We’ll, we carried our backpacks to Cohor, but that days hike, like today didn’t offer any photo ops. We had a terrible dinner, because the town is overrun with tourist. The highlight of the day was that they did have a Pilgrims Mass and blessing at the Cathedral, but the priest told Monica, she should try and speak French. He was perfectly fluent in English but other than his comment to Monica spoke only French.
Interesting, we have heard it all along the way, but again tonite a Frenchman, indicated the real original Pilgrimage was in France, and he wanted to know why only the British and Americans want to walk in Spain. In France it is called “The Chemin de St. Jacques,” OK, SO WHERE WAS St. Jacque going? Maybe to Santiago de Compostela, which happens to be in Spain. Mon adieu, these French are so French.
Over the last couple of days, we saw a Japanese couple, but until yesterday hadn’t spoken to them. Yesterday we caught up with them, and they were very surprised when I greeted them in Japanese. I have to compliment them, they really hike in a relaxed manner. They walk 5 or 6km, then stop and sit down, look at the view, read, journal,listen to music. At one point they were walking along, and they walk fairly fast, but they had A Japanese flautist playing on their IPad. They go home in a couple of days.
The first half of today’s walk was not to difficult as we past miles of fields and woods that were posted as hunting reserves. The second half could rival the Meseta of Spain, flat, oppressive heat, no shade, no trees, for too many miles we walked along fields of harvested sunflowers, just the broken stocks sticking up almost to the horizon.
Today when we stopped for a snack in a village that had no cafe, shops, nothing, just houses and a church, when along came another Pilgrim. His first words to us was,”where is the beer?” After miles of walking along these parched trails, the promise of a village and a cold drink, is all you can think about. Here was a village that could have been a painting, absolutely flat and dead. We still had 10km to go
for the day, the young man was French, but lived on the border of Belgium,he left us to our snack and went on. We shortly got going again, and after entering the village where we are spending the night, here comes the young man from behind us so we finally went together to the bar for beers.
We are spending tonite in an overpriced Gite, in Montcuq.