Day 1 - Wednesday, 25 September 2024 - Le Puy-en-Velay to Montbonnet, 16.7 klms
Those who know me well know that I have periodically dabbled with formal religion over the years, some of it forced upon me as a child, some of it in my adult years as a result of a series of rather questionable decisions. But for more than half my life now I have comfortably settled on the belief that there is no overarching, all-seeing, all-knowing, omnipotent entity sitting "out there" directing me and everything around me. I happily accept that others have different views, and even if those views might seem a little incomprehensible to me I have no interest in nor right to criticise those views (wonder about perhaps, but not criticise).
My views are reinforced by what I see all around me. The overarching theme in my book An Impossible Dream was that so much division in the world today seems to rise from conflicting beliefs that my god is "good" (and therefore I am good) and that your god is "bad"(and therefore so are you). We've seen this played out in US politics and the US Supreme Court over the last couple of decades, and increasingly it has crept into elements of Australian politics. But it manifests itself many other practical ways too - the war in Gaza being a terribly sad current example. It continues to astound me that the three great monotheistic religions trace their roots back to the same "person" (Abraham), and yet the branches which have evolved has so many differences. I guess that I shouldn't be too surprised: after all, in my lifetime, the Troubles in Ireland had a strong religious underpinning, and there the antagonists there believe in the same god.
Yet, here I am, once again, commencing a walk - a pilgrimage? - which at least in part has some sort of religious underpinning. I suspect that this walk, even though it still bears the name camino in some of its labels has a more secular focus than its counterparts in Spain, but I guess I'll have a clearer view of that in 42 days time. And it's not that I dislike places of worship, in their various forms. Indeed, I have visited some of the great cathedrals of the world - both Catholic and Protestant - and many Islamic mosques in a wide variety of countries. And countless Hindu temples and Buddhist monasteries, as well as somewhat less well known places such as Jain temples. I don't recall ever having visited a Jewish synagogue, at least not one of national or international significance - perhaps one day. And some of the pomp and ceremony which accompanies some religious events - the swinging of the great 53 kg botafumeiro (and here) at the Catedral de Santiago de Compostela and some of the incredible dance and chant of the Tiji festival in Lo Mantang - immediately spring to mind as examples of spectacles rooted in religious practice which I'm absolutely delighted to have experienced. So is this some sort of inherent internal conflict, and if so how does it work?
I think that the answer to that last question is "no", and even if I can't rationalise the existence of some great god, I do believe in something spiritual, although I find that very hard to define (perhaps the great invisible god is easier to define?). Is it the spirit of the land around us - the first nations peoples of the world would seem to think so? Is it the relationship with community? The boundless loyalty of a pet dog? The love and kindness of close friends? These are the things that give us, me, purpose in life. Is that this thing we call spirit? I don't know, and indeed perhaps it really doesn't matter exactly how it is defined. Perhaps it's OK just to accept it an an is.
These thoughts and more have been occupying my time as I commenced this journey. Today, however, I put some of them to one side and commenced this "pilgrimage" by attending the 7am pilgrim's mass at Le Puy cathedral. I must admit that my interests lay more in the rather exotic tradition of the cathedral floor opening up and letting the pilgrims disgorge into the street than the mass itself, which I didn't understand a word of anyway. But the benediction at the end was nice (still in French and therefore still unintelligible), with the priest (bishop) asking those present to identify what country they were from (Canada, Australia, US, Swiss, Germany, France (of course)).
I'd/we'd explored Le Puy-en-Velay yesterday, doing the usual "tourist" things as well as getting a new Le Puy credencial from the cathedral. So this is two days wrapped into one.
The photos below capture a bit of yesterday and today:
The statue of Notre-Dame de France, made from metal salvaged from 213 Russian canons in the Crimea War.
Up close.
The magnificent 1,000 year old chapel Rocher St Michel d'Aigulhe on top of a 2,000,000 year old volcanic needle.
Inside the chapel.
Le Puy-en-Velay from on high.
Le Puy from up close. Did I mention that it us a steep place just to wander around?
The front facade of the cathedral.
Looking back the other way.
The inside of the cathedral with the secret opening floor in the foreground.
At the pilgrim's mass. Rather looked like the front door of a Spanish albergue 🙂.
Descending into the bowels of the cathedral (well, out on to the street actually, through the secret exit door). I wasn't able to video the floor opening, but here's one I found on line.
On the way, on/near Rue St Jacques. For Trish and me, only 750 klms to go. For Janet and Helen, about 350.
A random pilgrim crossing the road. Motorists be warned.
Some rural scenes.
The prevailing rural housing appears to be a house and barn combination. The big ramp goes up to where the tractor is parked.
Place of 2nd breakfast, in the miniscule village of Lic (I think I've got that right). Yummy it was, too.
11th century Chapel St Roch, just before Montbonnet.
Some road creatures.
Approaching Montbonnet.
The gite Le 1st etape (first stage), our digs for the night.
Today was an easy day. Very pretty, and the weather was kind (having said that our gite sits at 1119MASL, so it's a bit chilly up here). Uphill all day, sure, but even with the very early start and eventual departure around 8:15, and a bit of stopping and starting, we'd done walking by 2pm. Tomorrow is a different kettle of fish. It'll be the longest day in this first stage, with almost a 1,000 metre descent into the valley of the L'Allier river followed by some 800m back up again, a total walk of over 26 klms. I mention this simply to say I may not be as verbose tomorrow; it may just be a picture day - we'll see.
My proof-reader is sleeping (she's still not 100%, but much better than a few days back), so please overlook the typos which are sure to have snuck in.
On previous caminos I would have said hasta mañana, for today it'll be à demain ...
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