After a cordial breakfast with my host, Pascal, I was on the road by 08:30. But before I tell you more about my day, I am going to explain something about French home ownership that Pascal taught me, and which I am still trying comprehend.

It began when I asked him about the scaffolding all round his house. He reeled off a huge list of works, and I made some comment about the being expensive but worth doing in the long run. He said, “Oh, it’s not me that’s paying, it’s the proprietor.” I said had understood it was his family home. He said indeed it was, but he had entered into an agreement with a purchaser, in which, according to the value of the property, an amount of money is deposited in, well, the word he used was a “bouquet”. Pascal retains the right to live there for life, and is also paid an annuity monthly out of the pot. The purchaser takes on all the responsibility for maintaing and upgrading the property.  Apparently, this is a common system in France. Can anyone explain to me how this makes sense from the purchaser’s point of view?

It was a dry morning, but with low cloud. I had got about 1.5kms out of the village when a car drew up and the window came down. It was a young woman with small children, wanting to know if I was on the Camino. I said I was, and she gave me a cheery “Bonne route!” as she drove off.

All along the route in this part of France have been newly-planted little groups of fruit trees – I must have passed a dozen or so – such a creative idea.

Walking was steeply uphill through woods for quite a long time. When eventually I reached the top I was greeted by this sight.:

A rather charming resting place. But the gap in the hedge beyond was, the information board told me, the ancient border between the medieval Principality of Béarn and the Kingdom of  Navarre. The latter was a trans-Pyreneen kingdom, the French side being known as Basse-Navarre. Walking through, I said goodbye to Béarn, which I have loved, and felt the pull of the mountains. Certainly, the architecture started to change. The Béarnaise flared roofs gave way quite rapidly to housing that can only be described as chalets. Low sloping roof with overhangs, balconies etc

The day was, at that point, too overcast for great views, but the mountains are ever-present. After a while, the path led out onto minor roads. I passed through no centres of population, and saw no one. About 2.5kms outside Saint-Palais the route turned onto a trail along the route of a former railway – I could have been on the Southwell trail!

It led me all the way to the outskirts of town. As I am staying in a hostel that doesn’t provide an evening meal (some do, some don’t), I had my main meal at midday here –

And very good it was, too.

In positive foot news, my right foot is coping well with what is being asked of it. I spent a good bit of the afternoon working out potential stopping points in Spain, and even tried to ring one place to book a bed in my shaky Spanish. Having got my head round what I wanted to say, I was disappointed when no one answered!

Apart from that, I booked in at the hostel, did some washing, which all dried fast in afternoon sun (when you travel light to have to do this as often as you can!), went out for some picnic bits, had a rest, and talked to family.

This is likely to be the very last of the wonderful days of solitude I have experienced on the 900 kms from Vézelay. Tomorrow this chemin, merges with two others, the Chemin de Tours, and the popular Chemin du Puy-en-Velay. They meet at a place where there is a thing called the Gibraltar Stone. Photos will be available tomorrow. I will miss the quietness and beauty, but there will be people to meet and much to learn in the next phase!