  pine forests, from young plantations to mature trees.

We were trying to identify what kind of pine  and scott and I were looking at a small branch but Ken had to feel superior by having a bigger branch. Turns out they are called maritime pines and make up 10% of France’s forests (thanks, Wikipedia!) Their needles are more than twice as long as other pines.

The gleeful look of a man who hid a beer in his backpack.

Ken insisted on sitting on a convenient log for lunch, even though the sky was looking ominous. And just as we had packed up, the skies opened and we were drenched by the time we reached the underpass.

Thankfully the rain stopped for a while.  I don’t have a picture but the building on the left seemed to house every car the guy had ever owned plus so much junk. Not surprisingly, Ken felt a kinship.

More deluge and a third one to come.

A break in the weather. So many of the young men listed on the cenotaph died only a few months before the end of the war. So sad. These villages are so small that the loss of all these boys must have been devastating in so many ways, and not just on the families.

A bumper crop of crabapples. Our spruce grouses at home would be in apple heaven in a tree like this.

An optimal bench…although I thought it strange that the garbage pail was protected in a tiny Camino shell encrusted shed and the bench wasn’t. But we only had 2 kilometers to go.

A tunnel of trees.

And here we go again, as if we weren’t wet enough.

Shelter. So thankful to be out of the rain. Plus this is what I would describe as our first pilgrim place. Five beds and you take the chance there will be other pilgrims there (there weren’t any). Plus it comes with dinner (yummy garlicky pork chops and scallop potatoes) and breakfast. 

When they rebuilt this section of the house for pilgrim accommodation,  they left the swallow nest that had been attached to the old beams. No swallows in it now though.

Trying to warm up as my backpack was soaked through and I had nothing for dry clothes except for one shirt. Waaaaah!

Their dog is sitting on the well surveying his territory.

A Camino magic moment. I am signing the guest book and I see an earlier entry from about a month ago signed by a Cindy and Roger from Portland Oregon.  Hey, I know Cindy and Roger from Portland! I mean, there can only be one pair of a Cindy and Roger from Portland, right? But I’ll send a Facebook message to be sure. Stay tuned to find out…

Terry stayed at the apartment for foot recovery, but walked around the town, checked out where to do laundry, did a big grocery shop without thinking of having to lug the groceries home, and got excited at the idea of dumping a few more pounds from her pack, only to find out that Canada Post has asked countries to not ship any parcels to Canada because of the Canada Post strike. Grrrr.

Because we had this place for two nights, the idea was for Ken and Scott to walk the next stage and then come back by train. But in order to avoid the stress of having to reach Mussidan by a specific time, it was decided they would train there and walk back to St Astier, and they could go at their own pace. It was to be 27 km but Ken didn’t want to walk that far so we arranged a taxi to take him about 10 km from Mussidan to shorten his day while Scott planned on doing the whole thing.

I will let them tell their story.

Our house was in the building with the black rectangles. Lots of construction.

Look how cheap their orchids are.

More October Rose month. For cancer.

Ken here.  This was a hasty shot of the station at st astier after Scotty and I hustled our buns from our domicile. 2 minutes later we were on the train. Very slick or lucky timing. Pretty much the only ones on the train too!

Happened to notice this graffiti behind the shelter. Funny but a bit political too Scott figured.

Trying to live up to Terry’s instructions to take lots of pictures I took a shot of the Mussidan station and a kind of moorish restaurant across from it.  Scott had already quickly buggered off with a  confident stride.  As i finished poking my nose in  (too rich for my blood)  I heard a rough approximation of my name being called. Turned out to be my taxi driver so off we went to Douzillac.

This as a close as we could get to the church where I wanted to go as they were ripping up the street. So off I went, up the hill out of town, (of course) stopping only to take a shot of a flamingo, cause Terry would like that and I’m a sensitive guy.

This is where the trail started for me so I thought I’d leave a marker for Scott so he’d know I was there. Apparently he saw it but thought it was some local weirdo.  Started well but I have to say navigating backwards when all the  very small trail markets face the other way is tricky. I took one wrong turn but corrected fairly quickly.

Some photos of the landscape,a cool little unlocked shelter set up by the local hunting club and used freely by locals and hikers. There was also a very sensitively constructed road that diverted around a majestic old tree.

However right about the 7 km mark in my walk that pulled groin thing kicked in nastily  so that I could only walk about 500 meters at a time before it stiffened up my entire left leg like a wooden thing.  Slowed me down tremendously and was painful enough so I didn’t take any more pictures. According to the MapMyWalk app I stopped 34 times to sit, which seemed to help. Uphills were ok, so it actually came  to be that I looked forward to climbing but the downhill really did me in. I was in a fair bit of pain by the time I hobbled in to the house in the rain  but I did complete the plan. 

Scott on other hand got lost early,  spent half an hour on the side of the road crying for his mama, and then took the train home.

Walking back from doing the laundry on a dark street…all by my lonesome. This was not written by Ken or Scott.

Hope the 3 musketeers can make tomorrow’s trek considering our challenges of the day!

Terry took a break from walking today, wandered around town for a bit, then caught a taxi to our next town.  I was going to take the train but ALL the trains were cancelled for some reason. The taxi driver kept trying to talk to me but his phone never stopped ringing…likely because there were no trains.

Ken left first, his first foray on his own with the Camino app and MapMyWalk. Look how hopeful he looks. He did well, other than leaving his wallet at a bar…which maybe doesn’t qualify as doing well  😀

Scott left an hour later, complaining he didn’t get any sleep  because of the two people snoring in the bed below.  Now who could that have been?

This church is unusual because of its many domes but I couldn’t get any good pictures of them.

For Momma Mary F. I hope she is enjoying the sunshine where she is at. 🌞

The remains of an ancient Roman arena.

Okay. I know it’s an invasion of privacy. But the way people here hold conversations with their neighbours through their windows just resonates with me. Quintessentially French…and no phones needed.

An automobile club that has been in existence since 1898.  Not 1998. 1898. Ken wants to join.

Ken is appreciative of free toilets along the way. I was more taken with the carpet of leaves.

Our familiar shell.

Scott caught up with Ken about halfway, in time to share Ken’s lunch of a chocolate bar and half an orange.

A little damp today.

It’s unusual to see such statues standing individually at the war memorials.

The bar in question. Ken didn’t actually leave without his wallet. He realized he didn’t have it while he was still sitting outside with his beer and Scott tried to bum some money from him. The young lady proprietor had it in her hand as soon as he walked in with that “lost my wallet” look on his face. Good people there.

This was the seductive glass of beer that distracted Ken from his wallet.

The way these poplars were planted really reminded Ken of the Commonwealth graveyards we saw so many of earlier.  Sort of a sense of peace and dignity in these groves.

The rivers and creeks are all over flowing given Storm Benjamin”s visit.

The grandparents and kids picking walnuts (probably) reminded Ken of that old painting called The Gleaners.

A really expensive footbridge that just ends in a small footpath.

I’ve arrived in St. Astier before the boys.

This is the Isle River, in full spate. The noise of this was amazing and I watched large stumps bobbing along in the current.

Here come the boys across the bridge.

Beware the man wielding a baguette like a weapon! Ken was hobbling badly by this point as he says he might have pulled his groin like the Arrogant Worms song says. Figure he’ll heal by tomorrow as he is so tough. (Insert Terry eye roll here).

The church campanile lit up in pink.

Imagine coming into your apartment in small town France and seeing a wall mural of Maligne Lake – a little bit of home.

Supper was cobbled together from the shopping spree at the local Lidl – chicken Cordon Bleu, frozen veggies and gnocchi.  We are always trying to book at least 2 days ahead as not all of the pilgrim places are open. Fingers crossed that we get a positive reply to my request to stay with a pilgrim host family. If not, we will have to regroup as the train only goes about 15 minutes from here and then cuts away from the Camino route. We would again be faced with a too long walk. We are here for two nights.

We could not find a place to stay between Thiviers and Perigueux, and weren’t prepared to walk 40 km, so we took the train.  I also wasn’t able to walk well yet. So to the train station we went. Waited in the bar across the street from the station and noticed the functioning pizza machine. We could have had pizza for supper last night instead of Scott’s rice and lentils (not that there was anything wrong with Scott’s rice and lentils!).

I always stop to read the history of a place and am thankful for Google Translate. The little terrier was interesting to find out about as it was the first time I’ve seen anything like that.

This is what a coffee happy looks like.

Thank you for peeing with your eyes open.

There’s that temptation again of taking the train to Bordeaux St Jean rather than walking.

The bigger stations have underground passageways to get to your train platform but here you have to cross the tracks.

Our trains have been only one car long on these little regional routes.

Such a happy boy. Found a magazine about his favourite little deuxcheveaux.

A tailor. That’s quite the collection of thimbles.

No McDonald’s when you are with Scott. Moroccan again.

For Ethel.

I have to admit to pressing a key on this very strange organ when no one was looking…but no music did it make 😐🎶

Waiting for the pilgrim refuge to open to see if we could get a room.

Sadly, no. Off to the Ibis Budget Hotel instead.

I’m anticipating that we should have put Scott in a separate room.

And I was correct.  Why am I travelling with children.

There was an incredible storm during the night (Storm Benjamin raged through France and into Switzerland – you know its a big storm when they give it a name). The street was flooded. Major rain in the forecast for tomorrow too.

Ken thought this graffiti was pretty hard hitting.

The hotel has a kiosk where you can get hot soup in addition to your coffee.

They also have this sign beside the chocolate bar vending machine, which I think is horribly cruel! Not that it stopped me 😁🍫

Scott picked up stamps to send postcards (still to be written) and they are croissant and butter scented.

This  display has given Ken ideas for the Lac La Biche museum.

One town. A thousand histories. There is a large separate poster for each of the pictures here telling the stories of local citizens in their own words. I would love to see this in Lac La Biche – there are so many diverse stories to be told which should not be lost.

A pilgrim in the St Jacques chapel of the cathedral. Ken says he hopes we look better than he does!

October is breast cancer month in France and there are so many different ways the towns are showing support.

This painted street is for mental health awareness.

The boys will walk tomorrow, but I am still recovering so I will have to taxi. Heavy sigh.

I asked Ken to do the blog today. This is his version.

Tough day. Here’s a frigging picture.

Given that’s typical Ken and thus completely unacceptable, here is the real blog.

One thing I didn’t mention earlier was that my foot was seized up by the time we reached our accommodation last night and it was difficult to walk. But it felt okay this morning and off we went.

We have stayed in so many different types of places. From this stone house in the morning to a mobile home in the evening.

It is mornings like these that make me happy to be doing this. Starting off walking downhill (unusual in that we usually start off with a lovely hill) in all that green with 6 asses below me. Oh wait. Sorry. There were only four donkeys, not 6.

The meticulousness of how these stone houses are put together never ceases to amaze me.

I had to get a picture of this tulip tree in all its glory. The owner drove up as I was getting the photo and agreed it was beautiful. The shape of the leaf gives the tree its name.

I finally realized that it was the lacing on my shoe cutting off circulation that was causing the seizing of my foot, so Ken did some readjusting. This helped my foot immensely but by then I was developing a shin splint.

Ken says “Finally! The right person getting lectured!”

We weren’t sure we would find anything to eat tonight so we considered maybe we could have chicken…

Stereo barking.

Ken here. Terry will do anything to get out of walking, even taking pictures of microscopic flowers or looking through garbage for anything we can take. Takes a lot of patience on my part.

Terry here. Here’s the microscopic flower – bell heather. And I had gone over to put some garbage in the bin. However, even though it’s free to put things in the recycling bins you actually have to pay to put anything in the garbage bin. That’s why there are all the garbage bags outside the bin because no one wants to pay. What a stupid system. At least they don’t worry about bears.

A not so microscopic dahlia.

Yay! Only one thousand two hundred and sixty eight kilometres to go!  Although, we are not going all the way to Santiago this time. Maybe another 400 to go.

As we were walking towards this time, we could hear all this yelling and wierd howling…then gunshots.  Hunting with dogs. I don’t understand how they could be hunting so close to residences and the town. And I won’t get into opinions on using dogs to flush out deer and other animals so that the poor animals die terrified.

A more suitable “sport”. Petainque tournament.

One kilometer left to go.

Our home for the night.

Barely beat the rain.  Our home had a jar full of candy, which we pretty much cleaned out, so much that we felt guilty and put 5 euro in the jar. Scott has been carrying rice, lentils and bouillon in his Mary Poppins bag so we had a good supper and we’re snug as bugs.  But sadly, I couldn’t get any of the three cats I saw to come for pets.

But cosy, fed and dry.  What more do you really need?

Another summery day, although Ken says cold rain is coming soon. I was tempted to walk around the yard for 0.14 km to round up to 24 km.  A strange day in that sometimes we had full wind (ie lots of energy as opposed to wind produced by the weather and/or Ken 😵‍💫) and life was good, and other times it was a trudge. There were 3 steep hills but the ones that were on the forest trails seemed so much easier, oddly enough, even with the uneven footing and piles of chestnuts and acorns.

Scott spent the night in the loft, with some pretty rickety stairs to go up and down.

Ken has been growing this scruff since his birthday on October 5th. Terry says he is too lazy to shave. Ken says it’s a fashion statement.  The goal is an actual beard. So far, the only goal reached is people avoiding him. We’ll keep you apprised of the progress.

A beautiful garden of Amaranth.

The route takes you past the tower where Richard the Lion Heart was killed by a cross bow in 1199.

All 3 pounds of him wanted to eat us.

Pilgrim statues everywhere…but not a pilgrim stamp in sight.

Just a slightly steep hill, nothing to it! (puff puff wheeze)

So many sheep clustering in the shade.

Saw a few Lotus going by in a clump. Hmmm. One of those might, just might, be faster than walking.

Sometimes the chestnut leaves and nuts were over ankle deep. Fun to walk through.

Doesn’t he look like he wants to bite you?

I wish this photo could capture how stunning this field was, with volunteer sunflowers and corn and whatever the white flowers. Like jewels sparkling in the sun.

Starting to see the more traditional Camino scallop shell emblem… Perhaps because this town has a pilgrim refuge and also because the town we are headed to (La Coquille) is named  Scallop.

Ken was sad to see this old Citroën beast slowly giving up hope as some squatter’s home.

We thought this was the Camino shell but it’s actually a honey bee as this place is an apiary.

The BugSnax came out to say hello to this pilgrim.

Ken took the opportunity to find a beer while I was with the BugSnax and while Scott patiently watched our bags.

There is a stealth cat in this photo who was convinced we could not see him, even though Ken told him we could.

We finally reached our accommodation and had to phone to be let in. Turns out the lady (who speaks French only) is a pilgrim host, has done the Camino, and had a pilgrim stamp for our credentials.   Serendipity for sure.

Did I mention we got chilly on the boat and we bought cold weather clothes? And then how yesterday the temperatures have bounce back up to 20 degrees during the day? Yep, I am so thankful that I bought that puffy vest to fill up my empty backpack even more. Heavy sigh.

But the countryside is beautiful, the dreaded hills give panoramic views that photos just can’t capture, and the maple trees are adding colour.

Breakfast was included at our gite, with homemade apple juice, yogurt and jams, and pears fresh from the tree.

Our breakfast companion – he was hoping for lots of pets but was told to stay on his blanket. That’s why he’s sad. He’s an old chien too, all of 12. Real sweet guy.

Old beams in the bathroom.

Ken bought me baubles in the Limoges tourist office, as he thought the colour matched my stylish outfit  As a note, my stylish outfits consist of 2 of everything – wear one pack one – 2 shirts, 2 leggings, 2 pairs of socks, etc. And my perfume is perhaps more Eau de Goat rather than Chanel #5 but…who cares?

Very strange and huge melon.

Ha ha. All these animals in the chicken coop are stuffed toys.

This house, which is for sale, seems to take the “open concept” to the extreme.

Scott was so sad to be missing the cider festival.

City hall where we got pilgrim stamps (the stamps are actually very hard to come by but they are the proof that you have walked.)

The restroom sign. I especially like the racing wheelchair.

Wood dove.

Check out this ancient mail box (they use a modern one now).

This boy was killed on this spot and was a resistance fighter for the Free French (the good guys).

Meringue ghosts in the boulangerie.

The churches are becoming noticeably more humble.

Lunch on the church steps.

Tiny shrine to Mary on the steep climb out of town.

Scott decided he had enough of us and is waiting to catch the first bus to Poland.

An optimal “bench” for a chocolate bar halfway up yet another hill.

See that blue dot? That’s where we are. See the blue line? That’s where we are supposed to be. Heavy sigh.  To top it off, we had to listen to some woman screaming at her husband/kids/dog – we never did see who the victim was.

The trail was covered with chestnuts.

Two stumps by a house telling hikers to take a break there. Nice.

We are in a town called Chalus. It’s claim to fame is it’s chateau where Richard the Lion Heart was killed during the Crusades. You might remember him from the Robin Hood legends.  Robin might not have been real but King Richard I was.

So much wasted fruit. We simply cannot understand it.

New York Aster.

Our home for the night, a pine chalet.

Still lotsa of uphill but maybe we’re toughening again as we were able to go shopping at the Intermarche and Ken cooked up a fine meal for his beloved even though she only let him buy two really small bottles of beer after his sweat filled day. Humph! (Insert Terry eyeroll here)

To try to shorten the day plus avoid a long sidewalk trudge out of Limoges, we decided to take a 15 minute train ride to a starting point just outside of Limoges. This also gave us an opportunity to go to the Tourist Office for our pilgrim stamps and visit the Museum of Resistance.  

Ken’s breakfast consisted of the lollipop he got from the Korean restaurant last night.

Our apartment was in a seniors’ residence. It was a little spooky as we never saw anyone except for the lady who let us in.

Ken thought this was an appropriate place for us to stay as we are both seniors.

Limoges is located in what was called Vichy France during WW2, which was not occupied by the Nazis in return for capitulation. But capitulation was not agreed to by all and pockets of resistence generally coalesced into the Free French under Charles de Gaulle. This area was also at the heart of the French resistance. So sad to see the atrocities carried out against the French people by the Vichy French.

I include this book because we visited the remains of this village in 2010.  The Nazis, believing there were resistance fighters here, rounded up approximately 600 people from this village (everyone they could find), locked them in the church, opened fire and set fire to the church with everyone in it (most still alive), as well as burning  the town. The oldest person was 81 years old, the youngest a baby only 10 days old. The village has been left as is, an open air museum, and is a horrific reminder of war.

But we move on to the train station.

This photo is for Nancy, who will know just how I feel.  We can take the 15 minute train ride and begin our walk of 30 days to St Jean Pied de Port…or we can catch the Bordeaux St Jean train which will get us there in 4 hours.  Hmmm.  Choices. Choices.

These buildings are sooo old.

Lots of trout in this creek.

An old roman bridge arch.

Lunch outside the grocery store.

This house has a cat ramp up to the balcony. Didn’t see a kitty though.

Jamie saw us passing and offered us water. He had just finished a three day hike 2 days ago, then played basketball with his brother and broke his foot. A Camino angel for us as the 13 km day turned into a 22 km day (2 km in Limoges being tourists) and the hills have been horrendous today.

Note the old fashioned stone direction sign.

Little Kenny squished against the one lane bridge while a big truck passes.

Field of dried sunflowers.

A random corn growing at the edge of thevroad.

The school bus has a flashing big and little person sign in the top left corner.

We heard this mule braying before we saw him. He looked so lonely. I just wanted to scrunch his adorable ears.

So what? I like dandelions. And why isn’t dandelion spelled dandelion with a y?

We stayed at an old farm/mill nestled in a small deep valley. We love when we find out the place we have chosen is so eclectic.

No food for miles so Scott cooked up a batch of rice in chicken boullion with herbs de province (yes, he is carrying all that). Very soul-satisfying and tasty after the most difficult walking day yet. Ken had supper in bed because he was cold…or so he says).

Bit disconcerting day as we thought we had a short flatland walk after a layoff of almost 10 days so we were just sauntering tourists all morning in Limoges.  Once we got started the hills just kept coming and of course the trail distance was underestimated.  The packs seemed extra heavy too, now that Rawley isn’t here to roll the odds and ends.  Good thing Ken is so tough and needs only minimal pampering!  (Inset Terry eye roll here).

3 days for the price of one, as the days were somewhat disjointed with lots of travel.  We did some laundry at the nearby supermarket where Peter stocked up on his favourite treats to bring home, said goodbye to Calypso 29, took a private car-bus to an airport hotel near Charles de Gaulle Airport. Spent the next day exploring the Air and Space Museum (5 hours!) and did a bit of shopping.  And on the third day we said goodbye to Peter and headed south via train to Limoges to resume walking.

A man who looks like he loves hanging in laundromats. 

The LeBoat people are super to deal with and this lady was particularly helpful.  She was checking out the blog as well.

A zinnia. Gorgeous colour!

We were supposed to have a 7 passenger van take us to Paris. Expensive but it avoided 2 taxi rides and three trains, plus Rawley was packed up in his bags and there was just too much to haul…so we are unapologetic!  However, the van had apparently broken down so the driver showed up in a 16 passenger mini-bus, just for us.  Luxury, as it was a 4 hour drive.

Scott doesn’t like to be ignored, which Ken is doing his best to do as Scott can be rather…well, let’s just say non-stop chatty. So scott nattered at me and says as his mother I must listen.  He has planned out our three week trip to Japan, including places to stay… except…are we even going to Japan? And then Uzbekistan?

Ken is looking a little 😱 afraid of the nuclear plants. About 70% of France’s power comes from nuclear.

We can’t remember why Ken had such a big pout on.

Check out our bus – just for us. And the big pile of luggage. We sent Peter with three checked bags as Rawley needs 2 bags.

The hotel has a kiosk where you could choose from a number of different restaurants, order your meal, and have it delivered to your room. What a brilliant idea, especiallyfor travellers just coming off long flights.

A Nutella dispensing machine at the breakfast buffet.

Our hotel was on the landing path for Air France planes. Very cool to see them coming in so low…but the room was quiet with double windows.

Ken can always find some old thing to look at. 1973 Airstream.  Very shiny but gutted inside.

Many of their stoplight have shapes to help colour blind people.

A bidet in the space museum, only about 200 years old.

There was a school group at the CL215, so I told the teacher Ken worked with them in Canada. He assumed Ken was a pilot and was telling the kids. It’s hard to explain Air Attack Officer.

I flew on an Air France 747 from Paris to Toronto waaaaaay back in 1970.

They had 2 Concordes you could walk through.

After having been hosed for 50 euros for a 12 km taxi ride, we walked the 4 km to the mall after the museum. Did I mention we spent 5 hours in that museum??? Just saying. 

Also, we passed 2 random black sheep just hanging out.

Should I be frightened that Ken and I said the same thing as we passed by here…that this is where old shopping carts go to die? Are we starting to think alike? 😵‍💫

We got quite chilly on the boat with cooler temperatures,  so we thought it was time to send some of our warm weather clothes and hit a Decathlon store for some puffy vests. Ken never thought he’d have to go mall shopping in France!

Ken modeling his new ensemble, toque and women’s 2XL puffy vest (there were no men’s vests). Quite the striking pose and a random guy walking by gave Ken the thumbs up and a “looking goid”.

The 15th. We give Peter hugs goodbye as he heads onto his flight to Calgary and then to Edmonton. The rest of us take 3 train rides to get to Limoges where we will start our walk again.

Ken was sad he couldn’t find the bar car on our train.

We spent 2 hours talking with Carol and Kevin from Australia on one leg of the journey. Love meeting new people.

Scott found us a Korean restaurant in Limoges – very yummy.  The food, nothing Scott.

Our familiar Camino shell to mark our path.

Peter’s plane (the red one) landing in Calgary. Now mom can rest easy.