I woke to the sound of rain, but it was fine by the time we walked towards the cathedral. Saint Trophime. After getting our creanciales (the pilgrim passport, where we can collect 'stamps' as we progress on the route, generally from the gites we stay at), the volunteer who sold them took this picture to get us started:
Within minutes the drizzle started, and when I stopped to buy bananas I took the opportunity to put on my pack cover and get out the little umbrella. We left Arles with our umbrellas aloft and that is the way things stayed for most of the day. While there were occasional lapses, it was a wet day. This put a stop to taking any pictures but it was not at all unpleasant.
For much of the time we were walking on la digue, the levee bank beside the Petit Rhone. After we had crossed the river an elderly lady (who had been a pilgrim some time back) offered a lift, but we persevered. What with the rain and the wet track, there was no real opportunity to take a break and sit down. This is not the best way to start a long walk!
The way is close to the edge of the Camargue, which was once a swamp so the terrain is quite flat - at least that is the way it was until we turned off that digue and walked an abandoned rail line. So it was still flat, although the country was then more undulating. Finally we left that rough old track and walked a couple of narrow roads to was basically wet. When it wasn't raining it was drizzly. Our umbrellas were aloft almost all the way. It was flat, beside the Petit Rhone. The ground was too wet to sit and we passed through no villages. It was not the most comfortable start.
Finally we recrossed the Petit Rhone and climbed up to St Gilles. This is a lovely little town. On a knoll it was a port in Roman times, exporting wine and olive oil. It was a port of embarkation for several crusades. Now it is a long way from the sea. We found our way to the main square and our gite for the night - with the huge old abbatiale (church) on another side of the square.
The gite is in an old building. The small dormitory must have been a kitchen in the deep past. There is the huge old fireplace and a 'stove' - a big block of limestone with two holes carved in it - for charcoal from the fire, to cook casseroles, or whatever:
For me a feature of our time here was the couple who were looking after the gite, volunteers. Therese did not say a lot but Marcel had a great deal to say to Phil. He is a 'pied noir' and 50 years after his family was 'dispossessed' by Algerian independence, he still seems to be bitter. Each time we met them, there seemed to be more on this subject (all of which was unintelligible to me, but I could feel the passion in his voice).
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