Eva on the Via Francigena (and beyond)

Song of the Day: Dreams — The Cranberries

”And oh my life, is changing every day, in every possible way…”

I love the orchestration of this song, and it feels like the kind of song that warrants a vista. Luckily, now that I’ve entered the hills just north of Burgundy, I had plenty of vistas for this song today. And for an unexpectedly long day, I was happy to have this song driving me forward.

Today was a surprise long day. I woke up expecting to walk 16 miles and ended up walking almost 19 — of course, this was due to my own decision making, but it does serve as proof that I’ve become a bit more trail-hardened. I would have balked at the idea of walking so much rather casually (i.e., not gearing up for a “big day”) just a few weeks ago. And of course until very recently, the most I had ever walked in a day was 18 miles. Anyway, on to the recap.

I was up a few minutes before my 6am alarm and actually got out of bed without snoozing (!) Given this small win, I let myself prepare for the day rather slowly: refilling my camelback, folding and packing my clothes, etc. I could hear Patrick down the hallway moving around — he had said he would try to leave by 6. I’m not sure what time he actually departed, but by the time I sat down for breakfast of bread and butter he was gone. Krista had planned to depart later in the morning, and Ken & Terry also planned to leave after me (though it sounds like they weren’t going all the way to Langres).

So, in the chilly early morning light — finally, a chance to get more use out of my fleece — I was out and walking the D102 towards Leffonds. Ironically, this was the exact path Chris had driven us yesterday to lunch, though of course my progress today was much slower. For the first few hours I was purposefully evading the VF track, shaving off a few kilometers here and there by using the road. I made it into Leffonds, a sleepy but charming town, in good time — but was starting to deal with a nagging pain in my right leg, that was alternating between my hamstring, knee, and calf. I decided to quickly stop in Leffonds to put on my knee brace and see if that helped.

Out of Leffonds I was back on the road, which was relatively quiet. I was passed first in one direction, and then an hour later the other, by two large blue trucks, the drivers waving at me both times. It was chilly and overcast, and today it was really very clear the changing topography — there were many more hills, and the vistas were a much darker green, with tall conifers sticking out above the stands of trees. I eventually entered a very dense forest and, still a bit nervous following my run-in yesterday, decided to use the bear strategy to ward off boars: singing and talking. Unfortunately, as soon as I had this idea I forgot every song I know — literally, it felt like my brain defaulted to being 5 years old. I ran through a few of the upbeat numbers from the movie White Christmas, and then performed a rousing rendition of “The Lion Sleeps Tonight.” At this point even I was sick of my own singing so I switched to narrating my thoughts out loud for the forest. When I was finally clear of the trees I gladly allowed my internal monologue to be, well, internal again.

Shortly after the woods I entered Faverolles, a deserted farming town. Here I paused for a snack, sitting on a small hill, while a group of cows watched me. I picked back up and headed out onto a small road cutting across pastures, before re-entering the woods, where I met no boars but did see a deer deep in the trees. Eventually I was deposited near a highway, which I crossed on a D-road and made my way into Beauchemin, where I paused for a very early lunch, as I was starving. The town was, of course, deserted, but interestingly the main square had been renovated with big stone benches and a table in the middle. Though I had been overheating a bit in my fleece while walking, as soon as I took the pack off I started to get chilly. I had a quick lunch of the remains of my food supplies, switched socks, and continued on my way.

I had been back on the VF since just after Leffonds at this point, but once again took a shortcut on a D-road out of town on a flat, uninteresting path through fields until I reached the town of Saint-Martin-les-Langres. This was a charming town, with a well-preserved lavoir and, since it sat on a hillside, a view over a valley to another town and a reservoir. Now, here, I had a choice: continue on the more efficient Maps.Me route, or take the official VF route, which was certainly longer, though I wasn’t sure by how much. After some deliberation, I decided that the VF route, which passed alongside the reservoir, must do this for a good reason, and I felt like I had enough energy to exchange more walking for nicer scenery. Even now I can’t decide if I regret this decision or not.

The first thing the VF did was take me down a very steep hill out of Saint-Martin to the valley floor — this was fine as the other route would have had to do the same thing. But then it made me retrace my steps, walking back in the direction I had just come from (only this time now many feet lower). THEN it made be walk back up an equally steep hill to Saint-Ciergues, where the only bar in town was, naturally, closed. Here the VF signs temporarily stopped showing up, and the GPS tracks in the app were poorly marked as well. I managed to find the way again and then had to retrace my steps AGAIN, this time at my original altitude, crossing the dam over the reservoir — which did offer a nice view back to Saint-Martin and over the water. From here I took a right and began an interminable path parallel to the reservoir — a nice view for awhile, but now realizing that I still had hours to go I wanted to get a move on.

Finally turning away from the reservoir, probably about 14 miles in, it was straight uphill again to Perrancey-les-Vieux-Moulins, where I stopped at a bench with an overlook to catch my breath and adjust my knee brace, as my leg was starting to act up again. I decided to take off the brace to let my leg breathe for the next bit…which turned out to be even more uphill, until I was on top of a high plateau covered in more fields. It was interesting how somehow the farmland up here felt different, even though it looked similar to the flat, low, plains of the north. And the clouds hung low, now, making me feel like I was almost in the sky. Trekking along, trying to ignore the pain in my leg, I happened upon a pilgrim coming in the other direction: Jacob, from Germany, headed to Compostela. We chatted for a bit about the Via Francigena and then wished each other Buen Camino and separated. Krista apparently ran into him later, and he confessed he hadn’t understood anything I said — oops.

Around this time I realized that the clouds were hanging even lower, and there were two particularly ominous, dark, pregnant clouds almost directly overhead. I wasn’t too worried about rain, but I really did not want to get caught in a thunderstorm up here. I double-checked the weather online, which suggested a 0% chance of rain and no thunder. The clouds seemed more like isolated rain clouds than storm clouds, but just in case I sped up to get myself back into the forest — from there I would be in the trees, and then in the outskirts of Langres where I could hopefully find shelter if needed.

The forest here was beautiful: dark and mossy and extremely peaceful. It was also, however, downhill — incredibly unfortunate as I knew Langres sat high up on a plateau. But I thought, desperately (delusional?) that perhaps I was already on this plateau, and just needed to descend a bit to the city. However, emerging from the woods, I looked up to see the city’s ramparts looming far up overhead atop another hill— and uttered a series of curses that I won’t repeat here. According to my phone I was only 15 minutes away, all of which were basically straight up. And the clouds were closing in fast. I called my mom quickly to say good morning, and then speed-walked (to the extent possible) my way up the hill. However, I couldn’t outrun nature, and just below the ramparts the rain started to pick up. I sought shelter under a tree to decide if I wanted to fish out my rain fly for my pack or let it pass. It didn’t seem too serious, and sure enough after a few minutes it had lightened enough to keep walking. From there I huffed and puffed my way up the ramparts and through the gate into the city — turning around briefly to admire the view, but generally just ready to sit down. I headed for the Cathedral, who didn’t have stamp, and then gave up.

Luckily I had plans to meet up with David, from England, a pilgrim who has been a few days ahead of me for most of my trip. I’d seen his daily update posts in one of the pilgrim Facebook groups and realized we would probably be crossing paths soon, so we had made plans to meet in Langres. We’d previously exchanged some messages and he had provided very helpful advice about the trail, so it was great to finally meet in person and swap stories about our common experiences at places along the trail. All of this over a very nice glass of red burgundy — a very nice way to end a somewhat brutal day.

I then went to check into my Airbnb: I had treated myself here to a full apartment that has a washer and a dryer. Truly the height of luxury. After a long shower, and an extended back-and-forth between me and the French washing machine, I had a load of clothes going and settled in to catch up on the first half of the F1 race I had missed. Just before 7, I headed to the Carrefour to pick up food for breakfast tomorrow, and then met up with Patrick and Krista at the Hotel de l’Europe bar to celebrate Krista’s last night. It was bittersweet, as this was my last night overlapping with both of them — Krista heads back to Belgium tomorrow, and Patrick continues on toward Besancon (where he and I may cross paths again). I’ll be back to my lonely pilgrim ways soon enough. I’ve really enjoyed the last few days with both of them and will miss our little pilgrim group of three over dinners and drinks.

After dinner and a fond farewell, I headed back to the Airbnb to write, finish the F1, and get some well-deserved rest. Tomorrow will be a proper rest day — I’m hoping the issue with my leg will improve with a day of no walking.

Final mileage: 18.84mi
Walking time: 7h 25m
Elevation gain: 1,230ft

Accommodation: A very nice Airbnb in the center of Langres — breaks the budget a bit, but I think well worth it to finally have actually clean clothes.