Conques

We left Conques at 8:15 along with everyone we knew - the Australians and the Americans - but stopped at the Englishman's stall. He reassured us the climb up was not too bad. Just 15m down the street (made of schist, not cobblestones or tar) one could look up and see the cross of the Chapelle-St- Foy, which was a tiny church almost at the top, and it was not too far away. It had a bell that people rang to show they had made it.

Despite the nearness, it was a tough climb in the light rain. The path was mostly chiselled in solid rock, so the water was running down rather than creating bogs, and it is easier to avoid rivulets than it is the step through mud.. We reached the chapel in about 25-30 mins, and the end of the long hill after 50 mins. The rest of the day was mainly across gentle slopes and farmlands, but the light rain did not ease up until midday, and it was accompanied by a cold gale. Sometimes we looked forward to a climb because it meant being protected, and getting feeling back in all 10 fingers again.

Ignoring the weather, it was green all around, with the occasional herd of cows watching us walk by. There were good views sometimes when the clouds broke, but the challenge was underfoot: the path was either roads (which were hard but fine) or squelchy mud. It was usually possible to walk around the edges of the boggy sections, but it was slow, and annoying to have to look down so much. In the afternoon we met a few people who walked the last half of the 20 or so km down the road, saying there was no joy in sloshing through mud with numb hands and wet clothes.

There will be a textile one day that solves the issue, but most people have ponchos covering themselves and backpack, waterproof jackets and separate waterproof backpack covers. They all keep the rain out, but going up long hills, even in sleet, makes you hot and sweaty, and under all the waterproofing, nothing evaporates. Having said that, I was glad we were not doing some of the hills in 30 degrees and laden down by extra litres of water.

We arrived in Decazeville around 1:30. It is a large and definitely not thriving industrial town (ie featureless and bland, like the outskirts of cities all over the world) that is spread out along the river. The hotel was almost on the trail, so we found it very quickly. The manager (part of the family running it, who spoke great English having once done 4 months in hotels in NZ), let us in after several minutes of consternation about us not having a booking. That was resolved when he realised they were all looking at reservations on the wrong day. Much laughter.

Our bags had not arrived, so we went up, took off the rain gear and set forth to find lunch. Somewhere along the trail we clearly offended a French spirit, because every boulangerie within a km of the hotel was shut, either permanently or because it was Thursday, or just because. There were numerous beauty shops, vaping shops, real estate agents and the odd tattoo parlour, but no food stores… go figure. We gave up the hunt when we found a table-less Carrefours. Baguettes and cheese in hand, plus something for the 31km walk tomorrow, we went back to the hotel. Our bags had arrived, so warm showers, dry clothes and lunch, with the benefit of Nico's Swiss knife (which had naturally been in the bag that was checked in and therefore not around until the last two days).

The Hotel Malpel is okay. 1. Bright room and good wifi. 2. View is a bit run-down industrial. 3. Lugging bags up two flights of stairs (but two bags to lug, so no complaining). 4. Good dinner 5. Friendly staff. 6 Controllable heater, but no coffee/tea.6. Grim bathroom, with a hint of mould

32,173 steps, 25.9km, 124 flightsRead more