Introducing a flawed hero

Before I go any further I need to introduce you to John Higginson (henceforth JH). Who he? Well he's a hero. I first came across him when cycling the Danube and using his guide. Here has two other guides published by Cicerone, The Way of St Martin which follows the Loire from source to Tours and The Way of St James which is a cycle guide from Le Puy to Santiago. He is a retired primary head from Cheshire, and he has researched and produced theses guides in his retirement. He is a flawed hero. His photography is dire. He always seems to be cycling in drizzle necessitating the wearing of all waterproofs. But perhaps this hints at another possible flaw: though JH counsels the wisdom of travelling light, "only take what you use everyday" he takes far more than I do. He takes, for example a "dog dazer", presumably set to stun. I may regret the lack of such a device, like a hapless extra beamed down from the Starship Enteprise, but I travel lighter. JH is a cautious type. He must also be a Christian and probably a Catholic, who smuggles a little bit of faith in to these works for a secular walking/ cycling guidebook company. In his Kit list of things he uses every day he includes, rather charmingly, "Prayer book". In short, I want you to love JH as I do, but proceed with caution because JH is an overly cautious man.

Now you have this character sketch you can begin to appreciate my calculations. On the one hand I'm pretty pleased to have made Decize to Le Puy in three days, tackling some shot (for me) climbs. Surely the worst is over. In his preface JH states, "the average distance travelled each day isis about 50km- easily within the compass of the moderately fit". But then there are the other phrases: "no amount of cycling in England can prepare one for the challenge of this route," (and JH and his wife practiced with gradually longer routes and heavier loads); "this is a mountainous jouney ... do not expect this ride to be easy"; the Massif Central is described as "a high, windswept volcanic plateau incised by deep gorges"; and the first day from Le Puy is a "baptism of fire". Is the worst over, or is the pain just about to begin?

7am mass and blessing of the pilgrims in the cathedral celebrated by a very engaging priest. As I and about forty others gathered around the statue of St Jacques we were asked to give our name, nationality and destination (many will walk just a portion of the way). We sang the Salve, had our passports stamped and exited into the thick fog that filled the valley in which Le Puy lies.

Then things gathered, and things dispersed (two packages off in the post to lighten the load) and to the Place du Plot and down the Rue de St Jacques. The guide books say that there are three passes into Le Puy each over 1000 metres. But I cycled into Le Puy without too much trouble so how bad can it be? I soon found out. The road out is like Redhills only longer and steeper. Yes I had managed some tough climbs in the last three days, but I had become conscious of twinges and aches in my left quads, and hamstring and at the top of my calves. I think that's most of the muscles in my legs. And so for the first time I got off and pushed. Discretion played the better part than valour as Christopher Martin Jenkins might say, as indeed he would often say if he ever had the torment of commentating on my batting! Anyway, I walked clear of the fog and into a bright, if cold, sunshine.

JH said follow the Tarmac, but it forked and a "Chemin de St Jacques" sign pointed on way so I followed. Unfortunately I followed what turned out to be the walking route, and it was quickly a rocky uphill path impossible for my bike. Fortunately it quickly rejoined the road I was meant to be on. This warned of a strange irony. I will have to be wary of "Chemin de St Jacques" signs. They are siren voices tempting me, but if followed the will dash my bike's spokes on the cruel rocks of an impassible path.

Essentially today's route made a climb out of Le Puy of about 600m, then plunged down all of those 600m into the gorge of the river Allier before climbing 600m again. Then finally a long climb of 200m to the highest village of St Roch before a downhill all the way to St Alban where I have a fire with dinner and breakfast.

JH warns on the spectacular descent to Allier to stop to allow the wheel rims to cool. I was conscious of another problem. Despite the sunshine (which meant that the views were stunning) the temperature was only 12c, and my hands, and the fingers wrapped around the brakes, were quickly numb with cold. The rest of me was pretty chilled (and I don't mean relaxed) too!

The climbs today were hard, but the Massif Central was stunningly beautiful. I was tired when I'd reached Saugues at 2:30, but I decided to press on the St Alban's which has a beautiful church and where I've had very good company with the evening meal. And so to bed!