Sorry that I haven't written in a while. Some have probably worried that I fell off a cliff. Well, close...
As you can see from the title, my pilgrimage has been suspended. No, I didn't do anything wrong to cause the suspension, like spit or litter on the trail. I got sick... fairly seriously sick. I became ill almost immediately after arriving in Paris. I saw a doctor and took medication (I found socialized medicine in France to be very accessible and inexpensive), but perhaps I wasn't well enough to start the Camino de Santiago in earnest.
Starting the Camino was incredible. After dreaming and planning it so long, to actually start it was a rush of emotions. I took a train from Lourdes to Lyon, stayed overnight, then took a train from Lyon to Le Puy-en-Velay, a traditional French starting point for the Camino. I checked into the gîte (a hostel/guest house), prayed and braced myself for the upcoming day.
On the first day, I walked from Le Puy en Velay to Faÿ (Bains). That sounds pretty straightforward, but it wasn't. I almost had to call it quits before I got out of the city limits of Le Puy, as it was all uphill. I anticipated a dirt path, but much of it was rocky crags, streams, and cow paths. The route from Le Puy is very remote -- a "big" town might be 2,000 people, but most places are far smaller. I passed through several towns comprised of only 15-25 homes.
On coming into a small town, I was immediately greeted by all the dogs. They had to come out and see what was going on and who was this stranger with an unusual apparatus on his back.
It was very cold -- every day. I had researched the average temperatures in January, but I had taken the highs for the day. The day's temperature doesn't reach the high until the afternoon, and is much colder at dawn, when one starts walking. Also, I didn't think about the difficulty of climbing mountains then descending -- a lot! So you are sweating on the way up, then on the way down you start freezing. This contributed me coming down with (what I think was) a very bad chest cold with sinus problems.
Attempting this pilgrimage in January was probably a bit too rugged, as so many of the places that cater to the pilgrims (food and lodging) are closed. The season is roughly mid-March through October. While walking on On Day 1, I saw small, quaint, homemade signs on the path that described delicious croissants, crêpes, and hot tea in the next village, only 1 kilometer away. My mouth was watering thinking of sitting down in a warm café, eating a croissant and washing it down with herbal tea. When I arrived at the village, I saw a sign on the café saying that the establishment was closed for the winter, much to my chagrin. I think that my mouth is still watering for that croissant.
I finally made it to Faÿ (Bains). I had called ahead and left a message to the gîte proprietor (called "The Refuge" (and boy did I need a refuge). I arrived in that village (a delightful clump of 18 stone homes dating from the 19th century) and found the place. No one was there and it was getting dark -- and already was cold. I was thinking just what I was going to do if the proprietor didn't show up. I was thinking that my sleeping bag would keep me warm to about 25º F, but it would be soon be colder than that. It was up to God (as it always has been) to make something happen.
Within minutes, the proprietor showed up. I was soon in a old farmhouse with a roaring fire in the country dining room and hot tea at my side. I could now dry off and get warm. I was the only guest that night and she prepared a delicious dinner of mushroom soup, then sausage and lentils for the main course. Dessert was a freshly made crêpe. It was glorious. I was humbled for someone to put out that much effort in the meal for just one guest. The proprietors who run these hostels make it a special mission to be kind and welcoming to the pilgrims.
In the morning I had breakfast of hot tea and bread with butter and homemade marmalade (that I'm still longing for). She then walked me out the tenth-of-a-mile to the Camino so that I could get back on track. It was reminiscent of the Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy was led out to the yellow-brick road. Instead of following yellow bricks, I follow the white and red painted waymarkings. What an adventure!
