La Cabane
You probably will never find this place on your grand maps of France; it is no more than a few farm houses around a bend in the road, though a fairly big road, the D40. But I’m here, in the home of a fine lady, Noëlle, who welcomes pilgrims in with warmth and generosity, even now, when her husband, Didier, is in the hospital. Her place is at about the mid-point in a 34 km stretch of the pilgrim way that someone decided should be done in one day. Not me. I’m staying right here for the night and will finish the “etappe” in Saint- Foy tomorrow, an easy 14 km walk.
As predicted, plenty of rain greeted this weary pilgrim upon awakening, but having learned something from Patricia in St. Astier, I dawdled through my morning preparations and lingered over my warm coffee and “pain au raisin” before finally heading out the door at 9:30. The strategy worked; by then the rain was easing up considerably and though I was getting wet, my boots and jacket stood up to it.
As the morning passed so too did the rain and it wasn’t too long before the clouds had exhausted the last of the day’s load. And it was dry sailing from then on. No lightning. No thunder. And my achy plantar fascitis was manageable through the day. Saint Jacques heard my prayers!
Along the way, about three hours into the walk, I was overtaken by a bicycling lady pilgrim who called to me “Are you Kevin from Spokane?” I responded with considerable surprise that indeed I was but how did she know? It turns out she had read my inscription in the guest book back in Sorges and asked the hospitalière, Micheline, about me. Her interest was piqued because her son had been an exchange student in Spokane! We stood in the road, she astride her bike, me with Gregory the Great on my back, chatting happily for 15 minutes or so, then Hildegard from Frankfurt said: “Well, gotta go….” And off she rode, out of my life as quickly as she had entered it. But what a good time we had while it lasted; it was like we had known each other forever. That’s the way it seems to be out here in this land where pilgrims are presently quite far and few between: it’s as if because of our common life as pilgrims, experiencing and enduring much the same thing, that we know each other as friends even before we know each other. Anyway, “bon chemin, Hildegard!”
So Madame Noëlle is just about ready to serve up some home cooking (smells great, but don’t know what it is yet). The skies have mostly cleared and tomorrow will be a new day.
