Day 10: La Bessayrie to Decazeville
- Simon Pollack
- May 6, 2024
- 3 min read
Updated: Mar 26
A moment of absence unseated by a well-meant hearty hello
The heart-thumping shock of reverie rocked, a message of “go, just go”
The later “my name is” presented, well-timed and smiles all around
I’m sorry I nearly prevented this friendship to get off the ground
6 May 2024, Sunday
Distance hiked 14.2km (8.8m) | Ascent 280m |
After a wonderful night’s sleep, this was a short walk into Decazeville. I’m in a period of time that accommodation has been very hard to come by. It is a week of two bank holidays in France and a very popular time not only with pilgrims but just everyone taking time off work and booking rural breaks. So hence having to stay for the next few nights in hotels or slightly off-route places.
This means 14km to Decazeville, which went fine this morning, and then 33km to Figeac tomorrow. So I’ve been kicking my heels in the basic but pleasant Hotel Malpel in this, a somewhat grim French ex-mining town. They asked me if I wanted to book dinner and I dissembled in my response, later checking Google for restaurants in this town. I then took a walk around the whole town and confirmed what Google seemed to imply: that my hotel restaurant, while probably unexciting, is the best place in town. So I hurried back to book and now I’m resting my legs ready for tomorrow’s 20 miles.
It will be pretty hard but two mitigations give me courage. First, the terrain shouldn’t be hard going. And secondly, I will be joined by my wife Catherine (Cat) in Figeac for four days hiking together. She surprised me a couple of days ago by booking a flight out. That is something I’m really looking forward to after several days of walking alone.
I trundled along a road today (my guess is some 20 percent of the Chemin is along roads either on the tarmac or a little track alongside, though it is lower in the 1st half and higher in the 2nd). While trundling, a municipal gardener was strimming the grass verge. It was bloody noisy. Step after step reflecting loosely on the world and not thinking of much, oblivious to anything but the deafening noise; and so when a burly Frenchman who looked more like a farmer than a pilgrim appeared suddenly on my right I jumped out of my skin. I hadn’t heard him approach, and he gave me the fright of my life. I urged him, somewhat grumpily, to go past, and he asked if I was English. I must have said Omigod reflexively. Upon my affirmation he dropped back and vanished. I didn’t think about it again until a couple of hours later, as I was tiring slightly, and he and a few others drew alongside me again.
His name is Serge, he is a helluva nice guy, he is a pilgrim not a farmer and he just wanted a chat. I’m afraid I rather scared him off the first time! Serge and his cousins Frédéric, Gérard and Gérald are doing the Chemin a week a year together in a pretty cool way: they have a car and each 6km or so they take turns to drive it forward. Each therefore walks 75% of the way, getting a nice break to ease the joints. They don’t each have to heft 10kg along as their main luggage is in the car. They can bring laptops and food, and they can book places a bit off the main trail if things are crowded. Smart chaps. I enjoyed chatting to them, especially Frédo who spent 30 years as a senior commercial manager at Apple in France. Another of those Chemin encounters that was rather unexpected!
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