Sweats & Shivers

A day or two ago I met a couple cycling "from the Atlantic to our home in Grenoble". Like a number of others they had a bike trailer on which they carried their tent and camping equipment. (I pride myself on being one of the lightest of travellers, and even when camping I only carry what will fit on my back pannier rack.) However, this couple were off to book into a hotel, "It was 2c this morning," they complained. Although the afternoon sun is invariably warm 25+c, and has given me distinctive cyclist's tan-line (from my knuckle to my figure-tips I'm nut brown, but the rest of my hands are white because of the cycling gloves which certainly saved me from more serious injury when I fell nr Antwerp), the mornings have an autumn coolness. I usually start the day with all layers, including waterproofs, on and gradually strip down over the morning.

This worked well until I hit the hills. I remember being fascinated by Tour de France cyclists being handed newspapers on reaching a summit. They put the papers over their chests as they hurtled down hill. The reason is that you work up quite a sweat on the climbs, but as the cool air whistles through your sweat-dampened clothes on the way down it is extremely chilling. I seem to have developed a sniffle from my descent last night and this morning's climbs and downhills have had the same effect.

Fortunately it's not yet climbs all the way. The Upper Loire valley narrows (usually making climbs unavoidable as the road winds round mountains) and then opens out again, giving plenty of flat terrain for cycling. This morning has been a narrow valley phase and I've climbed to hear the cow bells of the upland cattle, and to see three hefty boar dart across the road and scamper on up the hillside disappearing into the forest. I think the climbs are over now as I've descended to Retournac. The market was coming to an end and the man on the rotisserie stall, apologizing that he no chicken left, served me instead the most enormous helping of paella, "pressed down and brimming over". Happy days!

The hills didn't abate as much as I had hoped, but enough for me to make good progress. The scenery was superb. I reached Le Puy en Velay just after 3pm. It took some time to find the pilgrim hostel I was staying at, and then I could only drop off my bags. Maison de St Francois is directly behind the cathedral, so I began there. It is a incredible structure with primitive frescoes, a Byzantine-feel interior with hanging lamps, and because the stairs to the front door begin to descend from the middle of the nave, the facade is simply towering. I also managed to take in the St Michel chapel high on a pinnacle of volcanic rock. It is said to be 260 steps to the top, but it wasn't honestly too bad. Visually the building makes a stunning spectacle. Inside it is surprisingly cramped and irregular. Sadly Notre Dame de France, cast from 200+ guns captured at Sebastopol, and which towers above the town, is currently under scaffold. There's something here of beating swords into plough shares, but I think they should be your own weapons, not those you've captured.

Dinner at Maison de St Francois happily included Le Puy lentils. I was at table with Frederic and a group of four. One of these asked a Frederic what his reason for doing the camino was. He responded that he was thinking about changing job, he was wanting to think about this and deepen his faith. It was clear the group of four were uncomfortable with the mention of faith though they professed themselves open to it. It is interesting to see who one's fellow travellers are.

At last, also, the feat of having cycled from Newcastle/ Amsterdam gains appreciation. But I was aware how what we have on the road behind us -the journey from wherever, a background of faith- can be source of pride for ourselves and a stumbling block on the road to fellow travellers, for whom faith is not a given part of the camino but for whom it might become a part of the way. This was clear again at the pilgrim mass: we like to show we know what to do, when to stand and what to say, but how excluding this could be to those who are standing tentatively on the edge.

I headed off to the Friends of St James reception only to find that they had abandoned their post 10mins before time. And so retired early for the night.