Walking the Via Francigena

Routine is important for babies and anyone walking from Canterbury to Rome. Now, more than three weeks in, we have a well-established daily routine at least as we set out each morning.

We wake up early, which is a direct correlation to the fact that we go to bed early, think sun is still up! Like good laborers we shower at the end of the day and rinse out clothing we feel will be dry in the morning. This nightly routine allows maximum time in the morning for applying many ointments and support materials. Sunscreen is extremely important as I try not to resemble Magda in Something About Mary, my walking stick hand already has a mahogany patina. As we move south, we have started to encounter very warm weather.

Now it is time to wrap my feet, all in the hope of avoiding the inevitable blister. Edward’s feet look like hands, hands that play piano, mine look like they have gone a couple of rounds with Sonny Liston. But I digress. Now the feet are ready for the day. Wardrobe selection is easy, the selection is limited to 3 pants and 3 shirts. Backpacks are loaded with water, rain gear and lunch – we check the maps, the GPS and our intuition and off we go.

The first 30 minutes is a mental and physical conversation or negotiation. The brain starts asking questions: whose idea was this, and offering options, let’s go shopping there were some cute frogs with umbrellas in that shop window. Then the endorphins swoop in, to the soundtrack of Flight of the Valkyrie and suddenly it all feels SO Good!!

By the end of the day, and we usually walk 7 hours, it feels like I have watched the day go by like scenes from a train window. So much to process. While most of the photographs we share are beautiful horizons, the Via Francigena takes us through varied neighborhoods. Suburban homes with carefully manicured lawns full of garden statuary and others in decline with boarded windows and vacant lots. We hear barking dogs, tractors clacking, babies crying and silence.

During the last hour our gait resembles a toddler learning to walk, we find our lodging for the night, have our pilgrim passport stamped, settle in so grateful for the opportunity to spend our day walking.

We were sorry to leave Laon, a village with a good sense of its identity.  Not much on the way to Corbeny other than a long, straight, shaded path called Chemin des Dames, named that because Louis XV’s daughters walked it.  In Corbeny we met another Francigena pilgrim, this time a German who lives in California and has done 7 “Caminos”.  “Where are you going next?” I asked. “Dunno, I’ll see what I feel like tomorrow.” His weathered face tells me he could do 50 km without breaking a sweat.  Thrice divorced “First 2 divorces were successful, last one was a disaster.  A Valley Girl.”  Interesting to measure marriages by how successful the divorces are.  It must be a California thing. But he did share some Pilgrim wisdom: “If you are looking for water, find a cemetery, the faucets are always open.”  Only on a Camino.

Laon is a well-preserved medieval hilltop town with a spectacular gothic Cathedral, one of the first built in France.  The walk up 450 stairs from the plain below is well worth it. We stop here for 2 nights for provisioning, laundry, and rest.  The Cathedral is well reviewed but what impressed us most is the ambitious, massive, and yet ethereal gothic decorations of the structure which, while built in the 12h century, has survived intervening wars relatively intact.  One can’t help wondering at the devotion and dedication of the thousands of peasants who toiled over 80 years building this stairway to heaven. Laon is also home to one of the few Knights Templar churches, and octagonal structure that is supposed to replicate the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem.  The Knights who resided there were captured, tortured, and killed in 1307, under orders from King Philip IV of France, for heresy and satanism or because he wanted their loot.  We feel rested and ready for the next phase of our adventure.

The flat path along the St Quintin canal cuts through fields of wheat, corn and beetroot, through small villages, each with a Church across from the Town Hall and a war memorial to the side. Some have benches under an old oak where we eat mid morning snack, lunch or a mid afternoon pick-me-up as the walking day progresses. The heat started to set in making those brief shaded moments a welcome relief. St Quintin is a bustling town with an impressive 12th century Basilica set in a crowded square, framed against a bus terminal and parking lot, diminishing its massive scope and size. It has been repeatedly destroyed and rebuilt, most recently during WW1, the restoration from which was not completed until 1956. Interesting are the Knights Templar chapel with a genealogy tree that links Jesus to the Merovingian monarchy and a floor labyrinth which pilgrims have walked for centuries on the road to salvation, which we were unable to complete (due to construction). Though we did not have time to explore them, there are recently unearthed remnants of a foundation dating back to Charlemagne’s time. Tergnier is a dingy rail town, even in the bright afternoon sun.

Weekly summary from the sequin to sackcloth tour

Yesterday was the completion of week two and I am happy to report the state of the team is – Strong! However, there have been days when we were destroyed and broken.

Now an update on our accommodations which have been varied. We have stayed in four family farms, one remains my favorite stay to date. It was a farmer and his wife Colette. The entrance was through a courtyard, a square of distressed brick buildings with long sloping roof tiles. Once inside you were greeted by a riot of flowers, barking dogs, alarmed cats and an impressive wall of vintage water cans. The house was a labyrinth of rooms, hallways and inexplicable stairs, every inch decorated or more.

Then there was last night – we arrived into a village of 85 residents and were greeted by our host, Hubert. He explained that the accommodation was for a bed and breakfast but not dinner. However, a fish monger would be bringing her truck so we could select fish and prepare it in his kitchen. And the fact that this conversation was even possible is that Edward has been kicking the French!! He is amazing, mine is limited to Bon jour, eclair and Edith Piaf songs. However, Edward has been very complimentary of my Italian which apparently I launch into when confronted with anything French.

Beautiful day for the decent into the Somme valley. We left Peronne after visiting the Monument aux Morts. Shaped like a cannon, a woman’s outstretched arm and clenched fist for a barrel, as she leans over the dead body of a son or husband.. A modern Pieta, her face defiant, angry and bereft rather than the mournful sadness of the Virgin Mary.

And we also enjoyed fresh peas and warm sunshine.

Heavy rain most of the day.  The steel grey low sky cast a somber pall over the  Commonwealth Cemeteries that flank the Via Franchigena.  The fallen lie here on land donated by France to create the illusion of home, carefully looked after, to memorialize their sacrifice during WW1.   It is a moving tribute, simple in its focus on the individual, without traces of the heroic monumentalism that often accompanies war memorials but leaving unanswered the question of why the sacrifice necessary or even proper.  A squabble between the grandchildren of Queen Victoria and a geriatric leadership in Europe escalated with the purpose and intent of a runaway train. Knowing what we do now what could have and should have been done to avoid the four-year orgy of slaughter?

Anyhow, the sun shone at the end of the day. 

Mostly through rain, wind and often muddy paths. We ate young peas, and rubbed lavander between our palms as we walked along while keeping track of the shifting clouds as they floated across the horizon. We passed through several large cattle farms where we were overwhelmed by the smell of ammonia and hydrogen sulfide and methane. Visited several Commonwealth cemeteries but more on that tomorrow on our walk to Peronne. We are sustained by your encouragement.

Jun 6, 2022 (40th Anniversary)

And now out to dinner to celebrate our vary happy 40 years.

June 4-5, 2022

We walked through sunshine and pouring rain. On the way out of Bruay le B. a car stopped to ask if we were lost. “We are on the Via Franchigena to Rome”, I said. “Eh bien, continuez tout droit et prenez la troisieme a droit au round-point.” So we got lost, It took us another hour to get out of town, but on the way into Arras an elderly lady came to us and asked if we were Pilgrims, “Nous marchons jusqu’a Rome” I replied. “Bon voyage, je prierai pour vous. ” So we have that going for us.

Luigi, our unlikely Italian traveling contemporary, called us mid day to warn that the path mid way to Arras was an impassible, muddy mess. We were able to detour around it. Luigi, a 73 year old traveling alone with a back pack, is on his 6th Pilgrimage. “Why do you do this”, I asked, “Because I want to walk” he replied without a tinge of sarcasm.

Arras is a pleasant surprise. The city, which was completely destroyed in the Battle of Arras (1917), was rebuilt from the ground up in its original Flemish/Dutch style. Great public squares, a spectacular City Hall and Cathedral, lively scene. We are 2 days in Arras.