Walked another 42 kilometres, from St. Alban-sur-Limignole to Nasbinals, and live to tell the tale. But only just. Bringing the total to 117 kilometres.
In the little guidebook I have the walk today was marked as easy. It might have been easy in the summer, and it might not have helped that I basically walked two ‘easy walks’, but I definitely didn’t find it easy. The day started with sun, which was welcome because I hadn’t seen any yesterday. But around noon there was snow, and worse, a vile wind that was bitter cold and straight in my face. Not the best day to choose an extra lengthy track.
Everything is relative though. In a brochure I read, they told that the average pelerin these days walks 20-25 kilometres a day. In the Middle Ages, research shows, the average distance was much higher. Reviewing a few different journeys to Santiago, they found out that the average distance was a brisk 59 kilometres. On some days they even walked 95 kilometres. And then they wrote that they used horses.
There was plenty of time for some nonsense thoughts at this long day. Passing another statue of St. Foch the saint for walkers, I urged him to plead to God that he irons out all the wrinkles in the landscape between here and Santiago. It should be possible. We’re at about 1200 metres here, Santiago is about 0, if ironed smoothly it would create a nice path. Every kilometre we would go down about a metre. It’s not noticeable downhill, but I guess that with some roller skates or a skateboard one could reach Santiago in a few days.
But then, I figured, It was a highly unlikely scenario to happen. Think about all the compensation costs that would have to be paid for all those homeowners whose house would disappear in the process. That could never be paid with a toll on pilgrims for who the trip would be a lot easier. It might make the trip less attractive then. Part of the fun is in the challenge, of course.
These statues of St.Foch are a hoot. He’s in pilgrim clothes (long coat, stick, funny hat) and lifts up his tunic to show part of his upper left leg. Quite sexy in fact, just like the dancing girls at The Moulin Rouge act. But what he shows are the early signs of the Plague, of which he would die. Foch was a doctor who went on a pilgrimage somewhere in the Middle Ages. At a certain village in Italy he passed, the plague had broken out. Instead of walking on, as his fellow pilgrims did, Foch thought of his role as a doctor and started helping the victims. In the process he got infected. Saintly behaviour indeed.
I have plenty of time to think about pains, much less serious ones luckily. On monday I felt some sharp needle like injections in my left knee. Tuesday it was my right shin that was acting up. Wednesday it was my left shoulder, and today my right knee wanted to make sure I was aware of its presence. With all these things it helps not to think about it. There have been long stretches where I was not aware of any pain. But then I would think; Hey I don’t feel my shoulder anymore, and immediately the pain shots would be back. There is a lot of psychology in physics.
Anyway, we will struggle on. 1405 kilometres to go.
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