France
Saturargues

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    • Day 4–5

      Never Let Your Gard Down

      June 7 in France ⋅ ☁️ 81 °F

      Day 3: Vauvert- Saturargues, 24 kms
      Total kms walked: 64 kms/ 92 kms
      Kms left to Montpellier: 28 kms

      We lingered over breakfast at our guesthouse, and left a bit later than was typical. From Vauvert, we were en route to Saturargues; today's walk was slated to be the trip's longest, at 24 kms. But it was also guaranteed to (FINALLY) lead us through multiple French villages, as we exited the Gard region and the Camargue, and walked into the Herault region.

      After two hours of walking, we came upon our first village: Codognan. Upon first glance, it seemed to be a perfect little rural French town. But as we walked in, from the outer lookalike suburbs into the old city, we noticed that the suburbs held the only signs of life, and mainly as cars. The lovely old city's narrow streets were filled mainly with construction activity. Sidewalks were being improved, new but medieval-looking light fixtures were being installed, and all the old stone buildings had a fresh coast of lemony paint. We guessed that Codognan's old city had been abandoned for the suburbs decades ago, but with the resurgence of Camino tourism, they were attempting a rebirth. We'd seen this in Vauvert as well- it makes me happy to see the Camino bringing life back into these lovely villages.

      We followed the signs to the only café in Codognan, the properly French-named Café de la Place. It was on the town's main square, with a perfect French terrace and a red awning. Expecting a similar interior, I walked inside to order café au laits to discover...an extremely American biker bar, complete with the owner's giant Harley parked near the entrance. I was a bit surprised, but luckily the burly biker-owner and his friends at the bar were gracious and welcoming. So, umm, Codognan was interesting.

      A few hours later, we arrived at our lunch stop, and what felt to me like a perfect little French village: Gallargues-le-Montueux. It sat atop a hill, with the town square at the very top. The square itself was filled with small shops and outdoor cafés, and we chose a brasserie with a small but delicious-smelling menu. We ordered the daily special: Roasted camembert cheese to start, and a chicken Caesar salad as the main dish...and a pichet of local rosé, of course. We were speechless when we were EACH served an entire wheel of camembert. To me, even sharing a single wheel between two people is not the wisest decision. And when I gave up and tapped out, it looked as if I'd barely made a dent in my wheel. But then the salads arrived, in literal massive serving bowls. I luvs me a big salad, but even I couldn't eat an entire head of lettuce in a sitting. And while dessert was part of the menu (and featured my favorite French dessert, café gourmand), I was about two bites from a Mr. Creosote explosion (that's an old-school Monty Python reference), and declined. I will note that Matt somehow had the intestinal fortitude to order sorbet.

      I could barely walk upright after that delicious but ginormous meal, but we only had a few hours left to walk. All week, the weather has been cloudy and temperate in the mornings, but clearing up to thick heat and humidity in the afternoons. So at 3:30pm, as we were departing the Gard region and crossing into the Herault region in the hottest part of the day, we took a much-needed break. We had just a few kilometers left to go, and congratulated ourselves on a great day's walk. We were just about done for the day!

      The Camino markers led us onto a park trail for the final three kilometers. We assumed we'd be at our guesthouse in thirty minutes. But then the path began to climb, the dirt path became large, sharp, slick rocks, narrowing to a single file clifftop ridge, and we suddenly found ourselves Hiking with a capital H. Our clothes were soaked with sweat from the heat, the going was slow and frankly, treacherous, and I was reminded once again that the Camino is a metaphor for life: one moment you're eating a fabulous meal, and assuming the hard parts are over, and the next you're sweating up a clifftop and just hoping to get down in one piece.

      The view was pretty, though. I'm not saying I would voluntarily consent to that hike, however.

      We finally reached our guesthouse over two hours later. The owner took one look at our sweaty, dusty, exhausted selves and pointed us to the pool.

      Tomorrow we walk to Vendargues!
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    Saturargues, 34400

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