Distance from Pont Saint-Martin 21.8km Distance from Dijon 448km
Monday 3/8 - Tuesday 4/8/15
So I found myself in forced rest due to ill health and needing the bathroom every two seconds. I spent the first day at the Al Castel bed and breakfast asleep. By the following morning I was still feeling washed out, breakfast was served at 8.30am as we had asked for and was a small banquet of delights. Fresh fruit, pastries, yogurts, cereals, juice etc etc etc. Unfortunately I was only able to succumb to a coffee and a pastry. With breakfast over and with very little strength I stayed around my room, making use of the small lounge area and the covered terrace to get fresh air. Once again taking the opportunity to sleep when the need arose.
I was fortunate on two fronts as Rachel was a vey able and willing nurse to tend to my every whim and the bed and breakfast was free for us to take advantage of an extra days rest. The thoughts of donning a large pack and walking at that very moment a daunting thought.
By late afternoon and with bathroom visits becoming less urgent and less frequent I was now starting to add increasing morsels of food to my depleted body.
The afternoon continued to provide a surprise in the form of two additional guests who's room was suddenly prepared and they as soon, arrived. Now I am not one to caste assumptions but after a couple of hours he appeared and returned to the room carrying plates of food from somewhere! Maybe they needed to replenish their energy levels.... A few hours later they left never to return.........
By 7.30pm it was our turn to head out for something to eat and we headed off to somewhere that had been recommended to us. I don't think that there were any tourists in town because the hotel restaurant turned out to be the locals haunt. The food was very nice but Rachel's was very plain. I don't think herbs or spices are used on the continent, if they are we never ever find them in our meals. My meal choice was the blueberry and mushroom risotto. Now I would never have considered blueberries in a savoury dish but to be honest once I had recovered from the colour of the meal it was surprisingly different and not altogether unpleasant. With full tummies we strolled back to our room to watch a movie.
By the next morning I was definitely feeling much better and raring to go for a walk. Once more a breakfast banquet was awaiting us and we both indulged to excess. After setting the bill and saying our goodbyes we were on our way to Ivrea.
Sunday, 20 September 2015
Rest, recuperation and then a wee stroll !
Distance from Issogne 14.7km. Distance from Dijon 426.2km
Saturday 1/8 - Monday 3/8/15
Well the first night was exciting as Rachel (my wife) was en route and trying to locate me somewhere along the Aosta valley. Once located she just had to work out how to physically get to me, bus, train, boat, plane, taxi, bike, foot or mule!
As soon as I arrived in the village I let here know I was safe, a common practise required when I travel alone. Back came the response that she was waiting for the next train to a nearby station and then once more had to work out the next mode of transport......we do lead very exciting lives!
I settled into my hotel room, making sure it did not resemble a bomb sight for when she arrived. I decided to have a well deserved catnap and just as I was about to fall asleep, the phone rang. Rachel had arrived at her next stage of the journey and upon arrival had wandered into a bar to ask about the local bus service. I believe a conversation ensued and a very kind young man offered to give her a lift once he had finished his beer. Soon she was on her way and within ten minutes I saw her step out a car. A funny conversation then ensued with me telling Rachel I could see her but she could not see me and I guided her round cars, telling her the make and colour before sending down the road to the hotel and me sitting laughing on the terrace.
I left Rachel to nest in the room and later joined her to discuss the evening meal options. Ha ha image my surprise and joy at seeing that every available surface was now covered with something of Rachel's.....well I guess she was making her self at home.
We had been recommended to try the local restaurant and had booked a table earlier in the evening. We turned up like two scruffy urchins and were shown to out table. It turned out the restaurant was owned by the family and they all lived on the premises. Our waiter spoke good English having been to sent to Scarborough on the North East coast of England ......a sea-side town when still at school. We both wondered how fate had sent home there rather than one of the main cities.
The meal was excellent and I won't make your mouth water by going into the details, suffice to say we skipped out like two very happy bunnies.
The next morning we had decided to check out the shop for provisions and to visit the local Castle by the side of our hotel. It was cheap enough to visit and although the guide was only in Italian we were provided with an English map and each room had some extra information we could both read. Following earlier Roman occupation a fortification building was part of the Bishop's of Aosta's possession around the 12th century before being handed to the Challant family. Now it his in the hands of the local municipality but there is every possibility that it used to provide religious Pilgrims sanctuary from the weary road to Rome.
The day continued uneventfully with us just catching up on chores that needed completing. For the evening we were to dine in the hotel.......how I wished I had had a premonition of what was in store for me...
Meal completed we drifted off to our rooms and with bags packed for an early start, off we went to sleep......O my goodness, in the middle of the night I raced the bathroom and literally did not know which way to turn first. After turning myself inside out several times, I returned to my bed like a rung out dishcloth. Rachel slumbered on totally unaware.....bless!
An hour later I was forced to repeat the whole experience again, this time Rachel woke up and some wifely tender loving care was administered which did make me feel a bit better. I drifted off to a disturbed sleep and woke up at 7.30am to start the day. I stayed where I was and dispatched Rachel for breakfast knowing that I had got food poisoning!
I got ready with bags packed and then promptly undressed and went back to bed for another two hours. We left the hotel after paying the bill and slowly ambled through the village once supplies for the day had been purchased. After three miles of the planned seven miles under our belts I took advantage of a bus shelter to catch my breathe and sit down. I never did manage to walk again that day. My energy was totally depleted and with the thoughts of probably collapsing, once again common sense prevailed and we caught the bus to Pont Saint-Martin.
We had pre-booked a nice bed and breakfast that we had been told was worth every penny but could not get in until after three in the afternoon. Having arrived too early we found a bench, Rachel sat down and I curled up like a ball resting my head on her lap and fell asleep for and hour and a half.
Shortly after three we trundled to the bed and breakfast and by just after four the owner arrived, we settled in and I went straight to bed for another two hours.
Life is not always a bowl of cherries!!!
Saturday 1/8 - Monday 3/8/15
Well the first night was exciting as Rachel (my wife) was en route and trying to locate me somewhere along the Aosta valley. Once located she just had to work out how to physically get to me, bus, train, boat, plane, taxi, bike, foot or mule!
As soon as I arrived in the village I let here know I was safe, a common practise required when I travel alone. Back came the response that she was waiting for the next train to a nearby station and then once more had to work out the next mode of transport......we do lead very exciting lives!
I settled into my hotel room, making sure it did not resemble a bomb sight for when she arrived. I decided to have a well deserved catnap and just as I was about to fall asleep, the phone rang. Rachel had arrived at her next stage of the journey and upon arrival had wandered into a bar to ask about the local bus service. I believe a conversation ensued and a very kind young man offered to give her a lift once he had finished his beer. Soon she was on her way and within ten minutes I saw her step out a car. A funny conversation then ensued with me telling Rachel I could see her but she could not see me and I guided her round cars, telling her the make and colour before sending down the road to the hotel and me sitting laughing on the terrace.
I left Rachel to nest in the room and later joined her to discuss the evening meal options. Ha ha image my surprise and joy at seeing that every available surface was now covered with something of Rachel's.....well I guess she was making her self at home.
We had been recommended to try the local restaurant and had booked a table earlier in the evening. We turned up like two scruffy urchins and were shown to out table. It turned out the restaurant was owned by the family and they all lived on the premises. Our waiter spoke good English having been to sent to Scarborough on the North East coast of England ......a sea-side town when still at school. We both wondered how fate had sent home there rather than one of the main cities.
The meal was excellent and I won't make your mouth water by going into the details, suffice to say we skipped out like two very happy bunnies.
The next morning we had decided to check out the shop for provisions and to visit the local Castle by the side of our hotel. It was cheap enough to visit and although the guide was only in Italian we were provided with an English map and each room had some extra information we could both read. Following earlier Roman occupation a fortification building was part of the Bishop's of Aosta's possession around the 12th century before being handed to the Challant family. Now it his in the hands of the local municipality but there is every possibility that it used to provide religious Pilgrims sanctuary from the weary road to Rome.
The day continued uneventfully with us just catching up on chores that needed completing. For the evening we were to dine in the hotel.......how I wished I had had a premonition of what was in store for me...
Meal completed we drifted off to our rooms and with bags packed for an early start, off we went to sleep......O my goodness, in the middle of the night I raced the bathroom and literally did not know which way to turn first. After turning myself inside out several times, I returned to my bed like a rung out dishcloth. Rachel slumbered on totally unaware.....bless!
An hour later I was forced to repeat the whole experience again, this time Rachel woke up and some wifely tender loving care was administered which did make me feel a bit better. I drifted off to a disturbed sleep and woke up at 7.30am to start the day. I stayed where I was and dispatched Rachel for breakfast knowing that I had got food poisoning!
I got ready with bags packed and then promptly undressed and went back to bed for another two hours. We left the hotel after paying the bill and slowly ambled through the village once supplies for the day had been purchased. After three miles of the planned seven miles under our belts I took advantage of a bus shelter to catch my breathe and sit down. I never did manage to walk again that day. My energy was totally depleted and with the thoughts of probably collapsing, once again common sense prevailed and we caught the bus to Pont Saint-Martin.
We had pre-booked a nice bed and breakfast that we had been told was worth every penny but could not get in until after three in the afternoon. Having arrived too early we found a bench, Rachel sat down and I curled up like a ball resting my head on her lap and fell asleep for and hour and a half.
Shortly after three we trundled to the bed and breakfast and by just after four the owner arrived, we settled in and I went straight to bed for another two hours.
Life is not always a bowl of cherries!!!
The crazy Spanish cow and a chatty policeman!
Distance from Chattillon 20.3km Distance from Dijon 411.5
Saturday 1/8/15
Well after an evening without a meal I was a bit hungry when I woke up. Breakfast was a meagre affair and the usual bread and jam but this time with two additional luxuries - orange juice and soft diary lee like triangular cheese. Once consumed, bill paid and stamp for my Credenza I was off.
I was informed that rather than going back into town the Francigena passes the door, naturally uphill. Before I left the road and entered the hillside the path became a bit unclear so I hesitated to study my GPS and guide book map. No sooner had I done this then a voice was heard.....bonjourno, bonjourno.....I looked up to see a man rapidly getting out of his car and heading my way......Francigena he announced and some very obvious Italian that I did not have a clue about. I apologised and told him I did not speak Italian.........agh you are English......I am like a Spanish cow! He uttered in absolute and excitable enthusiasm... He directed me in the right direction and bid me chow as he returned to his car.
Today's route had been described as less strenuous that the St Bernard's pass day and there was the possibility of breaking the journey half way. I had already declined that option in my mind as my wife was joining me at the end of the stage, hopefully if she could find me.
I continued on my way and the route continued the by now familiar pattern of ups and downs, with what seemed more very steep ups than downs through the rolling hillside and valley terraces. All the time the valley of Aosta laying below me like a lazy gentle giant with the snow capped mountains at its head. In Saint Vincent the guide booked tested my patience and although there are waypoints every step of the way, there were several times when I had to retrace my steps to ensure my route. The final straw that nearly had me heading to the local for a beer was when the I was guided to go a particular route and turn right at a T-junction. Well I know what a T-junction is and I do know my left from right, but could I find the correct route with a yellow marker. I tried every conceivable option. Evtually I resorted to using my GPS map versus the guide book map. I concluded that I was in fact totally in the wrong place and to far below my intended course. I tracked the route back to the main road where hopefully my true path was just above me. As I looked at my GPS, identified that I should take the next write, there on that side of the road was a very bright VF sing and an arrow pointing up the hill. Formidabla.........all the time I had been directed right when it should have been left and the T-junction did not exist.....Over an hour trying to get on the right path! Slightly annoyed I continued and by the time I had reached my half way point I was already regretting not taking the option of breaking the journey, but love was calling me on.
After resting for half an hour with my boot less feet up on my bag resting, I was back on my way. The day by now was hot and sticky and despite only carrying a litre of water, I had taken every opportunity of rehydrating at every fountain I had come across. The route continued to be more of the same with the hills getting steeper and steeper with the valley below me becoming smaller and smaller. I had been warned about the possibility of dogs running loose and was always wary when passing them. During the afternoon I came across a sweet looking one that looked as though it was chained up. It never made a noise as I cautiously approached it, in fact it moved towards me and slightly behind a stone pillar almost out of view. I drew alongside, still no movement or noise, as I just got past it it leapt at me like a Tazmanian devil. Well it's a good job I have good bowl control.....I looked at it laughing my head off. I wonder how many times he completed his party piece at unsuspecting walkers?
I always walk with on coming traffic facing me and as my path took me through one sleepy village I moved to one side as a police car approached........then stopped. It turned out to be the local forestry police. The passenger window opened and I really did not know what to expect! The driver leaned over his female colleague and the first words he uttered was.........Francigena, Via Francigena and then loads of Italian. Again I mentioned that I could not speak Italian.......agh you are English? We both then have a very lengthy chat about the walk, the route, where I had set off from and all manner of things. His female officer just smiled as if to say...........he's always doing this!
Just before Issogne my path was well above the valley floor and soon I was making a very steep and careful way down on the slippery stone cobbled track to river below. I followed this and was soon finishing the day, now to find a bed for the night. I had tried to book somewhere that had been recommended to me but tonight it was full. I had also asked if that accommodation could recommend somewhere and text me but I had received no message.
With no knowledge of any obvious place I went in sight of a beer and some divine intervention. I sat down with said beer in hand and looked for an Internet connection, no chance. My gut feeling told me to call the accommodation that was full for tonight and see if anything had been arranged. I stepped outside into the rain and took shelter to don my waterproofs, whilst completing this the landlord stepped outside and presented me with a baseball cap to keep my head dry......how nice!
Fortunate was to be on my side today as unbeknown to me I had been booked into an Auberge in the village that I was not aware of, and even shown where it was...I am starting to find the Italians much more accommodation to Pilgrims than France.
Saturday 1/8/15
Well after an evening without a meal I was a bit hungry when I woke up. Breakfast was a meagre affair and the usual bread and jam but this time with two additional luxuries - orange juice and soft diary lee like triangular cheese. Once consumed, bill paid and stamp for my Credenza I was off.
I was informed that rather than going back into town the Francigena passes the door, naturally uphill. Before I left the road and entered the hillside the path became a bit unclear so I hesitated to study my GPS and guide book map. No sooner had I done this then a voice was heard.....bonjourno, bonjourno.....I looked up to see a man rapidly getting out of his car and heading my way......Francigena he announced and some very obvious Italian that I did not have a clue about. I apologised and told him I did not speak Italian.........agh you are English......I am like a Spanish cow! He uttered in absolute and excitable enthusiasm... He directed me in the right direction and bid me chow as he returned to his car.
Today's route had been described as less strenuous that the St Bernard's pass day and there was the possibility of breaking the journey half way. I had already declined that option in my mind as my wife was joining me at the end of the stage, hopefully if she could find me.
I continued on my way and the route continued the by now familiar pattern of ups and downs, with what seemed more very steep ups than downs through the rolling hillside and valley terraces. All the time the valley of Aosta laying below me like a lazy gentle giant with the snow capped mountains at its head. In Saint Vincent the guide booked tested my patience and although there are waypoints every step of the way, there were several times when I had to retrace my steps to ensure my route. The final straw that nearly had me heading to the local for a beer was when the I was guided to go a particular route and turn right at a T-junction. Well I know what a T-junction is and I do know my left from right, but could I find the correct route with a yellow marker. I tried every conceivable option. Evtually I resorted to using my GPS map versus the guide book map. I concluded that I was in fact totally in the wrong place and to far below my intended course. I tracked the route back to the main road where hopefully my true path was just above me. As I looked at my GPS, identified that I should take the next write, there on that side of the road was a very bright VF sing and an arrow pointing up the hill. Formidabla.........all the time I had been directed right when it should have been left and the T-junction did not exist.....Over an hour trying to get on the right path! Slightly annoyed I continued and by the time I had reached my half way point I was already regretting not taking the option of breaking the journey, but love was calling me on.
After resting for half an hour with my boot less feet up on my bag resting, I was back on my way. The day by now was hot and sticky and despite only carrying a litre of water, I had taken every opportunity of rehydrating at every fountain I had come across. The route continued to be more of the same with the hills getting steeper and steeper with the valley below me becoming smaller and smaller. I had been warned about the possibility of dogs running loose and was always wary when passing them. During the afternoon I came across a sweet looking one that looked as though it was chained up. It never made a noise as I cautiously approached it, in fact it moved towards me and slightly behind a stone pillar almost out of view. I drew alongside, still no movement or noise, as I just got past it it leapt at me like a Tazmanian devil. Well it's a good job I have good bowl control.....I looked at it laughing my head off. I wonder how many times he completed his party piece at unsuspecting walkers?
I always walk with on coming traffic facing me and as my path took me through one sleepy village I moved to one side as a police car approached........then stopped. It turned out to be the local forestry police. The passenger window opened and I really did not know what to expect! The driver leaned over his female colleague and the first words he uttered was.........Francigena, Via Francigena and then loads of Italian. Again I mentioned that I could not speak Italian.......agh you are English? We both then have a very lengthy chat about the walk, the route, where I had set off from and all manner of things. His female officer just smiled as if to say...........he's always doing this!
Just before Issogne my path was well above the valley floor and soon I was making a very steep and careful way down on the slippery stone cobbled track to river below. I followed this and was soon finishing the day, now to find a bed for the night. I had tried to book somewhere that had been recommended to me but tonight it was full. I had also asked if that accommodation could recommend somewhere and text me but I had received no message.
With no knowledge of any obvious place I went in sight of a beer and some divine intervention. I sat down with said beer in hand and looked for an Internet connection, no chance. My gut feeling told me to call the accommodation that was full for tonight and see if anything had been arranged. I stepped outside into the rain and took shelter to don my waterproofs, whilst completing this the landlord stepped outside and presented me with a baseball cap to keep my head dry......how nice!
Fortunate was to be on my side today as unbeknown to me I had been booked into an Auberge in the village that I was not aware of, and even shown where it was...I am starting to find the Italians much more accommodation to Pilgrims than France.
Walking alone with no Bert !
Distance from Aosta 28.4km. Distance from Dijon 391.2
Friday 31/7/15
I am getting used to early mornings and today was no exception. Today was going to be a new chapter in my Pilgrim walk as Bert was heading home to his family, having completed his planned two week walk. We headed down for breakfast at 7am and were surprised to see a veritable feast of breakfast goodies. We were used to the meagre bread, jam and coffee options so to be greeted with fresh fruit, yogurts and chocolate desserts, pastries, breads, cheeses, eggs etc etc etc We certainly took advantage of what was on offer.
With full tummies we set off on our final path together. I took advantage of a local bakery / cafe to get bread to go with my eggs today. As I entered the shop my ears were blasted with a cacophony of noise coming from every direction. With everyone talking at and together at the same time, this was my very first taste of Italy. With fresh olive ciabatta bread bought, I very gladly left everyone to their own noise.
At the edge of the city it was time for me to say goodbye to my by now very good friend and walking buddy...Bert. We exchanged goodbyes and man hugs, promising to be in touch and swap the photographs we had each taken.
I set off on my own!
The guide book had stated that it was to be a strenuous walk along the valley hillside with the option of breaking the day at a village halfway. I had already planned to decline this option as my wife Rachel was flying to Italy today to hopefully meet me somewhere the next day. No sooner had I left the city than the hills started and this was to be the case for the whole of the morning. Soon I was out of water but in Italy there is so much water coming off the hills there are water fountains in every village. Ensuring the water was advertised as non potable I took my first hesitant taste at the first opportunity of water. It was very cold and slightly chalky but perfectly ok to drink.
By late morning I had reached my half way point and amazing views back down the valley to Aosta and the mountains far behind. I sat on a bench, took my boots off, put my feet up on my bag and made and scoffed with delight my fresh egg sandwiches. Once completed I was on my way again. The guide book was not wrong about the strenuous journey, I was already thinking that maybe I had bitten off more than I could chew, but I pressed on. Again the weather was hot but a slight breeze kept the heat out of the day. On and on I walked, up and down and up and down the path went along fields, tracks and vineyard terraces to Chatillon.
I arrived late in the afternoon and very very tired. After paying a visit to the church, my end point and naturally at the top of lots of steps, I went in search of a hotel and a beer. Fortunately there was both options in the square so I sat down at a table on the terrace and waited for somebody to come out and ask what I would like. This never happened, and after seeing the landlord come out and provide other guests with coffee and ignore me, I went in search of him. I approached the bar and in my English Italian I asked for a beer please, he looked at me after removing his eyes from the game he was playing on the phone as though I was stupid.......and no comment from those of you who know me! I tried again, same response so this time I pointed at the beer tap. O an bierro, now I ask what is the the difference between a beer and a bierro apart from the obvious O? I decided that I was not going to provide this hotel with my presence and went in search of somewhere else. My guidebook mentioned another one and off I went in search off it. Sometimes you just wish you had stuck with what you had been offered. Formidabla more hills and up and up it went to the hotel I was in search of. I walked through the door hot and bothered and very tired. I must have looked a state as the landlady asked if I would like and drink of orange which I drank eagerly. The landlady spoke no English and I spoke no Italian so with phrase book in hand I took a crash course in trying to make myself understood. I must have been almost fluent, I wish, as I secured a bed for the night at Pilgrim rate including breakfast. I think the landlady had the last laugh as she promptly escorted me to my room on the ground floor..........the disable room......how appropriate!
My feet were making some serious complaints today and the thoughts of going down the hill and back up and speaking Italian was just too much. So I decided to stay in my room and save my appetite until breakfast. I thought maybe the Internet would take my mind off things as I had accommodation to secure the following night when Rachel would arrive. Stupid thought, backwards and forewords I went to reception to try and get on the Internet, eventually I plucked up courage and in Italian I said the Internet was buggered! Well I certainly felt like it. The landlady disappeared and her husband came back and reset the Internet modem. He came back and said ....five minutes, give it five minutes......English, English he could flipping speak English,
I returned to my room and made a request for some accommodation that had been recommended to me in Issogne my next day's destination. Soon my IPad rang and it was my wife On Skype calling. We had a god natter and I asked before we completed the call if she could send me some pastries that were in her room. She did but I could not eat them as they were pictures. With thoughts of fresh pizza, steaming bowls of pasta, and lush green salads I drifted off to sleep...........hungry!
Friday 31/7/15
I am getting used to early mornings and today was no exception. Today was going to be a new chapter in my Pilgrim walk as Bert was heading home to his family, having completed his planned two week walk. We headed down for breakfast at 7am and were surprised to see a veritable feast of breakfast goodies. We were used to the meagre bread, jam and coffee options so to be greeted with fresh fruit, yogurts and chocolate desserts, pastries, breads, cheeses, eggs etc etc etc We certainly took advantage of what was on offer.
With full tummies we set off on our final path together. I took advantage of a local bakery / cafe to get bread to go with my eggs today. As I entered the shop my ears were blasted with a cacophony of noise coming from every direction. With everyone talking at and together at the same time, this was my very first taste of Italy. With fresh olive ciabatta bread bought, I very gladly left everyone to their own noise.
At the edge of the city it was time for me to say goodbye to my by now very good friend and walking buddy...Bert. We exchanged goodbyes and man hugs, promising to be in touch and swap the photographs we had each taken.
I set off on my own!
The guide book had stated that it was to be a strenuous walk along the valley hillside with the option of breaking the day at a village halfway. I had already planned to decline this option as my wife Rachel was flying to Italy today to hopefully meet me somewhere the next day. No sooner had I left the city than the hills started and this was to be the case for the whole of the morning. Soon I was out of water but in Italy there is so much water coming off the hills there are water fountains in every village. Ensuring the water was advertised as non potable I took my first hesitant taste at the first opportunity of water. It was very cold and slightly chalky but perfectly ok to drink.
By late morning I had reached my half way point and amazing views back down the valley to Aosta and the mountains far behind. I sat on a bench, took my boots off, put my feet up on my bag and made and scoffed with delight my fresh egg sandwiches. Once completed I was on my way again. The guide book was not wrong about the strenuous journey, I was already thinking that maybe I had bitten off more than I could chew, but I pressed on. Again the weather was hot but a slight breeze kept the heat out of the day. On and on I walked, up and down and up and down the path went along fields, tracks and vineyard terraces to Chatillon.
I arrived late in the afternoon and very very tired. After paying a visit to the church, my end point and naturally at the top of lots of steps, I went in search of a hotel and a beer. Fortunately there was both options in the square so I sat down at a table on the terrace and waited for somebody to come out and ask what I would like. This never happened, and after seeing the landlord come out and provide other guests with coffee and ignore me, I went in search of him. I approached the bar and in my English Italian I asked for a beer please, he looked at me after removing his eyes from the game he was playing on the phone as though I was stupid.......and no comment from those of you who know me! I tried again, same response so this time I pointed at the beer tap. O an bierro, now I ask what is the the difference between a beer and a bierro apart from the obvious O? I decided that I was not going to provide this hotel with my presence and went in search of somewhere else. My guidebook mentioned another one and off I went in search off it. Sometimes you just wish you had stuck with what you had been offered. Formidabla more hills and up and up it went to the hotel I was in search of. I walked through the door hot and bothered and very tired. I must have looked a state as the landlady asked if I would like and drink of orange which I drank eagerly. The landlady spoke no English and I spoke no Italian so with phrase book in hand I took a crash course in trying to make myself understood. I must have been almost fluent, I wish, as I secured a bed for the night at Pilgrim rate including breakfast. I think the landlady had the last laugh as she promptly escorted me to my room on the ground floor..........the disable room......how appropriate!
My feet were making some serious complaints today and the thoughts of going down the hill and back up and speaking Italian was just too much. So I decided to stay in my room and save my appetite until breakfast. I thought maybe the Internet would take my mind off things as I had accommodation to secure the following night when Rachel would arrive. Stupid thought, backwards and forewords I went to reception to try and get on the Internet, eventually I plucked up courage and in Italian I said the Internet was buggered! Well I certainly felt like it. The landlady disappeared and her husband came back and reset the Internet modem. He came back and said ....five minutes, give it five minutes......English, English he could flipping speak English,
I returned to my room and made a request for some accommodation that had been recommended to me in Issogne my next day's destination. Soon my IPad rang and it was my wife On Skype calling. We had a god natter and I asked before we completed the call if she could send me some pastries that were in her room. She did but I could not eat them as they were pictures. With thoughts of fresh pizza, steaming bowls of pasta, and lush green salads I drifted off to sleep...........hungry!
Monday, 10 August 2015
Switzerland to Italy in less than ten minutes !
Col St Bernard to Etroubles
13.2km, Distance from Citeaux Abbey, Dijon 346.9 km
13.2km, Distance from Citeaux Abbey, Dijon 346.9 km
Well a new day and a different country beckons. Once again it was a long walk as we were all keen to complete two short days in one. With breakfast pre-arranged for 7.15 it was another early start. We had been sharing a large mixed dormitory and not everyone was getting up at the same time in our room, so with the lights off we all fumbled around to pack our sleeping bags and clothes into our bags, making as little noise as possible. Job finished in the corridor we traipsed down for breakfast only to find out that a local walking group was already up and breakfasted. This group were staying a few nights, walking in the mountains, averaging around 1000 metre climbs each day, with bags carried by a mule! Wonder if I can arrange something like that with my local walking Group - Your Outdoor Group?
Once again Bert and I separately set from our other Pilgrims. We took advantage of the early morning sunshine to take selfies while we were still in Switzerland and then within a two hundred metre walk we were crossing the border uneventfully into Italy!
It was a steady walk down off the mountain, following a well trodden route through fields, across electric fences and along hillside terraces. All the time we were being dogged by our fellow Pilgrims close behind. Bert had mentioned the previous night that jokingly we really did not mind if they wanted to walk with us! Eventually this became the case and as we naturally came together we all chatted away in a mixture of Dutch between themselves and English wanting to keep me in the conversations.
With the hot weather it is common for the fields to be sprayed with water on occasions to stop it drying out. As we left the village of Cerisey we encountered one such event. The field we had to pass through was littered with water sprayers and the ground was a veritable quagmire. By now the other Pilgrims were in front......how kind of them to show us how to get through. As they watched the machines at work to identify the pattern of their water dispersement, they slowly made their way through. Thinking they had outwitted the machines Margy was blasé and was treated to a quick drenching as one of the machines quickly turned itself on her back to the sounds of squeals of shock. Next it was our turn and like dancers on a ballroom floor we tango'd through the machines uneventful, aside from a river of water in my shoes.
We continued to Etroubles, the half way point of the day and yes it was coffee time. Our companions asked if they could join us and of course we said yes so we found a sunny terrace and quenched our thirsts.
With the same distance ahead in store we set off, by now having taken our time with the drinks it was well after midday. The route was a steady decline to Aosta passing through fields, wooded paths and alongside the numerous aqueducts that littered the valley edge. By now Bert and I were once more on our own, did we smell? Well quite possibly yes!
The views were to die for, the horizon littered with numerous mountains, some with snow like icing sugar on a cake, oozing down the sides. The sun was hot but the air was dry and not humid like we had experienced in Switzerland.
Just before mid afternoon Bert announced it was probably time for something to eat and I asked where he had in mind. He replied that just around the corner was a bench and stream just waiting for us, well it wasn't round the next corner but round the next one.......how did he know? We set up camp for our lunch spot and I took the opportunity to take my boots off and put my feet up. No sooner than we had had the first bite of our obligatory jam sandwich then our Pilgrim friends appeared. We all laughed and they joined us and we all grazed on our jam butties. We were soon in deep conversation about all manner of things, laughing and joking away once more.
After a good break it was on with the boots and this time we all walked together chatting away. Soon we were in the centre of Aosta and this time all heading to the Tourist Information to find a bed for the night. As we made our way there an extremely tall and I mean tall, probably over seven foot American asked if we were Pilgrims, we replied yes and set off together to the Tourist Information. Bert and I were offered a hotel about a kilometre away and I asked if there was any closer in the town. Yes came the reply, it's a few Euros extra and it's only a double bed. We looked at each other and replied together.........no we'll take the first one please! Jean (pronounced Jon) turned round to me and laughing loudly told me it was probably Bert and my destiny and we should have taken the one with the double bed.
Once we had secured accommodation we retired for beer. By now we were all in high spirits have been up an Alpine mountain.....survived ......and come down. By the time the second large beer arrived we were all joking and crying with laughter and probably could have stayed there all night. Everything must come to an end and it was Berts final days walk and with beers drunk we all hugged and gave the traditional triple cheek kisses, including the men!
Bert and I wandered off to find our hotel which turned out to be across a very busy dual carriageway. With perfect timing we crossed the road alive. The hotel was basic, there was no extra charge for the traffic fumes or noise, it was cheap and once again the beds were very very separate.
Thursday, 6 August 2015
Orsiers to St Bernard's Pass
Orsiers to St. Bernard's Pass 25.3 km. Distance from Citeaux Abbey, Dijon 333.7km
With a very long and hard day in front of us and an anticipated walk of nine hours and twenty six kilometres, we woke before six for breakfast. We had previously arranged an early breakfast and our host was only too pleased to accommodate our request. Breakfast was laid out in the owners kitchen and naturally we consumed almost everything that had been laid out for us and also made sandwiches to take us through the day.
By 6.30am we were out of the door and straight away were climbing a very steep track, fortunately after what seemed an age the path levelled out to a more manageable one as we snaked our way up the mountain. By mid morning we had reached an opportunity for a coffee stop but as this meant a detour off our path and extra time and distance, with heavy hearts we declined the opportunity. By mid morning we had completed a third of our climb and after another steep section we decided enough was enough and pit stop was needed. We sat on our own respective boulder and fed our faces with jam butties.......
After a good twenty minutes we set off again. The weather forecast was for rain and cloud and by now this had come true but fortunately it was only very fine drizzle and not enough to put waterproofs on, something that neither of us wanted to do.
We continued to climb with the views around us becoming increasingly different and varied almost at every turn of the path. Passing a small weekend house/hut in the middle of nowhere the owner popped his head out of the door and asked if we were Francigena, again we said yes. A conversation ensued but in English and we were surprised to learn that the walk to Rome is becoming more popular with around ten Pilgrims a week now passing by. We were wished Bon Journey and carried on, once more the weather treated us to a quick wash but again we resisted putting waterproofs on because of the humid conditions.
Our journey up the mountain was progressing well and we were ahead of schedule so after reaching the top of a reservoir we made our way to the stream feeding it and had our lunch. This time dining on boiled egg sandwiches I had cooked the day before and cheese also left over......,a feast fit for a king! With mountains almost all around us with the occasional dusting of snow in corners that are missed by the sun, it was hard to start walking again.....but needs must.
We were less than six kilometres away but with a significant amount of climbing over a short distance in store, so we pressed on. Once more we were soon ascending a very steep track. Just before the summit the weather closed in and the clouds descended onto our heads. In misty, gloomy by now rainy weather, waterproofs were a necessity and once adorned we made the decision that the last two kilometres we would complete on the road. After less than an hour we reached the summit and a very welcome sign that were had reached the top of the St Bernard's pass. Needless to say after a quick photograph it was straight to the cafe to celebrate with a beer.
Once our drinks had been quaffed we completed the final two minutes walk to the monastery of St Bernard, Bert did ask if there was a taxi available! We were greeted with open arms by Brother Frederick and once we had dispensed with our wet outer clothes and footwear and adorned ourselves with obligatory free crock shoes we went for hot drinks.
The evening continued to be an eventful and moving experience. After visiting the museum and the local St Bernard dogs, all looking happy and content and absolutely cuddly, I went to set up my bed for the night. Once more we bumped into our fellow Pilgrims, were they following us or we were following them?
At 6.15pm we all descended into the crypt for Vespers and another different way of delivering the service followed. All the monks were very animated in there expression and delivery of the service and once more it was very personable. There were many references to Pilgrims and their journey. And as there were many Explorer Scouts present, one of them read one of the readings.
It is one place that I will definitely return to and if you are in the area I would truly recommend experiencing it.
Once Vespers was over we all headed to the dining area for the evening meal, a simple three course affair but perfect energy food. There were a lot of visitors to the abbey and the dining room was full. Tonight we were to have the pleasure of our fellow Pilgrims company and tales of our walk experiences before retiring for the night early.
Martigny to Ossiers
Tuesday 28 July 2015 - 22 kilometres
Today was a short walk in distance but the profile was very hilly, so it was expected that it would take most of the day. As we left our flat we bumped into our fellow Pilgrims but again went on our separate ways. We stocked up on some fresh fancy breads for lunch and a cheese tart each as second breakfasts which were consumed immediately. From the start we went the wrong way out of Martigny and added and extra three kilometres onto the days walk. We also realised that Martigny is famous for its almost complete Roman Amphitheatre, sadly we missed it. We eventually found the actually path we should be following and were given the option of three separate routes. Option one, a more direct route but a stiff 800 metre climb. Option two, a narrow track on a precipitous hillside considered dangerous by some walkers. Option three, a short section on a major road or as Bert hankered for .....a bus! Needless to say we opted for number three and the walk alongside the main road, which despite the traffic we both survived.
At the first village we came across it was coffee break time and despite how early it was in the morning some of the locals were already drinking beer or wine. Bert sat down and I went in to the order the coffees. These dually arrived and the proprietor asked us if we were walking the Francigena, both replying yes Bert to Aosta and me hopefully or Rome. At the mention of this she commented how pleased she was for us and the coffees were on the house..... One of the first kindnesses we had been shown as Pilgrims. We naturally had to responded by buying second coffees before we set off again. There was no sign of our Pilgrims friends as they were taking a different route.
Our path soon took us up into the mountain side and along very narrow and steep paths above the road and the river below. Despite the tranquility and beauty of the walk, it was one to be taken cautiously as one missed step could have resulted in a very nasty fall. The path was indistinguishable in places and only marked from boulder to boulder as we picked our way along. After a while traipsing along the hillside we descended close to the road before crossing a dry gorge bed and then once more climbing up to and scrambling across the mountain hillside.
From Sembrancher the route took us along Sigerics original footpath to Rome via the village of Ossieres and our booked bed and breakfast that had been recommended to us. On reaching the village naturally we had to go to the first bar to replenish our fluid levels. Once accomplished we made our way to the b&b and sat in the garden until the owner arrived. Our room for the night was too very apart single beds......and a balcony to hang our washing out on. Once more we were treated to views of the Alps and the formidable task that awaited us the next day...the constant climb up to St Bernard's pass. Something we were looking forward to with nervous trepidation, but that was a for tomorrow.
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