Eva on the Via Francigena (and beyond)

Song of the Day: The Weight — The Band

“I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin’ ‘bout half past dead / Just need some place, where I can rest my head / “Hey Mister, can you tell me where a man can find a bed?” / He just grinned and shook my hand, and “no” was all he said”

The opening lines to this song are my favorite part of the song, and some of my favorite lyrics. I love how it paints the picture of the weary traveler caught in a surrealist version of a (Biblical?) small town.

I started listening to this song on repeat in the summer of 2016, while feeding the pigs and scrubbing toilets on an agriturismo (farm / B&B) outside of Perugia, in central Italy. And it feels like the song has been coming back to me the past few days. Getting off the ferry in Calais, I was waiting in line between two young (maybe early 20s) musicians carrying their instruments. One of them referenced The Band, the other hadn’t heard of them. I wanted to jump in — “you’ve never heard of The Band??” but restrained myself. A few days later, sitting down to write a blog post, I got the notification that Robbie Robertson had died. And these past few days, Spotify’s algorithm seems determined to ensure I listen to it every time I open the app.

I didn’t sleep very well in the gite last night — my room had no air circulation, and I went to bed warm, even though I was only tucked into my thin sleeping bag liner. But I then woke up at 1am freezing cold, in search of a blanket (unclear if it was clean – the sheets did not seem freshly laundered) to layer over the bag liner. Given the broken sleep, I very slowly started to get ready: doing my stretches (my bad hip was starting to ache again, as I slept on it weirdly in Peronne, or maybe Bapaume), packing up my clothes, etc. I went down to breakfast with Krista and Hubert, the owner of the gite. Over bread, butter, and mint tea, we discussed plans for the day. Hubert told us that he had hosted his first pilgrims in 1996, a group of Brits and Italians laying the original VF track. He still had photos, and he showed us an Italian newspaper from the 90’s discussing their trip. Very cool! Hard to imagine people undertaking this journey in the ‘90s without the benefit of GPS or an official route, though of course medieval pilgrims had even fewer options in terms of navigation (and at least ‘90s pilgrims had quick-dry clothing!).

After finishing up packing, Krista and I headed out together out of Trefcon. The way was extremely flat, and even though we got a later start than typical — we were probably on the move by 8:45 or so — it was still cool and we had the sun in our eyes as we walked. We continued on for a few kilometers, talking about politics and work, before our paths diverged: she was off to St. Quentin and then home to Belgium, I was taking a shortcut to Seraucourt. We said our goodbyes and bade each other a safe walk, and then I was on my own again. I would miss having a familiar face and the company at our various accommodations. The first half of the day was easy — extremely flat, more fields, not much new to say about the day. I got into Etreillers, with its impressive (and locked) church, with no issues — unfortunately though the town has two cafes, both are closed on Mondays. I paused for a bit in the park before continuing on to my next stop, Roupy. The town seemed almost completely deserted, so I sat on the steps of the church to air out my feet and eat the orange I had been carrying since Arras. The last few days, all the churches have looked similar in their brickwork (probably a function of them being rebuilt postwar). But while Etreillers had a large stone church with what is probably a lovely a rose window, the Roupy church had a steeple which made interesting use of negative space (see below).

Around this time I realized my bad hip was really starting to hurt as I walked. I tried various stretches, but nothing seemed to provide much relief. Thankfully, I have some time off in Reims coming up, and I only had an hour to go, so I had nothing to do but push on.

After more field walking, including a frustrating path that tracked two sides of a triangle in order to avoid the busier road, I finally had to walk into Seraucourt-le-Grand via the D-road. I’m learning a bit about French roadways through this trip: the A-roads are like the Italian Autostrada — big, multi-lane highways. D-roads are the smaller arteries connecting many towns. In general, it seems like those with 2-digit numbers (e.g., the D33) tend to be busier thoroughfares, and those with 3 digit numbers tend to be the quieter backroads. But I have yet to confirm this theory. Anyway, this was a 2-digit D road, but unlike the road into Peronne, I had good visibility and cars generally gave me good berth. Hip aching, I made it into Seraucourt in one piece, and finding the campsite entrance locked, snuck in alongside a van that was pulling in.

Tonight I am staying in a campervan at the Seraucourt campgrounds — and I have to say, the combination of the shorter day and the accomodations have been delightful. I arrived at around 12:30, checked in and got my stamp, and spent an hour or so unpacking my bag and reading my book (The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, which I devoured in 2 days). I swung by the pool for a quick dip, and the central building for a shower before heading back to the campervan to read and stay out of the sun. It’s been fantastic having so much time — I hardly know what to do with myself — and I’ve spent it mostly hanging out, trying to stretch my aching hip, and exploring the campgrounds with an ice cream in hand. The grounds back onto the Somme river, so there are some lovely views from the walking paths. But I’m also content to sit at my patio table outside the camper and read. Time seems to move more slowly here with not much to do other than relax (fifteen minute increments marked by the church bells, which bizarrely toll in a minor key) and scope out the other vans. There are people here from France (obviously), but also Belgium, the Netherlands, and the UK. Lots of families and retired couples — everyone seems happy to be here.

Final mileage: 9.27 mi
Walking time: 3h 45m
Elevation gain: 217ft

Accommodation: The pilgrim gite at the Campground Vivier au Carpes. You must arrive after noon and depart before 9am (both easily done for a pilgrim, especially those who do the full stage which passes through Saint-Quentin). For 37 euro, you have the private campervan to yourself, plus access to the grounds (and pool) which also have a bar / restaurant. What more could a pilgrim need? Additionally, everything can be booked online yourself, without needing to go back and forth via email, and the staff speak impeccable English.