The day dawned overcast and damp. I wondered, should I stay or should I go? Having the entire gîte to myself it was tempting to lie in and have a lazy day. Actually if I was brutally honest with myself I was stalling as I did not want to get wet walking in the rain. I donned my swimming trunks and raincoat, deposited the keys in the letter box at the mayor’s office and took off taking care not to slip while clambering over the slippery rocky slopes. The pathway through the damp forest along the river La Mare was scenic, enchanting and impregnated with earthy aromas. I stopped for a brief tea break at a sheltered outside washing area before carrying on in spite of the drizzle. To cheer up under the grey cloud cover I sang, “Singing in the rain” and as if to humour me it began pouring with rain. I found shelter under the front door awning of a nobody home house and ate my picnic lunch. The rain stopped and I could see blue sky appearing through the swirling mists and happily changed my tune to, “I can see clearly now the rain has gone.” That afternoon I got so enthralled following a trinkling, dancing, singing stream that I lost my way in the forest and in trying to find my way out went stomping through the high grass getting my shoes totally soaked. I think getting lost exhausted me mentally more than physically and once I found my way back onto the path I was knackered and relieved to reach the gîte at Murat sur Vèbre.
At the gîte I met Bernard. For dinner we pooled our food resources, sharing what we had to facilitate a more varied culinary experience and spiced up the evening with lively conversation. After hearing about Bernard’s three month Camino walk from Le Puy in France all the way to Santiago I was inspired. That evening I decided to change my plans and instead of having Biarritz as my destination I was considering making Santiago my new destination.
At 7:00am on Sunday morning Bernard gave me an encouraging send off and I began my day’s journey to La Salvetat. A couple of hours later my legs felt weary and my shoulders ached. Not really having any choice I pressed on promising myself a lengthy lunch break when I reached lac du Laouzas.
Lac du Laouzas
The final 4km stretch from La Moutouse to La Salvetat was down hill along a charming country road. Knowing I was approaching my destination I found a spring in my step and trundled happily along. Upon reaching Salvetat I was surprised to find an unexpected steep and lengthy uphill climb to reach the village. I could only manage to put one foot in front of another and my backpack seemed to get heavier and heavier. As I entered the village I skirted around a car in the middle of the road and the route just kept going up and up and up, my only consolation that I was already in the village and soon I would be at the gite where I could have a shower deposit my backpack and find a place to eat. I was hungry. Only to find that the parked car I had passed earlier had hidden the red and white stripes indicating the way to the centre of the village. I had taken the wrong route and had to go back to then find a steep flight of stairs leading to the Office du Tourisme where I could find the key to the gite. Being Sunday the Tourist Office was closed, however when booking I had been given instructions and the combination code on how to find the key in a locked letter box.
Somewhat revived after having a shower and after doing my washing I set off back down the steps to find a restaurant. I was famished. Being Sunday I checked on Google to make sure which of the four restos in the village were open. At the bottom of the steps I realised I had forgotten my face mask and had to go back up again, pick up my mask and go down only to discover not a single restaurant was open. I was starving. While confused and looking on my tablet to see if I could find any other place in the vicinity to get a bite to eat, a guy on a scooter passed me, then stopped and turned around and asked me if he could help. In a fleeting moment while passing me he must have seen desperation written all over me. I asked where I could find something to eat. “Mmmmnn that’s difficult” he said, “Everything is closed. But maybe Auberge de la Resse is open, but that is 20 minute walk, uphill.” My heart sank, he said, “Wait here I will go and go and check for you.” And zoomed off in the direction in which he had come. I already started walking in the direction thinking it has to be open, it is my last chance. However 5 minutes later he came back saying, “Desolé c’est fermé.” Closed. Even with his full face helmet on I could see the look genuine pity in his eyes. “Oh! Well that’s just too bad” I said and thanked him for stopping and taking the trouble to go and check for me. His kindness was touching and lifted my deflated spirits but still hungry and with legs of rubber went back up the endless stairs to the gîte. In the kitchen I found a half a packet of spaghetti which I immediately cooked and garnished it with some mayonnaise which was in the fridge. Feeling satisfied and before falling soundly asleep I decided the next day I would take a break.
The next morning I bought some supplies from the Spar which opened at 8:00am. This time climbing the stairs back to the gîte certainly went a lot easier. I had a hearty breakfast, chocolate croissants, yoghurt with fruit and nuts and coffee. Then went to the Tourist Office at 10am to thank the lady who had left the key, disposable sheets and instructions on how to get to the gîte. I booked to stay another night and got a well earned stamp in my credencial.
Monday 27th September.
I had a days rest, wrote postcards while sitting on a terrace and went for a snooze in the afternoon. In the evening Jean-Maurice turned up. He went shopping and generously bought plenty of food and wine for both of us. We prepared a meal together in the communal kitchen and had a most enjoyable evening.
Jean-Maurice and I continued our dinner conversation at breakfast and left the Gite together. He stopped a bit further on at Auberge La Resse to hook up with the three Belgians he had met the day before. I continued on alone thinking they would catch me up. After having an energy bar and tea around 11:30 I began a slow climb of a steep hill. Slowly but surely putting one foot in front of the other I heard clump clump clump clump and the rattling of pots and pans coming up behind me. Turning around cost too much energy so I continued walking until whoever it was came alongside me and would no doubt speed past me. His large backpack was loaded. Mattress, sleeping bag, stove, pots and a large water bottle dangling on the outside. “Gee,” I said as he past me, “That is quite a load you are carrying and moving quite briskly.” “Yes,” he replied panting, “I am going to Castres today, another 35kms, and am on my way to Auch.” (Castres to Auch 147kms) “And I see you are camping out,” I remarked wanting to give him the impression I was full of admiration. He seemed to be on a mission and didn’t answer. Before he strode on I asked him his name. “Xavier,” he replied. Upon reaching the top of the hill I stopped for a leisurely picnic lunch then continued on to Angles arriving in the central square 2:00pm. The village was dilapidated and desolate. I had booked a place to stay but could not find the Auberge “Chez Fati.” When I called I got an answering machine and there was no one around to ask. I sat there for awhile not sure what to do. Then Jean-Maurice turned up with his three Belgian friends. Jean-Maurice introduced me to the two brothers, Jeannot and Pierre and friend Philippe and I sat down with them while they had their lunch. They were going to a Gite in Bouisset, 8kms further on, apparently a very nice place and asked me if I wanted to join them. I was glad to and immediately left a message cancelling my reservation. Then out from behind a statue, Xavier unexpectedly appeared and declared he would be joining us to Bouisset. He had been sitting there, out of sight the whole time since I had arrived. Hearing the six of us chatting a very kind lady in her 80’s opened the Epicerie, (grocery store). Jean-Maurice and myself bought supplies for a dinner and breakfast the next morning. The three Belgians had booked the Gite in Bouisset including dinner and breakfast. The six of us ambled along and I spoke to Philippe for a large portion of the afternoon. The three Belgians were experienced Camino walkers and Philippe had also cycled a route to Santiago. I was amazed how many pilgrims I met had already completed different Camino routes.
Brigitte welcomed us at the Gite in a most friendly and helpful way. Jean Maurice and I pooled our supplies of tuna, pesto and pasta and shared it with Xavier. The rooms were very tidy and the Gite was well maintained. Brigitte went to great lengths to find six cold beers then cooked and served dinner to the Belgians. After dinner a stroll around revealed a tidy well-maintained village in contrast to Angles just down the road. The atmosphere in the village was pleasant, the streets were decorated with flower boxes and I was greeted by friendly inhabitants. Boisset was the end of the road for the three Belgians and in the morning they were going to catch a taxi to the nearest train station. That night I shared a room with Jean-Maurice and though I did not sleep very well I agreed to walk the 28kms to Castres with him. Xavier wanted to sleep in as he had been bivouacking and wanted to enjoy the luxury of a bed and restore his energy. Jean-Maurice and myself left on a chilly and misty morning. Jean-Maurice chatted almost non-stop about Feldenkrais, his wife and two sons.
We got so engrossed in conversation and got lost in the misty forest. We sat down for a cup of thyme tea from my Thermos before retracing our steps. Jean-Maurice began an emotional story about the final days leading up to his mother’s death. While recounting his memories tears welled up in his eyes. A driving a tractor passed us and asked if we were lost. He knew we had got lost and admitted it saying it happens often. In a very southern French accent he explained how to get back onto the path. Just before re-joining the GR653 we came across Xavier accompanied by an elderly lady. After his lie-in Xavier also got lost and met the lady who lived in a nearby hamlet and was taking a walk. She had offered to guide him back onto the right path. The four of us walked on though I hung back a little, glad to walk in silence for awhile, Jean-Maurice made interesting but non stop conversation.
In the afternoon Jean-Maurice was suffering from extreme blistering on his feet and was painfully slentering along. I suggested we sing along to “Le Vent Nous Portera” by Noir Desire. The wind will carry us. He got it playing on his phone and kept it on until we reached a pharmacy on the outskirts of Castres. Jean-Maurice had heard that Madeleine’s house in Castres was highly recommended and had already booked. I phoned and booked for Xavier and myself, all three of us opting to have dinner and breakfast there. With the blisters on his feet Jean-Maurice was relieved Castres was his final stop. Next morning he was going to take a train to Grenoble.
Madeleine is indeed as we had heard-a woman with a heart of gold. There was cold beer and cookies when we arrived and lovingly tended Jean-Maurice’s blisters. That evening she cooked a splendid meal. For starters she served melon and ham followed by filet mignon with quinoa and fenouille gratin, there was plenty of wine to have with the cheese platter and dessert was a home-made pear tart rounded off with a herbal tea.
There were three beds in the attic two single and one double. Jean-Maurice got the double bed in the alcove and I shared the other space with Xavier. In spite of being tired out after all the day’s excitement and having covered a distance of thirty kilometres I didn’t sleep very well. The bed was too short for me and had a solid oak head and footboard. I kept bumping my head and hitting my feet on the footboard. Eventually I put the duvet cover on the floor and got fully clothed (there were no blankets) in an effort to get a few hours’ sleep.
September 30th
I got up feeling weary, a hearty breakfast revived me. I said my goodbyes to Jean-Maurice and Madeleine, (our hostess in Castres). I had known Jean–Maurice only a few days and had spent one night at Madeleine’s house yet I felt so sad leaving them. I left with Xavier around 9:00am. We needed to find a cash machine so he could return the money I lent him to pay Madeleine. With that done we set off walking. At the first intersection, Xavier wanted to go one way and me the other, so we parted company. I had enjoyed the days being with the three Belgians and Jean-Maurice but now looked forward to having the day to myself. Solitary and free.
Sleeping in dormitories I often had someone sleeping right next to me which made it really easy to meet people. All I needed was to say, “Hi,” to get a conversation started and invariably I got a friendly response. I met significantly more people while walking Camino Francés in Spain than along the French route from Arles on the GR 653 to Pau. Meeting people along both routes I noticed I got a different type of response if I said I was from South Africa (Oh wow!) than if I said I was from Belgium (Uh huh.) I became aware of putting people in boxes based on their nationality, for example Italians would go into the fashion, sports cars, emotional box, Germans into the quality, everything works really well, hard working box. I had preconceptions and instant opinions about people based on their nationality. I decided that when meeting people along the Camino I would allow them space in which to tell me about themselves and suspend all my preconceptions about anyone and stop asking, “Where are you from” so as not to give myself an opportunity to have an opinion about someone before giving them a chance to tell me about themselves. When people asked me, “So where are you from?” My answer became, “The Source of all Life, just like you, no borders, no country, no separation between us,” Not quite the answer they were expecting but most people enjoyed my reply and it became my Camino message.
Last night I had the gîte, Ferme équestre d’En Goût to myself or so I thought. While eating a warmed up pre-prepared supermarket dinner a few people came into the gîte asking if this was where the meeting was taking place, I sent them to the main house. Then while still having my dinner around twenty people turned up and announced they would be having their meeting around the ample dining room table in the gîte. I did not mind at all however the sleeping quarters is right above the dining room. Anyhow not too happy I gathered my things and went upstairs. Having slept badly the night before in Castres in a bed that was way too small for me I got into bed at 21:30. At 22:30 they were still prattling directly below. I went down to complain but they were unsympathetic. Eventually around 23:45 they left me in pace. Getting a good night’s sleep has often been difficult, as every night is in a new environment.
The morning mist blanketed the landscape, the air was fresh and cool. Gradually the mist dissolved and a glorious day ensued. The paths and tracks today had many stretches along tarred roads but there were also quiet roads with only an occasional car passing. I came across a couple hiking in the opposite direction we stopped and chatted for awhile. They were brother and sister, very friendly and gave me advice to go to the camping site in Revel which I did as I had no response from the municipal Gîte after leaving a telephone message. I stocked up on supplies in the delightful village of Soreze. Parma ham, tomatoes and bread for lunch, a pre-prepared Tanjine meal for dinner as well as yoghurt and fruit for tomorrow’s breakfast. I arrived at the campsite at 14:30 and was shown a dormitory that sleeps sixteen but I am the only guest.
On my way to Revel the next morning I greeted a gentleman cutting his hedge he gave a cheerful response and remarked what a beautiful day it was for walking, I agreed with him wholeheartedly and he went on to ask me if I knew the area at all. No I said, “Not at all, it is the very firt time I am passing through”. He volunteered to tell me a story about the history of the Canal du Midi which was very interesting. About ten minutes into his story I took off my backpack to listen more comfortably. When he had finished telling the story and about to go onto to the next one his wife came out saying he had a phone call which spared me the inconvenience of having to cut him short. As he departed he suggested I read, La Génie du L’eau by Paul Riquet-the story of the Canal du Midi.
I arrive in Revel the early afternoon so I can take my time showering washing my undies and socks, plan my next day’s trajectory and do some writing. I have been considering another way of saying babbling brook or gurgling stream, because the sounds of a cascading stream is so musical, enchanting and soothing. Perhaps a way to describe it would be a tranquinkiling stream because the sound is kind of a tranquil twinkling .
After two successive nights of not having slept well I was grateful to get a good night’s sleep at the campsite. The accommodation was in a pre-fab shelter with 8 bunk beds.
The morning market in Revel was in full swing and although I had just begun my day’s walk I took a relaxing moment on a terrace to have a coffee and soak in all the colourful sights of the bustling market. I decided not buy any food as I still had nuts and dried fruit for a lunchtime snack and my booking this evening includes dinner.
The tree lined path alongside the river, La Rigole de la plaine was delightful. Having only had a meagre lunch I looked forward to having a meal with my hosts tonight Gîte Ville Caline. Ségolène sent me a friendly WhatsApp message with precise details on how to find their house.
Campsite dormitory My stuff Morning market in Revel
As she would not be there at my expected time of arrival, Ségolène sent me detailed directions on how to get to the Gîte Villa Caline. It was a pleasure to find the chalet had been beautifully prepared. I had a shower, did some washing and while having a beer on the terrace Cédric the host came for a chat and generously invited me to dine with the family in the main house. I had booked the option which included dinner and breakfast but felt privileged to share a meal with a lovely couple and their two young children. I was moved by their kindness and the extent to which Cédric and Ségolène went to make my stay comfortable and enjoyable. The next morning I left with a feeling of immense gratitude for having met such lovely people.
After leaving Gîte Villa Caline in Saint-Paulet I followed the squiggly river side path which ran alongside La Rigole de la plaine until reaching Le canal du Midi. It felt like I had reached a significant milestone. From here on the road for pedestrians and cyclists is flat and wide. To reach my next overnight spot at La Goudille I needed to make slight detour of about 1km. It was well worth it. Danielle’s home is lovely and while having dinner together she told me that she had and her father had renovated the entire house themselves. I slept like a babe in the comfortable bed with down duvet. After lovely stay I re-joined the path along the canal en route to Ayguevives.
All the way from Revel the path ran through the country side alongside the river, La Rigole de la plaine reaching the Canal du Midi at Port Lauragais. It was satisfying to have completed that section of the Camino. Following the natural meanderings of the waterway imbued me with a deep sense of tranquility. I felt an outpouring of gratitude for having been given the opportunity to experience the profound feeling of being integrated with the natural surroundings. Now a long flat comfortable stretch along the Canal lay before me. The water calmly gliding along the canal in long straight stretches in a steady, peaceful flow. I look forward to having the Canal by my side for the next 38 Kms all the way to Toulouse.
Some people in L’isle-Jourdain have been using their God given grace to create a beautiful area. The staff at the Tourism Office were welcoming and helpful when I booked advising me to buy supplies before traversing the village to the tourist office to check in saving me a trip back into the village to buy dinner and something for breakfast.
There are two lakes one left entirely for wildlife and the other has a wakeboarding cable for entertainment and fun. There are kids playgrounds, opens green spaces, a dedicated cycling track, hardened walkways and a covered municipal pool, so although chilly I saw a group of kids frolicking in the pool. Plenty of peaceful tranquil corners, benches and picnic tables. And of course a lovely stopover gîte for pilgrims right alongside the Chemin de Compostelle. I suspect the mayors of this village over time have made it into a beautiful and welcoming place. Today en route I stopped to pick some lavender and rosemary so tomorrow morning I can fill my thermos with delicious herbal tea. A group has booked the gîtes ahead me so the next free bed I could book is 32kms further on at Gîte Pied à Terre en Gascogne.
Tourism Office and Pilgrim accomodation on the right.Right across the road from the pilgrim accomodation.
Travelling in the slow lane 