A rebel without a clue.

The Way of the Wolf Part. 1. Our host, over dinner, told us the tale of the local wolf, who had been murdered centuries ago, and was blamed then, and forever, for any evil deed that only a man would commit, thoughtlessly, on his fellows. A tragic tale of a scapegoat used as a means of escape for one barbaric act. After the most complete five courses of lovingly created fayre, and locally made cheese and bread, I spoke directly with him of my last days horrible chase and how I felt haunted and lost upon the frozen mountain trail. He saw that I was in a state of considerable agitation and in need of help. It was then that he told me that he was a good spirit put there on the junction of the roads to help those needing support, guidance and friendship to take the correct steps towards discovery of their path. The transformation of a man to a wolf then back to a man. The humped back, silver toothed jongular driving me to meet my fate with snow blizzarding along our path; hiding our fo...

Pilgrimage Pause Pt.1. Aumont-Aubrac Today was considerately easier going for me. I set off after petitdejourner alone and promised I wouldn't spend any of today's leg in anyones company. I have learnt already this is my walk and must do it my way all the way at all costs. After a superb communal supper I went to bed on the top (in a bunk bed) for the first time along the way. Hank the buffalo was below me and the German couple from Konstanz were in a double bed nearest the window; without any curtains so you could only sleep dusk until dawn. I slept peacefully until Hanks snores brought me out of slumber around half past five. I tried to block out the pulses but it was impossible. Eventually I got up and packed ready for breakfast and the continuation of the Camino. After two successively fast paced and relentless days it felt that Sunday mustn't be as forboding so I could just get somewhere and feel a little more like a whole bodied man again! I walked passed the chur...

Pilgrimage Pt.10. The test of all tests. Driving snow across from the west as we climb up to our 2/3 point enroute to Saint Albans -Les Sauvages - must stop. Considerable wet. Rushed up the side of the mountain to peak at 1292m. Come to the auberge to relax and reheat prior to the final leg of a grueling 33kms. Needed sustainance definitely. Beef stew and roast potatoes and salad leaves. Readying for my body to assimilate the energy. With all the exerting came a snow blindness. Everything was tinged with a ring of pink. Now the weather has changed and a thaw is on. Snow balls bounce off the back of my head as we duck beneath the spruce coming out from Les Sauvages to Chapel Saint Roch. Onto a road we're making excellent coverage of my left third toe; a blister and we arrive at Chapelle. After nestling towards the final few kilometer wondering who am I trying to compete with? There isn't anyone to beat. Feel a little pushed by a Frenchman in shorts. But Sunday will be a gentl...

Pilgrimage Pt.9. No snow is good. A minor sprinkling to the north; from my window I cannot see the direction of travel. Awoke at day break more or less and feeling a little more smelly. The wicking base level does the job required but over a few days I'll smell more rank. The mushroom sauce was simply cream, garlic, salt, pepper and the meat glacie with these midget mushrooms was a great complement to a satisfying steak. I had planned, it being Friday, to look for females in Sauges, but then I realised I need all my energy for the long distance to cover today. No way as dramatic as Friday, but still a steady climb of 300 metres over 30 kilometres; Samedi. I retired around 9pm without a beer. I wrote to Glenn and Nick and sent a few text mothers way. By 10pm everyone doing le Chemin was snoring gently. The light crept though my eyelids by 5am. I turned a few times drifting in and out of sleep, but now at 6:50am I am abluted, packed and ready for petit dejourner at 7:15am. The str...

Pilgrimage Pt.8. Needing to stamp my Créanciale with the fussy old lady I leave at five to find café noir and log on to the matrix. She is very helpful, via a French couple translation, I must fill in my information on my Créanciale prior to leaving France. I had no time to even read what was within the companion piece or the Créanciale itself. I'm wake at 6am and after packing, breakfast and ablutions it is already 8am when I set off for l'eau, compote de pommes and banane and the Chemin St Jacques. That was my third stamp. I leave her with the dignity of kiss on each cheek and to discover a café to engage with those back in England. A discussion with my room mates for tonight explains that Aubrac is famous for its beef in France. I can understand that once you see the miles and miles of rolling grasses with hardly a house in sight; Sauges has a population of 2,000 only. So I am happy to discover that the café I drink and communicate from is, from 7pm, ...

Pilgrimage Pt.7. On the journey I have only seen one ghost. The wife of Charles proprietor of L'Acrobate, Corinne is the only one who is still breathing alive but is dead behind her eyes. There may be was a semi-ghost back in Montbonnet but it was unclear as I drank my Verbena tea. A simple bed and breakfast for €17 in Privat. On reaching the top of the Aubrac plateau coming into Sauges I am surrounded by cows swaying and ruminating to the chimes of antique alpine bells; in distinct brown and white they provide le fromage du Pays from the tender unpolluted dales. For the first time in my life I have climbed beyond 1000 metres. From leaving Monstrial d'Allier I climbed beyond 600 metres rapidly; in the fridgid hale and bleak swirling winds. Twice I reached the tipping point of water and mud. Both feet! But over a crest I hear school children as Sauges is before me. I descended from on high to the center ville of Sauges my body begins to react to the constant tread of size e...

Pilgrimage Pt.6. New experience of chitterling sausage and gratin dauphonoise Saint-Privat d'Allier. It was zero degrees here last night. I felt it. The room was snug but only just. Le toilette froid. Patric snores too. Will take today steady. The small blister on my left foot, third toe, has reduced. But I expect to know about it tonight. Hey that's what our shod feet are made for! Blisters! This morning, as I rolled my sleeping bag, I questioned the German I am sharing with if my current French diet is a bad thing: for the walk he states the body requires fats. Maybe he is right. Fat is bad for a sedentary life watching Jeremy Kyle. Breakfasted on pain, fromage bobi, confiture buerre doux Brest, orange presse au café noir while Charles, my Saint Etienne supporting host, plays an oldie but goodie: Age of Empires; expansion while I take in my second café noir. Ouvert. The clouds drap across the top of most of the mountains we must assault this morning and there is also a 60...