When I think of the word "drizzle," I think of the stuff they put on a sweet bun at Cinnabon's. Well drizzle is what I faced on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday of this week (the last three days of March).
We awoke to the sound of rain on Tuesday morning. I knew that leaving Conques would be difficult, as we had descended so far to get to that town. The rain added another level of hardship.
Climbing the rocks amidst the pelting rain was miserable. I felt that I had been shrunken in size and was a miniature man trying to get out of a bowl full of mashed potatoes and gravy. Conques is like a rain forest -- there is vegetation all over so you can't ever tell if you're close to getting out. The scenery reminded me of the 1986 movie Platoon, when the American soldiers were in the rain forests of Vietnam.
After climbing and climbing and climbing I got to the top of the "bowl" (the climb was about 900 feet over two miles). Then I saw a sign that read, "Decazeville: 5 heures." I really wanted to quit right there, but there was nowhere to go! I had to continue on.
Then the wind started, and not only was I wet, but now I was cold as well. The temperature was in the upper 40s, but felt a lot colder with the wind.
I eventually joined up again with Rudolph and we continued walking. He is the only walker who keeps a pace as slow as mine... only because he's a photographer who takes a lot of photos along the way.
After braving the elements, Rudolph and I got into a disagreement about a shortcut. I eventually won out, but lost when it turned out that I was wrong. We eventually made it to Livinhac le-Haut (just north of Decazeville), but my stubbornness cost us at least an extra hour of walking.
When we arrived at the community hostel we checked in. The rooms were cold, but the women at the desk told us the heater would automatically come on when the temperature got below 20° C (68° F). Until then she recommended that I take a hot shower. I did that but still felt chilly. Well, the heat did come on during the night, but it got a lot colder than 68° in that room!
On Wednesday we departed from Livinhac le-Haut and headed toward Figeac. Usually one is always walking southwest on the Camino in France (a good pair of sunglasses is a necessity), but Tuesday had us heading north. I'm sure there is a good reason for this, whether historic or geographic, but I probably won't find out until the Kingdom comes.
Rudolph and I had split up (he was taking less photos because of the rain), but we met up again in the town of Saint-Felix (what a happy name for a town!). Amidst the off-again on-again drizzle, we had a great conversation about the mercy and forgiveness of God. This is an important topic on the Camino de Santiago, because it is historically a penitential pilgrimage.
We arrived in Figeac in the late afternoon (a 15.8 mile trek). I stayed at a gîte near downtown with two pilgrims from Paris. In Figeac I was able to come upon a self-serve laundry. Oh the joys of the small things in life! That's like finding gold! I got my sweaty and mud-stained clothes clean and dry. I then had dinner back at the gîte with the Parisians. One of them had done the Camino de Santiago by bike ten years ago. The four "accepted" ways of making the pilgrimage are by hiking, by bike, on horseback, or accompanied by a donkey. I've often thought about how interesting it would be to be acconpanied by a donkey, since that would free me of carrying a heavy backpack.
On Thursday morning I departed from Figeac, once again in the rain (Rudolph had stayed at another hostel). I stopped at an ATM, not because I needed cqsh, but you never know when you'll encounter qnother ATM. Well, thank God I did. God made sure that I walked the extra two blocks for that machine, because I would have otherwise followed another trail (a lot of trails are marked with the same red and white colors) and gotten in a very out-of-the-way place. In Figeac, two major hiking routes junction. Going to the ATM allowed me see the signs for the route to Cajarc.
Going to Cajarc was the longest walk yet (19 miles), made even tougher by the drizzle. It was warmer, but still uncomfortable being wet. I think that I spent more time in the rain on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday of this week than my entire life put together. The route seemed interminable because the mileage signs were all wrong. One would say "Cajarc: 12 km." Then a couple of miles later another sign would say, "Cajarc: 14 km." It was frustrating. Along the way many gîtes had quaint signs offering a room, but I was determined to make it to Cajarc.
There are water points along the route, but most of them are still closed for the winter. This came into play as I ran out of water about five miles from Cajarc and had to suck it up until then. The last few miles were difficult indeed, as I kept thinking that just around the next bend there would be the town of Cajarc. The Camino tends to have you in the hills, then brings you slowly down to the town. It really is quite beautiful that way, akin to being an airline pilot and slowly making your way to the airport. But this was like heading for Reagan National Airport: pilots don't see the runway until the last moment!
Coming into town required a treacherous descent amidst large rocks. Finally I arrived at where I thought that I was going to stay, only to find out that it was closed. I went to another hostel, and it looked like members of the European Championship Hiking Team were all there (I on the other hand looked like I had gotten hit by the bus carrying their backpacks). There was no room at the second gîte either. So what was I to do, as it was getting late (around 7:00 pm). The owner of the second gîte befriended me and started calling around to other places. She located this one woman who had a room available in her house. So I took it.
I go there and was warmly received. Not only was I going to get the room, but the entire house, as the lady stayed in another house. So here I had all the comforts of home, for a reasonable price! The house was perfect -- a little dated, but a 2-BR wonder. The kitchen appliances took some getting used to (I cooked my own supper), as the hood above the cooktop is at 5'7", while I am 5'10" tall. So I kept hitting my forehead! And the bed was sooooo comfortable (compared to the hostels).
Because of general soreness and exhaustion, I asked the proprietor at breakfast if she would allow me to stay another night (Friday). She was perfectly happy with this arrangement. This gave me time to heal and recuperate, as well as plan for the next several weeks. My goal is to finish the French part of the Camino (500 miles) by Easter (April 24th). I think it's doable if I can find a donkety rental service!
One last note about Cajarc. The town is perfect and has everything you could need in a three-block radius. There's a bank, two bakeries, a grocery, a flower shop, a pharmacy, three restaurants, and a butcher shop. This is all within walking distance. It seems to be the perfect little town. I don't know why American urban planners don't get this vision of Utopia.
