Setting Out

A welcome splash of colour outside Saint-Étienne railway station.

Sometime in the early evening of Saturday 5 May 2012 I stepped outside the railway station at Saint-Étienne and admired again the artificial tree stuck in the middle of the station forecourt. I'd been there before — on Saturday 1 October 2011 to be exact — on my way home after a fortnight's trek along the Via Gebennensis from Geneva in Switzerland to Le Puy in south-central France. Now, as then, the tree was a welcome burst of colour lighting up a drab, urban wilderness. This humble yet pathetically touching arboreal firework seemed to say: Trust me. Things are going to get better.

However, a heavy, grey sky glowered above, pregnant with rain. The weather here in the French Massif Central had been wet for weeks. I considered the prospects for my walk along the GR 65 pilgrim route I'd planned to start in Le Puy the next day. They were not brilliant. After an early spring of drought and fine days, the weather over much of northern and central Europe had settled into a pattern of cold snaps, bitter winds and thundery squalls. The UK, for instance, had just experienced its dampest April on record.

Oh well, que sera, sera. It's no good worrying about the weather if you're a walker. I had Goretex raingear in my pack and waterproof boots on my feet. A previous time I'd walked across Spain in January during the wettest winter in living memory. If I could do that, I could do anything. In a suddenly excited and optimistic mood, I stepped back into the station and boarded the local, two-carriage train to Le Puy. Trust in the tree, I thought, fake as it is. Trust in the tree.

If trains still chug these days, this one chugged — through tunnels, through remote rural halts and through deep river gorges cut by the Loire. Rain lashed down. Thunder grumbled distantly and the occasional flash of lightning sparked over some far, rounded peak. But, as the train eased into Le Puy, the weather eased too. The sky cleared and brightened a little, and I could pick out some familiar sights: the cathedral's seven-storied bell tower, the chapel of Saint Michel d'Aiguilhe perched high on a volcanic plug, the almost obscenely huge red statue of the Virgin Mary, Notre-Dame de France, half-hidden by scaffolding...   

Virgin and Child in Le Puy.

Sunday dawned warm and bright and full of promise, and I wandered contentedly up and down the narrow alleyways of Le Puy-en-Velay. I bought bread, cheese, tins of fish. Some fruit. A tomato. I was given a brand new créanciale (pilgrim passport) by a nun in the cathedral's sacristy. And then I was off, in the pure, clear morning sunlight, under a sky of forget-me-not blue, down the cathedral steps, along the Rue Saint-Jacques and the Rue des Capucins, climbing first gently then more steeply out of town. A sign confirmed it was a mere 1511 km from here to Compostelle, but this time I wasn't walking so far...

1511 km to Compostelle.

I passed Saint James in myriad forms and representations, though which was the real, most authentic Saint James is anyone's guess. Perhaps the true one hovers like a religious touchstone in our imaginations... 

Saint James.

Another Saint James carved in wood.

On the plateau above Le Puy I simply felt glad to be alive, to be there, to be in that place and at that time, on that fresh and pristine day in early May, with the crickets singing and the wild flowers coming into bloom...

  

An old stone cross above Le Puy.

A scallop shell points the way.

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.

Coquille Saint Jacques

A word about my blog's new header photo. I took it from the Notre Dame de France (a bronze statue of the Virgin Mary which overlooks Le Puy) just before sunset on the last day of my pilgrimage. The sun stayed hidden for what seemed an eternity, then suddenly began to appear. You can actually see individual sunbeams as they stream out in fan formation from behind the clouds...  

And, as someone pointed out to me, if you look closely enough, you can make out the distinct shape of a coquille Saint Jacques...

The 360% view from my standpoint, this rock of the 'Red Virgin', was simply amazing...

... as I gazed out over the rooftops of Le Puy...

... at the landscape through which I'd walked the previous day...

Packing The Essentials

Well, I'm half-prepared, for a change. Normally, due to personal circumstances, I more or less just get up and go (which, I can tell you, has caused me more than a few problems in the past - too heavy a backpack, and painful, pinching walking boots, being just two). But this time I'm carefully packing only the lightest and most essential items. And I've splashed out on a brand new pair of Goretex-lined Merrell Mids - half-way between a walking shoe and a walking boot - which are lighter and much more comfortable than any hiking boots I've ever worn before. In fact they fit like a pair of old slippers. You can slosh through the snow in them and still keep your feet dry. And there's plenty of snow round here right now in which to practise...

(The pic shows Alison Raju's two guide books to the Vía de la Plata; a virgin Credencial del Peregrino, just waiting to be stamped; the blue plastic crucifix and rosary beads given to me by the Bishop of Le Puy at the start of my 1st pilgrimage in October 2007; and the simple coquille pendant I bought from a nun in the sacristy of Le Puy Cathedral, again in October 2007.)

Black Madonna

The motorcycle black madonna/Two-wheeled gypsy queen... BOB DYLAN Gates of Eden from Bringing It All Back Home

I married Isis on the fifth day of May/But I could not hold on to her very long... BOB DYLAN Isis from Desire

I mentioned yesterday the Black Madonna of Le Puy. A few words about the cult of the Black Madonna or the Black Virgin. Some statues and paintings depict the Virgin Mary with dark or black skin and are found throughout Europe, Africa and the Americas. Within the Catholic parts of Europe 400 - 500 of these representations exist, usually in the form of wooden (occasionally stone) statues or picture icons (often Byzantine in style). A large number of these, close on 200, are to be found in France, particularly southern France.

For many years scholars have argued about the significance of the black skin on the European Black Madonnas. In some cases the wood has simply darkened over time or become blackened with smoke or candle soot. But in most cases the field lies wide open for supposition and interpretation. There is no doubt that Black Virgins are venerated in a special way and have passionate devotees. They are associated with healing, fertility, miracles. Some believe they are a Christian form of the Egyptian goddess Isis; others have discovered links with the Templars, the Cathars and even Mary Magdalene. There is a very seductive theory that a Black Virgin represents a kind of divine feminine principle, a pagan earth goddess wedded to the black earth, a powerful female sexuality which the medieval Church authorities tried to suppress.

2 books I can recommend on this fascinating subject are Ean Begg's The Cult Of The Black Virgin (1985) and Lynn Picknett's Mary Magdalene: Christianity's Hidden Goddess (2003).

Le Puy: The First 60 Steps

After a sleepless night on coach and cross-Channel ferry - and much excited conversation with fellow travellers - I arrived in Lyon at dawn the next day and took a local train to Le Puy-en-Velay. Midday found me sitting in a sleepy square outside a small bar-restaurant in Le Puy eating delicious chicken and rice in the warm sunshine.

Le Puy. Famous for lace and lentils. A spectacular place high up in the Massif Central, that huge granite plateau in south-central France dotted with extinct volcanoes and hot volcanic springs. It's been a pilgrimage centre since the Middle Ages, and its Romanesque cathedral is one of Europe's oldest and most beautiful pilgrim shrines. 60 steps rise steeply to a facade of white sandstone and black volcanic breccia (see photo). Around and below it the narrow streets of the old town twist and turn.

I stayed the night cheaply at the Maison Saint-François, a gîte d'étape in one of the old alleyways, but once again hardly slept. Early next morning I made my way bleary-eyed to mass. Even though I was practically in the cathedral's shadow, I managed to lose my way through a maze of dark and silent streets and passages. Finally I crept into the gloomy interior of the cathedral by the south porch. It was just 7 o'clock. I genuflected before the statue of the Black Madonna. In the pews were a scattering of devout elderly Catholic ladies and 4 other pilgrims.

After mass we were blessed by the Bishop of Le Puy in a special pilgrim benediction ceremony. He gave each of us some plastic rosary beads and a plastic cross and a tiny silver medallion of Our Lady of Le Puy. "We have been criticized for not doing enough for the pilgrims" he said, smiling. "These are my gifts to you. May God protect you. Please pass on my greetings to the Bishop of Santiago." This most humane and charming man then invited us to take some folded pieces of paper from a basket. On these were written heartfelt supplications from people in need and distress. We were entrusted with these touching little notes. We would pray for these supplicants on our journey.

I bought for €5 a scallop shell pendant from a nun in the sacristy. The scallop shell or coquille Saint-Jacques is the single identifying symbol of the pilgrim bound for Santiago. This motif recurs consistently - in religious and secular architecture, in shop windows, on road signs - during the whole route. I also picked up my pilgrim passport, or Créanciale, which would be stamped in churches, tourist offices, town halls, bars and gîtes along the Way. This passport would prove to the cathedral authorities in Santiago I had covered the route so that I could obtain a coveted Compostela, the official certificate of completion of pilgrimage. Then I was off down the main staircase marked Grand Escalier, Direction Compostelle.

It was the start of a 1000 mile journey along the French Via Podensis and the Spanish Camino Francés, a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela; a pilgrimage made by many 1000s of travellers for over 1000 years, travellers on foot, on horseback, on donkeys, on bicycles; a pilgrimage to Santiago cathedral, reputed burial place of Saint James the Apostle, Saint James the Moor-Slayer, Saint James the Pilgrim (portrayed with wide-brimmed hat, staff, Bible and scallop shell), Saint James the patron saint of Spain.

I climbed the hill out of town and left Le Puy behind me.

I had begun my journeying, my quest. But what I was seeking, what I was travelling towards, I was not sure...