Rest days in Cahors

We spent Monday with Peter and Alison Moxom who have restored a beautiful house outside Cahors and gave us a lovely day there.
On Tuesday we had a final look round Cahors in the sunshine including a very pleasant river trip.



We had a nice lunch at L’O a la Bouche . We then drove a hire car to Toulouse to catch our Easyjet flight home.

Lalbanque to Cahors 21k

Lalbanque starts slowly on a Sunday morning. We were up for breakfast by 7.30am. Unfortunately we hadn't noticed that the Lion d'Or didn't do breakfast until 8. So while we waited Des and I bought the bread for lunch leaving Liz to do what she had to do with a blister. Slight drama as Clare had left her handbag (with her journal!) in the dining room after supper and this was now locked. However as the breakfast essentials arrived and we served ourselves the bag and journal were retrieved safely.

It was a lovely bright clear day as we set out of town on a straight flat road. We soon got ourselves up to speed and although there were permitted deviations on local tracks we kept to the road until we reached our bGR65 footpath at Mas de Vers as it crossed the road. The enjoyable walking then carried on, generally flat, often shaded and comfortable underfoot. We continued on green lanes alternating with sandy tracks with stone walls and the scruffy oak vegetation of recent days as we passed encouraging distance markers at regular intervals.

We came to the N20 Autoroute which we crossed in a welter of hot tarmac and various slip roads. We then paused in the shade for a drink before tackling a very hot uphill climb on a stony path. We passed a white pickup truck with two furtive characters taking stones from the ancient track walls for their own purposes. They stopped as we passed but then moved on to the next good spot. No doubt such recycling has often taken place.

Further climbing took us eventually to the village football pitch outside Flaujac-Poujols.At the clubhouse some friendly local ladies had organized 'refreshments for pilgrims': tables and chairs, cold drinks, water, loos etc. 'Pay as you wish'. Visitors book to which we added our thanks. While we sat in the shade we were regaled with the details from a young lady paying a Sunday visit to her mother to tell her of her recent trip to Carlow in Ireland. After Flaujac-Poujols Carlow was quite a town. We were joined by the Swiss party - water bowls were available for their dogs. They will be staying in the same hotel as us tonight which will be a blessed relief for them as they had an even less pleasant caravan last night.

We pressed on and our next stop was for lunch by the roadside by a small hamlet or suburb of Cahors on the D6 road. We had some nice duck rillettes for a change. By now, it being our last day, we were all quite keen to get to our destination. Our path took us 3 or 4 miles along a dry plateau amid scruffy vegetation in considerable heat. The guide books talk of any rainfall vanishing into the rock to reappear at a natural fountain in Cahors. We descended gently from the TV booster masts and became quite excited as Cahors opened up between two headlands. A long avenue of green trees divides the lozenge of the city in two - the old city to the right and the new and uglier one to the left. The famous (and much restored) towered bridge is clearly visible from afar. Although the GR65 doesn't actually enter Cahors the Route St Jacques takes you in briefly to enable you to visit the cathedral and exit via the old bridge.

We duly found our way to our hotel (Chartreuse***) on the outskirts. It was modern and looked good but we arrived at 2.30 in the course of Sunday lunch service, and Mother's Day at that, so there was nobody prepared to serve 4 smelly walkers a beer. We persevered and sat on the terrace overlooking the river and eventually were served. Our rooms were large, comfortable and smartly furnished. After unpacking and showering we went for a stroll. This was a bit overambitious and we were too hot in the urban sunshine so our explorations were desultory. After exploring the Cathedral, much restored and altered at regular intervals, we had cold drink in the Place Francioise Mitterand and met the French Canadian couple again with a friendly chat.

We inspected the famous bridge and photographed the devil on the tower. We took the path on the far bank back to the hotel and on the way passed the ancient Roman La Fontaine de Chartreaux. When these fountains were renovated in 18c as part of the town water supply they found many Roman coins. The big pools are impressive and you can see the spring water rippling on the surface. This is the water that has percolated down from the heights we walked over.

We had our creanciales stamped at the pilgrim-welcoming kiosk on the modern bridge entering the town and got in conversation with an old man who spoke good English. He had lived briefly in Wimbledon in the mid-fifties spending much of his time at debutante balls in a hired Moss Bros DJ. When i suggested he must have felt he had woken up in Heaven he responded with a twinkle that his behaviour was more likely to merit Hell.

Supper at the hotel was good - thick slices of smoked salmon with crevettes, nice lamb (or duck) and a good choice of cheeses. Fresh strawberries or 'Omalette Norvegienne' (Baked Alaska). Des insisted on treating us to an end of walk bottle of Champagne. After a few hands of cards we were well ready for bed.

Limogne-en-Quercy to Lalbenque 20k

The route from Limogne to Cahors offers a number of alternatives to enable you to break what would otherwise be a very long journey. We are heading for Lalbanque which is a few kilometers south of the direct route to Cahors where we will stop overnight. Indeed if we wished we could avoid Cahors altogether and rejoin the main route further on at Hospitalet but it would be a shame to miss such an interesting town. Instead we will cut back up from Lalbanque to finish this year's stage in Cahors.

We had a good night in our impeccable quarters and Madame Gevans was very charming over breakfast. Nice jams. A little shopping in town and then we were on our way. A brief chat with the Swiss group. Because of their dogs they had only been able to get accommodation in a caravan and they were not at their perky best.

Liz is suffering from both neck and toe. Fortunately it was a lovely flat walking day, although very hot in the afternoon, as we followed a variety of straight even paths with a great variety of surfaces including gritty stretches of a former Roman road. Most of the day we were again going through the "Causse" - the straggly oak forest with stunted growth. But it was beautiful for walking, often shaded and direct to our destination; a prime example of the vast silence of rural France. Whole fields of pastel wild flowers and teaming insect life made it another world.


We stopped for coffee in Voraire on the upstairs balcony of a small gite. We chatted briefly with two Belgians one of whom had already done the Spanish section, twice. We were told that it is beautiful in Spring and that it is "dry with lots of fruit" in Autumn. We watched an old man teaching children to fish in the fine old lavoir. Voraire had involved a little detour so we had to find our way back onto the route with some effort. We passed through nice wooded countryside with a number of good houses in course of restoration.

Lunch was in a shaded walled copse included a particularly flavorsome pate bought in the butchers at Limogne. We lay back in the grass and listened to the sounds: the birds took the top line with a basso continuo from the insects. When a human voice intrudes it is as disturbing as a shout in a cathedral. And then some solid route marching in the heat, fast and direct, got us to Lalbanque by 3.45. A one-street town in the sunshine. We found our Lion d'Or hotel, a bar/restaurant with rooms, on the shady side and enjoyed a cold beer to confirm our arrival. Lalbanque is known chiefly for the street market for truffles, gathered from the surrounding oak forests from December to March and for which restauranteurs apparantly come from far and wide. Attached postcard courtesy of Photo Doisneau/Rapho.


While the girls rested Des and I looked around. We visited the church: hideous - no depths of taste left unplumbed with a dreadful mishmash of decoration covering all vintages, eras and influences. We duly inspected the panel with photographs of two centuries of Parish priests ranging from the very severe (or sick) to the fat 'n happy.

For research purposes I tried and enjoyed a glass of Fenelon a local drink based on Cahors wine, Creme de Cassis, and walnut liqueur. Our waitress was obviously proud of her tattooed shoulder and her adventuresome use of red hairdye but supper in the bar was dreadful with little choice, skill or interest. The corporate maxim seemed to be 'we know you have no other choice'. Which is a pity for a town whose claim to fame is based on a gourmet delicacy.

Cajarc to Limogne-en-Quercy 20k

This is to be a fairly gentle day after the consecutive rigours of the last two. Late breakfast ready laid in the dining room. The only remaining guests were the three German bikers. But at another table were the six-man team from the dustbin lorry outside having their 8am lunch break! They were tucking in enthusiastically to a full meal starting with the excellent soup we enjoyed last night. The courses flowed as did the red wine and it was interesting to watch the different characters among them: the boss man had a large squat nose. They were obviously completely at home as they served themselves from behind the bar. Easy familiarity with our hosts who joined them for coffee.

As we shopped for lunch essentials we chatted to a French Canadian couple who are also doing the walk. In general flat fast walking characterized the day. We met a number of those we had seen previously (including 'Joan Collins' and her 3 Swiss companions + their two large dogs who actually find long distance walking hard).

At Gaillac we descended temporarily to cross the Lot. There was intensive cultivation of Strawberries under polytunnels with the plants suspended inside in plastic 'sausages'. We talked to the lady doing the picking who was proud to tell us that her son, an engineer, was living in Rochester, Kent. Meanwhile Liz and Clare bought a box of strawberries at the nearby farm shop which we subsequently had for elevenses.

We then marched on through the 'Cause' - a distinctive, arid countryside, through stunted oak forest in poor neglected condition. the stony soil is fit for very little and in the course of this passage we passed no more than two or three farms of any worth.





It was a day for butterflies, blue, black, yellow, brown chasing each other. Insects in Richard Scarry -like profusion particularly in the meadow where we had lunch. Orchids so frequent as not to merit comment.









We passed a number of old communal lavoirs where the washing was done on stones and various old water pumps, some in working condition. Efforts were occasionally made to get a crop of potatoes or maize from fields thickly sprinkled with stones.

We arrived at 3 o'clock at Limogne via a 'botanical walk' down a shaded walled avenue. This was early for our gite (Bastide de Venel, Francoise and Jean-Pierre Gavens) which was not opening until 4 o'clock. A large red-tiled stone building in its garden, with lilac shutters. Bang on time, as the clock struck, Madame G. threw her doors open with a theatrical flourish. We were then extensively welcomed with something of a matinee performance: instructions as to hanging of washing, leaving of boots in racks, hanging of keys and breakfast arrangements - before rooms were allocated. Everything was spick and span and very tranquille.

Supper at the Bar/Restaurant Le Quercy was simple and well done with a nice bottle of Cahors. In the dining room we were joined by a large party from the local Gite communal.

Ready for bed in our nice clean rooms although nothing like so tired as yesterday.

Figeac to Cajarc 31.5k

We left F. at 8.10 and arrived at C. at 16.45. So it was a long hard day! We set off in good spirits after a nice breakfast and group photo, including knees - and reflection!


Met a Swiss woman who possibly considered herself to resemble Joan Collins and who was pleased to tell us she was with a group walking from Fribourg in Switzerland to Santiago. She felt however, and despite the nice day this made me a bit irritated, that they would ignore the Spanish section if it was 'too dull'.

We passed the big Memorial overlooking the town, to the 500 'deportees' of May 1944. Listed are the names of the 145 who did not return.

It was a pleasant morning for walking - along the flat to an obelisk marking the remains of an 8c Benedictine abbey. We were in prosperous countryside for much of the day with restored decorative round stone buildings in the grounds of good houses. By 10.30 we were in the little high village of Faycells where to the gentle background of a 70s Compilation we stopped for coffee and a wee. We were joined by the "3 men and pantoufle": still full of bounce.

Plenty of variety in conditions underfoot today from sandy to stony to tarred track to turf track to good road. The girls understandably were more than irritated at one stage when a good hours walking produced a minimal reduction in k's still to go according to the patently unreliable signage. There were little touches of comfortable living including a beautiful rose-covered bus shelter. The stone walls were often built to a high standard and there was obviously over the years enough money to go into house-building with a sense of fun.

The route into Cajarc for whatever commendable reason takes you away from the main road, and the traffic, down a bosky path which in places is too narrow and indeed if you are tired, dangerous. Clare had by now adopted sandals to ease her feet. But at least this way the town proudly shows you some excellent vegetable gardens.

Our hotel (du Pont) was, sure enough, by the suspension bridge over the Lot. There was nobody around other than a note of our room numbers to install ourselves. While the girls rested Des and I explored the town which is a medieval lozenge shape and beautifully aged in the middle with old houses and narrow alleys. We visited the church where somehow or other we got talking to an intense local intellectual who pressed on me a copy of his philosophical text. I will try to understand a little more of it at my leisure.


When we got back to the girls they were in great excitement as they had been visited by some bikers who had been seeking a room (their room) and had also had to be 'locked in' for a beer in the dining room. That seemed like a good idea so we all went out for another beer as we waited for supper: magnificent - bread and vegetable soup in good chicken stock, slices of tender/flavoursome lamb, cheese (but we all except Des declined: sinking fast after a long day and those beers) and an excellent lemon tart.

Then to bed for 10 hours!

Decazeville to Figeac 33k

As we made our way in the sunshine out of Decazeville it was notable that those residents who could do so had built their nice villas overlooking the town. We passed the suburban parish church of St Roch with an inscription inside to inform us that it is only 1300k to Santiago. Another mile and we descended to a modern bridge over the Lot in the company of our 3 athletic breakfast companions and their bouncy little dog 'Pantoufle'. We also met with some pleasure 'Lily the Limp' and her husband, last seen in Conques.


Then to the neat little village of Livinhac which might have been a more pleasant stop than Decazeville. The name of the village square "14 Juin 1953" refers to the village's biggest ever party when the Minister switched on the Mains Water. Indeed at the next village Montredon some equally important civic engineering is currently taking place with the installation of major drainage.


At the next village, Guirande (14c brown murals), we fell in with a party of 13 French pilgrims. They then took a conscientious but superfluous detour but as this was a long day we stuck to the D2 road to reach St Felix quickly. This is a small place and we had a refreshing picnic on tables by the church which had an interesting primitive Adam and Eve on the tympanum.

Nearby there was also the sad memorial to the events of 12 May 1944. Nine local people including the Carrayrou family of 2 adults and 3 children (14, 12, 8), were shot for whatever the reason and 5 others deported.



But it was a matter of pressing on today and eventually after a pleasant decline we reached Figeac.Our hotel (Europe) is a great find. Professional welcome with good sized rooms and baths - even a not-very-warm-looking swimming pool. We took a stroll round the town which is full of nice little shops and young people of all ages. It is very picturesque and consequently over-run by tourists and expats. A rather self-satisfied proprietor of 'The Wine shop' caters for the latter. Memorial to famous local - Jean Francois Champollion - decryptor of the Rosetta stone.

Supper done brilliantly at the hotel with imagination and care for a very modest price.

Conques to Decazeville 19.5k

Up bright and early and well refreshed after our 2 nights rest. A break like this undoubtedly helps you recover. Profuse thanks and farewells to Mme.Gaillac and down for breakfast at the hotel. We left by eight. A stroll down the town to the bridge over the river and then up very steeply as promised. While steep it was nothing we had not seen before and within an hour the climb was behind us. Goodness knows how 'Lily the Limp' will manage it. We paused at the little chapel of Ste Foy for a final view of the town although at this stage of the day it is deep in the shadow of the valley. The views overall today were splendid with beautiful green rolling valleys and hillsides in mixed farming country. We seemed to be on the ridge of various hills with views either side, our track changing from path to road and back again. We did not take the new, longer, scenic detour but pressed on for Noailhac. We chatted to a nice open couple from Brisbane, Aus. who were very friendly. They were well organized experienced walkers and heading for the Pyrenees. They hoped to complete the whole Chemin by 2008. They had walked extensively in England, Ireland (inc. the canal path past Daingean) and Canada. They carry their stuff and all planning is done on the Internet with the map on the ironing board. They thoroughly appreciated every detail of all they were seeing.

We stopped as we came down to Noialhac to a) inspect the church of St John the Baptist and b) get coffee and supplies for lunch. The Australians duly brewed their Billy Can on the ledge of the church memorial. From the village we climbed uphill to the wayside chapel of St Roch passing as we did the Stations of the Cross set into the path. Liz and Clare duly deposited 13 offering stones as we passed each Station. From there the track was nice and high again with good views.

We came to the so-called 'green meridian' - a millennium stunt to mark the meridian line through Paris by planting trees at wide intervals down what is essentially a rural swathe of France. Lunch was taken with 2 hours or less to go and many passed us as we ate. The girls had organized a nice selection of quiches with some good tomatoes and i enjoyed a particularly large NZ apple. Those who had passed we passed in turn as we made good time on the flat road to Decazeville. It hove into view long before we descended through suburban villas to the commercial centre.

A sad place. Decazeville was built from nothing in 1833 to service the largest opencast coal mine in Europe: this is due to close (literally in one week according to the owner of a small grocery shop but I suspect it has been declining under the kiss of death for decades like coal mining elsewhere in Europe) with huge local economic and social repercussions. It is not a very attractive place but many ordinary families living in large appartment blocks will be affected by the economic decline. Other local industries including steel are also in a bad way with consequent knock on effects on all aspects of local trade, commerce and daily life.

We made our way across a busy through road to the centre to find the Hotel Modern; it too seemed to share the local gloom and foreboding. After Creanciale stamping we visited the war memorial and the church. The former is a large non-religious structure built in the mid-thirties. Instead of the more usual cross it is decorated with a large miner's lamp. The monument is well decorated with four bronze plaques (after Jean Andree Gautier ?)in "Soviet Proletarian" style. Inside the badly weathering 19c rough stone church there is a fluent and balanced set of Stations of the Cross painted by Gustav Moreau, 1860's symbolist.

Veal stew for supper. To be honest there is not a lot to linger for in Decazeville.

Rest day in Conques

Why would anybody want to live in Conques (pop.300)? Some might move here as though to a pretty Cotswold village but how unreal is that? If you were born here you could possibly drift into the family business as hotelier or postcard shop owner (although, probably, not monk) rather like being born in a circus.

Leisurely breakfast - this is definitely a rest day - in the cafe of the hotel with the Sunday Times (5E). "Blair criticized by anti-sleaze watchdog", "Potential of new regime under Brown". Good to keep in touch.

We visited the two 'Treasuries' at the abbey. The first is a remarkable collection of 7c-13c religious artifacts almost pagan in their primitive symbolism. Nobody could look at these things and remain unmoved by what they say of earlier Christian epochs. The second museum rather celebrates the non-religious side of Conques' life and the early romanticized - in France just as much as elsewhere - 19c prints are worth seeing. In fact reading the guidebooks it would seem that a rather elaborate historical version of Conques has been reconstructed to fit the remaining facts. Shortly after the abbey was built it started to go into decline. In 1568 it was effectively destroyed "by Protestants" and it was only heavily rebuilt and restored in 19c. At least the items in the Treasury were spared the destruction of the post-revolutionary period. Even if the sacred bones of Ste Foy, stolen from elsewhere by an enterprising monk of entrepreneurial instinct, may well be those of a local girl of unclear date.

Only 20k tomorrow (v.good). But according to Des who has just "gone up to have a look" it starts steeply uphill (v.v.bad).

Espeyrac to Conques 13k

A most enjoyable stage, a nice mottled sunny day to take a morning stroll to Conques. We had an initial hike up out of Espeyrac, inevitably, and although there was further upward progression it was never unreasonable. Plenty of variety of walking surface, mostly through good farmland. Lovely views over green, wooded undulating valleys. We passed through a couple of snug hamlets on the way and saw a donkey that forecast thunder - according to a French-speaking gentleman with a splendid moustache and two lady companions (previously seen outside the church of St.Pierre de Bessuejouls two days ago - see photo of that post). We saw the beautiful modern glass in the church at Senergues. The farms here have different breeds of cattle from those seen in Aubrac.

Conques is safely hidden in a deep valley with a steep final descent into it (and presumably ascent out next Tuesday) and picturesque and therefore touristified. But not overwhelmed with numbers at this time of year even on a Sunday. We arrived at midday just as the Abbey was discharging the congregation after Sunday Mass. A fine organ voluntary filled every void. So we stopped for lunch in a little cafe opposite the Abbey doors while we enjoyed all the activity. It also gave us the opportunity to admire the famous carved tympanum above the door and the solid Romanesque lines overall.

As we finished our meal we saw and invited to join us the tall thin Englishman spotted previously. His name was Christopher van Kampen and we swapped notes on our adventures to date. He is spending tonight with the friars in the Abbey. Our accommodation is booked at the nearby Hotel St Jacques. The harassed proprietor - middle of Sunday lunch - says we should have been told the hotel is full. However we have been found rooms in a nearby Chambres d'Hote with the Gaillac family (tel: 05 65 72 82 10). And very nice it is, with magnificent red roses round the door. We have a big spacious airy double-aspect room with views of the abbey and the surrounding woods. Madame herself happily hoists one of our bags up herself in a cheerful, realistic and welcoming way. We are promptly offered the use of the vine-shaded linen line in the sun below should we need to do washing as we are here for two nights. Most importantly she advises that the bells of the church stop at 10.30pm and don't restart until 7.15am. Indeed tomorrow is a holiday so they may be even later to give the abbey monks (there are 5 of them aged 38-78) a lie in!

In the very warm late afternoon sun we strolled around the town to take in the sights. There is a Rocamadour feel to the tourist-orientated shops. Every view is carefully regulated such that it could all appear in a period film tomorrow. We watched as the husband of 'Lily the Limp' filmed her painful arrival on her two sticks into Conques. We have seen them previously and she is certainly finding it a pilgrimage! We and perhaps 30 others joined the monks for vespers at 6.30pm. Dinky French hymns and a nice pipe organ in a corner of this vast space.

We hadn't booked for supper at the Hotel St Jacques (it's really more an auberge) but when we ordered champagne (to celebrate a successful first week with Liz's Premium Bond winnings) a nice table was found on the terrace. Our fellow traveler with the moustache was much impressed! Gastronomically our meal was a turning point in that we had gesiers for starters and Aligot with sausage for our main course, thus combining the hill country we have left behind (?) with the warm Southwest. A nice bottle of Cahors cut through the fat.

The bells outside have just rung 10. Hopefully that's their lot!

Estaing to Espeyrac 24.5k

Big bowls of coffee for breakfast. Oozing charm from every pore Madame, still in pink, bade us farewell and bon voyage as we set out in good time. First phase out of town on flat tarmac with some steep short-cuts to reduce distance on hairpins. We followed the river (Lot) initially but the glorious babbling current at St Come d'Olt had turned into a silty stagnant broad stretch of water as backup for the Golinhac electricity generation barrage - some miles from Golinhac it has to be said.

The countryside continues to be very different from earlier days. Plenty of old woodland to pass through with a mix of trees at all stages on their lives. A major feature of the morning was significant climbing which none of us really enjoyed. There were eventually grass sandy made up paths across the top and the descents were not too unreasonable but the overcast weather and misty rain after lunch meant my spirits were no more than middling. It may just be a tummy upset. Clare was her positive self, as was Liz, and Des felt it all augured well for his Himalayan trek later in the year. We discussed happiness and whether it was the responsibility of governments, as our current masters seem to think. We chatted a couple of times in the course of the day with a solitary, lanky Englishman. He is doing the whole thing at speed to enable him to catch up with some friends who have already completed it and who are now on a further walk from Laon to Rome on which he wants to join them!

The style of farming has also changed locally. There is less a sense of peasants hanging on by their fingernails and more a sense of maximising every part of the system. There is rather more dairy than previously but also closely farmed sheep, goats and even bison. Every unit seems to have as much machinery as it could use and mostly quite new. An overall air of security and prosperity. Many houses have been well restored with far fewer left derelict.

Lunch we grabbed by the wayside but everyone was anxious to get on. The approach path to Espeyrac was a charming wander through woods. The Hotel de la Valee is a modest place although priced accordingly. A small bar provided the sole sitting area and the dining room was by no means full. It is obviously not a primary stop. It is a well tended, well restored pretty and atmospheric little town but with few facilities. Another dauntingly full First World War Memorial. The Marie doubles as Post Office. Mass is offered in the nice little church on the third Sunday of every second month.




Everywhere was a bit quiet today as it was the annual village outing for a day in an entertainment park.




In deference to the state of my digestion I skipped supper. Liz too is suffering! Early to bed!!

Espalion to Estaing 11k

This is to be a short day's walk, indeed no more than half a day after the rigours of yesterday. A brisk shower to wake up and confirm all well - we are marginally more mobile than we were last night. I will spare you the details of the resolution of the big-toe blister issue and we were all down for breakfast by 8.15. No need for a picnic today as we will be in Estaing by lunchtime.

Out through suburds of Espalion and mainly a tarred track for the early kilometres. Stoppped at a beautiful 11-13c church, St Pierre de Bessuéjouls.Fascinating detail throughout this 'little gem'. Most notable is the 9/11c chapel on an upper floor of the bell tower. Access only by two steep narrow turning stairways - easy to defend! Chapel decorated with numerous early carvings on pillar tops, altar front etc. Includes allegorical/symbolic animals supporting weight and a panel of 'celtic' twisting lines All in red sandstone. Well worth longer study. Incongruous modernisation of adjoining church residence. By contrast a beautifully maintained large manor house nearby - accomodation available for visitors.

Path was very steep and narrow, uphill, marked only by encouraging evidence that cows ahd been able to negotiate it either up or down. Great views in all directions and soon, disconcertingly, we were level with the forification that dominates Espalion from on high. Clare in her element at the frequency and variety of wild flowers. It would seem that there are a good 30 varieties of Vetch.

Then across a variety of lovely undulating walks until we reached a sustained period of unpleasant descent, much of it in a muddy ditch for no real reason during which we passed three middle aged ladies we had seen before. Eventually we were down on the valley floor and passed the Chateau de Beauregard (in course of restoration) and then across open agricultural land. We found a musician in his garden practising his hurdy-gurdy so I stopped to chat and take a picture. His English had been aquired outside France so his accent included both Holland and Germany. He had also played in England and indeed Cork. By then the others had (rightly) left me but it took a surprisingly long time to catch them up. I was delayed not least by the need to check that they had not slipped into any of the available bars.

The days walk finished with a pleasant climb up to flat woodland tracks before a gentle decline to the road into Estaing where we duly arrived at our hotel 'Aux Arms d'Estaing'. Madame blustered in pink but was less than effusive in her welcome and although we managed to order a round of beers on the terrace we were then advised that lunch was finished. It was 1.15. We were also advised that our baggage with clean clothes, courtesy of 'Transbaggage', was not scheduled to arrive until 4.30pm although collection the following day would be at 8am.So perhaps we are at the end of one of their stages and the beginning of another. Our rooms were in the somewhat utilitarian 'annex' across the road. While we waited we had steak/frites in an entirely adequate local bar and took a brief tour of the town. This included the dominant chateau, which could have stood in for Gormenghast. This was at some stage a convent and is in course of restoration. When the French President Giscard upgraded and anointed himself "d'Estaing" he acquired the chateau on condition that the local community renovated it as a quid pro quo for the lustre he was bestowing. Also visiting the building was a family from Send with whom it was established Des and Clare share a window cleaner.

Supper was a bit overblown and included paté in puff pastry, confit de canard with six vegetables, three rather uninteresting cheeses and some stodgy fruit tarts. Following our botanizing a supportive nightcap of the local Gentian (Suze) over cards was musty and undrinkable.

St Chély d'Aubrac to Espalion 22k

"What a difference a day makes". Yesterday beautiful sunshine and cheerful; today gloomy weather most of the way and a bit of a slog. Nice breakfast after a good rest - could just hear the bells. Shopped for usual lunch provisions including Laguiole cheese (went a bit sweaty in the dark depths of Des's knapsack) and 1/2 bottle of Figeac. It was a typical morning stride out in the dew up by the cemetery after the old bridge. A 10 minute hike gave us a nice backwards view to the old town. No doubt those emigrants to Paris would remember it fondly.

A succession of pleasant undulating paths both open and wooded with the bounce of turf underfoot. The examination and identification of wild flowers intensified. At one point Liz dramatically tripped and splattered herself on a downwards path in the woods. It could have been bad but with no harm done she was soon hoisted up and hopping about. Plenty of mud on her clothes and bragging potential re the bruises on her arm.

We came to an opportunity to carry on the D587 direct to St-Come-d'Olt. Although earlier editions of Alison Raju's book fail to point it out you are now encouraged to take a longer route there back up into the countryside via Le Rosiere. It is steep up and steep down so Des and I did it while the girls saved their feet and took what they claimed to be an equally valid route straight into town. So they had a beer while we saw a few more poppies and got in a bit of extra exercise. As we then couldn't find them despite phone calls we all got a bit grumpy and stopped for our picnic lunch on a road that seemed, not ideally, to lead to the town dump. Needless to say moments after restarting we passed some excellent picnic sites. Our afternoon was a pacey march on a straight road with little merit other the accompanying sound of the river Lot as we followed its valley. Olt incidentally is an old spelling of Lot.

Espalion is a town of severe contrasts. A main road, brutally inserted across the old town, takes the traffic down a fume laden main street, where unfortunately our hotel (Moderne) was located. By contrast the old streets either side are charming and full of architectural pleasantries.; and the old bridge 50 meters upstream and now closed to motor traffic is a thing of beauty, subject no doubt of a thousand paintings.



We were all stiff and sore after a long day and after showers and recovering we had teas and beers in a small place that became increasingly comfortable. Back at our hotel, which was actually much more pleasant inside than it promised from the road we had a simple supper of which the high spots were the Oignon Tarte starter and the roast pork. Chateau Eugenie (Cahors) with supper but also lots of water as we were a bit remiss about liquid levels today. We played cards in the front lounge but were ready for bed by 10 - to discover a rather dramatic blister on my big toe which may require primitive doctoring. Liz seems to be no worse for wear after her tumble.

Nasbinals to St Chély d'Aubrac 17k

A night of bells. The church tower next door sounded every hour on the hour - twice! At least it was a well-tuned bell. I suppose it was reassuring in a way to have its company during the hours of darkness. Or perhaps it accounts for the 'flight from the land' as people escape its hourly reminder of mortality. Made it easy to get up at 6.45am. Then the Angelus at 7!!!

Substantial breakfast in the front bar, efficiently served and as much as you wanted of bread, cake, croissants etc. Even a big basket of oranges. We were on the road at 8.10 with Des having loaded up with bread and cheese (and a small bottle of wine) for lunch. Gallently he claims to be in training for his Annapurna trip to justify carrying more than his share.

The walk today was lovely, little more than 11 miles and arriving at our destination at 2.15. There were 5 or 6 stimulating ascents (we will not reach this height again until the Pyrenees) and then a significant descent in the final quarter. So we were saying farewell to the high plateaues, but the day linked seamlessly with last year. Indeed it is hard to believe we have only been back on the trail for a day. We all seem to be coping well.

The alpine wild flowers are just as we remembered them from last year. We could be more precise in identifying them this year and have brought books!

St Chély is small - 240 people; it used to have 700. Most migrated to Paris over the years for work. There are few men now visible round the village, just capable middle-aged women. Perhaps the men who are left are working with the cattle.


We took advantage of our early arrival to rinse out some clothes, shower and take a stroll. The small church also had double banked balconys. Although the Café de la Marie could offer us beer - and did - for the football tonight (Arsenal/Barcelona) we will have to use the front parlour at the hotel (de la Valee). Nice supper with lots of vegetables, including the potage or cruditees, and accompaniments to the roast pork. Among the cheeses served was the local Thon branded Laguiole. The local sweetish bread is La Fouace, a bit like brioche (with a hint of orange?). Gaillac to drink.

Nasbinals a year later!

This year we flew rather than drove to recommence our walk. We took the first Team Photo before we left.We travelled with Ryanair from Stansted to Rodez, a small (but perfectly formed) local airport that otherwise only features flights to/from Paris. We booked return tickets early at £45 pp + taxes but subsequently prices went down to 79p! Managed to have our (vital, lunchtime) corkscrew confiscated from a backpack at Stansted security search.

Rodez is a snug town of some 23,000. The young pre-booked taxi lady is waiting to take us in the bright sunshine the 60k to Nasbinals. The village is very much quieter this year - the Transhumance is not until next weekend. Mine host at Hotel de la Route d'Argent is obviously girding himself up for that, possibly in trauma and without too much to say, even to his few regulars propping up the bar. We booked in and strolled in the sunshine to visit the beautifully restored Romanesque granite church. Interesting double-banked gallery at the rear. A number of houses seem to be in course of restoration as holiday homes.

For supper we had our old friend the Aligot served with the roast lamb and followed by further cheese with a nice bottle of Fitou.

D.R. RIP