The rhythm of our footsteps matched the beat of our hearts. We were having fun, singing songs and sharing laughter on the open road. It was a real privilege. Friends and relatives thought we were bonkers but, just like pilgrims, we were having the time of our lives.
We ate in a local bar/restaurant and managed to stay awake long enough to see the fabulous Son et Lumiere show at the cathedral. We rolled into bed at midnight. It was our latest night...
We awoke to the sounds of rumbling rain and just wanted to get back under the covers. Luckily we only had a short day, but it was weather gear on and best foot forward as we descended the hill out of Laon. The rain poured but the route was quite straightforward. At least, that's what we thought...we walked into a little village and met up with a Dutch couple who we saw the previous night in Laon. They were on a cycle trip to Paris but were lost and very wet. The rain poured. Fortunately, I was able to direct them on to the right road as I'd seen the turn off for Paris at a recent roundabout. We waved them goodbye as the rain got heavier.
Our route took us across farmland and deep into a wood. The path was getting waterlogged, the mud squelched and we skirted round ever-deepening puddles. When we eventually emerged on to the road, we were soaked through and splattered with mud. We were also tired and hungry. We were in luck! There was a restaurant on the edge of the town. We pressed our wet little noses up against the window, like kids in a sweet shop. Unfortunately, it was really expensive so we decided to carry on to our accommodation and eat our groceries for dinner.
Pilgrim moment
The rain poured as we walked up the road towards our b&b and it was with some relief that we found it at the top of the road. It was a huge house. The dog barked like crazy as we knocked on the door. The rain poured on but there was no reply. Walking round the house we noticed a light on in one of the rooms. It was a gite. The French couple who were staying there were very sympathetic to our plight as we dripped on their carpet. They told us that our hosts had gone out for lunch and they didn't know when they'd be back. Nor did they invite us in over the threshold. I noticed there was a big garage and tried to open the door. It was locked. There was a shed. Locked. We walked back to the front of the house. The dog barked and the rain poured. At the side of the house was another door. I tried the handle. The door opened! We couldn't believe our luck as walked out of the rain and into... a private chapel. A private chapel with a Black Madonna. A private chapel with a Black Madonna and a bible opened at a reading for today. What a pilgrim moment. We settled in and waited for our hosts to arrive. We waited and waited. The rain fell, but at least we were now in the dry.
I was just changing my trousers as our hosts pulled up outside; my wet underwear around my ankles. I hastily changed as Polly provided what seemed to be a well-rehearsed diversion. I keep meaning to ask her about that.
Anyway, our hosts were very apologetic. Once we were inside the b&b we put everything (clothes, rucksacks, maps, pilgrim passports, boots, humans) to dry and settled down for the night. We ate our damp cheese and bread in a very grand sitting room that wouldn't have looked out of place in the grandest of chateaux, and the ran poured.
The next morning didn't dawn any brighter, but everything had dried, except our boots. My boots were going to be a bit of a worry throughout the journey. The goretex had almost gone, they just about kept my feet dry, but only just. I wore my walking trainers and put my boots in my rucksack to dry. Polly's boots were still damp, she continued with wet feet.
We set off at a cracking pace which we maintained all day. Another lovely section through a wood, dappled sunlight by now playing on the puddles, led us eventually into Corbeny at around 2pm. Our accommodation was ok, but there was nowhere to dry our clothes. We had a delightful set meal at the local restaurant and met some English tourists who were returning from The Pyrennees. We set off the next morning for Hermonville, steeling ourselves for a long walk. Oops! I'd booked us in at Berry au Bac which was only a stone's throw away. We were grateful for a short day and saw our first field of sunflowers en route.
We also crossed a field at the edge of the woods and saw a deer! It was a magical moment. We watched it feeding for fully five minutes before he spotted us and ran off into cover. Glorious.
I spent forever trying to get us accommodation between Berry Au Bac and Reims...there was nothing. We decided to walk to the nearest railway station at Guincourt and catch a train to Reims from there. A combination of the lack of infrastructure and the French holiday season had beaten us again. Undaunted, we decided to give our tired and weary bodies a rest day in Reims and do our laundry at the same time.
The walk to the railway station was slightly off our course, but it was the nearest point for a train to Reims. We were just in time for a train and were in Reims by lunchtime. We booked in to our hotel and headed out into town for a recce. It was a beautiful day and, as we left our packs in the hotel, we felt like tourists. We'd come a long way and felt like we deserved a break, we just hadn't bargained how long we'd actually stay.
Distance from Canterbury: 418k
Distance to Rome: 1665k
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