Eva on the Via Francigena (and beyond)

Song of the Day: Tangled up in Blue — Bob Dylan

This is probably my favorite Dylan song and has been for a long time. But, it also feels fitting with what I am doing now — the way that most people I meet on this trail I will probably never see again, but some I continue to cross paths with. It’s an interesting phenomenon that makes you really focus much more deeply on your interactions with others, trying to. Enjoy them while they last.

“And when finally the bottom fell out, I became withdrawn / The only thing I knew how to do was to keep on keeping on, like a bird that flew / Tangled up in blue…”

I shared an early breakfast with Claudine and her husband Charlie, bread with butter and their homemade apricot jam, which was absolutely delicious. Outside of the kitchen window I could see the clouds start to turn pink in the early sun. Claudine took a few more photos of me on my way out, and I snapped a photo of her and Charlie with the rising sun. Then I was off toward Busey-le-Gy to rejoin the VF trail.

It was a beautiful morning, cool and clear. I watched the sun rise over the fields as church bells rang out over the valley from Gy’s church. I passed only a few cars, some vines wrapped up to protect from hail (until the phylloxera crisis of the 1860s, this region had been well known for wine), and some cows. I called Nathan to say good morning /goodnight and after 45 minutes or so entered Busey-le-Gy, a charming village with a lovely church sitting high on a hill above town.

My guidebook said that’s today was the day where I would be putting the flat fields permanently in the rear view mirror, a fact I was reminded of as I climbed a steep hill out of town, pausing to take in the view. Finally after a long stint of climbing, I reached the ridge line of the hill, with a view over rolling pastures. I stopped to adjust my socks — the spots of my former blisters are still tender and sensitive, and I’m worried about blisters re-appearing — when I heard a booming sound in the distance. Unlike back in Crepy, when I instantly recognized the sound of gunshots, I wasn’t certain what this was. It was a bit too low to be a gun, I thought — it almost sounded like cannon fire. Either way, it was quite far away, so I determined there was nothing to be done at the moment.

I hung a sharp left along a field and headed into the forest, where I would be following a logging road all along the path to Montboillon. And the influence of the logging industry was immediately clear: while some sections of the forest were dark and dense, many were sparse having already been cleared. All along the route were massive piles of felled trees ready to be turned into lumber, some piles over 10 feet high. The whole area smelled like a Home Depot.

I marched along at a good pace through the forest, skirting around deep muddy patches at times. The booming sounds returned, this time closer to me, and I decided to put on my hi-vis just in case. However I couldn’t be bothered to take off my pack to put on the vest so ended up just draping it across me like a beauty pageant sash. At a certain point I passed some loggers at work, and an old farmer drove by, towing a trailer full of wood.

I finally left the forest and descended into Montboillon, ready for a chance to sit and a snack. I ended up perching by the town’s lavoir to have an oat bar and a peach. I packed up, washed my hands in Montboillon’s prized fountain, and headed up another hill out of town. On the way, an elderly couple came out of their house to say hello, and offered to walk with me until the path’s turn off. We chatted a bit about my planned route and they said they often had pilgrims staying with them on the way to Besancon. At the turnoff they bade me a bonne route and I was out in the sun, which had gotten quite hot though it was not yet 11am. Oh, did I mention there is another heatwave coming? Really, I can’t catch a break!

A quick march through rolling hills of fields, where I was passed by a car with a mother and son in full beekeeper garb, including the net hats, and I was in the village of Etuz. The next stage was a walk on the sidewalk along the main road, across the river Ognon and into Cussey Sur L’Ognon, which had a large supermarket. I realized my time in France was dwindling, and grateful for the excuse to stand in the air conditioning, I bought a new baguette and some cheese to zhuzh up my normal sandwich. (Normally I avoid carrying cheese because I don’t like the idea of it heating up and making my whole pack smell over multiple days).

Sufficiently restocked, I had about an hour and a half until Les Auxons, where I would be catching a train to skip Besancon’s industrial outskirts. I made this decision originally because I wanted to ensure I had a chance to run errands in town on Saturday, as my rest day tomorrow falls on a Sunday when everything is closed. I had forgotten the impending heatwave, but given it was already over 80 degrees before noon, I was very grateful to not have an additional 5 miles or so to walk.

Most of this walk was on a D-road that cut through the forest, twisting and turning over rolling hills. So, it was back to the hi-vis (worn properly this time) and once again I was dialed in to ensure I could hear or see cars coming. I caught up briefly with my dad on a quiet section of this road, and finally arrived in the village of Les Auxons, extremely hot and sweaty. The finally 20 minute walk to the train station was pretty miserable, much of it in the glaring sunlight which was making me start to feel nauseous. Thankfully I was able to make it without incident to the station, where I polished off my water and treated myself to a cold orangina and a box of tic-tacs to supplement my lunch: a fresh baguette with saucisson and Camembert — a meal fit for kings, I think. After another foot inspection — I do feat that the return of the blisters may be imminent, especially as the geography changes — I headed down to the platform to catch my train, a single car over-packed with people. Luckily the ride was only 15 minutes, at which point I took the bus a few stops and made my way to my Airbnb.

After a much-needed shower, I assessed my plan for the day. Originally I had plans for a massage at a Hammam spa not too far from my Airbnb, however I discovered they had emailed me last night to cancel. Disappointed, I looked around for other options and discovered that just around the corner was a spa that offered massages “sans-RDV.” It certainly was not the nicest place — I’m not sure what the inside of a Massage Envy looks like, but I sort of assume this was the same vibe — but they were able to slot me in shortly after I arrived. And while I need more than a 45-minute massage to undo the damage I have done to my legs — my calf muscles in particular are tender to the touch — it was very nice to relax and be pampered for a bit.

Post-massage I went for a quick lap around town despite the heat. I was surprised by how lively Besancon was. There seemed to be a lot of tourists, and it has two parallel high streets lined with interesting boutiques and French brands. I decided to save my sightseeing for tomorrow, but did swing by the post office to pick up a tourist map, where I saw they have signs once again noting the progress on the via Francigena. Canterbury: 640km, Rome: 1050km. Is it possible that I’ve already walked so far? Yes, there have been a few trains involved but even so that means I’ve walked over 500km. I’m simultaneously proud of the accomplish and a bit daunted by the idea of having another 2 months or so ahead of me. Not to mention the minor thing of crossing the Alps!

I met up with Patrick and his daughter, who came to visit him from Kent, for a drink under the shade of a tree in one of Besancon’s plazas. He had done much of the tourist loop already and had helpful advice for my day tomorrow. It was great to catch up on the path so far and really lovely to meet his daughter, who is very fun and interesting. After a drink the three of us planned to get dinner. We walked to a restaurant that seemed highly rated, and were turned away — complet! The next 2 restaurants we tried were also fully booked. I was shocked — even in Reims it was possible to get a table on the spot on a weekend! We eventually walked by a restaurant that had space, and my dinner was a steak tartare, a glass of beaujolais, and — naturally — a chocolate cake for dessert.

By the end of dinner it was after 9 and I was fading fast. I headed back to my Airbnb where I sorted out my accommodation for Monday. I want to walk a bit longer than the recommended stage to get to Ornans, a bigger city with an interesting cultural history, rather than the tiny village suggested by the guidebook (this would also mean I could restock at a grocery store in Ornans and therefore carry less food). I had previously asked the parish about the pilgrim accomodation, but it turns out the parish accommodation is a few kilometers outside of town — while this would be good for shortening my walk, it would be a pain for grocery shopping. So, I paid up for a hotel room (booked through Airbnb as it was the cheapest). The host messaged me saying she was excited, as I was her first pilgrim!

Before heading to bed I watched the highlights from the F1 qualifying and was elated to see that Carlos Sainz managed to put it on pole! At Monza! Of course, it’s Ferrari, so I’m sure they will find a way to mess up the race, but an excellent result for Carlos nonetheless.

And, finally, to bed — more from Besancon tomorrow.

Final mileage: 15.90mi
Walking time: 5h 10m
Elevation gain: 971ft

Accommodation: Airbnb in Besancon. A nice apartment, very reasonably priced and centrally located in Besancon’s “boucle” (the historical center of the city).