He headed out the way everyone had done along the paths behind the houses to where the lads had been staying as that is where the road out of town was. Robert was pleasant to walk with but it was hard to walk at the same pace for very long. A few miles were enough. His English was non-existent so I had enjoyed the space to speak with him without other people trying to translate or interpret. I understand a lot more than I can express and if left to my own devices I can do quite a lot of communicating. Thankfully, Alison is quite happy to leave me to do that for bits of a walk.
But when he hit the first really big hill his walking was not up to it and we knew we were going to part company – He couldn’t keep up and we could not see how we could keep walking at his pace… no problems, that’s the joy of walking with other walkers!
After crossing the bridge (the Google Map version of the river is very different from our view of the river) we climbed steeply up a narrow path through a dense forest.
As with so many other periods in the walk we took note of every footprint style we encountered in the mud and earth and tried to work out if we knew who was ahead of us. There were the usual variety of different types of prints including dogs of various sizes, what looked like deer and the wild boar that were ever more frequent in terms of their droppings and other markings.
We also were more aware of a different type of bird song. The cuckoos had gone and the skylarks from the open fields had disappeared too, replaced by the many small songbirds of the woods and the doves or wood pigeons.
Lots of wild flowers were starting to appear along the way, from tiny woodland things to massive orchids in ditches.
And the cattle seemed to grow in significance, too. Part of the enduring landscape, they were a regular feature of the day with herds wallowing in large, flooded sections of the field and strange feeding trailers left abandoned in the middle of the rich grass.
At one point we saw a whole series of modern baths left in a line across the otherwise perfect rural idyll of a sloping green pasture enclosed by wide sweeping wooded boundaries. Crazy, modern bathtubs left in an irregular line in a huge field of beef cattle….
And I imagined the farmer sitting in a small bar in a local village chatting to some “incomer” who was trying to refurbish a small, decrepit hotel. lamenting out loud about all of the old baths he/she would have to get rid of, the farmer would have said that he would take them – for nothing.
Thank goodness he didn’t take the loos too….. or maybe he did!!!
Some small notes to add And check out Placemarks 117-121.
1. We had lunch upstairs in a very nice little local restaurant (see Placemark 120) where we enjoyed fantastically good food at a very good price, the steak was great (local…) and there was a lively debate about beef cattle between (mainly) Yves and the waiter, fueled by my desire to have a steak bleu and Yves saying that his local beef breed has the name Bleu…. We got an extra carafe of wine out of that discussion!
2. The refuge was closed when we arrived. We waited after the meal and eventually the guy arrived to let us in. It was in a large building opposite the church and below part of the Music College, which was great as we overheard snippets of great music, too.
3. The church was a mixed thing. I was led to believe that St Leonard was the saint of prisoners and had been one himself but I did not feel comfortable in the place and felt tension and pain where the chains and wrist or leg iron were. It was not a good place for me for some reason.
4. The feeling persisted and grew when we entered the refuge and, despite the general good spirits, the shared meal and the efforts of people to celebrate I feel a growing sense of foreboding. I was particularly uncomfortable with our host despite him being very genial, generous and welcoming. Something constantly put me on my guard – it was either something I sensed in our host or in the place as it had not been present in our little group en route.
Our host was very generous and even brought us avocados, served us a very sweet and sickly Muscat wine (which Yves hated mainly, it seemed, because it was Greek and not French and I saw the reasoning there… but felt guilty, too) and cooked chips “without fat” on a very French machine that did not do the potatoes, chips or cooking any favours. I say French simply because of its eccentricity rather than any culinary values or failings.
All of this left me with a night and morning I would rather have avoided.
Our night in St Leonard (for me) was filled with horrific dreams. I dreamed of someone who was so nasty I can barely describe him. I might dare to recreate him in fiction but I cannot do more than skim the surface without feeling polluted and threatened by the thing that was present in my dreams and tried to invade my consciousness the next day. It took me until lunchtime to feel like I was winning and I still feel unpleasant when I think of it.
My nightmares that night were full of kidnapping and murder of an inexplicably cruel and violent nature and are so unlike my usual dreams, even nightmares, that it left me feeling invaded and hijacked in a way that still makes me feel out of sorts.
So, there you have it. I am still not clear on what caused it… my fatigue and vulnerability may have been involved, probably my overblown imagination, too.
Or something unpleasant I tuned into there, in that particular place. Someone from the past (or present…) who used to prey on lonely, vulnerable pilgrims – that is basically what I felt I had accidentally tuned into.
This was all so different from the Log Alison recorded – she had a great time and I am jealous … we spent more than just the following morning exploring this dichotomy.
Camino Day 44 lundi 17/5/10 - Billanges to St Leonard de Noblat
Last night, in an effort (failed) to warm up our bedroom, Francoise lit a wood burning stove. She left the door of the stove open to get it going and forgot about it resulting in smoke filling much of the house. So now pretty much everything we have smells of wood smoke.... the money issue was sorted by E10 from Yves and E15 from Bernard – which we paid back when we had lunch together in a restaurant in St Leonard. We let the other 3 leave first and, as we were setting off, Robert from yesterday was passing the end of the garden path so we walked with him to the first hill when it became clear that we would go faster.
The river was very wide and the bridge at Dognon is the biggest we have crossed so far(excluding the one we bussed over at the mouth of the Seine, of course). It was road walking up to the bridge then we took the chemin steeply up though woods then more woods and fields. But it began to rain and there was a very muddy section so when we reached the only town/village section on the route we switched to the road. The other three were in the cafe there but it felt too soon to stop so we pressed on – although we did look at the church.
By road it was only 9k from there to St Leonard so we arrived by 1pm! We had just visited the church when we saw the others – which is how we ended up having lunch together.
The man who let us into the refugio – Michel – wanted to help and talk (a lot).
He came back with beer and food and ate with us all – including onion soup (combined packet and added onions) from Rene, chips and avocadoes from Michel, cheese from Bernard, wine and bread from Yves and desert from Michel (again). We washed up!
Lovely refugio – spacious and warm and with a washing machine and tumble drier. This is perhaps our last night with the three as we will spend 2 nights in Limoges while they press on (?). I guess that is how the Camino works.
This was the view from the window of our room in Billages and the path we took out to the road.
and our bed in the gite
before the river the weather seemed vaguely promising
but the weather was really not getting better...
and just before we headed down the last hill to the river we encountered this odd circle of trees in a field -
we crossed this bridge.... the google street view images show a much smaller river than the one we encountered here
shortly after the bridge we left the road and went back on the chemin
I took a few pictures of these sheep and found the scene captivating for some reason.
but I will only inflict a couple on you!
a long climb through some woods was rewarded by this sight.
this was written by the base of the cross
we encountered a wealth of wild flowers which lifted our spirits even in periods of poor weather
even as we grew closer to St Leonard it looked like the weather was never going to turn. You can just see the church's very tall spire in the distance.
many of the barns (byres?) had these little plaques denoting prizes for bulls I think...
we also came across many 2nd world war memorials. I took pictures of quite a few. We were now far enough south to encounter the Melice as well as the Gestapo. These were semi-military right wing group of very nationalistic French who were anti both the communists and the Allied forces - French politics during the war were more than just a little complicated! And the source of many tragedies
we rested near here before gaining entrance to the town
this is what you encounter on your way in to St Leonard - next to the tourist info place and the pilgrim route to the church. Beef-wise, it says it all really...
And the route through the old town has the church spire beckoning you all the way...
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