- Time of past OR future Camino
- Pamplona to Santiago (2013)
Le Puy to Pamplona in segments (2013 - 2016)
Pamplona to León
After reading very positive reviews, I decided to opt for a bit of luxury at La Truite Dorée in Vers. Very comfortable room and the food was also very good. But I missed the family style meals that I had enjoyed every other day of my hike. As good as the food was, the overall experience fell short of my meals in gites and chambres d'hôtes.
My last day started in light rain, only the second day of rain during my fourteen days of walking. However it was to be a short day of only 16 or so kilometers to Cahors, so my spirits were high. I crossed the Lot River and climbed a long hill. I remember remarking to myself, at the top of this hill, that the signage was quite good. I followed a sign for Arcambal and the trail continued to climb. It was a rocky trail now dampened by rain and my eyes were more or less glued to the trail to prevent a fall. No one else was on the trail. At some point I realized that there were no blazes. Had I missed a turn? I continued because I felt I was going in the right general direction. The trail passed through very desolate country - just woods and an occasional abandoned or uninhabited farm building. I knew I was off the GR46 because there were no blazes at all. After about an hour I arrived at a small village. I first tried to request help at a farm where construction work appeared to be ongoing. No one answered my hail. Then I arrived in front of a house with a dog in the yard which barked loud and long. The dog was fenced in, so I waited to see if someone would appear. A woman poked her head out of the door of the house and I hailed her. She put a scarf on and came to the gate. I told her in French that I had lost my way and that I was looking for the chemin to Arcambal and Cahors. Just pass in front of my house, straight ahead, then keep to the left and when you come to, at this point she used a word I did not understand, it was not "carrefour" or "intersection", you turn toward Arcambal. Is there a sign there?, I asked. Oh yes. So off I went.
"Off" in this case meant another 45 minutes of walking with no signage of any kind indicating Arcambal or Cahors. But eventually I spotted the white over red balisage. I followed the blazes on this trail another 45 minutes by which time I should have been close to the Lot River if I had been walking on the GR46. But the river valley was nowhere in sight and so I knew that I was on another trail. A half hour later I came to another village, larger than the first. It was lunchtime and I heard people talking in a home close to the road. I hailed but no one answered. I walked a bit further and flagged down a motorist and repeated my "I've lost the way. How do I get to Cahors?" "Easy...turn around and go back to the stream. Turn left before the stream."
I turned around and started heading for the stream. But almost immediately a man emerged from the house where I had hailed and asked me if I needed help. I repeated myself: "I've lost the way and I'm looking for the GR to Cahors." "It's the other way, turn around and walk about 300 meters to the lake. There are signs there." And he said one more thing which comforted me, "Vous n'êtes pas la seule," meaning I was not the first person to have wound up lost in Aujols, the name of the town in which I found myself.
The lake was really a pond next to a roundabout. There were, indeed, markers. The first indicated Cahors 12 km back the way I had hiked. The second indicated the GR65 was 4.6 km in the opposite direction. A third sign was a road sign indicating Cahors via the D911 in an easterly direction. My instinct told me Cahors was to the west and none of these signs pointed in that direction. There was a Mairie just off the roundabout, but it was locked - lunchtime. I cogitated. I tried to flag down a motorist or two, but the cars were travelling too quickly. I looked at a map at a bus stop shelter. Still unsure I twice tried to locate someone at a chambre d'hôtes (L'Oustalet) behind the Mairie. On my second attempt, the owner came to the door and for the fourth time that day I repeated my tired lines and my desire to get back on the GR for Cahors. This very kind woman's name was Mme. Laville and she started describing for me a shortcut which headed in the direction I thought to be west. Something in my affect might have caused her to change her mind and she said, "It would be easier if I just take you in my car." And that is what she did - about 6 kilometers. I saw the sign for the GR and there was the only hiker I would see that day heading up the hill from the road. I thanked Mme. Laville again. Profusely. The sign said Cahors 11+ km, but I knew that I was on track again.
The rain had stopped by this point. I caught up with my fellow hiker but our conversation was brief. He struggled on the uphill and I left him with a "Bon chemin". The sun came out. A light breeze came up. My raingear dried and I put them in my pack. I walked the rest of the way in a T-shirt and shorts considering the kindness of Mme. Laville and the many wonderful interactions with others I had hiked with or dined with. It was a great way to finish my fourteenth day of hiking.
My last day started in light rain, only the second day of rain during my fourteen days of walking. However it was to be a short day of only 16 or so kilometers to Cahors, so my spirits were high. I crossed the Lot River and climbed a long hill. I remember remarking to myself, at the top of this hill, that the signage was quite good. I followed a sign for Arcambal and the trail continued to climb. It was a rocky trail now dampened by rain and my eyes were more or less glued to the trail to prevent a fall. No one else was on the trail. At some point I realized that there were no blazes. Had I missed a turn? I continued because I felt I was going in the right general direction. The trail passed through very desolate country - just woods and an occasional abandoned or uninhabited farm building. I knew I was off the GR46 because there were no blazes at all. After about an hour I arrived at a small village. I first tried to request help at a farm where construction work appeared to be ongoing. No one answered my hail. Then I arrived in front of a house with a dog in the yard which barked loud and long. The dog was fenced in, so I waited to see if someone would appear. A woman poked her head out of the door of the house and I hailed her. She put a scarf on and came to the gate. I told her in French that I had lost my way and that I was looking for the chemin to Arcambal and Cahors. Just pass in front of my house, straight ahead, then keep to the left and when you come to, at this point she used a word I did not understand, it was not "carrefour" or "intersection", you turn toward Arcambal. Is there a sign there?, I asked. Oh yes. So off I went.
"Off" in this case meant another 45 minutes of walking with no signage of any kind indicating Arcambal or Cahors. But eventually I spotted the white over red balisage. I followed the blazes on this trail another 45 minutes by which time I should have been close to the Lot River if I had been walking on the GR46. But the river valley was nowhere in sight and so I knew that I was on another trail. A half hour later I came to another village, larger than the first. It was lunchtime and I heard people talking in a home close to the road. I hailed but no one answered. I walked a bit further and flagged down a motorist and repeated my "I've lost the way. How do I get to Cahors?" "Easy...turn around and go back to the stream. Turn left before the stream."
I turned around and started heading for the stream. But almost immediately a man emerged from the house where I had hailed and asked me if I needed help. I repeated myself: "I've lost the way and I'm looking for the GR to Cahors." "It's the other way, turn around and walk about 300 meters to the lake. There are signs there." And he said one more thing which comforted me, "Vous n'êtes pas la seule," meaning I was not the first person to have wound up lost in Aujols, the name of the town in which I found myself.
The lake was really a pond next to a roundabout. There were, indeed, markers. The first indicated Cahors 12 km back the way I had hiked. The second indicated the GR65 was 4.6 km in the opposite direction. A third sign was a road sign indicating Cahors via the D911 in an easterly direction. My instinct told me Cahors was to the west and none of these signs pointed in that direction. There was a Mairie just off the roundabout, but it was locked - lunchtime. I cogitated. I tried to flag down a motorist or two, but the cars were travelling too quickly. I looked at a map at a bus stop shelter. Still unsure I twice tried to locate someone at a chambre d'hôtes (L'Oustalet) behind the Mairie. On my second attempt, the owner came to the door and for the fourth time that day I repeated my tired lines and my desire to get back on the GR for Cahors. This very kind woman's name was Mme. Laville and she started describing for me a shortcut which headed in the direction I thought to be west. Something in my affect might have caused her to change her mind and she said, "It would be easier if I just take you in my car." And that is what she did - about 6 kilometers. I saw the sign for the GR and there was the only hiker I would see that day heading up the hill from the road. I thanked Mme. Laville again. Profusely. The sign said Cahors 11+ km, but I knew that I was on track again.
The rain had stopped by this point. I caught up with my fellow hiker but our conversation was brief. He struggled on the uphill and I left him with a "Bon chemin". The sun came out. A light breeze came up. My raingear dried and I put them in my pack. I walked the rest of the way in a T-shirt and shorts considering the kindness of Mme. Laville and the many wonderful interactions with others I had hiked with or dined with. It was a great way to finish my fourteenth day of hiking.
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