April 22: La Grande Montée

As is the way in spring, in good farming country, today was 8 degrees with cold, persistent rain. By the time we arrived in Sauges this afternoon, we were soaked through. The sky cleared for a few hours, so we sat on the sunny side of the street nursing a succession of short coffees. By the time our homestay opened, we were mostly dry, with mostly normal body temperature (although I headed for a blessedly hot shower just to get my core back up. It was perfect).

Our gîte yesterday really had “doing the bare minimum” energy. Our “host” was more concerned about making sure shoes were off and lights out, than with welcome. There bare duvets on the beds in the bare dorm rooms; automatic lights that turned off too quickly, until they didn’t (looking at you, bathroom light that stayed on all night); somewhat creepy signs explaining the obvious cost-savings as “environmental”.

Dinner was a single sausage per guest, plus a pile of potatoes. Not even an omelette, I got two cold, hardboiled eggs. We all made the best of the evening, which was hard, as wine was extra (! in France!). But, breakfast left everyone disgruntled: a single jug of “church coffee” for the entire group; orange squash (not juice); store-bought jams (on which our French companions poured scorn) and a limited number of baguette slices. The group repeatedly “stormed” the kitchen to demand (and then just take) more bread and coffee. Feeding a French crowd poorly is a major “faux pas”!

Anyhow, today’s homestay is the cure: cosy rooms with wooden floors and antique furniture. We are to assemble for “aperitifs” at 7pm in the shared sitting room before going into dinner together.

Today’s walk was stunning (albeit wet, cold and stunning). We walked down the wall of the gorge to the Allier river, which we crossed by an iron bridge, beside the 1950s-built hydroelectric plant. We climbed back up to the other rim, passed a (locked) rock chapel to the Madeleine, nestled under a vast basalt overhang. We climbed on, even after cresting the gorge: first through old-growth forest, bouncy underfoot; then across heath, all rocks, tussocks and ground covering plants. We continued to switchback, even through the sodden farmland: edging around fields, being channeled through villages that failed to offer any kind of café or shelter. At breakfast, everyone expressed their fear of “la grande montée”. With hindsight, we feel that was overstated, but not unfair. My watch shows 780m of elevation gained (also expressed as 101 flights of stairs).

Two days in, we are experiencing the Le Puy Way as highly communal (no locks on the doors, required socializing), yet serviced by people who offer hospitality only on their own terms. It seems a lifestyle endeavour before a commercial one. On the Camino Frances, they’ll take your money whenever, in a variety of informal, solicitous ways. Here, they offer the products on the list, available only at the printed times.