Le Bleymard - Pont-de-Monvert : 28,518 Steps

This morning, at breakfast, we discussed the day's walk.  Felicity announced that it was going to be 24km, starting with a 700m elevation, it was going to rain all day, temperature would be around 4° C and there would be gusts of wind of up to 69km/h.  Her comment was : "It's going to be great!".  Now, I understand that there are nuances between North-American English and Proper English, but this was a whole other level.  "It's going to be great!" did not at all cover the picture that came to my mind after this description.  I was thinking more along the lines of "It's going to be terrible, is there a train I can take to our next stopover?". 

1 and a 1/2 hours later we had climbed 400m and were starting to get wet, so we stopped in the last cosy chalet before the summit to have a coffee and assess the situation.  A couple of hikers, came in and sat us with by the fire.  They were also going to Pont-de-Monvert and mentioned they were going to take the alternative easier route, skipping the summit, as there was a weather warning in effect.  Sadly, by this time I had been so indoctrinated, that the possibility of taking an easier route was not an option to be considered.  And so Felicity and I set off for the summit. We trekked along a path marked by ancient standing stones, on a bare mountain top with howling winds and driving rains... "It was great!"

4 hours later we arrived at our Hotel in Pont-de-Monvert, cold and drenched but relieved that it was over.  I believe the worst is now behind us (although I have been saying that every day since we started).

Chasseradès - Le Bleymard : 24,743 Steps

 

The source of the Lot river

I woke up to a cold but beautiful sunny day.  We left the hotel at 8AM, I with some trepidation, as today's stage started with a 200m steep elevation.   As I was plodding up a forest path, Felicity as usual barely visible far ahead of me, a slim, energetic woman probably in her fifties whizzed past me on her way down. We exchanged a brief "Bonjour" as hikers are expected to do.  A few minutes later, a similarly aged, but rounder man, appeared, and I hailed him with a "Bonjour, il semble que les femmes sont toujours devant les hommes".  He stopped, obviously as delighted as I was to have an excuse to catch his breath.  He responded "Oui cela fait maintenant des années que je suis derrière", and then glancing down rushed off after his relentless partner.  I looked back up the path, saw that Felicity had by now completely disappeared, and resumed my imitation of Sisyphus.

After 2 hours of climbing, I reached the top and started my gentle descent towards Le Bleymard.  On this side of the mountain, I was walking along a stream which ultimately becomes the Lot river.  The water was winding through trees and green mossy banks, making for a very pleasant walk.

We arrived in Le Bleymard around 1PM and treated ourselves to some cold drinks on the terrace in the sun.  I had sparkling water as this is a fasting day, I won't say what Felicity had as this is a public blog and I don't want to cast aspersions on people who have white wine at lunchtime.

Once we were refreshed, we strolled around the village in search of ingredients for our sandwiches for tomorrow.  I think, browsing though a local épicerie in a French village when you are on a fast is probably the closest thing to Tantalus' Temptation that I can think of.  (I hope you are appreciating my knowledge of Greek mythology).  I now have a baguette de campagne, salty butter, 3 kinds of ham, sun dried tomatoes, an avocado (possibly not local), a slice of tome aux 7 fleurs and some chips au piment d'espellette.  I can't wait to wake up tomorrow!

La Bastide-Puylaurent - Chasseradès : 22,328 Steps

 

L'Abbaye de Notre Dame des Neiges

In the evening before retiring to our respective beds, we discuss what's in store for the next day in terms of distance, elevation gain and potential time.  Last night as I was looking at the programme for today I pointed out that we were going to be doing around 14km (our normal is around 22-24Km), which would be a short 3.5 hour hike.  I was already planning a lie in and a leisurely breakfast for a late departure, around 10AM for example.  Alas, it was not to be!  Having studied the map, Felicity saw that instead of leaving immediately, we could do an extra 10km loop to the Abbaye de Notre Dames des Neiges as a warm-up before our actual hike.  Well, you can imagine how delighted I was by this alternative plan.  Although I made my feelings clear, it rapidly became apparent that when Felicity has decided something, it's not up for debate.   I'm afraid that, much like the world, this hike is evolving from a liberal stroll to an authoritarian march. The only concession I managed to obtain is that we could leave our bags at our apartment since we were doing a loop.

Back in 1879, Robert Louis stayed for a few nights at the Abbey, which at the time was a Trappist monastery. The Abbey was home to Trappist monks until 2022, when their number had dwindled to 12, and they decided they could no longer keep it running.  Once the Trappists had left, the Ecclesiastical powers, allowed an order of Cistercian nuns to take it over.  Interestingly, the Cistercians sent only 8 nuns to do the job, which had been too demanding for the last 12 priests.  Here is yet another example of men (well priests) being disposed of their rightful place by woke women (well nuns). 

After our improvised loop, we got back on track and hiked up 200m to then walk along forested hill crests to our next destination.  As we walked through the tress, we could hear the thumping sound of wind turbines, reminding us we are in the 21st century. 

Le Haut Cheylard - La Bastide-Puylaurent - 30,494 Steps

 This morning we left Le Haut Cheylard at 7:15 under a slight drizzle which followed us all day.  After 4 days of rolling farmlands, we are now into forested hills, which makes for a nice change.  Our trails take us through pine and birch trees, which shelters us from the wind and would protect us against the sun ... if there was any.  

We had a couple of pretty steep hills to climb today, and I am really thankful that I managed to offload 2.5 kgs worth of superfluous stuff (see yesterday's blog).  However, the lost weight was partly compensated by a stop at a pharmacy.  In a desperate attempt to sooth the different parts of my body which are making themselves known to me, I acquired.  A soothing cream (advised by Felicity), Talcum powder (proposed by the pharmacist), mixed essential oils (because I always listen to my mother...that's how you stay the favourite child) and some Ibuprofen (because it's good to have something that actually works).

I may not have mentioned that for the last 2 nights we have been sharing a room/studio in the B&Bs that Felicity had reserved.  In both cases, the sleeping arrangements consisted in one double bed and 2 single beds.  Each time I diplomatically proposed that she take the double bed and I would settle for the single, counting on the fact that her Canadian nationality would lead her to say "no, no, of course you can have the big bed".  I forgot to factor in that having spent over 20 years in Paris, she has learned to avoid politeness in dealing with French people!  So she simply said "sure"  leaving me to spend the night balancing on my single bed and trying to keep under my single duvet.  Needless to say that in tonight's gîte which has the same setup, I just grabbed the room with the double bed, leaving no doubt that only brute force would get me out.     

Pradelles - Le Haut Cheyllard - 28,259 steps

 

This morning breakfast at 6:45: Coffee, croissants, brioches, bread, butter homemade jam, yogurt, apple sauce, orange juice.  I can attest to the fact that not having breakfast, makes having breakfast a whole other level of experience. I don't think this is true of everything, for example I can also confirm that not having blisters does not make having them more enjoyable.

As we walked out of Pradelles I was struck by the number of houses for sale and by the number of retirement homes.  You wonder, how this makes sense.  Shouldn't you live in the countryside when you have young children and can enjoy the physical activity ? And shouldn't you retire somewhere where it's easy to access essentials, including medical care, without having to drive ?  In one village I went through, there was a big sign saying "Are you a doctor ?", presumably calling for volunteers to set up there.  Funny, I thought to myself, there are no signs asking for Management Consultants, maybe they are already well provided with those...

Today was day 4 of the hike, and I am realising that much as Robert Louis (I think we can be on first name terms at this point) overburdened Modestine for the first few days, I have also been both too optimistic and pessimistic in my packing.  Do I need swimming trucks and a towel for a trek in the rain in hilly countryside  ?  Do I need rubbing oil for my tennis elbow when I will be walking rather than hitting tennis balls ? Do I need a sleeping bag when I am staying in B&Bs every night ? Do I need extra clothes, when in actual fact I'm washing my clothes every evening ? Do I need a bottle of homemade vinaigrette, just in case I decide to have some salad in the evening ? The answer, provided clearly and painfully by my shoulders, is no I don't (Except the last one of course, can a Frenchman survive without good vinaigrette ?).  I explained my predicament to my host, and we arrived at a solution, I would pack all my unwanted things in a box, and he would post it to my address in Paris!  I now have a pack that is 25% lighter.  Tomorrow I will have to find a different excuse for being slow in the hills.  I'm thinking It's because I was a smoker...35 years ago!  

Le Bouchet-Saint-Nicolas - Pradelles - 25,216 Steps

 

I think I'm getting contaminated by the Canadian politeness, this morning when Felicity asked me how I had slept I responded "Fine, I just woke up once at 2am" instead of saying "Terribly, I was aching all over and couldn't go back to sleep for hours".  In case I hadn't made that clear, I'm still doing alternate day fasting during the walk, and today was a fasting day!  So it was with a certain amount of envy that I then proceeded to stare, at the breakfast table which was overladen with local bread, homemade honey, local cheese, yogurt, orange juice and coffee. Why do I do this to myself, you may ask ... I have no idea would be my honest answer.

Back in 1879, during Stevenson's first two stages, his main activity was getting Modestine (his donkey, please keep up, I mentioned her in my second post) to move forward and at an acceptable pace.  After trying different methods, he ended up with a goad, a sharp pointy stick with which he would poke Modestine's hind quarters. I think Felicity must have wished she had one of those when I was ambling up some of the hills today.

I must say that, as I laboured under my backpack today, I started revising my role in this re-enactment.  Originally I saw myself as Robert Louis Stevenson, walking through the Cévennes and writing about my experience, but increasingly I am feeling in sympathy with Modestine.  It is Felicity who has mapped out our journey and leads the way, like a 21st Century Stevenson, while I like Modestine wonder why I am walking 22 kms just to end up in a village which is not that different to the one I left in the morning.

Le Monastier - Bouchet-St-Nicolas - 30,830 Steps

 

Before we left on this trip, Felicity had to decide if it was OK for us to occasionally share room when called for due to lack of space.  Her main worry was whether I snored or not, nothing to do with 19th century modesty. I told her to ask Fianna, and she was reassured, but I should have mentioned that Fianna sleeps with ear-plugs, so even if I snored like a warthog she wouldn't hear a thing.  So this morning, I asked Felicity how did it go on the snoring front?  She told I did snore a bit, but it was from 6 AM, but she was already awake, so no problem. I may not have mentioned that Felicity is Canadian, so I interpreted this to mean that I started snoring as soon as my head hit the pillow and didn't stop until I woke up.  Thankfully for Felicity in tonight's B&B we have separate rooms.

The morning walk was mainly fields, and we still escaped the rain that has been promised for quite a few days.  Arriving in the small village of Ussel we decided to stop in the one open restaurant for our lunch.  The restaurant was full of locals, eating four course traditional French meals (the options included Tête-de veau, Andouillettes and Tripes) with accompanying Beaujolais of course.  We ordered just the starter which consisted of salad, charcuteries and cheese with water and were hard pushed to finish our plates. After lunch, we set off for our 2-hour hike to Bouchet-St-Nicolas.

*** AP - NEWS FLASH ***

MAJOR DIPLOMATIC INCIDENT BETWEEN FRANCE AND CANADA AVERTED BY PROFESSIONAL NEGOTIATOR

From our correspondent in Bouchet-St-Nicolas : Today at 3:02 PM Ms F., a young(ish) Canadian hiker on the Stevenson Trail, wrote to her hostel to say she would be arriving around 4 PM and to confirm that there was a jacuzzi in her room as she was looking forward to having a relaxing bath.  She got an immediate response : NON!. Ms F. was extremely surprised as there was a jacuzzi in the pictures, and she had booked this room very specifically for the bath.  Texted exchanges became heated, which progressed to angry telephone calls, and it looked like a Franco-Canadian tourist war was about to be added to the general transatlantic tension we are witnessing today. Luckily, Mr F., no relation, a certified negotiator, happened to be hiking the trail at the same time.  After clarifying each parties' positions and thanks to some intricate negotiating, Mr F. was able to bring about an amicable settlement.  The jacuzzi was not in the bedroom, but Ms F. could have full access between the hours of 4PM and 10PM.  It is nice to see in these troubled times that diplomatic solutions can still avert major crises between nations.

We arrived in Bouchet-St-Nicolas around 4PM, and Felicity had a nice long bath while I had a nap in my bedroom, to recover from a tough day.

Le Puy-en-Velais - Le Monastier : 27,623 Steps

 

This morning, Felicity and I decided to got to the 7AM Mass that is held for the Pilgrims every morning in Le Puy-en-Velais 1000-year-old Cathedral (I'll let you guess whose idea this was).  As it happens, this was the first (and probably the last) Mass I attended.  I have no regrets, especially as the Cathedral is on top of a hill which means that at the end of the Mass, the floor of the Cathedral actually opens up and all the pilgrims (plus us 2 fake pilgrims) exit through the opening, down some steps, and on to the Chemin de Compostelle. After this spiritual experience, we went back to our B&B and had a hearty breakfast before setting off on our first stage.

Having started with Religion, Felicity decided to demonstrate that despite all of Trump's efforts, we can still count on science to explain our world.  Yesterday, in the train, I had told Felicity (with whom I have not walked before) that although my walking downhill and on flats is at normal speed, I have slowed down considerably when going up hill, and therefore she shouldn't hesitate to walk on ahead. She reassured me, telling me that she was a slow walker herself.  Thus, you can imagine my surprise, when as soon as we reached the first steep slope, Felicity shot off like the proverbial hare while I continued my imitation of a rather tired tortoise.  Albert Einstein was right, everything is relative : slow for one person isn't the same slow for another person.

I did occasionally catch-up with Felicity (or she let me think I did) and so we proceeded through sunny farmlands, rolling hills and occasional forests.  The walk was really pleasant with sunshine to keep us warm but some wind to cool us down.  Around midday, we stopped and bought ourselves a picnic which for me consisted of a chicken sandwich, a tomato, some crisps and a saucisson (sorry Mum).  Despite the occasional hill, we made good time, arriving in Le Monastier by 2:30PM. Our B&B, named File dans ta chambre, is a charming little house inside the village, in which we are sharing a room which has 2 single beds and a small sunny balcony. 

After a few hours rest, we thought we would try the local beer (which had been recommended by our host in Le-Puy). The beer is called Modestine, after the name of Stevenson's Donkey.  Sadly, after interrogating several natives we came to the conclusion that only one bar was still open in Le Monastier, and it does not serve Modestine beer!  To drown our disappointment, Felicity and I had two glasses of white wine and two beers. This set us back €6.80!  Yes, you read that right.  If this is a reflection of the cost of living in Le Monastier I'm thinking I could move here and retire right now...I'm just not sure how I will sell this to Fianna!

Paris to Puy-en-Velay

 

146 year ago Robert Louis Stevenson, the author of Treasure Island and Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, wrote a travel book called Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes (my Gen Z readers can ask their parents what a book is).  The book is the story of his 228km walk from Le Monastier to St-Jean-du-Gard, and I will be blogging my way through the same walk over the next 10 days (full disclosure, due to professional commitments I will only be doing 192km as I will need to leave before the last 2 stages).

Before I delight you with stories of the quaint French countryside, you may reasonably ask how this came about.  My wife Fianna - yes I know all of you are aware Fianna is my wife, but maybe this blog will become a social media success therefore requiring more context for my readers.  Anyway, as I was saying, my wife Fianna has a friend called Felicity who in early April decided to do Stevenson's walk and invited 5 of her girlfriend's including Fianna to come along.  They all sensibly pleaded other engagements, but Fianna, spotting an opportunity for 2 weeks of peace and quiet, volunteered me to go in her place.  I'm not sure that Felicity is getting the best end of this deal, but she has now adjusted her plan to walking with one overweight Frenchman rather than five chatty women.

Having spent a day booking train tickets and accommodation, I then had to prepare for the trip.  Back in 1879 Stevenson spent 1 month in Le Monastier acquiring the perfect donkey, inventing a sleeping bag and choosing travel necessities (including 1 revolver, 1 bottle of Beaujolais, 1 tin of Bologna sausage and 1 eggbeater!). For my part, none of these items seemed essential and living in the 21st century, my choices were slightly different (1 laptop for work, 1 wireless mouse for laptop, 1 smartphone, 1 kindle, 1 smartwatch, 1 charger). I did leave behind my tablet, my camera and my wireless headphones, thus demonstrating my capacity to disconnect.

This morning, having been informed (by my smartphone) to expect rain in the Cévennes I left the house early to buy a rain hat and proceed to the Gare de Lyon.  Getting there with plenty of time to spare, I headed towards the waiting hall benches to sit down.  Having spotted a seat and put down my 8.5kg backpack, I noticed a small backpack seemingly forgotten next to me.  I asked around, and nobody claimed ownership.  At this point, a young woman sitting on the other side of me said she would take it to an attendant and walked off with it.  A few minutes later, an elderly lady appeared with her 2 grandchildren (I'm guessing here, in case a reader was wondering if this was fact-checked), and asked where grandchild's backpack had gone.  I told her a young woman had just left with it to find an attendant, but I could see the grandmother was not impressed with my explanation.  I tried to reassure her, saying the young woman had seemed very nice and helpful, but to no avail.  She left with the two children in tow, heading towards the platforms. Two minutes later, the young woman reappeared with the backpack, having failed to find an attendant.  By this time the grandmother had disappeared, and I was beginning to think I was stuck in some kind of time warp where the grandmother, the young woman, and the backpack could never be in the same place at the same time.  Luckily, I spotted the grandmother about to go through the ticket gates and I dashed after her shouting "Madame, Madame".  I caught up with her just in time, and the young boy was reunited with his backpack. Thus, a major catastrophe was avoided, well ...Ok... a minor inconvenience.  The moral of this story is that people will go out of their way to help others, or if you listen to my wife : Don't forget your stuff!

A 3-hour TGV ride brings us to Saint-Étienne and then a slow regional train takes us along the Loire river through wooded hills, old farmhouse and occasional monasteries to our starting point of the Pay-en-Velay a charming small town set-on a hilly outcrop.  We dropped off our stuff at the guest house and then Felicity being a keen photographer she proceeded to drag me to the main sites of the town (a most interesting activity even though everything was closed as it was past 7pm)

Well, that's it for this first post. Don't hesitate to post your comments, they will be blithely ignored.