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Ten kilos or less of pack burden, to save the poor mule’s back

This mule, however, is willing and able to start the 500 mile track

Business bustle behind me as I lubricate well for the hike

The frisson of unmet encounters, with pilgrims and peasants alike

25 April 2024, Thursday

I’m packing my rucksack and making sure I’ve plenty of Vaseline for blisters.  Blisters are no joke. The pain of humid skin rubbing repeatedly against a rough or tight surface (such as a sock in a shoe) is deeply problematical for hikers.

I later weighed my rucksack (without water) and was very satisfied with a lightweight 6kg

It’s one of several practical things to think about when packing for 30+ days’ hoofing it without access to your normal support network, like your home medical cabinet or your own bed.

Why am I doing this? And what am I doing? Between 2017 and 2019 I took four trips to France to walk the Via Podiensis, a well-known route of the Santiago de Compostela pilgrimage. One of France’s “Grandes Randonnées” (Great Hikes), the GR65, it runs from Le Puy-en-Velay in the south-east quadrant of France to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port at the foot of the Pyrenees in the far southwest Basque corner of the country. It is known in France as “the Way” short for “St James’s Way”, or “le Chemin” short for “le Chemin de St Jacques” in French. In my Franglais style I typically call it the Chemin, as distinct from th­­e Camino for the Spanish part (each is roughly the same length, 750kms). St Jean PdP is the traditional starting point for the Camino, more famous than the Chemin, which leads across northern Spain to Santiago de Compostela in whose cathedral the remains of St James (St Jacques / Santiago) are alleged to reside. He was an apostle of Jesus, and this has been a Catholic pilgrimage for many centuries: early 9th century for the Camino (there’s an even more northern route along the coast, which at the time avoided the Moorish-dominated areas) and mid-10th century for the first recorded route from Le Puy when its bishop did it with a large retinue.

Whether St Jean becomes my destination, or whether I decide to push on for one extra day into Spain, is a decision I will make later. That leg, St Jean to Roncevaux (Roncesvalles in Spanish) is notorious as the most challenging one in the whole 1,500kms from Le Puy to Santiago. It crosses the Pyrenees and has some evil climbs. While naïve people do it, by tradition, to start the Spanish pilgrimage, they’re fools if they haven’t trained and many cut it into two or even bail out (at least of that day). It also captures lives: presumably mostly overconfident overweight smokers having heart attacks, but also falls down ravines or steep slopes. But the time to do it, mountain weather permitting, is when you’ve worked yourself into good shape over several prior weeks of walking. We will see…

The point for me isn’t religious: it is that the Via Podiensis is beautiful. It passes through stunning countryside, and (blisters aside) the experience of walking it is a truly wonderful other world compared with quotidian life. It’s a break. It’s a visual feast. It’s a splendid physical challenge. You meet people: all sorts of people. You reflect on life. You recharge your batteries.

My four trips before saw me complete the route in parts, and not in order. About half I did en famille with my wife Catherine (Cat) and our dogs, and for a further week I was joined by a friend, Jon. But I’ve not done the whole thing with the completeness of a single shot from start to finish.

And this is why, at a point in my life where I’m able to take the time, I’m doing it again but all in one go. I am spending the first few days walking with another friend, Peter, but the bulk of it will be solo.

I am not religious and I’m not particularly spiritual. But I’m a respecter of history and the tradition of his route does impart a feeling of importance. Since setting up an insurance business in early 2021 I have taken very little holiday and I’m feeling the need for a big break. And so I’m here today.

I’ve booked the first week of accommodation, and I’m glad I did for it seems things are a little busy. Peter and I will start with a 7am Cathedral service where the Bishop blesses the pilgrims and sends them on their way, with the floor of the nave opening up to lead directly on to a slope (the church is perched atop a steep hill) which feels like accessing the pilgrimage route as a bobsleigh team uses gravity to get where they’re going. Thereafter it is a route that passes through some semi-mountainous terrain for the first week or two and later settles into plateaux, valleys, forests and plains.

I will be staying in chambres d’hôtes (B&B: usually with the evening meal included when you arrive after a day of hiking), gîtes d’étapes (more basic hostel type things, and sometimes with shared rooms....unfortunately) and hotels. I am 52 and solvent: I will avoid dormitories unless obliged. But this is deepest rural France and needs must: after 15 or 20 miles there may be no other option and I will take what I can get.

What I will get, for sure, is well fed. It’s a sign of a profound gastronomic culture that far away from Michelin-starred restaurants in swanky towns, farmers’ wives and B&B owners place food on the table that is simply delicious. They take this seriously in France, including the rituals at the table (did you know, for example, to serve people’s wine but not their water).

So here I am, my rucksack is next to me with a smattering of very lightweight clothes (but plenty of layers: the weather will be poor for the first week), a bag of blister treatment, my toiletries, a portable Bluetooth keyboard to type up this journal as I go, and my phone. The phone has books, maps, guides, music: everything needed for long walking save the boots!

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