Today was the last of three short days before starting a stretch of five consecutive long days. I have been spoiled with starting at 9AM or later and not be pressed in completing the stage.

Yesterday, I showed an example of Eauze’s houses along one of its randomly laid out streets. Before leaving the center, here is one of several timbered buildings built in 16th Century. It is on the main square opposite the cathedral.

I had to remind myself that we are past the summer growing season. My guidebook emphasized the corn growing in this area. Yes, corn is grown here but it had already been harvested. Although I have been to Iowa with Sharon countless times, I had never seen a harvested field up close and personal. Not a pretty scene with shorn stalks and cobs strewn about. This is what makes walking special. You aren’t whizzing by and seeing the environment from afar.

The upshot of the discussion is that much of any walk is a sample of daily life. Sometimes the scenery and interactions are unusual whereas most often, they are ordinary. Even in the ordinary, the beauty of the moment presents itself.

In Manciet, I came across a bull fighting ring. According to the guide, athletic cows are in the ring rather than bulls. No animals are hurt; none are killed. The goal is show the grace of movement when humans confront animals. Seems like a civilized activity. Too bad the season begins in a few weeks.

In the same town, I came across the first pedestrian bridge on this Chemin. Monique and I had used population to classify various clusters of buildings as hamlets (fewer than 100 people), villages (no more than 500 people), towns (5,000 to 10,000) and cities (more than 10,000).

After walking through so many places and after crossing the bridge, I came up with a different scheme. Hamlet — about one car per hour; village — cars driving slowly or complying with the speed limit; town — cars driving fast in an area with no traffic signals; cities — places where cars drive slowly because there are lots of traffic lights. What’ya think?

See what walking alone occupies the mind!

Back out in the country, one of the landmarks of the stage is the Église-Hopital Ste Christie which was once a major way station for pilgrims on the Chemin.

Further down the road was an art project that posted portraits of past pilgrims. Periodically, Chemin sponsored art depicted various aspects of the Chemin. Public art is vibrant throughout France and on the Chemin.

The town sign as I entered Nogaro took me aback — the town under surveillance? One of my photography projects is to take images relating to surveillance. Many cities in Europe have surveillance cameras. But this sign was a first for me in advising locals and tourists that they (we) were being watched.

My hotel was just down road from the town limits sign. Here was the sign on the hotel’s front door. I went in. I found my name on the board next to the reception counter with a key under it. Picked up my suitcase and went to my room #4. Imagine that in the US. Unless a big hotel, many of the small hotels and B&Bs had signs saying that no one was on duty until 2:30PM or so. When in France, go with the flow. I learned quickly to time my arrivals no earlier than 2:30.

The three course dinner menu was very good. Green salad with tuna, roasted pork and potatoes, and crème fraîche with strawberry syrup. I ended in an Armagnac.

Time for bed. Breakfast starts at 7AM. Good because I have 18-20 miles ahead tomorrow. I want to be on the road by 8AM. This stage is the first of five 18+ plus mile stages in a row. We are starting the home stretch.

I started at 9:45AM and ended at 2:30PM. Definitely short but filled with satisfying moments.

I am continually amazed how churches built over 500 years or more ago have weathered the physical environment and cultural earthquakes that surrounded them such as the religious wars and the French Revolution. But they stand from a small village (Montréal-du-Gers) to the Cathedral in Eauze.

The first half of the walk took me on a tour of vineyards and farmlands. The vineyards produce the grapes for Armagnac, of course. I walked through hectares of what appeared to be lush vines. However, upon closer inspection, many of the vines had shriveled grapes or none at all. I have already mentioned that southern France suffered unseasonably high temperatures and no rain during the summer. Even old vines with deep roots can’t draw water from what looked like dry hardened soil. It will be interesting to read about the 2026 harvest and its impact on Armagnac production,

Interspersed among the vineyards were vegetable fields. The most popular crop that I could observe was kale.

It was about noon when I reached Lamothe — the approximate halfway point. A lone but popular bar, La Mille Bourne, appeared to serve all of the walkers on the Chemin. Among the customers was Serge with whom I had shared a beer two days ago. Sitting with him were the two fellows who were eating lunch at the base of the d’Artagnan sculpture in Condom. They laughed when I showed them the photo. As far as I could tell, I am part of a group of 20 hearty pilgrims who have said that St Jean Pied du Port was their final destination. Only a handful started in Le Puy and they will all end after me.

The path completely changed after Lamothe. For the final five miles, I was on a rails to trail. The path was flat and smooth and in the shade. I love this surface. The pilgrim ahead of me preferred the dirt surface next to it.

I made great time reaching central Eauze by 2:30PM. I went into the cathedral where Pope Leo celebrated mass a few days before. Eauze must be a big deal because Leo celebrated mass only in Paris, Lourdes, and Eauze. As noted before, he made an appearance at St Etienne in Cahors.

Literally around the corner from the cathedral was my Hotel Henri IV. My room was on the 2ème étage across from the tall tree to the right. Should be a quieter room than those above the outdoor dining area and the streets.

Eauze was once a major Roman town. The artifacts from excavations are housed in a museum nearby. Taking photos was prohibited. The museum did have some superb small pieces of sculptures that I would have shared with you. Before I left the hotel, Newton, part sheep dog, wanted some petting. I certainly obliged. Later, he kept nudging me to play with him. This dog needs a job.

Eauze central occupies a very small circular area. I did not see any ramparts but centre ville is clearly different from the rest of the town. Streets have limited vehicular traffic and are laid out in a warren-like way with many dead ends except for very narrow pedestrian paths that provide access to other streets.

On my tour around town, I spotted this cart of Armagnac at a restaurant in the main square. Hotel Henri IV has an excellent collection as well. I availed myself of a glass after dinner.

As the cathedral bells signaled 7PM, dinner service began at Henri IV. Pâté canard, Demi Magret de Canard with a different presentation than the Hotel Continental in Condom and a wonderful cup of ice cream with prunes soaked in Armagnac. Canard and Armagnac — the premier products of the Gascogne. Glad I am walking the miles.

The walk was to be short so I took my time to leave at 10AM although my suitcase was downstairs by 8AM. Thank you Veronique for making my stay pleasant. She checked me in, took my dinner order, stamped my credentials, answered every question that I had, and pointed me in the right direction to pick up the route.

Almost immediately, I sensed a change in the wind. It was much cooler. I later found out the high temperature for the day was 68F. That was down 20 degrees from the day before and the average high during my Chemin.

With the wind, it felt like an air conditioner was going full blast. Other pilgrims reacted to the change — fewer shorts on men, some women still wore them. Several pilgrims wore longer sleeved t-shirts or lightweight jackets. The forecast for the rest of my time on the road is for highs in the 60s. But who knows. Surely beats the high 80s. I just might end up using the long sleeve t-shirts and my puffy jacket after all.

The path was straightforward today — a few long uphills and mostly paved or smoothed over dirt roads. I included a sign of the Chemin from the Condom Commune, a scarecrow dressed in white, a vineyard that produces Ugni Blanc grapes for Armagnac, and a slope that shows the darkness of the cloud cover. All in all, the day went smoothly, almost like a rest day.

I reached the village limits of Montréal, not Quebec but -du-Gers ahead of time. This road morphed into the village’s main street. The road was long, straight, and narrow. I almost reached the town square when my small hotel appeared. It was 2:30. No one answered the doorbell so I called the number posted to the wall. “Oui, monsieur. Attendez. Cinq minutes.” Yes, Madame Geraldine appeared shortly from down the street.

We carried on in French. We exchanged our names. I said, “Enchantée. C’est un plasir de faire votre connaissance.” Madame smiled and softened. Blossom Dearie was right to give’m the oo-la-la. If Napoleon did at Waterloo, it would have changed the history of France.

Boots off, hiker poles in the basket. She gave me an old fashioned key; showed me the room and the breakfast area. Dinner by the main square at a restaurant at 7PM; breakfast at 7:30AM.

My room was on the “0” floor or rez-de-chaussée. I did not have to lug my suitcase upward for a change. The room was different from others on this trip. A single bed but very roomy. There was a very comfortable leather chair with an ottoman. I loved putting my feet up to read for a change. Getting in early gave me time to rest my legs after two 20 milers the previous days.

I arrived promptly for dinner and seated myself at the back of the restaurant. Then, Stu and Cheryl took the table next to mine. They spoke English with what seemed to be an American accent. Nope. Canadians from Calgary, Alberta. The western Canadian accent is like our Midwestern-California accent. I asked to join them for dinner and here we were together. The two tables where we originally sat are behind them.

Stu is still working as a psychiatrist but is contemplating retirement. Cheryl is a retired high school teacher. Stu is biking and Cheryl is hiking. They started in Le Puy.

Our conversation was lively. They are loyal Canadians and stated strong opinions about you know who. They like their prime minister and how he is navigating the current world politics. That topic out of the way, we talked about the Chemin, philosophy of life, and World Heritage sites. I was proud to say that Bethlehem is a World Heritage site. We looked at the list for Canada. Three sites are in Alberta and nearby Calgary.

The menu dinner was good. I forgot to take a photo of mussels baked in a cream sauce similar to chicken à la king, baked chicken, and a dessert of cake with a scoop of ice cream. Of course, I ended with Armagnac.

I was pleasantly relaxed. Went to bed early and woke up to the sad news that the Phillies were eliminated from the MLB playoffs. I was hoping for a Phillies-Dodgers series.

Before leaving Hotel de Bastard, I was compelled to go back to the bar room to have one last look at the array of Armagnac. I took this photo of the oldest bottle, 1965, a year before I graduated from high school. I love to taste old wines and spirits. Perhaps old is the wrong moniker. Such liquors remind me that youth can mature into something complex and smooth. A metaphor for us all.

Lectoure is an interesting village and well worth another visit. I took several photos as I walked out of the village. The church was re-built in the 15th Century. The fromagerie with its carefully aged cheese; last night, a canvas covered these cheeses. The Cours d’Armagnac reminds us that we are in Armagnac land. The belvedere view looking west; somewhere out there 15 miles afar is Condom. Finally, looking back at Lectoure on the hill.

The countryside was just that, the countryside. I did come across this signpost on the path. It reminded me of Abbott and Costello’s Whose on First. Do I go left or right? I am glad that I had the Buen Camino app to help clarify the situation.

I also want to point out some unique features from this stage. The first is that I have seen beehives before on my walks — but not next to the road. They were placed across from a botanical garden. I am sure those bees had a good pollination field.

Hitting the 15 mile mark, I was getting low on fuel. Another good samaritan supplied goodies for wayward pilgrims. I picked out four Madeleines, yes, four. They may be store bought but at that moment, they were the best in the world.

For only the second time, I had seen the address of a French town named for the day when the village was liberated during WW2, Avenue 21 Juin 1944.

The first was in the village of Pont-de-l’Isère on the Rhône, Avenue 16 Août 1944. Believe it or not, Sharon’s birth date.

Strolling onward for five miles — strolling because the cloud cover reduced the temperature that was in the high 70’s, Condom appeared about 1 mile ahead. The white object towards the right is the Condom Cathedral, St Pierre, of Gothic design built between 1506-1531. The buttresses weren’t flying but they were there reflecting the southern France interpretation of the Gothic.

Just outside the cathedral was a sculpture depicting d’Artagnan, a local count, and the Three Musketeers made famous by Alexandre Dumas. Another pilgrim was nonplussed when seeing these two guys nonchalantly eating their lunches on the sculpture. I wondered if in real life d’Artagnan would have accepted such behavior or taken it as an affront to his honor.

I was almost at my final destination, Hotel Continental, the yellow building on the left. You can’t see or feel it but I was in the midst of Condom’s rush hour. Cars here and there making left and right turns. No honking though and when I crossed the street at the cross walk in front of the hotel, the cars stopped as they do for pedestrians in any crosswalk.

Rather than have my celebratory beer, I decided to trade the beer for an Armagnac after dinner. Alors, I am in the bulls eye of Armagnac country for goodness sake.

This hotel dinner was one of the best I have enjoyed. I opted to dine outside. The atmosphere was tranquil. The tables were fully occupied about fifteen minutes after I took the photo. No music playing; no tables with loud voices. The temperature was around 70F. The servers were attentive and gracious. I started at 7:30 and ended at 10. No fuss, no bill until tomorrow, no rush.

The aperitif had a light orange flavor with effervescence composed of liqueur Pousse Rapière and Vin Sauvage. I’ll be looking for these bottles when I get home.

The entrée was a mousse of eggplant with miniature radicchio leaves radiating outward with olives and Parmesan shavings.

The plat was a duck breast which was presented like a fan. I looked this one up. Indeed, a method of preparing and presenting a duck breast. A first for me. Magnificent.

Finally, the dessert was pommes roasted with Armagnac in a most flakey pastry shell.

The menu was 32€. Imagine that price in New York. Add in the aperitif, a quarter pichet of vin rouge, and the 20 year old Armagnac, the total bill was 52€. My menu was pre-paid. So, 20€ for the boissons. Incroyable!

A short day tomorrow. I thought about going to the Musée d’Armagnac. Tant pis. It opens at 2PM. I’ll be almost at my destination.

The morning started as usual — up at 7AM (I had completed the blog last night). Packed the suitcase and brought it down when I went for breakfast.

One’s suitcase must be in the pick-up zone by 8AM. As I was leaving at 8:05AM, the Le Malle Postale van was taking my suitcase away. On another occasion, it was 8AM exactly.

Le Malle Postale is the backbone of transferring bags between hotels and gîtes for hikers. See the logo above the name. LMP used stagecoaches in the past when it delivered more than Chemin bags. Monique mentioned this fact to me on Day 3 when I first saw one of its trucks. Stagecoaches from a different era.

Moral of the story. Have your bag positioned by 8AM sharp.

I have included some of the morning scenes from today’s walk including a quote from Antoine Saint Exupery. I saw about 25 walkers in total throughout the day.

When I stopped for a beer at noon, a woman came to my side waiting to order from the bar. I said that I had seen her a few times before. She said that this was her seventh time on the Chemin. She saw my Cicerone Guide. She opened it to the dedication page and pointed to her name: Bronwen Perry. A Welsh name said I. Indeed said she. I had met a Bronwen once — the daughter of a professor back in 1972.

After my beer, the clouds left for where I do not know. The sun was out but my fellow hikers and I had a 20 mph wind which provided some coolness. In the image below, you will see two little spires on the horizon under a sparsely clouded sky. I was coming down a hill just outside of Miradoux. Those spires were my final destination — Lectoure — 9 miles away.

About two miles after seeing Lectoure in the distance was the last village before the final push — Castet-Arrouy. I followed three French women into the village and then stopped to take a photo of a garage door. I wondered whether the owner planned the design. Welcoming, no?

I arrived at my hotel at 5:30PM. The church was behind the hotel up the hill. It was the spire to the right from the top of the hill photo. The Hotel de Bastard. You might think that the owners might re-brand. Bastard in French is bâtard. A change for the international crowd? But then again, we are in France.

The hotel’s restaurant was completely full for the evening. Staying there did not automatically save a place at the table. The desk clerk made a reservation for me at Café de La Tour about three blocks away.

The restaurant was very casual with ample outdoor space. The evening was still warm unlike the chilly evenings at the beginning of the Chemin when we were at 2500 feet or above.

The carte was written out on a blackboard. I was tickled to watch two tables lift the boards onto their tables to view their choices.

I went lighter for this evening. A panko coated fish (pink lake trout) and chips for my plat. Dessert was roasted pear and whipped cream or was it whipped cream and roasted pear?

I was refilled and refreshed.

I walked back through the village stopping at the church and looking back along the main street. Unlike Spanish villages or towns, people quiet down much earlier.

Lectoure has occupied this site since the Iron Age. It was a major Roman town. Like many other villages, it has significant remains of its ramparts because of constant warring. The forever war?

When I arrived back at my hotel, I took a peek into the bar room. On top of the bar were lined bottles of Armagnac, the largest collection of bottles that I had ever seen. The photo does not include bottles that were on the left side of the bar. Only a fisheye lens could have captured them all. I thought of ordering a verre de Armagnac. But I was tired and did not want to fall asleep in a chair. Tomorrow Condom, the center of the Armagnac trade.

Today was a leisurely one because I had only 12 miles ahead of me, mostly flat. The guidebook was true to its word. Twelve miles and flat until the last half mile when the climb was 400 feet. The added benefit was the shade for nine miles. Stately sycamore trees lined the Canal from Moissac until I left the canal to reach Auvillar, my destination.

The canal coursed through Moissac with homes fronting its banks. Quickly, trees shadowed the canal. The scenes reminded me of Matisse’s painting of Canal du Midi. How delightful it was to walk unimpeded by cars. Occasionally, a bike buzzed by — a minor nuisance.

Most people are familiar with the Canal du Midi which is a World Heritage treasure. The Canal Garonne-Tarn should receive such recognition because during the 19th Century, boats could travel from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean Sea equal to that of the Canal du Midi.

My good fortune was the shade along the canal and the bliss of being in the country. It ended when I left the canal to follow the Chemin into the town of Pommevic. There it was — the Arches — the first time that I had seen the logo since being in France. Then, a more open WC that within five minutes gave way to seeing cooling towers of a nuclear power plant looming in the distance. The saving grace was Chapelle Ste Catherine du Port with its illuminated altar.

Back in a the sun with slightly cooler afternoon temperatures of 85F, I saw my final destination ahead. Only 20 feet of elevation gain up to that point gave way to the realization of one last climb.

I rewarded myself with a celebratory beer on the veranda of the village’s main hotel, Hotel de la Tour named for the bell tower next to it. I am back here now just before 7PM. I wanted to dine as early as possible because I have more than a half mile walk back to my B&B. There are no lights on the streets.

I decided to try the Menu du Marché. Ouef Parfait as entrée, the cabillaud (Chilean Sea Bass) as the plat, and fromage.

Early bedtime – 32km or 20 miles, we think, tomorrow.

I didn’t make another 20 miler — just a mile off. It was still long with 2400 feet of elevation gain. The peculiar thing about this walk was that it had many interesting elements in the first half when it was cool but nothing much later when it was hot.

At the gîte, the breakfast window was between 6:30 and 7:30. Orla said no one lingers around given the long walk ahead. I was in first and headed for the coffee. I was on my way by 7:30.

The sky and countryside keeps the reddish tones for about an hour and a half after a sunrise and before a sunset. The sunrise had bold colors and although they diffused an hour later, they provided a very colorful landscape as I started my day.

Lauzerte was named one of the most beautiful villages in France. I have pointed out several on this Chemin. The pilgrim was one of many representations of the Chemin I saw on the streets. Shortly after leaving the village, I came to a fork in the path. Contrary to Robert Frost, I did not take the one less traveled by. Did not want to see if the puppy would be happy to lick me. The puppy just sat there — no barks, no movement, no leash. I went on my merry way uphill with metal grates in the middle of the path, a first in my hiking career. At the top of the hill, a look back to Lauzerte.

Embedded in the trees just off the trail was another simply designed church. Those stones have withstood the test of time. Just up the trail, a kindly soul offered refreshments. The grapes were sweet. Because they were so small, I suspect they are used in wine making. Which wine, I could not tell. I wondered whether a Somm could.

Around the corner was a fenced in farm yard with an assortment of animals. I thought that the makeshift cross was interesting. It was made from one tree trunk and its branches. Never have seen such an object d’art like this before.

To this point, the Chemin has been crossing valley after valley. I had the opportunity to take image of a descent with pilgrims in the photo. I saw only about 25 during this walk. The herd has thinned out.

All of the above photos were taken on the front half the walk. For the next 8 miles, the only exciting moment happened when I ran into hunters along the path. They were wearing orange shirts and caps. My French classes 55 years ago did not include lessons on hunting. After a brief conversation with a hunter and his rifle, I kind of understood with lots of hand gestures that they hunted on one side of the Chemin and knew that walkers were around. I picked up my pace.

Nearing the end, the Chemin was treeless with the sun in full force. At the final uphill, I saw no hills on the horizon. It looked like the plains of the US Midwest. I’ll find out how long flat hiking will last.

Monique told me not to miss seeing the Moissac Abbey. The abbey was built in the 11th century and became part of the monastic network of Cluny. At its peak, over 100 monks resided in the abbey. As with many church buildings, they were either destroyed or sold off during the French Revolution. It is the parish church for the village.

I was there at 5:30PM for vespers. A handful of nuns sung them with their soprano voices. The acoustics were excellent. Just a very faint echo to these ears at the back of the church.

The cloister was also impressive — also over 900 years old. I did not take any photos of the capitals on top of the columns. They are quite weather worn. But the reliefs on the pillars faced in and still had the freshness of when they were carved. The first is St Peter holding the keys to the Church. The other is St Jacques, the patron saint of the Chemin and Camino.

The final image is of the entire cloister to give a perspective on its size. The Cedars of Lebanon tree is about 175 years old. If you want to see a similar example of a 200 year old Cedars of Lebanon tree visit James Madison’s Montpellier in Charlottesville, VA. The Marquis de Lafayette gifted the tree to Madison when he made his US tour in 1826.

Dinner at the hotel was surprisingly good: butternut squash soup (I’ll make a batch when I get home), fish with vegetable rice and green salad, and crème caramel. This boy happily went to bed.

Because the hike was only 10 miles today, I took advantage of enjoying the Le Coucou’s indoors and outdoors. So comfortable. I included an image of the fountain that gave off such a tranquil sound during my stay.

Alas, I left Le CouCou at 9:45. I went uphill to view the tower that once helped protect this village. I passed a boîte en livres on my way out of town and then looked back on how Montcuq was situated on a hilltop. A good defensive position given its history with wars.

The countryside on this stage was more varied than yesterday. Besides sunflowers, the area has several lavender fields awaiting for next spring.

A few kms down the road, I was taken by the simplicity of a small church that I passed. A minimalist interior and the exterior walls formed some interesting site lines.

Moving forward, I wanted to show a GR-65 blaze showing a go left instruction to cross the road and go along a field. Within a 100 meters, I passed a bridge with no water flowing underneath attesting to drought in this region. During storms and heavy rains, hikers will most likely have to walk across the bridge.

The landscape provided color and texture. A flock of sheep chewed their way across a field.

After cresting one hill to leave a valley, an unexpected sign appeared. The arrow pointed downward and alerted me to the steep slope and the handrail next to it. Rarely are handrails on a trail. Even though I grabbed onto the handrail, I slipped and fell on the loose stones. No damage but a good reminder to be careful.

About 1:45PM, my destination appeared. Another hill town. In another 30 minutes, I was seated in the town square enjoying my 50cl of Chouffe beer.

The hike was just over 10 miles with 1600 feet of elevation gain. The trail was composed of paved road, smooth dirt path, rocky roads, short steep climbs and long gradual ones. Exactly the kind of conditions found on the Trexler Outer Loop — my favorite training trail.

On my way to the town square, I had to pass my gîte because the office did not open until 3PM which seems to be the general practice in France for places other than a city hotel.

My hotel room had a beautiful panorama of the valley. Dinner was served promptly at 7PM and comprised of cold courgette (zucchini) soup, lasagna, and an apple crisp. The dining room was filled with happy and contented hikers. All was well.

Everyone had settled down by 9PM. We were resting for the 20 miler to Moissac.

I knew that I had a hard walk ahead of me — 20 miles with a predicted temperature of 90F. I carried 3 liters of water. The backpack was heavy at the start and light at the end.

Breakfast at the Brit fortified me for the trip. This buffet was the most extensive of the trip. Different kinds of yogurt, fruits, meats, cheese, cereal, and of course, chocolate croissants. The scrambled eggs were the best mass produced ones for a buffet. With my café au lait boosted with a double espresso. I was ready for the road.

Time to go: 7:30. The first order of business is to cross the Lot River for the last time. The Pont Valentré is on the western side of the city. Pretty imposing. It once was the main bridge for the city. Only pedestrians cross it now.

As you look at the photo of the Lot River, note the hill on the right. My fellow pilgrims and I had to climb up the face of that hill. Straight up no handrails with unreliable stairs. Where’s risk management personnel when you need them? Most of the time I walked to the side of the stairs. I included a photo of Cahors in the valley.

The first 5 miles were walked in cool temperatures. As I descended a hill, a cross appeared towards the bottom. Another reminder that we are walking a pilgrimage path.

I encountered about 20 pilgrims during this part of the hike. Another 10 miles, I was alone — no one in front or back. Like Conques, Cahors siphoned off many fellow hikers.

The guidebook stated that we will seeing fields of sunflowers during this part of the Chemin. We clearly missed the season. The fields that I saw were already cut and plowed over or the sunflowers were completely dried out. Too bad.

Eventually, I reached Montcuq and now on the back half in time and distance of the Chemin. The village survived many battles over the centuries starting with Simon de Monfort during the Albigensian Crusade, the Hundred Years War, and the Calvinists in the Wars of Religion. Pink umbrellas adorned the Main Street — the village’s reminder of Breast Cancer awareness month. I plan on touring the village before starting tomorrow’s walk.

Up a side street was my B&B — Le Cou Cou and Emma, the host, who provided me lemonade when I entered. Was I beat. The building was beautifully renovated. I’ll include more pictures of the living area in tomorrow’s blog. My room was nicely decorated. My room faced the back. I could hear the soothing trickle of the Le Cou Cou’s fountain from the patio while I cooled down from the hike.

I opted to dine early because I knew I could not stay awake for long. Down the hill was a French-Irish bistro. I wanted a simple and lighter dinner. The restaurant across the street offered cassoulet. I love love cassoulet but it is too heavy and better for cooler days and nights. It would be like eating a Carnegie Deli pastrami sandwich for lunch in the middle of a hot day. There is a time for everything.

So, I was with my pint of Guinness, a tomato salad with anchovies (the waitress asked me if I wanted them). Bien sûr. My pâté came in a jar. A first but it was good. I have wondered if pâté in a jar was good. Nothing remained.

Lights out at 9:30.

I decided to walk with Miriam starting at 7:30. She likes to start early because the heat rises around 10AM. We were well on way and arrived in Cahors around 12:45 (87F) even after taking a break at a lovely inn by the side of the trail.

During that break, Miriam gave me an origami heart that she had made. She said that she gave them to people who made the Chemin special to her. How thoughtful. I was touched. We shared experiences from family to the current state of politics. I will miss our conversations.

We didn’t know that we had peaked the final hill but before us was Cahors. We began our very steep descent to the city (way larger than a mere town) and crossed the bridge into centre ville from the south. At the end of the bridge was an office that greeted pilgrims and stamped credentials.

We got directions to our hotels from the helpful volunteer. Our hotels were near the train station. Miriam’s was aptly named Hotel Terminus; mine was the Brit, I guess ok, because the English Kings once ruled Aquitaine. I wondered what the locals thought as they passed by.

To get to our hotels, we passed through the main square with its imposing fountain. We decided to have a light lunch. We stopped at Vingt8 (28) on the square (more like a long rectangle). We split a salad and I had the local artisanal beer. It was a moment to relax. Today was Miriam last walk; she had started in Le Puy a few days before I did with Monique. We toasted — water for her and beer for me. Reaching Cahors is certainly an accomplishment. Tomorrow evening, she will be at home in Monterey, CA.

After an hour to settle into my hotel, I toured the old city. I decided to start with the northern point and work my way south. My first stop was St Barthélemy church circa 14th Century. Across the street was #3 Rue de St Barthélemy whose door was down a lengthy and narrow alleyway. An interesting way to insulate oneself from street noise. Down the street was a door first installed during the 17th Century. Not just a door but its frame as well. I also encountered another flatiron building. Apparently, grids were not part of medieval urban planning.

The gem of the old city was St Etienne Cathedral. Not only is the cathedral imposing, it also two unusual architectural features for a European church — two domes and no transepts. I’ll let the images tell the story. Cahors must be significant because Pope Leo XIV will be at the church in three days as part of his Lourdes pilgrimage. I wondered if arriving Chemin pilgrims will get accommodations. I made sure that I got a pilgrim stamp at this church.

My hotel was about a 10 minute walk from my dinner restaurant. I took a longer route to explore the area where my hotel was located. To my surprise, I discovered another Bridge of Sighs — no water flowing underneath as in Venezia.

As I entered the square where the restaurant was located, I smiled because I saw people on chaise lounge chairs in the grassy area of the park. Parks have chairs and benches. But lounge chairs? Seems like an excellent idea to propose to our local powers to be.

I arrived at L’O À La Bouche at 7:30. With an outside table, I had the opportunity to see another bright orange sunset while ordering my menu. The scene was sublime with other diners filling in the canvas.

The wines by the glass were more than fairly priced. I chose the first two whites on the list and the Cahors for the ending. Six € for a glass? No box wine, each one poured from a bottle. You can’t find this quality of wine for the price in any fine restaurant in the US. It’s really good to be near the producer.

Every morsel was delicious. The Michelin bib designation (the little red Michelin man icon) indeed means excellent food for a good price. A superb Foie gras to start followed by crab tortellini in a Thai broth. The rouget was accompanied by a lightly braised fennel, gnocchi, and what tasted to me to be a well decorated mild olive tapenade.

Before the dessert, I was offered a palette cleanser of frozen red grapefruit and a sherbet. I was given the most delicious demitasse of espresso — smooth, no bitterness. Finally, the framboise dessert was topped by a separate plate of whipped crème fraîche that also served as a lid to the framboise.

Add in the amuse bouche, 68€ for the menu can’t be matched. The service was friendly and professional. The outside atmosphere added to the dining experience. The best meal of the trip and the last of my Michelin experiences on the Chemin.

I was the last to leave at 10:15PM. On the walk back to the hotel, I reflected on the splendors of Cahors.