Besides, we'd had no difficulty finding accommodation on the Camino de Santiago, we didn't think there'd be too much trouble on the Via Francigena. Little did we know. We didn't realise how rural Rural France is. We could walk all day through the countryside and across farmland without actually seeing a house, or a shop - never mind a b&b or a hotel. Whenever we passed through a village throughout most of our walk n France, we very rarely saw any people. This was partly because there are fewer people but also because we went in August when everyone in France is on holiday.
I think the only person we'd seen so far was an 80 year old man tending his garden. When I complemented him on his handiwork, in my faltering French, he told us about his garden, his family and, when he found out we were English, about the war. He really opened up to us, telling us about gun encampments and where all the soldiers were stationed etc. It was a lovely moment and I wish I could have understood all of it. He was delighted to have met a couple of English people and we really warmed to him.
When we got to St Omer, we went to the Tourist Office. We found a lovely b&B in St Omer and got details of places to stay on our route. I spent a long time that afternoon ringing round to get us some accommodation. Without any luck. We wanted to keep moving so, with heavy hearts, we took the decision to catch a train to Arras. We figured it'd be a lot easier to find accommodation in a bigger city.
In the end we stayed in rooms in a religious house: in an ultra-modern, clean, sparse... umm ... cell. We enjoyed a beer and a game of dominoes in the sun outside of a bar in the centre of Arras. Arras is a lovely city but we didn't see it at its best because they were digging up the whole area around the main square.
We set off for Bapaume the following morning with a spring in our step. We were both glad to get walking again. Do you know that feeling of freedom and pure pleasure when you put your pack on and set off ... who knows where? Our route took us across farmland and past war graves, poignant reminders of how this part of France had been caught up in the wars.
Another highlight for us was, unexpectedly, finding a stone waymarker (Cantorbery to Rome sic) hiding behind a very large weed.
It was a lo-o-ong day's walk to Bapaume and when we got to our hotel, the place was locked and there was no-one to greet us. We were tired and it started to rain. I was doing a very good impression of Mr Grumpy when someone finally showed up to let us in. The place had that air of faded glory you only get from hotels that are about to close their doors permanently. Nevertheless, they served up a splendid dinner. A simple salad and a fab steak. It was all we needed before retiring to bed at a ridiculously early hour.
The next day, to Peronne, was not one of our finest memories. We got a bit confused about the route at one point. We came to a crossroads and I thought we should go right; Polly thought we should go straight on. The guidebook was ambiguous. We couldn't work it out. The debate got quite heated. In the end, amid much harumphing from me, we went straight on. Only to find that both roads joined together after about 300 metres. For about five minutes, we couldn't walk for laughter.
When we arrived in Peronne we mentally relaxed...which was a mistake. Our adrenaline levels dropped and, when we found out that our hotel was about 3k out of town, it was really hard to get motivated again. When we finally got there we found we'd booked in to one of those sad, soulless, chain motels and our room was tired, dirty and had a leak/lake in the bathroom. I made a bit of a fuss at reception and we swapped rooms. We went to bed early feeling a bit glum.
It was days like that one that made us wonder if we'd ever complete the trip. Our packs weren't getting easier to carry, we were struggling with walking long distances and we were getting a bit tired and grumpy.
It's funny how an early night and a glorious walk can change your mood. The next morning we were off early. The sun shone and our spirits lifted. We walked for a few miles through a wood and the dappled sunlight was an absolute joy. Our next stop was at a little village called Trefcon. We almost missed it. We knew we were getting close but were surprised there were no signposts. We'd consulted our guidebooks and maps and were scratching our heads (our own - not each others!) when Polly spied the sign. Bizarrely, it wasn't on a signpost - it was written on the road in what looked crayon.
Trefcon was a real treat, one of the highlights of the whole trip. We stayed with a local family on their farm. We were treated to a lovely, local dinner. I tried, for the first time, Picon biere, a weird and wonderful combinaton of orange liqueur and blonde beer that doesn't sound like it should work...but it does. We dined en famille and it was a real privilege. A total contrast to the previous night. We were shown photographs of all the people who'd stayed with them since the Via Francigena re-opened for business in 1998.
We were up and about early and the walk towards St Quentin was beautiful. We sauntered between fields towards the village of Etreillers, which luckily, had a shop. We reached St Quentin in reasonable time. We were booked in to the local Youth Hostel which, unfortunately for us, was 5 km the other side of town!! Adrenaline levels were low and tempers a bit frayed when we finally reached the Youth Hostel. We were getting a bit wound up with the accommodation always seeming to be on the far side of town - adding extra clicks to our journey when we were already pooped.
There was no getting away from the fact that we were getting tired and needed a rest day. Although, to be fair, just like a pilgrim, there was nothing wrong with us that a good sleep and a launderette couldn't cure.
Distance from Canterbury: 275k
Distance to Rome : 1808k
Distance from Canterbury: 275k
Distance to Rome : 1808k
After meeting up with a few walkers like yourselves, I began to realise that, without a tent, accommodation issues were bound to arise if you weren't able to book in advance. I've just been reading Gerard W Hughes' accounts of his walk to Rome (In search of a way) and to Jerusalem (Walk to Jerusalem). He seldom booked accommodation in advance, and nearly always had an issue finding somewhere to stay at the end of the day. And he did carry a tent, though the weather seldom allowed him to pitch his tent.
ReplyDeleteAs a cyclist, on the other hand (and some call us cyclists "cheat pilgrims") finding accommodation was seldom an issue because, with a pair of wheels, you could scour an area quickly and move on if necessary.
Having said this, I'm not advocating riding a bike..............;0)
Frank