Dinant to Charleville-Mezieres

As the crow flies the distance between Dinant and Charleville-Meziers is not so great, but the wooded slopes that rise from the Meusse forbid much deviation from the course of the river. So today's ride was long and hot, but flat and very beautiful. It even included a canal tunnel.

Arriving in Charleville-Mezieres I found my way to my billet for the night. I have to admit to a fair bit of apprehension making my way down a strange street, a block away from the station, to a number on a front door and ringing the bell. The email I had received (again courtesy of Teams) came from Frederic Coquet, and being from just Frederic I had guessed that my host was probably an elderly widower. No answer came. I went and rested on a station bench. When I tried again, there was a scurry of feet and excited voices. I'm at the wrong house I thought. The door was flung back, and in equal surprise at the vision that greeted them, two laughing children recoiled. Their parents stepped in. I was in the right place. But these children were expecting a priest, and were naturally surprised to see me because the miles on the road had taken their toll: shaven-headed, skin peeling from my sunburnt nose, sweaty and exhausted. This was the wonderful Coquet family, my hosts. They were quite excited by my coming. They had prepared a beautiful meal of tarte au fromage and salad and more cheese in various forms. It was a lovely evening.

The Coquets had also prepared a terrific breakfast, and because Mass was at 11am we had time for a walk around Charleville. The Charleville half of Charleville-Mezieres is a new town, but don't think Milton-Keynes or Washington. This is a 17th c. new town, with a beautiful Place Ducale and some fine buildings.

Mass was in the church of St Remi (illustration provided by Matthias Coquet). I was conscious that 11am made this exactly a week to the minute after I had celebrated my last Mass at St Cuthbert's. But this Mass helped to take my mind away from that memory: this was a real celebration liturgy. Pere Vincent, the parish priest, was an effervescent personality who had a remarkable rapport with his congregation who clearly loved him. Afterwards, my Pilgrim's Passport stamped, and laden with Helene's uber generous picque-nique, I rolled off in search of the hamlet of Avancon.