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.

I thought today was the first day of autumn. I don’t think the France’s south central region had received the memo. A cool morning quickly morphed into another hot afternoon (reaching 89F). I also miscalculated the distance and made one wrong turn. So, the walk was and felt long.

This morning’s breakfast is what one would expect in France — juice (local producer), bread with butter and jam along with café. Robert said that his favorite day of the week is Saturday at breakfast when he dips his buttered toast with jam into his cup of café au lait and eats it. I thought about that because what’s the difference when one takes a bite of toast with butter and jam and then sips coffee. Another case of you say crisps and we say chips?

Yesterday, I included an image of a stone hut. Here is another one in the middle of a field. This region has preserved countless numbers of these huts as a reminder of how their ancestors lived in the past.

Until the photos of gîte, I have included images of the local scenery. French pharmacies are just that, no extras are stocked like snack foods or drinks. Note the space between shelves and the bright look.

In small villages, the grocery store operates like a country store in rural America.

The eye chart is similar to the kinds of humorous ones we have at home.

I have seen just a handful of thrift stores on this walk. The one below was indeed comprehensive.

The heat came with vengeance at noon. Like the Aubrac, this area has suffered a drought since March. You can see how dry the area is. Other than the trees, the ground is brown. After the town of Varaire, the walk became routine. I used the time to listen to a Dan Brown novel. I would say that this part of the stage was the least attractive segment of this Chemin so far.

I finally reached the gîte — about 800 meters south of the GR-65. Although I had a private room, I was required to follow gîte procedures. No boots or poles in rooms. I could not bring my suitcase to my room. I had to put what I needed into a plastic box and carry it to my room. I had not experienced these procedures on any Camino to date. On the 88 temple walk, boots and poles remained outside everywhere.

Dinner call was 7 PM. I like this starting time rather than 8 or 8:30 in Spain. Our first course was pumpkin soup. It is autumn now and ripened pumpkins can be seen in gardens. I forgot to take a photo. Chalk it up to a senior moment or was I overcome by the tastiness of the soup. Thumbs up.

The main consisted of roasted pork served in a large Dutch oven. We also were served the French equivalent of mac and cheese, a zucchini pizza, and curried beans. Again, thumbs up.

We ended with chocolate mousse presented in a glass jar. Rich, thick, and fluffy. A final thumbs up.

This meal could have appealed to vegetarians and meat eaters alike. I would venture that everyone enjoyed themselves. Time to box my things up for tomorrow morning.

Before lights out, the moon over Mas de Vers.

Miriam and I breakfasted together before she was off to beat the heat. You can tell she was prepared. A funny thought came to my mind. I wonder how steps would she take to cover today’s hike. I thought of seeing Nick and Jeff’s heels as they disappeared into the distance. Height certainly has its advantages.

I also wanted to give a shout out to Cédric, the concierge at our hotel. He was most helpful. In addition, I think that he is a frustrated comedian. He’s been to the US a few times, the cites and our national parks in the West. Thank you again Cédric.

Because this stage was a short one, I left at 9AM and leisurely walked through the town.

In a crack in a wall, I spotted a pink rose which reminded me of Edith Piaf’s signature song, La Vie En Rose. Such beautiful words to a melodious French song. To you Sharon, my rose.

In the town square is a plaque commemorating the eight fighters who lost their lives during the ambush of German soldiers in April 1944 who were under the impression that the mayor called for their help. The “mayor” was the Resistance leader for the province of Lot.

The River Lot meanders throughout this region. We first encountered it on Day 7 when we crossed the bridge into St-Côme-d’Olt, one of designated beautiful villages of France and on several other days. We will last see her on Day 17 when we leave Cahors.

The terrain in the province of Lot is very hilly and forested with patches of field here and there. Galliac with its church tower is seen about 1.5 away. The GR-65 took me on a circuitous route so that I could view the church up close.

On the bottom right, you will observe the stone sign with the white and red blaze. What makes this sign unusual is that it notes — Chemin de Compestelle rather than Chemin de St Jacques. Is the distinction important? Probably not but I thought the difference may signal a change from the more local French naming of the route to a term more all encompassing as we get closer to Spain.

As I neared the village of St-Jean-de-Lauer, I almost passed a refreshment stand that was pictured on page 123 of the Cicerone Guide, 2024. The place was funky with two gracious hippy-like hosts. All to the good. I liked the idea of naming the Place de L’Amitie. — Place of Friendship.

After taking a detour for a salad at lunch, I came upon the sign marking the entry into the village of St Jean de Laur. Take special note of the sign with the moon and owl. With the no lights policy between midnight and six, we had the opportunity to see the stars as they should be seen.

Upon reaching my Chambres d’Hôtes La Hulette, the aroma of cantaloupes filled the reception area. They were beautiful. I was hoping that they would be served at dinner. They were as part of the first course with a dark coarsely minced pâté. Our main was local sausage with potatoes, not Aligot. We ended with a tiramisu like dessert. All served around one table, five hungry hikers. Satisfied!

In your wildest dreams, you could not work out how we came to be at this table. Robert, Phil, and Lisa are Americans who at nine met at a French elementary school in Paris. Robert and Phil have kept in touch throughout their lives. Lisa reconnected with Robert and now Phil after returning to Paris for a funeral. Odile is married to Robert.

Robert and Odile live in Paris; Lisa in Victoria, Canada; Phil in Chicago where he has been for 45 years.

I first saw them on the trail passing by them. At St Jean de Laur, they were having lunch when I sat at another doing so likewise. The conversation was to my ear a mixture of fluent French and English with American accents except for Oldie’s. I was going to say something then but did not want to disturb their animated exchanges. They walk together periodically with future Caminos and GR walks in mind.

As the invisible hand of the Chemin would have it, we were at this table. An amazingly sweet story. I am glad to have heard it.

Back to my room for the night. I added these photos because this room was the best so far. All rooms have been clean so far. Some modern and updated; some a bit to more than a bit worn. All have afforded a good night’s sleep. This room is also the first where I did not hear church bells (because no churches are nearby) begin around (plus or minus a few minutes) seven and on the hour, end at ten. In this age, what church has bell ringers throughout the night?

The morning was cool when I began walking along the river. The sun had risen above the horizon spreading color over the town. Within a mile, I was up a steep road when the arrows on the road pointed left for the GR. Pretty subtle, eh? But much better than the small white over red blazes when confronting choices of which road to take or making some zigzag turns to stay on the trail.

GR-65 was mostly paved roads at this point with little traffic. Some hikers hate having asphalt under their feet; they want earth even if it is rocky. I am in the other camp. Although I love going through forests and up mountains on trails, the smoothness of the asphalt is easier on my bones and muscles.

So it was when I reached Faycelles at about the 5 mile mark. A free lending library was on my left — the fourth so far on the Chemin. These libraries have had different styles: no doors or doors with no windows. Another sign of promoting a literate society.

I made a sharp right turn to go to the village center. Shortly thereafter, La Petit Pause was just that, a place where you can have a café, bier, sandwiches, snacks and fruits, and most importantly, a very clean toilette. The place was filled with hikers. The guidebooks warned that no other facilities were available for the next 8 miles. This place is a gold mine.

In the village, I met up again with Valerié from Montréal. We first met on Day 1 when I was refilling a water bottle labeled Naya. She recognized Naya as a Canadian brand. Turns out we had flown on Air Canada to Lyon though a day apart. I had seen her off and on the Chemin. This Chemin is her 8th Camino. She has a list of other walks to take. She will end this one in Cahors. Perhaps we will meet again.

Fifteen miles to go. Here are some views of the trail until I descended into Carjac. The temperature peaked at 88F and the elevation gain with a few steep sections was 2600 feet.

BTW, pork has often appeared on the menu. All we have seen on the road have been cows. Below is my first siting of a pig — certainly not a suckling one. The last time that I saw a pig as this size was at the Iowa State Fair.

I was wondering at this point whether I would reach 20 miles on this stage. I just wanted to check into my hotel. As I descended, I saw Carjac at mile 19.5. I knew that I would accomplish both though an image of the 50cl of what turned out to be Leffe beer twinkled in my eyes.

While talking with Sharon and sipping my beer, a woman named Miriam called out saying that she overheard me telling the hotel manager that I was born in California. She is also a California native born at Queen of Angels hospital in LA; she in 1954, the same year as my sister, and I in 1948.

She is walking alone on her second Camino. Her husband is not at the level of walking so here she is by herself.

She did her first from St Jean PP to Santiago. She will end in Cahors. We both agreed that women outnumbered men on this Chemin; she said 6:1 depending upon what stage one is on; Monique and I thought 3:1. She agreed that it is safe for women going solo. Yes, almost everyone have been Francophones (99%) — no Spaniards, no Asians, and very few others. She is the second American that I have met. Miriam said that three others are on the road and a day or two behind us.

We enjoyed dinner together. I had my third steak tartare. At the table next to ours, three of the four women did too. Lots of proteins ingested.

In the middle of the night, I stepped out of my room and reveled in seeing so many stars. It’s dark out here and the lights of the village are out as well. What a gift for those us in cities with light pollution.