Our billet last night was a comfortable studio room in the courtyard of a renovated farmhouse in the centre of the village adjacent to the church. It is run by a friendly Dutch woman with impeccable English who also has an art gallery and tearoom in the courtyard. Although she married and brought up a family in France since coming here as a student 40 years ago, if Le Pen were to become the next President of France in the election run-off with Macron next weekend, she would be prevented from receiving a French pension. She is not the only person we’ve met who is very concerned about the outcome of these elections.

In cheerful mood, the sun shining, we set out southwards into farmland and woodland, rising up onto a low ridge and contouring along a good and well used track. The surrounding woodland gave us some respite from the rather still and building humidity of the day, and we passed several walkers and bike riders on the track.

As we came out of the woods and began to descend off the ridge we passed one of a ring of forts that surround Reims, the Fort de Chenay, built in 1870. Unfortunately it is now in private ownership, behind a double fence and locked gates, and screened by trees, so we were unable to see it.

From the hillside just below we had our first view of Reims and its cathedral standing proud on the distant horizon, behind the village of Merfy, another small settlement tucked down under the hill and surrounded by vineyards.

In Merfy the church was locked, as we have come to expect, but there were a couple of benches and it was lunchtime, so we sat eating our sandwiches and watching a man varnish a wine barrel: part of feature with a wine press in front of the church.

Although closed, the church had been well maintained by the local community. There was a restored pieta displayed in a custom made case in the outer wall so that it could be seen and appreciated by everyone passing by: of particular poignancy today, the day before Good Friday, and of some consolation for disappointment of the church being closed.

Turning right off the main street, we headed out of the village, down the hill, out of the vineyards, and back into arable land bordering the outskirts of Reims. We noticed that the vineyards were split into plots of varying sizes, some with only a few vines, including one tiny plot beside the road with just a couple of dozen plants. Tom has been trying to work out how many vines he could fit into our garden! Apparently, there is extensive individual ownership and not all vineyards are owned by the big name companies, albeit they do seem to dominate the local economy.

Once down onto the plains surrounding Reims we could appreciate the hills around and why there was a protective ring of forts, such as Chenay, for this historically important city. These days protection is provided by a motorway ring road, taking traffic from the north and sending it on its way west to Paris or south towards Besancon and Switzerland – the direction we are heading.

The walk into Reims took us through some more farmland, the sewage works – from which clear liquid was pouring into drainage channels smelling strongly of detergent – and extensive gardening allotments. On our other side was an industrial area, but the path itself was wide, tree-lined and made for pleasant walking in dappled shade.

About half way to the centre we were diverted onto the path running alongside the canal de l’Aisne a la Marne, which we then followed almost all the way into the city centre. Although it seemed to go on for ever at this stage of the day, it was in fact a lovely way to approach the city centre, and obviously a resource that is much used by locals for recreation, as well as by industrial traffic on the canal.

After nearly two hours since crossing the motorway, we climbed a bridge over the canal and picked our way through the streets to the cathedral. What a magnificent sight!

Tom approached a couple and asked politely in his best French whether they would take a picture of us both standing in front of the cathedral, to be met with “yeah, sure” in a South African accent! There ensued a long conversation about his time working in the mining industry there, and the couple’s experiences teaching in Suffolk, living in John Peel’s village. What a loss to relaxing Saturday mornings. And perhaps a lesson in not overdoing the exercise on retirement….

We awoke to see that it had rained overnight, the sky was full of ominous dark clouds and the air was humid. On the plus side, Tom’s left calf muscle had eased and he was able to move around without pain. Of the two possible diagnoses cramp was the most likely and thankfully recoverable with good rest fortified with ibuprofen. The other would have meant stopping for several weeks. So, after breakfast, we set out at a slow pace so as not to push our (his) luck.

The first stretch along a minor road seemed to go OK. There was very little traffic so Tom could walk down the middle of the road, avoiding the camber which seemed to upset his leg. At the village of Juvincourt-Damary we sat on the church steps for a short rest, and in the graveyard found the grave of a young Canadian Air Force gunner who died on 24 June 1944.

Once rested, we set out across country using tracks which wound around fields and woodland. We heard a woodpecker busily drilling away, and our first cuckoo of the year. April 13th to hear a cuckoo seems early for us, but then we are further south. Yet again, the fields of rape were not attracting pollinators although the plants were in full flower.

Cresting the brow of the hill at a tarmac road, the village of Berry-aux-Bac came into view, tucked in under the hill. The only building visible for miles around had been an enormous grain silo just south of the village. In the centre we found a choice of benches outside the church to sit and have our lunch. Although it is school holiday time, there were no children out playing, and we noticed that there was no petanque or boules being played either, though that may be more of a southern French tradition?

On leaving Berry-aux-Bac we crossed the river Aisne and then a relief channel, both of which were very full and turbid suggesting heavy rainfall somewhere upstream. A third bridge took us over the Canal Lateral a l’Aisne. We just missed seeing a barge go through the lock!

At this point we had crossed out of the Aisne region and into Marne. Another landmark on our journey south. However, we were not yet quite clear of the WW1 battlefields. Just outside Berry-aux-Bac we visited the Necropole National, a military cemetery with the graves and unidentified remains of almost 4000 French soldiers, and a few of other nationalities, who died in the Great War. As always, the sheer magnitude of the slaughter represented in these cemeteries is mind blowing, as is the cumulative impact of the war memorials with lists of names of the fallen to be seen in every French village. In general, the lists of names on village war memorials suggest that 5-10 times more Frenchmen died in the First World War as compared with the Second World War.

As we headed south we were immediately into large areas given over to vineyards on the south facing slopes and arable crops being grown on the plains and surrounding hills.

The first champagne village we came to was Comicy, which is noticeably more prosperous than many of the more northern villages we have walked through. The village even has ramparts and underground passages dating from around 1170 when the Normans were rampaging across what is now northern France.

In the village centre was the usual array of mugshots of the twelve candidates in last Sunday’s first round presidential election, which we’ve seen in every village. Perhaps notably here, the only poster defaced was Macron’s. It has been interesting to see which posters have been defaced as we have moved from village to village, with no obvious pattern apparent, but a concerning propensity to obliterate those of differing views.

Climbing up tracks through the vineyards outside Comicy we then turned uphill into woods before climbing higher still onto an exposed plateau. There seemed to be quite extensive, though not universal, use of spraying to keep the weeds at bay around the vines.

Once onto higher ground we noticed zig-zag ditches in the woods which we assume were WW1 trenches as holding this hillside would have been strategically advantageous. Unfortunately the trenches are now so overgrown and eroded it was impossible to get a decent photograph of them, but there was also what looked like an old bunker in the hillside, confirming our suspicions.

Out of the woods and onto the open plateau we were rewarded with extensive views to the north. There is prairie arable farming on the top, with vineyards tucked down into the hillsides. Although the sky remained threatening all day, the blacker clouds seemed to be to our north and we avoided the forecast rain.

As we descended via the road the village of Hermonville came into view quite a way below, with vineyards on the lower slopes nestled under the surrounding hills. Julie was rather frustrated to have had to climb so high, only to descend again and wondered whether we had missed a more direct path!

Our billet for the night is a renovated farm adjacent to the church, so we had to walk into the centre of the village before finally being able to remove our boots for the day.

Highlights of the day? Crossing the River from the Aisne to the Marne Department, seeing our first vines and hearing our first cuckoo of the year.

Having climbed the direct route to the cathedral on our rest day we opted for the zig zag road to the top of the mont this morning with our full sacks. Unfortunately the old funicular railway is no longer operating! Once again we were overwhelmed by the beauty of the cathedral and the space in which it stands, which was empty and quiet at this hour of the morning.

The pilgrim route out of town took us back down the pedestrianised streets and through one of the medieval town gates, dating from 1200.

Rather than simply heading south off the mont, we were led westwards along the old ramparts, giving us more spectacular views, before descending a cobbled track beneath the university.

On leaving the city walls we stopped to chat with a man walking his King Charles Spaniel. We ascertained that he lives in Laon, so told him what a beautiful town it is. We chatted about the history of the place and how well it had survived the two world wars. Quite remarkable, he said. He pointed out the leaning turret close to us, explaining the engineering geological reason for this. Not dissimilar to the tower in Pisa, Tom thought.

From here we descended to Ardon on the plain below, taking a more direct route than suggested by the Via Francigena app, and headed southwestwards on the Rue Porte de Laon.

In Bruyeres-et-Montherault we were pleasantly surprised to find the church of Notre Dame open and the organ being played, though it quickly became apparent that in fact it was being tuned: perhaps for Easter. The original structure of the church dates from around the time of Laon cathedral (ie 12th century), with later additions, but with similarly simple lines. Notable was the fan vaulting in both north and south transepts, and a modern stained glass window by a renowned French artist (of whom we’d never heard!)

Just outside the village we opted for a more direct route along the old road to Reims, which had a convenient grassy bank in the sun for our lunch stop.

We dined on pizza leftovers from the previous evening and mandarins we had picked up in the Spar shop in Laon. From our lunch stop we climbed up on the old VF route towards Cheret.

It was part way up the hill that disaster struck. Tom felt a sharp pain in his left calf. As he continued upwards the pain became worse and the stops more frequent. By the time we reached the road at the top of the hill, matters were worse and we stopped for an unscheduled rest.

We tried some Emulgel and rested for a while. Onward, there seemed to be no respite and Tom was moving very slowly and with much pain.

Several more stops and we descended into the village of Bievres where we decided that we needed to call for help. There was no way that we were going to walk to Corbeny, our destination for the day. We sat on a wall and contemplated our situation. Tom was still in a fair amount of pain and the prospect of walking much further was unrealistic, so we called a taxi and reluctantly called it a day!

After a fair amount of faffing and failing to find a taxi willing to come this far out into the countryside, we found one and to our relief she was with us within twenty minutes. Another twenty minutes and we were at our billet in Corbeny, tails between legs, but the same legs up and resting. Let us hope that a night’s rest and some ibuprofen solves the problem. Internet research points to calf cramp which should recover quite quickly. Let’s hope!

If walking from Tergnier to Laon after having had a rest day in Laon sounds a bit back to front, then it is. Remember Day 34, when, because there was nowhere to stay overnight in Tergnier we got the train to Laon? We then took a rest day, and then had to get a train back to complete the route.

Having left most of their contents in our hotel room in Laon, our rucksacks were considerably lighter as we set off. What luxury! What can we throw out to make them feel like this every day?

The weather was perfect for what was to be the longest day of our pilgrimage so far. With more than 35 km to walk in the day, the combination of sunshine, a light wind and reduced loads was just what we needed.

The route took as through La Fere, and the small villages of Andelain and Bertaucourt before climbing up onto the Saint Gobain massif and the extensive Foret Dominiale where we spent most of the day. In Andelain there was some substantial work being done on the church, though we suspect it would not have got past a Diocesan Advisory Committee had it been at home, looking at the modern machined roof tiles!

Just after that we walked past a farm where cows in a shed were being fed through hatches by one young man on a tractor, whilst a second young man was closing the hatches. This may explain why we haven’t seen any cows out in fields but have seen notices about dairy farming. Julie was horrified by the factory conditions – a way of working which her parents would never have countenanced! Every calf was hand reared, named, and cherished as an individual for life. Needless to say her parents didn’t get rich, but they did inculcate a love and respect for the natural environment and all creatures living in it which seems to be missing from much of modern farming.

Having left the villages behind we walked through fields towards the edge of the Foret Dominiale de St Gobain in glorious sunshine. By now the wind had dropped and it was becoming very warm for an April day, so some layers of clothing and woolly hats came off.

Despite large fields of rape in full flower, we saw not one pollinating insect when they should surely have been buzzing but for the use of chemicals sprayed onto crops to keep them weed and pest free. Another agricultural practice which is unsustainable because it is destroying our natural environment. How does the oilseed rape get pollenated if there are no pollenating insects around when it’s on flower?

Entry into the forest looked reasonably benign, but in fact there were several quite long and steep climbs to get us up onto the ridge. We were very glad not to be carrying full rucksacks.

We were intrigued by a couple of caves in the forest, but there was nothing marked on any of our maps and no information boards about them – though there was information about other features of the forest. Both caves looked viable as refuges for pilgrims struggling with this long day section of the VF but who constructed them, when, and for what purpose remains a mystery.

Other features of interest in this area include several ruined abbayes, presumably destroyed during the Revolution, and evidence of sand quarrying for making glass. St Gobain is, of course, one of Europe’s biggest makers of glass, and this Tertiary sandstone is where it has its origins.

Several hours later we had crossed to the other side of the forest where the trees were smaller but still too dense to allow views, but the walking was easy going on good tracks which contoured along the hillside.

By late afternoon we were back off the ridge, down into agricultural land and walking between small villages. In Cessieres a very kind woman working in her garden refilled our water bottles for us. We had foregone filling them at a spring in the forest, only to find there was an isolated house just above it, no doubt with septic tank sewerage!

Tom made a bit of a mess of our map reading on the way out of Cessieres and so we had to retrace our steps, wasting about 20-30 minutes. On catching sight of Laon cathedral in the distance we should have realised we should be walking towards it!

The last part of the walk was a long slog along minor roads to the edge of town, and then what felt like endless pavement bashing to get back to our hotel, exhausted but glad to have survived such a long day!

After a good night’s sleep we awoke to bright sunshine and with slightly less aching feet following yesterday’s long walk. By late morning we felt sufficiently rested to find somewhere nice to have lunch, and walked – perhaps more accurately, we climbed – up a very steep and long set of steps into the old medieval town.

The views out across the plains around Laon are spectacular, and gave us good reason to pause after every second set of steps! At the top we rounded a corner into the central square to find a handy restaurant right across the way from the cathedral and it was open for lunch.

The cathedral is the model for Notre Dame in Paris, and is said to be a near perfect example of French gothic style. It fortunately avoided damage in both of the two world wars. Inside it was reminiscent of Salisbury Cathedral in its simplicity and homogeneity of style, and turned out to have been built at about the same time and, like Salisbury, also in a single campaign between 1150 and 1235 when it was consecrated.

There is some beautiful, richly coloured medieval stained glass at the east end, a little modern stained glass, and a lot of large windows with plain glass giving a light airy feel to the building.

Although we were unable to find any information about services for Palm Sunday, there was a priest hearing confessions in the choir all afternoon, so the cathedral appears to be active – unlike the majority of village churches, which are moribund or dead. Plainsong was playing in the background, which made for a calm and peaceful ambience. There seemed to be an absence of the gaudy effigies and statues we’ve found in some other churches – something that stands out for those if us used to the denuded post reformation churches of the UK.

This was the first church we have been into in France where there is recognition that it lies on the Via Francigena route, and that it has a role in supporting pilgrims walking the VF, not merely selling coach trips to Lourdes or Rome to its own congregation, as we’ve seen elsewhere. There was an extensive exhibition about the purpose and history of pilgrimage, and about the VF and other pilgrim routes across Europe. We could have had our pilgrim passes stamped here, although we had already got that done in the adjacent tourist information office, based on our past experience.

The baptismal font is made from Tournai stone and dates from the 11th century. It has interesting carvings around its sides thought to depict the Evangelists, or the four rivers of Paradise: the Tigris, Euphrates, Gihon and Pison.

On visiting the reliquary, we met a very nice lady who takes VF pilgrims into her home and gives them dinner, bed and breakfast, and even does their laundry for them. She either didn’t understand or didn’t agree with Tom that although we are not Catholics we are one church under St Paul! The item of interest that stood out for us in the reliquary was a 19th century antiphonal – a relic of the historical musical tradition of the catholic church, which is sadly now in serious decline in France. As one famous musician has said to us, the catholic church now uses ‘jingles’ in place of the wonderful choral tradition we’ve been able to maintain in our cathedrals in the UK, much of it written by catholic composers.

After a brief walk through the pedestrianised medieval centre of the town, we returned to our hotel room to do some serious work on booking accommodation for the next week or so, which is proving to be quite a challenge. We are again facing several long days of walking with no accommodation to be had at the end of the day, making any possibility of combining days completely impossible. We will have to keep working on it!

The Val Domignon in Trefcon was a very comfortable place to stay. The Wynand family have diversified from farming to provide, not only chambre d’hote but also canoeing, horse riding, carriage driving and livery. They make leather saddles and harnesses using a very substantial sewing machine. Hubert is a fount of knowledge about the natural history of the area and very interesting to talk to. Tom and he found they shared an interest in the conservation of rivers. Three generations of the family live together, with their lovely dog Lilie, a border collie-picarde sheepdog cross.

Despite another wet forecast we left the Val Domignon in bright, if not particularly warm, sunshine. We decided to take a direct route to Seraucourt-le-grand, via the Vermandois villages, rather than the dogleg to Saint Quentin which the official VF route takes. After crossing the A29, we passed through first Beauvois and then Vaux en Vermandois. to reach Roupy (with all its lakhs and crores – silly joke!).

On the approach to Roupy a large crop spraying machine appeared on the road ahead of us. To our horror it turned into the field immediately adjacent to the road extended its arms and began spraying with one arm well over the drainage ditch and almost over the road. As it approached with the wind blowing the spray right at us, Tom shouted for him to stop, crossing his sticks in front of the sprayer. Just at that moment a hare dashed out in front of us. Fortunately the tractor driver got the message and stopped and turned the sprayer off. He could clearly see our distress but probably couldn’t hear a thing from inside his positive pressure cab. With a wave in thanks we strode onwards with the filthy smell and taste of his awful spray in our throats.

As we approached Seraucourt we were confronted by ‘Route Barree’ signs which made us nervous since the alternative route to cross the Saint Quentin Canal entailed a diversion of many kilometres. To our relief, the works to replace the bridge had included a temporary footbridge and so we were able to cross.

The old iron bridge certainly looked like it needed replacing!

At Seraucourt we found a suitable lunch spot with a seat in the sunshine, adjacent to the St Quentin canal and some fishing lakes where there was a competition going on. Tom was fascinated by the huge long poles the anglers were using. They seemed to be catching small carp, mainly.

At Seraucourt the VF is crossed by one of the Compostella Camino routes originating in the Netherlands. While we were lunching a man on a heavily laden bicycle stopped and hailed us. Ben had ridden from his home in Limburg, South Holland. After two days of miserable weather his wife had turned back so he was heading for Santiago on his own. We weren’t surprised in that awful weather. We wished each other well as he went on his way. He did admit a little assistance as he pointed to the ‘E’ part of his bike!

From Seracourt we rejoined the official route across open countryside and a surprisingly good cobbled road – most were dirt or just plain muddy after recent rain – undulating through huge fields of arable crops. The rape was in full bloom in the sun.

The path wends its way from village to village, first Clastres and then Jussy. Clastres church was locked, but we found a tap to replenish our water bottles. As we approached Jussy we could see a huge ornate building on the horizon, far bigger than the church spire. Was it a monastery? Or even a mosque? No, it was the town Mairie!

From Jussy the route follows the canal to Tergnier, our destination for the day. It started very promisingly, walking along a flat grassy path beside the water, sun shining, birds in the surrounding trees. However, just around the corner the path disappeared under more and more dense vegetation, eventually making it more and more likely we might slip and fall into the canal! We turned back, with a degree of frustration at this stage of a long day, and reverted to walking down the minor roads.

Our alternative route took us to the west of the canal and railway, over the busy D1 and into Mennessis where we found a convenient bench to sit and gather our resolve (eat a sugary fruit bar!) for the last stretch. We were disappointed to see a self service machine to buy bread, and across the road a closed boulangerie. It seems that French supermarkets and social change have now arrived in rural France.

Another 45 minutes and we arrived at the outskirts of Tergnier – a sad, post industrial town and seemingly very run down. Foundries, railway engineering and embroidery had been the economic backbones of the place in the late 19th and early 20th centuries with the arrival of the railways and then the canal. But today it has clearly lost its heart and no-doubt most of its economic viability. We walked through a large area of poor housing and past the social security office.

With no overnight accommodation available anywhere in Tergnier – though according to our guide book there were previously three hotels – we had decided to take a train to Laon, our next destination, have a rest day and then return to walk the long day from Tergnier back to the cathedral city of Laon. We eventually found our way to the railway station which was completely deserted. Dozens of platforms with information screens all telling us about forecasts of snow and disruption on April 1st! Not very useful. We found a bus waiting to depart, apparently for a rail replacement service, but to where? When we managed to persuade the driver unwillingly to open her window and speak to us it was as if we were from anothet planet. We both have half reasonable French but it seemed like she was speaking another language entirely. Her body language was enough to tell us that she wasn’t going to help us. She just wanted us to leave her in peace.

Feeling quite forlorn, with no idea whether there was a train or a replacement bus service or what, we considered the propect of very expensive taxi ride but with absolutely no idea of whether there were any, or if there were, where to find one. The only person we could find at the station was a young woman glued to her phone with no more to say to us than “sais pas”. We had a strong feeling that we wanted to leave Tergnier and do so quickly, but we had no idea how.

Eventually a young man appeared who seemed to have a little more about him. He also wanted to go to Laon but was as confused as we were. He at least spoke a French which we could understand and together we worked out that there was a train due at 2005 hrs and that it would come from Laon and return there. Not long after an SNCF person arrived who was most helpful, confirmed that there was a train, that we could buy a ticket on the train and that it would arrive at the platform we were standing on. With much relief we boarded a warm and comfortable train for the half hour ride to Laon.

We rolled into our hotel, which was close to Laon station, exhausted and ready for supper and bed………and a rest day!

Once again the forecast of rain was not wrong. Why are these French meteo forecasts so depressingly accurate? Our lodgings for the night at the Auberge des Remparts was ok, but nothing special. They don’t do evening meals but we found a restaurant close by.

We set off in light but persistent rain. Our route took us across the River Cologne, which at this point is a very small river connecting several sizeable lakes.

From there our road became the course of a disused railway, lined by trees, with marshy ground and streams alongside. We saw just one other person: a man who was collecting up sheets of rusty corrugated iron which he said was to be found scattered all around. Julie’s French wasn’t good enough to gain a full understanding, but we think he was collecting up artefacts from WW1. Presumably the price of metal is high enough at present to make the effort worthwhile.

We left the old railway line at Cartigny and walked up through the village to find yet another locked church. Fortunately beside the church there was a shelter, though no seating, so we decided to have our soup and half our sandwiches in the dry even though it was too early for lunch.

Once clear of the village we were back out amongst huge arable fields, and soon left the road for a farm track. The signage around here wasn’t very good – in fact, much of it seemed to have been removed from the marker posts – so we made fairly frequent stops to make sure we were heading the right way.

We wended our way between villages, using a mix of very minor roads and tracks. By now we have become so accustomed to churches being closed we no longer detour to check them out (especially on such a wet day) and the VF rarely passes directly past a church, seemingly intent on pressing on across the countryside.

After passing through a couple more small villages we were again crossing fields by way of farm tracks, including a relatively pleasant and sheltered tree lined track with blossom still on the trees despite yesterday’s vicious wind.

In the village of Tertry we crossed a delightful little chalk stream known as L’Omignon, a tributary of the Somme. Considering the amount of rain we’d had the water was remarkably clear, but there was no sign of any fish!

A final haul uphill along a muddy track through the woods brought us to Trefcon and tonight’s chambre d’hote in a farmhouse. By this stage we were pretty soggy despite our waterproofs, and glad to sit in the kitchen with a warming cup of tea fondling the dog!

Highlights of today? Tom says the warm cup of tea and a hot shower at the end of the day! Julie identified two positives: there was no wind today, and the walk was shorter than most. We are glad to be able to get warm and dry!

Our billet for the night, Le Gourmet, wasn’t quite that, but it was comfortable and we didn’t have to leave the hotel to find a meal, which was a blessing after the long walk from Arras.

The forecast of rain the following morning wasn’t wrong, so we set off in full wet weather gear with a blustery southwest wind on our right shoulders. We’d chosen to economise on the day’s distance by taking the more direct line of the D917 to start with. Before long the rain became torrential with the wind gusting 70 to 80 km/hr. The road became a river and just about every lorry which passed us managed to give us a good shower. Eventually we worked out that it was better to walk on the windward side of the road, even if it meant we weren’t facing the traffic. We were soaked through by now anyway. Sadly, we didn’t take the opportunity to visit the South African cemetery on the way out of Bapaume.

After a couple hours the rain eased off, but the wind continued strong and gusty all day. We crossed the watershed and passed into a new departement, the Somme, mid morning.

The road took us through a couple of villages through which the traffic hammered on regardless of the speed limits. We were relieved to be able to turn off to rejoin the footpath between Sailly-Saillicel and Rancourt. Just before the turning off point we passed the Scilly-Saillicel British cemetery containing the graves of 752 British, 7 Canadian and 12 Australian soldiers. All were post war reburials from the Somme battlefields, attached to a wide range of regiments, and many are unidentified though “known unto God”.

Once off the road we enjoyed a pleasant walk through extensive woodland sheltered from the wind, which was a great relief! There were bluebells and wood anemones in profusion, reminding us of the gentler face of spring.

And just along the track out of the woods we came across tonight’s entree….not for the faint hearted! Not seriously. Too slimy. But a fine looking specimen.

Once out if the woods we were back onto farmland tracks, though with more ups and downs and areas of woodland than we’d had in Nord Pas de Calais. Apart from the tedium of fighting against the wind to stay upright and walk in a roughly straight line, it was a lovely walk with extensive views. Adjacent to a recently ploughed field Julie noticed a small pile of shell cases, which we understand are still regularly brought to the surface by the deep ploughing carried out here.

At the bottom of the hill we walked briefly alongside and then crossed the Canal du Nord which we had last seen in Calais. The wind was blasting down the canal causing waves on the surface, it was that windy.

Crossing the bridge, we walked through the village of Bouchavesnes-Bergen and uphill towards Mont St Quentin, scene of one of the most difficult battles involving a small, under-strength company of Australians who managed to take a machine gun post on the ridge from a far larger number of defending German troops. The commanding officer was awarded the Victoria Cross.

A few more yards brought us to the edge of Peronne, and a trudge along busy streets down into the centre and our billet for the night. It has been very noticeable that French drivers will now stop for pedestrians even if they choose to cross the road somewhere other than a designated pedestrian crossing – which we often do at the end of a long and tiring day when every extra step is an effort!

Highlights of the day? When the rain stopped!

It seemed to take ages to get out of the city of Arras. Our route took us out the same way we’d come the day before to visit the Carrieres Wellington. It was nearly an hour before we reached countryside again to the south of Beaurains.

Prairie farming dominated the landscape for most of the day, with huge arable fields and very little in the way of hedgerow or woodland, and consequently little wildlife. We heard the occasional lark, and Tom saw a red squirrel in a tree, but that was it.

Just before Boisleux-Saint-Marc we stopped at the Sunken Road Cemetery, which contains the remains of 416 commonwealth soldiers and 4 Germans. The area was captured from the Germans in March 1917, partly lost a year later, and finally cleared in August 1918. This cemetery was used as a medical clearing station in 1917 and 1918, before being shelled. Many of the graves are of RAMC men. Julie’s grandfather was in the RAMC as a young doctor but we know little about where he served.

Just down the road we found a small chapel open, and evidently used by pilgrims as (unusually) there was a bench to sit on and some books about the VF. We wondered why more of these buildings have not been adapted to provide shelter and rest for long distance walkers as they are otherwise unused and mostly unloved too.

A pleasant path along an old railway track between trees gave us some welcome respite from the incessant brisk south-westerly wind. This was where Tom saw a red squirrel.

Out into the open again, we trudged on along small country roads and tracks, heads down against the wind. Finding somewhere sheltered to have our lunch was difficult, but we eventually found another short stretch of sunken road with a small grassy bank to sit on. We hunkered down just about out of the wind to eat our sandwiches and drink warm soup.

The rain which had been threatening all morning then started, so we donned wet weather gear and got going again. Down the road we found another, slightly larger, chapel which appeared to be in the process of being restored. It was built before 1636 on land allocated to isolate people with ‘pestilence’ and those suspected of being contagious, presumably during one of the many outbreaks of bubonic plague which swept through Europe at that time. There were a couple of benches inside the chapel but as they were riddled with woodworm we decided to sit on the stone steps instead.

At the next village there were two more small military cemeteries, again linked to the offensives in August 1918. At Gomiecourt South are the graves of 206 British and Commonwealth soldiers and 27 Germans.

Outside the last village of the day, Sapignies, we visited one of the few German cemeteries in this area, the majority being French or Commonwealth. There are differences in approach, in that the Commonwealth cemeteries are laid out with Portland stone headstones, naming each individual, their age, regiment, and the date they died. The grass is manicured with a small number of colourful plants alongside the graves and sometimes a tree or two. By contrast, the German cemetery was laid with black iron crosses, one for 4 individuals, with trees, no flowers, and more natural looking grass. In this cemetery 1550 German soldiers are buried.

A final stretch of farm track brought us into Bapaume, though not before the rain set in again to hasten our steps the last kilometre to get to our hotel for the night before getting completely soaked.

Highlights of the day? The cemeteries, really. They cause one to reflect on how fortunate we are to have lived through a time of relative peace.

We discovered that our hotel was the oldest building on the Grand Place, which is itself a marvel of rows of grand Flemish style houses originally built in the 1400s. We learned later that all of it had to be rebuilt after WW1 when 80% of Arras was razed to the ground, including eventually the town’s famous bell tower, after no less than 69 shell strikes.

The morning’s outing was to the Carrieres Wellington located just outside the city centre, as this had been recommended to us by several people. It turned out to be an excellent choice.

To set the context, there had been stalemate on the western front from 1914 to 1916, with very little change in positions despite several great and now infamous battles. By 1917 the Allies were looking for ways to break the stalemate and came up with a plan for a diversionary attack around Arras to allow the French to make advances further south at Chemins des Dames. Having identified disused tunnels underneath Arras which had been used as limestone quarries in medieval times, the plan was to mine the tunnels further out under the enemy lines, to hold 22,000 troops underground, out of sight, to surface at an appointed time and take the enemy by surprise.

A company of miners from North Island, New Zealand miners was brought in to develop the tunnels and prepare the space to hold the troops. The tunnels became known by the names of towns left behind: Wellington, Nelson and Blenheim (interestingly two South Island names).

Using hand picks, the Kiwi miners worked in teams through 24/7 for 6 months, opening up tunnels in the soft limestone (hard chalk) at the rate of 80 metres a day – which is phenomenal – the job was completed in time for the attack on 9 April 1917. Apparently the New Zealanders refused to pause their work to salute the British officers on grounds that it used up valuable time. They had to put up with the snub to get the work done!

Once completed, the tunnels were set up for vast numbers of troops to eat, sleep, and get ready for the forthcoming battle. It was damp and uncomfortable, but much safer than approaching the enemy frontline on the surface.

History relates that despite initial successes, there were heavy losses and no real progress was made after a German counter attack. Sadly, the French attack further south – for which this attack had been a diversion – was unsuccessful.

All in all, the exhibition was very well thought out and well presented. We would heartily recommend it!

After lunch and a short siesta we set out to see the cathedral, but once again found it closed, despite information to the contrary on its website. Fortunately the Information Centre had a VF pilgrim stamp so we got those done. As is often the way, the city council offices are housed in the Belfry, one of the most beautiful buildings in the centre. As with everywhere in the centre, it had to be rebuilt after WW1.

Around the corner we found an open church which turned out to be well used and had some interesting features, including a painting by Rubens and a statue of St Benoit of Amettes who is popular throughout this area.

And then there was the window shopping for Easter chocolates!