Le Puy-En-Velay (2)

A pretty corner of Le Puy.

Trust the civilised French to have civilised dogs! I thought this was rather sweet, and would have entered out of curiosity, but I felt embarrassed without a canine companion.

A fountain in the centre of the square next to the Préfecture.

The cathedral and the Virgin on the rock.

The cathedral just before the sun came out from behind a dark cloud.

Le Puy from the Virgin on the rock.

Le Puy's new town.

I climbed a spiral staircase, then a ladder, inside the hollow, bronze figure of the Virgin, and stared out through her eyes. Bizarre!

A cross overlooking Le Puy's new town.

As I stood next to the Virgin, the sun suddenly emerged from behind a black cloud, and the unmistakeable shape of a coquille Saint-Jacques fanned out towards me across the heavens.

Le Puy-En-Velay (1)

Entering Le Puy.

The bell tower of the cathedral is on the left; the bronze statue of Our Lady, Notre Dame de France, is on the right.  

A warren of backstreets and alleyways takes you steeply up to the cathedral.

Inside the cathedral you come across a wooden statue of Saint James near the altar. It was in this exact spot four years ago that the Bishop of Le Puy invited me to take from a basket some folded notes containing supplications from parishioners and visitors who were suffering or in distress. I was asked to pray for these people on my way to Santiago.  

Leaving the cathedral via the west porch.

Looking out over Le Puy from the west porch.

The western facade of the cathedral is magnificent. Note the Arabic influence on the architecture. The arches, pilasters and geometrical patterning of the stonework reminded me strongly of Córdoba cathedral in Spain. The white stone is sandstone; the brown stone is volcanic breccia.

I stood in this place four years ago at the start of my two month pilgrimage from Le Puy to Santiago.  This is the photo I took then.

Cows And Crosses

Here's another impressive outcrop of extruded igneous basalt - rock formed by rapidly cooling volcanic lava. You can see why certain configurations of this rock have been likened to organ pipes...

I entered the church at Saint-Germain-Laprade. It's one of the oldest in the region, some of the interior stonework dating from the 10th century...

This is one of my favourite photos, featuring two of the consistent themes of the Chemin: cows and crosses...

It was the last day of my journey. I was in no hurry, for I didn't...

... want it...

... to end...

I caught up with Michel and Brigitte, two pilgrim friends, at a bar in Brives-Charensac...

... then crossed the river...

... and followed the riverside path for the remaining few kilometres to Le Puy...

My Feet Are Singing

Anyone fancy a volcano tour?

I stand the risk of being guilty of hyperbole, but I can honestly say that this, the penultimate day of my journey, was scenically the most magnificent. After the watershed of Raffy, my eyes fell upon a truly ravishing landscape of wooded hills and extinct volcanoes. After several hours of climbing through dense forest, this view was a revelation, almost an epiphany. Wave upon wave of flat-topped peaks and ridges receded to a hazy horizon...

What an idyllic place for a midday picnic! In fact I did have my lunch here, and a little siesta...

Who wouldn't want to live in this stone cottage... 

... overlooking such a spectacular landscape?

I'm now approaching the village of Queyrières...

Look closely and you will see that it lies at the foot of a huge and impressive lump of volcanic basalt rock...

I was once again blessed with warm and sunny weather. This, plus the captivating scenery, combined to turn the day into a kind of sensual ecstasy. I was not tired, I was quite fit now, there was no strain on my body. As they say in pilgrim circles, my feet were 'singing'. I'll let the pictures do the talking, for there is no way I can adequately describe this sublime landscape or the happy mood I was in...

Nearing Saint-Julien-Chapteuil, I was almost reluctant to admit that the day was coming to a close. My feelings of joy and gratitude were starting to be tinged with a bittersweet nostalgia, and a pricking sadness that my pilgrimage would soon be at an end...

Here's the church at Saint-Julien and its wonderful facade, in the evening sunlight's glow...

On Top Of The World

Red berries of autumn.

Sign opposite the tourist office in Tence. Le Puy lies only 42 km away.

Beautiful autumnal trees.

A perfect country scene.

A colourful corner of the garden.

This cairn near Raffy marks the highest point of the whole Chemin: 1276 metres above sea level.

Looking back from Raffy over the day's route. Note the tall seed heads of rosebay willowherb in the foreground (called fireweed in the US).

il pleut des coings

raining quinces

farewell to the land of luscious fruit

where apples hang like rosy pink lanterns

and pumpkins swell like pregnant farmgirls

and bunches of grapes are purple chandeliers

and succulent figs so wickedly feminine

they seem barely legal

i’m back in the land of bitter sloes

where crab apples lie wasted in the orchards

hips and haws food only for the fieldfares

and blackberries are shrivelled up and tart

but it’s always raining quinces

in my heart

La Forêt De Taillard And Beyond

Early next morning I left the town of Bourg-Argental, followed the course of an old railway track along a river valley, then climbed for many hours through extensive woodland...

Every now and then you had a brief glimpse of a view, but mostly you were hemmed in by the trees...

I took a well-earned rest at this shelter and information hut...

In fact I was traversing the huge forest of Taillard...

I came upon this oddly shaped cairn built on a tree stump. I was getting very hot and tired by now, and, try as I might, I couldn't prevent my fevered, scatalogical imagination from telling me this was a lump of petrified dinosaur poo. Well, it could be, couldn't it..?

Exhausted, I almost collapsed into the auberge, La Riboule, in the hamlet of Les Sétoux. I needed a rest. I needed to eat. Most of all I needed a drink. It was only an ordinary place, but to me it was extraordinary that day, and the food and the wine were very good, as they are virtually everywhere in France. After an entrée of Puy lentils with hard-boiled eggs, and a main course of pork escalopes and potatoes cooked in milk and butter, and half a bottle of rosé wine, I felt on top of the world. And, in a sense, I literally was on top of the world, or my woodland micro-world, for, at 1142 metres, this was the highest point on the day's path...

After Les Sétoux the uninterrupted forest fragmented into a mixed landscape of sloping fields and densely packed conifer plantations...

It was then I noticed that, according to the map in my guide book, I'd just passed a little spot called 'Germany', and that a place called 'Moscow' lay only a few kilometres away. First 'Rome', now this! It was  a veritable microcosm of toute l'Europe in these hills...

Later I stayed the night with a lovely French family, experiencing another accueil jacquaire. Alain and Corinne were most friendly and welcoming. In the morning their sweet and impeccably well brought up children, Thomas and Adeline, were very keen to don their own rucksacks and accompany me 100 metres to the road. The pilgrim mentality seems to be instilled at an early age round here!