And then we had our first mishap! Polly tripped over a stray electricity cable on the pavement.She fell headlong...I tried to grab hold of her, but got only a handful of daylight. When you fall wearing a big pack, you fall. And that's it. She grazed her knee and hands really badly. I was really concerned she'd done some lasting damage, but she's made of strong stuff.
We continued climbing the coastal path towards Cap Blanc Nez. There are lots of reminders of World War II on the route with dark references to guns aimed at Kent. And the wind, which had been shifting all day, finally settled down to blowing a gale direct into our faces. We had to walk the final mile or so along the beach and, to compound Polly's misery, the rain began to lash down and wind swept up the sand straight at us. My glasses protected my eyes from the worst of it, but Polly, wearing contact lenses, had eyes full of sand and couldn't see. She staggered blindly along the final part of the route, holding on to me and feeling pretty miserable. Quite an end to our first day in France.
When we set off the next morning, Polly's walking trousers newly darned, the weather was still wet and blustery. We had a little look around the town and found the place where Thomas Becket sailed from to return to England and face the wrath of Henry VIII. When we eventually turned inland the sun came out and the wind dropped. We walked through beautiful countryside, rural France is particularly lovely in August, fields of wheat and corn and views that stretch for miles. For fully five minutes, we were lucky enough to stop and watch a pair of hares going about their daily business until they caught wind of us and sped away.
Our accommodation for the next night was on the outskirts of Guines. We almost walked past it but Polly's eagle eyes spotted it as we crossed over a roundabout. Our guesthouse was actually in a holiday village and I, taking advantage of the facilities, took a load of clothes to the launderette. Keeping our clothes clean would prove to be a big challenge over the next three months. (We were only carrying three of everything, shirts, trousers, pairs of socks, underwear...and by the end of the trip, despite our best endeavours, we would get very smelly. "You smell like a pilgrim" is a big insult around here these days.) The evening was so lovely, hot and sunny, we ate outside. We treated ourselves with big juicy steaks and a lovely bottle of red wine.
Before we left Guines the next morning, we went to Tourist Information and booked our overnight accommodation in Alembon. We wanted to stay in Licques but every hotel, b&b and guest house in the area was booked up. Little did we know, but this was going to be a pattern in Northern France. We'd chosen to start our walk in August, just when most of France goes on holiday too.
It was another fab day's walking through rural pastures along farmtracks and ancient paths. We had another history lesson too. The area is famous as being the location of the Field of the Cloth of Gold. We also encountered our first woodland walk, the dappled sunlight shining spotlights through the trees. Lunch was Camembert and bread, washed down with apple juice in a lovely glade. Heaven.
And then, of course, we got blummin lost! We thought we'd followed the directions in the guidebook diligently...but soon the path had disappeared and we were staggering around in the undergrowth. It was a scary fifteen minutes or so before we emerged back on to the main path. Tired and breathing huge sighs of relief, we eventually walked into the little village of Alembon.
Our accommodation was a small b&b that was friendly, modern and very, very charming. We were the only guests and our young hosts fed and watered us royally with a charcuterie, a delicious homemade quiche and a bottle of local French beer, amusingly called Goudale.
The next morning our hosts showed us the cross-country short cut to Licques, which was great because, by the time we got there, it was raining. We followed the Via Francigena signs towards Wiscques which proved to be a big mistake ... the signs ran out ... we were miles away from anywhere our guidebook mentioned. And it was still raining. We had no alternative but to put in a lot of clicks along the main road, arriving into Wiscques at about 7:30pm, having set off at 9:30am. Exhausted, having walked more than 20 miles, we showered, ate well in the restaurant and were tucked up in bed by 9:00pm. The restaurant was delightful, it looked out over the fields towards St Omer...which was not on the route but we'd go there anyway.
I tried ringing every hotel, b&b in the area but everywhere was full. When we were checking out, I asked at reception if they knew of anywhere. But it was a fruitless search. We decided the only thing to do was to walk into St Omer and take our chances there. It was well off our route but a very welcome easy day's walking, We found somewhere to stay without too much trouble (a lovely and very French guest house near the river) and tried ringing round to find accommodation for the next day. It was hopeless. We asked at Tourist Information but everywhere was booked solid for the weekend. I think that's when I uttered the famous words, "It's not like the Camino", for the first time. On the Camino you can always find somewhere to stay. Rural France was just not like that at all. Just like medieval pilgrims, we had to find somewhere to sleep.
Distance from Canterbury : 115 km
Distance to Rome : 1968 km
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