After a day off to recuperate because of sore feet, I set off from Aumont-Aubrac on Tuesday (March 23) bound for Nasbinals, some 16.5 miles distant. After a half mile on the road I realized that I had fogotren my walking sticks, so I had to return and start over.
Daniel from Lyon had left the previous day on schedule. Considering his fast gait, there was scant chance that I would run into him again.
A twenty-something, also from Lyon, was at the same hostel. He was meeting his girlfriend, who was coming down from Paris, at the Aumont-Aunrac train station at 12:45 pm. Then they would walk the Camino together.
Since we were all bound for Nasbinals, I got a little worried. Given that I had a 4.5 hour head start, if they were to catch up with me, I would really be embarrassed. I know that's pride talking, but…
Well, I tried to keep it in high gear all day, to avoid the unthinkable happening. The terrain was a mix of everything: field and farm and mountain. Around lunchtime I was really getting excited about the upcoming hamlet of Quatre Chemins, because it boasted the "Rosalie's Café", with made-to-order sandwiches. I swear I thought I smelled the ham and cheese a quarter mile away.
Well, it was not meant to be. The Café had burned a long while before. The only thing I could see in the interior was a live duck. So much for lunch.
I kept it going, making sure that I didn't get lapped or run out of water. The Camelback running low is worse than the oil light coming on on your car's dashboard. In fact, I wish that Camelback could place a water meter on their products, so one would know how much they had left.
I stopped at someone's house and got the water filled, as most of the taps along the route are still turned off due to the winter freeze.
I soon came through the hamlet of Finieyrols, birthplace of Louis Dalle (1922-1982). During WWII, he was forced to go to the Buchenwald Concentration Camp, where he almost died.
Following the war he became a priest of the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary -- the same order that St. Damien of Molokai belonged. He was sent to Peru as a missionary, and stayed there the rest of his life, working with the native peoples and eventually becoming a bishop of a rural area.
After a long day, and not getting lapped, I presumed that the next town would be my destination. I miscalculated. The next town was Montgros, not Nasbinals. I still had 2 miles to walk -- a seeming eternity when your body is tired and sore.
I eventually "crawled" into Nasbinals, with my pride somewhat intact, though I kept looking over my shoulder for the couple. I arrived at the gîte and got checked in.
This gîte didn't offer a meal, so I had to go grocery shopping. Radiator pasta w/ Parmesan cheese always does in a pinch, and so it happened.
By the way, the couple arrived only 90 minutes after I did. I just kept my arrival time to myself and went to sleep.
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