As promised in the forecast, today was very hot from early morning onwards, but we had slept well after a sumptuous evening meal and wide-ranging conversation with our delightful hostess, Elisabeth. Much of what we were offered had been home grown or home brewed, and it was all delicious! We were again aghast at the moribund state of the church in France, with one priest expected to cover 62 parishes and Elisabeth’s village church getting just three services a year. Thriving rural parishes in England may have been sadly neglected in favour of chasing new recruits in cities in recent years, but seemingly we are still in a better state than rural churches in France.
We were left to pack our bags and leave the key as Elisabeth (comme la Reine!) had to leave early for a family gathering near Pontarlier, where we should be in couple of weeks time. We declined a lift as not being in the spirit of a walking pilgrimage!
Before she left we told Elisabeth about Canon Emma who had blessed our pilgrimage and prayed with us at Canterbury Cathedral. She had impressed upon us the responsibility we carry with us to undertake the pilgrimage not only for ourselves but for those unable to do so themselves, for whatever reason. So, today we dedicated our pilgrimage to Elisabeth’s son, Pierre, who we met yesterday. Pierre is a handsome young man with a delightful smile. He has autism and is non-verbal, requiring assistance with every aspect of his daily life. Now aged 32, Pierre spends weekends at home and is cared for away from home during the week. We shall carry him and Elisabeth in our thoughts.
From Marac we took a direct route to Beauchemin along a minor road. As we left the village we were greeted by an elderly gentleman inquiring about our pilgrimage, wishing us well and insisting that we carried plenty of water in this awful heat.
Out into open countryside we were again amongst huge fields of arable crops, with a wide variety of lovely wild flowers along the verges.
Just before we crossed the A5 motorway we came across a perfect night shelter for pilgrims, complete with fireplace and space for two to sleep.
At Beauchemin we found the church open and the tap in the churchyard a welcome opportunity to fill our bottles. It was also a place of cool refuge in the building heat.
From Beauchemin our route took us to Saint Ciergues perched on the steep side of the Mouche valley overlooking the lake. Passing the village church we called in, found the door open and Sunday Mass in progress. So we gently shed our rucksacks outside and slipped into the back of the nave to join in. How lovely it was to find a church not only open, but an opportunity to celebrate communion with about 35 other worshippers. Everything we’d said about the Church in France being dead was washed away. Afterwards several members of the congregation were very encouraging about our long walk.
Down the main street there was a wash house, this one with a new roof and evidently used by local gardeners.
Overlooking the dam at the end of the lake we found a bar-restaurant conveniently placed for lunch, or so we thought, but we were informed that they were “complet”. Given that there was just one other couple in there and about 40 tables unoccupied, the “je suis desole” was unconvincing – another example of backpacker prejudice?
However, we found a nice shady spot in a small field beside the lake on the other side of the dam to eat our own lunch and watch the fishermen out in boats on the lake. Tom reckoned they were too far out in full sunlight to actually catch a fish, and should instead have tried the lake margins in the shade. We also saw what we thought was a dragonfly shedding its exoskeleton, only to watch two dragonflies fly off, so the apparent struggle was probably mating!
Half way up the hill from the lakeside we used a spring fed water trough to cool off, but carefully noted the warning that this was ‘eau non-potable’, making do with throwing cold water over our faces.
The next several kilometres were across a plateau, initially in woodland with intermittent shade, and later in open arable fields with the sun beating down on us relentlessly.
Eventually – after much longer than we anticipated – we came down off the plateau through woodland. It was not until near the bottom that we got our first glimpse of Langres, our day’s destination, through the trees.
At the bottom of the hill the woodland path opened out into the village of Brevoines where the church was closed but the churchyard had a tap with cold running water to replace the tepid contents if our water bottles. From there we had a good view of the medieval city walls of Langres, with the prospect of a daunting climb up the hill to get there but also for an interesting day off tomorrow.
At the bottom of the valley there was a very attractive mill house. Turning back to photograph it, Julie was hailed by the owner asking where we’d come from, where we were going, and asking if we needed water. We explained that we’d found water in the churchyard, and accepted his encouragement for the rest of our walk, by which time Julie felt unable to invade his privacy by taking the photograph!
Taking advantage of several conveniently placed benches on the way up the hill, we eventually entered the centre of Langres through one of the medieval town gates and found our way through the cobbled streets and attractive squares to find our hotel.
Highlights of the day? Attending communion with the community we’d been passing through, and thoughts of Pierre. And of course, the prospect of doing very little tomorrow!