Day 10 - my aim was Castres, an ambitious goal

I did not make good notes for this day. The only thing I have found is a reference to the 'couple' in the gite, and how their breakfast was milk coffee and chocoate croissants.  Given they are the ones doing it tough, I figured that my diet was all wrong!!   Also, although he seemed to be the very 'primitave', he had a large screen phone with his maps!!

I found the boulangerie and stocked up on baguette and cheese.

Marie got away before me and for a while I followed her but then she swept away.  This is a great shame since I then missed key markers and was soon well off the path.  In my defence, the path according to MMD did change directions multiple times, and mainly along roads.  But the bottom line is that i soon enough knew that I was in strife!

After a while I came upon a private 'chateau' but there were no signs as to where it was.  Shortly after this i came to a road junction and a road rider came up and offered advice.  There was a sign to Le Rialet, on the path, and he gestured that I needed to go in that direction.  It seemed to take a while but I finally reached that hamlet and took a break.  There was a sign and from the MMD map figured I had to take the D61 towards La Peyraque and Castres, and that if I took the next turn to the right I should then come on the right path.


About when I expected to have to turn right, I came upon balises and guessed that the path could have been changed and that I should now follow the markers.  This turned out to be a wrong guess, but I did not work this out until quite some time later - when I had turned off the road and headed in what I just knew to be the wrong direction.  My best guess is that i had come upon the markers for a different GR.  I was now well and truly screwed!

The only option seemed to be to go back to the road [the balises had taken me off in that wrong direction[ and hope for the best.  This was all walking through dense forest so not at all unpleasant.  What I did find very interesting was a number of markers memorializing OSS casualties from World War II.

I also started to rationalise to myself; I had come to France to walk, there was no clear end point [since there was never a chance of getting to Santiago] so it did not matter where I walked.  Somehow this made me feel a little better.

About the time I was due to stop for lunch I came upon more signposts by a lake and fortunately there was yet another of those tourist road maps that helped me to work out a plan.  
 
One road led to Mazemet, and the map showed that there was then a main road going to Castres.  It was 'only' 12kms, so that seemed to be the obvious way to go; and I decided that i would hitchhike to try to shorten the day.  This decision made my lunch seem much better, even though my feet were starting to give me merry hell.

That 12kms seemed very long!  Quite a number of cars overtook me and I had my thumb out for each and every one of them, but not one stopped.  I was not happy!  My feet were on fire and it was quite warm, and 12kms starts to feel like a long way after two hours solid walking.  It was good to see a settlement ahead but that was Pont de l'Arn and Mazamet still a long way to go.  The walk through the suburbs seemed to last forever, but finally I got to the N112.

I walked on to find a place where it would be easier for a car to pull over and finally stopped by a wide apron and put out my thumb.  There was a great deal of traffic, a lot of it heavy trucks, but within a short time a car pulled over.

It was not the flashiest car on the road.  There was a fair bit of dust and stuff spread around, with a little dog in the passenger seat.  He was consigned to the back, where there was also a big flat pack box.  By the time I got my pack in, that poor dog had very little room.  It did not seem to bother the driver, and for a long time I heard the dog scratching around to get comfortable.

My new friend had no English and my French evaporated under the stress of that long hot walk and all the concern about just where I was and how I was to get to Castres.  I did try my French and explained that I was walking the Camino.  I definitely mentioned Castres.  He then made some comment about Toulouse and I agreed that the Camino did go through Toulouse also.

After a while, probably after I saw a sign pointing off this road to Castres, I guessed that I was not actually on my way there!  I sat thinking and went back to what I had reasoned a few hours before.  I had come to France to walk and it did not really matter where I walked.  I was now sitting down and comfortable, and if I ended up getting a longer ride than intended, well maybe that was just intended to happen.  I settled down for the ride!

My driver had delusions that he was Fangio and he really gunned his little car whenever he had the opportunity.     There was a bit of ridiculous overtaking, and impatience with slower drivers, so it was an exciting drive.  And the 90 odd kilometres went by quite quickly.

I did start to wonder just where in Toulouse I might end up, but fortunately my benefactor stopped quite close to a bus stop, and he advised me that the bus would take me into the centre of the city.  Luckily a bus came along quite quickly and I asked about the Basilica St Cernan, and the driver said he would tell me when to get off.  And so he did.

Everything was going quite well, although by now it was around 5:30 and there was bound to be a limit on how long the 'pelerin accueil' at the basilica would be open.  I did not go the most direct way, but I had picked out the towers of the basilica so I did get there in about 15 minutes, and followed the signs to the reception point.

The only person there was an elderly woman volunteer who immediately started to help me.   This became a circus; I was trying to get her focussed on options like youth hotels, but all she looked at were hotels. Perhaps she saw me as needing that sort of accommodation?  I gave up.  After a few calls she found me a hotel that she said was not far away, but I thought directions would be good, and to have an address that I could find on the tourist map.  Madam started to work on that, but did not seem to know how to use such a map.  Rather than looking up the street name and getting the coordinates, she poured over the map using her knowledge of the city to find the street!!  Given all the names were printed very small, this was an extended process.

Finally I had a map with the address marked and the street number - but by now it was about 6:15 and when I went out of the room we'd been working in, to the nearest door, I found it locked.  The next was also barred.  For a moment I thought I might be entirely on my own, but then found madam and trued to explain the situation, but it was only when I presented her with the locked door that she twigged.  Clearly the place was sealed pretty well on the dot of 6:00!  We went down different aisles calling out, and fortunately she got the attention of the concierge, and we were 'freed'.  A near run thing

This may have been an advantage as we then walked in the general direction of the hotel and she put me on the right path.  I should have said earlier that I think I was well past any thinking at this stage;  I felt well and truly exhausted.  But this was not the end of things.  I went to three different hotels all with the same sort of name before I found mine.  The street was more like a square and there were no signs of street numbers.  As soon as I walked into the first two I knew I was in the wrong place - these were clearly the up-market offerings of this hotel chain.  I felt very pleased when I finally registered, even if the cost was the equivalent of about the previous 5 nights.  I had a shower and soon felt much better.

Still, I was so tired that I was beyond hunger and just wandered down the street to find something quick and ended up at a Macdonalds, something I would probably never do at home.  So this is another great city that I will not be making the best of - but I simply did not care.  

All I knew was that I had well exceeded my goal of getting to Castres, if not in the way intended.  What a day! 

Day 9 - to Angles

I woke to blue sky and high fluffy cloud - and quite cool.  It was a wonderful sleep, with the window open and no heating!  I look out on a very narrow and quiet lane.  The church bell may have struck all through the night, but I didn't hear it from 9:00 to %:00 - courtesy of Dozy!  I got up at 7:30, quickly packed and then wandered down to the boulangerie.  I almost felt French as I came back past the church with my baguette.  It felt a luxurious breakfast - yoghurt and banana followed by fresh bread and jam.

Jacques was up by the time I left a little before 9:00 but it sounded like he is to meet someone at Angles and is not planning to stay at the Gite Municipale.  There was some confusion getting out of town as I had not reconnoitred the night before.  I went back down to the main road [and the laverie and fountain - where there was a local with a pack of carafes to fill]. 
 

 I had figured that I had to go to the bridge at the end of town and fortunately there found balises - just past it - which took me off to the right - as per the MMD map.  I followed the D14E1 for an hour or so, past this old bridge [Pont de la Lune], 
 
 until the markers finally took me off to the left on a much more 'minor' road.  This gradually became more and more 'minor' until it became more like a timber getters' track.  There were elm, oak, spruce and pine, with a few cleared coupes and the sound of chain saws still in action. Then the path started to look like a quite ancient way, with low moss covered dry-stone walls beside it




i stopped around here for egg sandwiches about 11:00 and realized that I had enjoyed my bread and jam breakfast too much!  I should have kept more.  

The weather had looked like improving and I had thought briefly about walking in shorts, but a cool wind had blown up and I found myself putting the rain jacket back on.   The country stayed much the same, and I passed several more stores of sawn logs.  The path stayed very quiet but got quite rough in places and I almost twisted my ankle; not the place to do it.

About 1:00 I walked through Crouzettes and very shortly after stopped for lunch.  There was plenty of camembert but very little bread - still with plenty of cheese and a big mandarin, it felt like a feast, especially as I was now sitting in a little sun.  But not too long after lunch it started to rain.

I walked through the 'suburbs' of Angles by 2:20 and to the centre where I found the mairie and got a key to the gite.  I must have looked as if I was struggling with the directions in French, so madame kindly produced a sheet in English.  I confess I still found them confusing and almost by chance finally fell on the door - it was BEHIND the post office, rather than BESIDE it as per those directions.

It is a lovely little gite, with two dormitories beyond a tiny kitchen and off that a tiny bathroom..  Maybe the best part was the very hot water.  I had a shower and did some washing by 3:30 so I could have a wander around the village.  This quickly established that there was not a lot to see; a lovely little bar on the main square, but the two epiceries did not have much in the way of provisions, and there didn't seem to be other places to eat.  There is an 'ancienne porte' and a temple [which I think means 'protestant'].  The church has a list of priests but the names ran out at 1507, and a gap between 1570 and 1660 - I guess because of the 'Wars of Religion' when the church was destroyed.

I had a beer at the cafe-tabac and watched four road bike riders strut about on their beer break [no sign of coffee here]!  There was also a couple on a huge motor bike.  They made a grand exit - and then returned for the jar of jam left behind.  I did notice people around an 'alimentation' sign and tried it for food.  It was the most amazing place.  The door was difficult to open, and it was finally opened by an old joker who might have been a customer.  The place was run by a really ancient couple and had this jumble of 'stuff' that I was dubious about.  I did buy a little fruit to make some contribution.  The old lady carefully gave me my 1c change.

On the way back I found Jacques at the cafe and he said Marie was at my gite.  I had a bit of a chat with her and she explained why she was not walking with him now; all he wants for dinner is pork/charcuterie and beans!  She is going to Castries tomorrow, a big day, but then doing a short one.  It sounded a good idea.  The good news she had was that a lady around the corner was offering a tagine dinner for 10Euro at 7:30.  I signed up immediately.

I did find the way out of town this time and bought wine for dinner and supplies for the morrow.  About 7:00 another two people bustled into the gite.  I had last seen them at St Roche in Montpellier.  He looks like a wizened outdoors man and she is much younger with plenty of blond hair and legs made for walking.  I had thought they were father and daughter.  Marie later told their story over dinner.  They were most definitely not father and daughter, but had met on Camino a few years before; he is from Normandy and she from Marseilles and now walk together.  Not just that, but they 'bivouac' which means here that their shelter is generally just a sheet of waterproof.  Last night had been very cold so they were using the gite as a treat.  They seemed to be drinking some sort of nettle soup - which fitted with his look, but not her's.  He seemed to have quite a big pack but her's was very small - and the shorts she was wearing at Montpellier and here would not take much space - nor the gear drying on the rack outside,

Dinner was wonderful- a spicey soup, then the chicken and potato tagine and a puree dessert.