The morning wake-up started later than usual. You know why. The weather was cool and the fog softly blanketed the valley in the early morning.
I walked with Monique to the bus stop just outside the pedestrian only zone. Who knew our chance meeting in Japan would lead to three more walks. Who knows whether another walk will happen in the future. But we enjoyed this one that reinforced the principle of living in the present. Thank you again Monique for helping edit the blog, giving French and history lessons, and your humor throughout these days. Always a teacher.
On the way back to the hotel, I met up with our Canadien friends who always seemed to be ready to go before 8 PM. Our French friends — Vincent and Patrick — told us that the Canadiens said they could never be Americans. I asked them if the statement was true. Of course! If you don’t know the words to the Canadien national anthem, look them up. I don’t think a 51st state in the future.
I will miss seeing them. Although they will go to St Jean PP and over the Pyrenees, they will be taking a few days to visit Rocamadour, a walled city similar to Carcasonne. Our walks won’t be in synch.
The way out of town was down the hill, across a bridge, and then up a very steep slope that thankfully had a small flat area a quarter way where the Chapelle Saint-Foy was located. Lots of people were huffing and puffing by the side of the chapel. A few went into the chapel to say a prayer or perhaps to catch their breaths. By the time we peaked, the upward ascent was over 900 feet.
Just outside of the village of Noailhac, another uphill went by an outside version of the stations of the cross. I have walked others such as one in Baiona with Laird on the Portuguese coastal Camino. Another that comes to mind is in Wurzburg, Germany. These stations are probably recent because I don’t think that the metal Camino insignia would be allowed to be attached to really old monuments.
Where was Decazeville? I had to be there by 3:30 to meet my taxi. I had to return to Conques because the accommodations in Decazeville were sold out. Nick and Jeff were staying there. Did I make it? You will find out. It was nearing noon and I had some distance to go. I could not tarry long anywhere.
Why the rush? You just don’t know what is ahead on the road. In this 12 mile trek, the ascent was over 2100 feet. Eventually, I would have to descend without knowing the trail conditions.
All turned out well. I was at the Decazeville main church by 2:15. I searched for a bar and as luck would have it, there was Nick and Jeff sitting at an outside table with beers in hand. The way of the Chemin.
The taxi back to Conques took 30 minutes. Time for a quick rest and writing yesterday’s blog with time to spare for dinner. Steak tartare #2. Unlike the potatoes Aligot, steak tartare will always be my go to dish in France. This version included olives — Med style.
The cathedral was a short hop from the restaurant. Every evening at 9:30 during the summer, a concert is performed. This one started in front of the sanctuary with singers and a string quartet and then moved around the cathedral to the north transept, apse, and finally the south transept — a first for me. The melodious early church music had a haunting quality to it as the sounds echoed through the cathedral. The night lighting added to the solemn mood that the music created.
Before the end of the concert, I stepped out the main doors to see the light show of the tympanum. Imagine what those old monochrome brown stones looked like when the cathedral was first built? It was breathtaking to behold the colors. Too bad that we can’t see them in the daylight as well.
Enough excitement for one day. I have to be ready to go tomorrow for my taxi ride back to Decazeville and onto Figeac.
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