A Small Village In Germany

I'm living in Germany right now, in the western region of Rheinland-Pfalz, and it's beautiful: picture-postcard villages, lush green valleys, hills and forests stretching as far as the eye can see. This pilgrim sign made me feel reassuringly at home . . .

The church of Saint Sebastian in Friesenhagen. Next to the church is a fine example of a black-and-white Fachwerkhaus, or half-timbered house, dating from the 18th century.

The valley of the Wildenburger Bach.

The chapel of Saint Roch above Friesenhagen lies on one of several Caminos which cross the area. After Saint James, Saint Roch is the Camino's most important saint. Like Saint Francis, he distributed his worldly possessions among the poor, then set out as a mendicant pilgrim from his birthplace of Montpellier in south-west France heading for Rome. In northern Italy he nursed plague victims, paying scant regard to his own health, and was later venerated, along with Saint Sebastian, as a 'plague saint'. He is usually shown dressed in pilgrim clothes and pointing to a plague sore on his thigh; the dog normally depicted at his feet saved his life by licking the wound clean. He was falsely arrested as a spy and spent five years in prison, where he died. According to Wikipedia, Saint Roch is the patron saint of bachelors, diseased cattle, dogs, wrongly accused people, invalids, Istanbul, surgeons, tile-makers, gravediggers, second-hand dealers, pilgrims and apothecaries — covering most options, you might say!

A rose for Saint Roch.

Beyond Conques

It's a steep climb out of Conques the next day. Half-way up the side of the valley you reach the tiny Chapelle Sainte-Foy. I suspect that every pilgrim and walker from time immemorial has stopped here for a rest...

Finally the ridge is in sight...

The view back is tremendous...

At the top you have a choice between two routes. Since the main route was 5 km longer, and involved a lot more 'ups and downs', I took a variante, an alternative route, which passed the Chapelle Saint-Roch just beyond Noailhac...

Saint-Roch was present outside...

... and inside...

There were also some stunning modern stained glass windows...

I rolled on along the ridge towards Decazeville...

A Tiny Statue Of Saint James

Climbing up into the woods above Yenne, I looked back on the village through the early morning mist. You can see that it has a wonderful situation, nestled beneath ranges of hills and mountains...

I soon reached Notre-Dame-de-la-Montagne (Our Lady of the Mountain). This chapel had won a prize for its renovation work. The sun quickly burnt off the mist and the temperature soared again...

From this belvedere I drank in stunning views of the Rhône valley...

The path that day - from Yenne to Saint Genix - was a strenuous one, traversing huge forests high above the Rhône. No sooner had you descended one slope than you were faced with another steeper one. The path was stony too, which was hard on the feet. At least the trees provided some welcome shade from the sweltering sun. I identified box, birch, oak, walnut, sycamore and sweet chestnut. More stone crosses punctuated the route...

Here's quite a new one, erected in 2008, and inscribed with the totemic Camino watchword: Ultreia! You are all expert shell-seekers by now, so I'm sure you've spotted the coquille on the shaft of the cross...

I stopped for a bite to eat at a wooden hunting lodge in the middle of the Bois de Glaize. Some pilgrims were already there, and others arrived soon afterwards. Where do they all come from? This hunting lodge and the stone cross below were two of the inspirations behind my poem 'A Prayer'...

This wayside cross, these offerings / Of stones and flowers crowding the base, / This niche / Jammed with a tiny statue of Saint James...

This could be a representation of Saint James or Saint Roch - the two are often pretty much interchangeable in these parts. Both saints are guiding lights of the Camino.

After a final hour-long slog - which took me almost to the summit of Mont Tournier - I skirted the peak and made a gradual descent out of the forest and into a gentler landscape of farm and pasture - many fields grazed by the familiar brown and white, or light brown, cattle. Just look at those impressive limestone cliffs at the head of the valley...

I finally arrived at the hamlet of Grésin, which lies just before Saint Genix, my day's destination...

Don't Tell The Pope!

I was keen to reach Montpellier which was a 2 day walk away. After passing through Gallargues-le-Montueux and Villetelle, I deviated in Vendargues very slightly from the purist path (don't tell the Pope!) by taking first a bus then a tram for a few kilometres through Montpellier's suburbs.

I emerged blinking from the tram - which had been painted all over with flowers. Montpellier lay proudly before me, the golden-white stone of its monuments and buildings gleaming brightly in the strong Languedoc sunshine. It's a very fine city, and I fell in love with it at once. The city where the sun never sleeps, according to the hand-outs in the tourist office.

That evening and all the next morning I explored it thoroughly: the Church of Saint-Roch (1st pic), the Porte du Peyrou (2nd pic), the Saint-Clement Aqueduct (3rd pic), the Cathedral of Saint-Pierre (4th pic). During the Catholic-Protestant wars the Protestants unusually came off rather well in Montpellier, and there's a strong Protestant presence even today (don't tell the Pope!)

From a pilgrim perspective, although lots of Catholic artefacts have been destroyed, various depictions of Saint-Roch, patron saint of pilgrims, remain. (Saint-Roch was born in Montpellier; I've written about him before here.) In the Church of Saint-Roch you can see him in 2 stained glass windows - on one he's with the faithful dog which brought him bread during his self-imposed quarantine as a plague victim. There are also 2 statues - one in polychrome and one in marble. And in the Cathedral of Saint-Pierre he's to be found in a stained glass window, in a painting and as a sculpture.

The pilgrim hostel here was very friendly. In the traditional way it relied on donations only. For our evening meal I prepared in the kitchen a salade niçoise - which, on reflection, may have been a little too bold. A question of coals to Newcastle? Luckily no French pilgrims were there to put me right! I left Montpellier very reluctantly after lunch the next day. What a wonderful, vibrant city...

Saint-Roch

Only half an hour out of Le Puy and I struck up with Thierry, a gentle ruffian from Paris - kind, cultured, sociable and impeccably mannered like most of the French people I would meet. After a divorce he had resolved to spend the rest of his life "on the road" as a routard or backpacker. We were to spend the next 10 days in each other's company.

In the evenings I would usually book into a convenient gîte d'étape in some small town or village while he went on ahead a few kilometres and wildcamped. We would meet up again the next day and walk on together. I remember one idyllic camping spot he had found near a bend in a remote country road. I caught up with him there early one misty morning. He had gathered sticks for a fire and scooped fresh, ice-cold water from a nearby stream. He offered me freshly made coffee. He had seen a fox in the night. We agreed it was paradise...

The photo shows Thierry in front of a second Chapelle Saint-Roch which stands on the border of the départements Haute Loire and Lozère. There are many churches and chapels along the Way dedicated to Saint-Roch, the patron saint of pilgrims. Saint-Roch (1295?-1327) was born in Montpellier and became a mendicant pilgrim throughout France and Italy after giving away his money and possessions. He was said to have been born miraculously with a red cross imprinted on his chest. He devoted his life to curing with the sign of the cross the plague victims he encountered on his travels.