May 14: Rain, rain go away...

The forecast was AWFUL today! But, in the event, we had a not-terrible experience. We started the day in our plastic rain pants (for the first time this trip) and went out into the rain. Our hostess rolled her eyes sympathetically and wished us luck.

It rained for an hour and a half, then cleared. At one point, we were in our t-shirts enjoying the sunshine. Then, a bitter shower swept through, swiftly followed by another. We fought the wind putting our rain gear back on, seconds before it really hit. We took advantage of the following lull to push on to La Romieu, the last village before our gîte and raced the next squall to the only open bar. We sat in their charming wood-and-stone cloister and watched the heavens open over a small beer. It was drumming down. We were not seduced by the brief bluing of the sky and waited out another shower, this one with thunder and lightning and finally headed out for the last 3km to our homestay.

The final part of the walk was lovely – a melé of a sky, with blue and sunshine wrestling with glowering, saturated clouds, raining all around (but not on) us. The day warmed and, as we were walking on a small road, our boots dried out. We arrived at our homestay: a lovely complex of old stone houses, very charming – with no wifi, cellular-blocking walls. Once our host lit the woodburning stove, the gîte sitting area warmed up beautifully. We sat together enjoying the cosiness. There were 6 rooms on the property. We shared a sitting room (with the fire) and went up to “the big house” for dinner.

Our elegant, older hosts live a vegan lifestyle and offer a vegan cooking school. The meal was delicious – a beautifully-dressed salad with vegan goat’s cheese; a vegan molé, with chocolate and a date and coffee dessert, topped with a lovely chocolate and vegan butter ganache. Everyone cleared their plates, except a Swiss woman who asked “where’s the protein in this?” (beans, corn and soy) and was clearly unimpressed with the plant-forward offerings.

To make things even better, we were sat with 2 retired French nurses, who explained that they “wanted to practice their English”, which was very kind and made our evening engaging and friendly, rather than stressful.

The faces along the way (and at dinner) are consolidating. We now pass 10 – 12 people we recognise daily. They are all pilgrims. Most are doing a week or two annually to complete the way over a number of years. I am in awe of that kind of commitment. Talking to them, I am coming to understand the camino’s transformative power. I don’t perceive its working on me (though I am sure it is). But, to imagine planning your life around, say, a decade of walking the camino: that is extraordinary. Everyone speaks about the difference between “walking” and “pilgrimage”. It is real, but difficult to distil or define.