Pilgrimage Pt.15.
Three bassoons playing a mighty sound. A bass and two tenors. Hugely funny. Well not when it is super snores at just about 4am. Hank the orange ogre is the leading instrument of this particular trio. But the rhythm is abrasive and never sings me back to a grave like sleep; I slept through my own memories of completing tasks and feeling open, yet on awaking I felt closed from self engagement. Truly.
I feel mental this morning. I got up to discover all my walking clothes are still wringing wet. I'm not walking to Conques. There is no way I could with a rucksack and another bag of soaking clothes and wearing denim; rain loves denim. I now plan to get to Conques and get a sleeping roll for my tent; from June the weather is meant to improve. Christian the German walker who returned with snapped ligaments managed €5 per day camping.
Either I give the clothes that are adding to my weight to charity, send them back or throw away. Bernard the Priest states you can leave with a charity in Conques.
The transit arrives a little late, I thought I had missed it, around 8:20am. I'm physically shattered today. My back is less painful, but I am overwhelmed by lots of rain, wearing wet boots and heavy snoring. Those things which weren't bothering me are coming to the surface. I was sketching nonsense last night too. Start again as of today.
Shoe polish and poncho.
How many days did it take me to begin to lose the plot? I've been gone since the 21st; 11 days. Ok. This is a mission. Now I recognise no one! Great. Beyond the continuing Gallic tones.
I cheated but I caught the sun. Solace for the soileli. Tranquil village with birds busily building their nests. Although the expense of France makes me feel I should be gone after another 300€. Spain will redress the balance.
I cried. So stressed that I cried. And in the Abbey too. I was saved by two ladies. I took my clothes to dry and the American lady described how the roses were gently caressed by the priest every morning. He has sadly had both his legs apputated below the knee so now he can no longer tend his special flowers. I asked for help. Margorie explained how d'etape should work. I am poor, therefore I need to state this at the communal gites. I give what i can. The communities of god rescued me from self destruction. Now I Relais with tea: Japanese, overlooking the communities Abbey church. Back in 2007 I read Spike Milligan's memoirs. In Italy he went crazy with the shells and continual rain. My screaming at the top of my lungs from the exhursions after Saint-Pierre de Bessuèjouls was something like this.
I feel better in Conques. I had a coffee with a Dutch professor, Hubert, who feeds the finches; a retired professor of architecture from Amsterdam who invited me at 6pm to share a beer: Fischer bierre d'alsace. We discuss the decline of the numbers of finches etc in northern Europe. They're culling magpies in France as they have become a pest. I leave him to investigate the gothic arches of older venacular homes.
First sign of warmer climate... Lizards on the roof getting warming and waiting for a fresh fly Plat du Jour! Bon Appetite and along comes Patric of Switzerland stopping to recover for a couple of days? I will need to eat soon I forecast as dark grey clouds suggest rain.
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