Building a new classroom for the children of Yabiro, Burkina Faso

25.09.2010 Fontvielle to Arles 13km

2010-09-26T04:24:00.000-07:00

Home after hell's start - all of us swatting the mosquitoes massed round us like a dark cloud, and then finally, entry into Arles, and no more mossies. 4 months on the road, so many experiences that we have forgotten half of them, a horse transformed from a selfish bully into a vital and indispensable member of the team. If I could have found the words and she could have understood them, I would have spent the rest of the journey telling her how wonderful she is. Likewise Flea, the accidental foundling, now a firm fixture in our family. He started out as a puppy of only 3 months and is now 8, perhaps teetering on the edge of canine adolesence. So what next? Well, Paul, I've been thinking ....

24.09.2010 Aureille to Fontvielle 31km

2010-09-26T04:12:00.000-07:00

All good until the late afternoon, when on our penultimate day a brief shower of rain and the dampness of the night before coalesce to wake every single mosquito in the region and focus on Nellie, and by extension us. Unimaginable hell, increased by the Fontvielle campsite's refusal to take Nellie. Everything is against us - no hotels, the only gite equestre full and our only alternative being to throw up the tent in a wood just outside the town and scratch our way through to the morning. Nellie is going through hell.

23.09.2010 Salon de Provence to Aureille 22km

2010-09-26T04:00:00.000-07:00

This doesn't get much better, great walking and then an evening with friends. Evelyne, who has been our constant companion, both virtually and in person, came out to share our pending conclusion to a journey that has taken almost 4 months.

Accommodation: Mas de l'Etoile - ideal pilgrim accommodation, basic, but reasonably priced, located at the edge of the village.

22.09.2010 Eguilles to Salon de Provence 31km

2010-09-26T03:54:00.000-07:00

Yes, more good walking, helped by Jean-Claude who accompanied us for the first part and gave us a preferable route. We have the definite feel of entering the Apilles and getting close to home.

Accommodation - Campanile Hotel - not really suited to the pilgrim budget, but the only place that would accept Nellie, for which we are very grateful.

21.09.2010 somewhere in a wood just before Aix en Provence to Eguilles 25km

2010-09-26T03:50:00.000-07:00

At the risk of repeating myself .... great walking, good signing and an evening hosted by Mme Clotet, who took us and our animals into her home, fed us and then called a friend to help us the next day - this is pilgrim-progress at its best.

20.09.2010 Puyloubier to somewhere in a wood just before Aix en Provence 25km

2010-09-26T03:41:00.000-07:00

Once again excellent and varied walking, past two reservoirs and through endless woodlands offering breaks for spectacular views. Our only problem being our second discovery that whereas some Parish priests may enthusiastically embrace the concept of providing hospitality to pilgrims, their support staff sometimes less so. Our attempts to find accommodation in the maison paroisse in Eguilles are not welcome and we finally decide to camp out.

19.09.2010 St Maximin la Sainte Baume to Puyloubier 23km

2010-09-26T03:30:00.000-07:00

Not much more to say that the walking in this region is on broad tracks and consistently well-signed, so good that we will recommend it to cyclists and horse riders. On this section our route is dominated by the vast escarpment of Sainte Victoire.
Accommodation: Le Cézanne camping - good value, good location.

18.09.2010 St Maximin la Sainte Baume - rest day

2010-09-26T03:23:00.001-07:00

17.09.2010 Le Val to St Maximin la Sainte Baume 33km

2010-09-18T01:20:00.000-07:00

Excellent walking with the first half being on tracks, climbing into the hills and the second on small roads into St Maximin. Our plan to have a short day was changed when we couldn't find any accommodation in La Bras, or anything else much. French villages are dying from centre. Nevertheless, we are covering the ground and should get back home for the beginning of October, as planned. Rain is still threatening overhead, after last night's downpour. Signing generally good, but with gaps that would leave anyone without the GPS trace completely stranded.
Accommodation: Etap hotel – the usual prices and standards – reasonable, all things considered.

16.09.2010 Carces to Le Val 21km

2010-09-17T12:32:00.001-07:00

More good walking through what I presume is typical Provencal countryside - a real pleasure to walk through and only a few climbs. The distances quoted by Les Amis have been consistently inaccurate and always underestimated, today was no different. After yesterday's 31km we wanted a short day and the 15km given seemed reasonable. In fact it was 21km with an extra kilometre spent finding a place for Nellie. After being offered a place by a friendly bar owner, she finally ended up in the field of an equally friendly South African woman with a vast property (we couldn't find the first one). The accommodation for us was complicated by a less than helpful assistant at the maison paroisse which was listed as a source for pilgrims. We were just about to give up and camp next to Nellie when the priest himself finally came out and put things in order. In contrast, he could not have been more helpful and welcoming – “This is your home.” he told us. I write with the sound of the evening Mass rising up through the floorboards. We also had our first unpleasant encounter with a gendarme, while we were having a beer in the town centre. He stopped and demanded to know why we were there and how long we would be. He also insisted that we clean up after her, and when I told him that we always did, he demanded our contact details should be there any issues regarding her cleanliness. Our conversation/altercation was watched in silence by everyone else in the bar, but when he had gone they expressed their outrage and told us he was well known for being an arsehole.
Accommodation – maison paroisse - excellent facilties at no charge, but perseverance required.

15.09.2010 Lorgues to Carces 31km

2010-09-17T12:31:00.001-07:00

A long day, but again almost entirely on small roads and tracks through the gentle landscape of vineyards and small farms – a great stretch. Nevertheless, we were pleased to arrive and stop in Carces. Good signing all the way.
Accommodation: Camping Les Fouguiéres – highly recommended – helpful hosts and good value 16 euros for two people and no extra charge for Nellie or Flea. Pleasant location too, on the edge of the town, but quiet and secluded.

14.09.2010 le Muy to Lorgues 32km

2010-09-17T12:30:00.002-07:00

Excellent walking, off-road and on small tracks winding through vineyards and sparsely populated forests. Our only difficulty being the number of roads still blocked by flood damage. Paul, determined to sleep in a bed that night, managed to comandeer the help of a local gendarme who led him to a large, bourgeois house surrounding by land, on the edge of the town. The owners, charming and relaxed with regards to Nellie, offered a grassy top terrace where she spent a pleasant night.
Accommodation: Hotel de Parc – ideal pilgrim accommodation in budget terms, but also for location – stereotypically French – crooked floors, anarchic showers and creaking beds. Lorgues, a town that is sufficiently tourist-orientated to offer facilities, but not so much that you want to avoid. A highly recommended stop.

13.09.2010 Frejus to Le Muy 24km

2010-09-17T12:30:00.001-07:00

Much more pleasant walking, off-road and away from the worst of the suburban sprawl. Our entry into Le Muy was complicated by a complete lack of signing and a road that had been washed away during the June floods – one abandoned car still remaining. Difficult not to wonder if the occupants had been one of the number of deaths reported. We had to find a long detour but with Paul's 6th sense and the GPS, we arrived at the Gite de Groupe without too much trouble. Later our waitress told us that the French policy was to close media access once the mortality rate was over 35. She claimed that in her region alone, there had been 200 deaths. On a more positive note, we met the owners of an equestrian centre who helped us out of Frejus and gave Nellie a sack of food.
Accommodation: Gite de Groupe Parador – currently another flood victim but due to open soon – can't say enough good words about its manager, Remy. Great guy, horse tolerant and refused payment.

12.09.2010 Argens to Frejus 28km

2010-09-17T12:29:00.000-07:00

Hacking through St Raphael and the rest of the urban desert – unpleasant for us, but probably a great deal more pleasant for walkers who could enjoy the seaside entertainment.
Accommodation – back of a derelict factory outside Frejus

11.09.2010 Mandelieu La Napoule to Argens

2010-09-17T12:28:00.002-07:00

A long, but great stretch, first of all along the coast, on a jogging track (filled with fitness freaks) and then a long section through a vast range of mountains (need to identify) with magnificent views over the sea and interior. Nevertheless, we were all tired by the end of it and feeling the effects of so many nights in the tent on our uninflatable mattress, so when a car driver stopped to ask us about Nellie, and mention incidentally that she had an equestrian centre nearby, we leapt at the chance. Suffice to say, Nellie is in clover and we are in a hotel on the sea front – about time too!

10.09.2010 Mouans Sartoux to Mandelieu La Napoule 23km

2010-09-17T12:28:00.001-07:00

More good paths, but also a lot of road. We rang round every campsite in the vicinity of where we were walking, but the coast mentality had taken over – no horses. In the end we camped behind a football pitch, but waited until it was dark. All in all a fairly stressful and uncomfortable night, particularly because we were next to the motorway and the traffic did not cease. Noticed that the area breeds fitness freaks and 90% of the town is given over to football pitches, running tracks and other sporty pursuits – is there a reason for this? Must ask Wikipedia. Nellie was exceptionally good.

09.09.2010 Near Roquefort les Pins to Mouans Sartoux 32km

2010-09-17T12:27:00.000-07:00

A pig of a start from a woodland bower. Nellie, still nervous, did nothing to help. The path was treacherous and finally became impossible – flights of vertical steps bordered by iron railings. We had to turn round and find an alternative, which after much GPS consultation, Paul finally did, though with a large number of additional kilometres. On our way a couple of park rangers stopped to talk and admire Nellie – they also mentioned that camping in the Park was forbidden and horses had to stay on the broad paths – whoops!
Finally, after a number of painful descents and ascents, we came down into Mouans Sartoux where we stopped for lunch. As is often the case, Nellie was the centre the attention and one man, Pascal, took particular interest in her because he had driven a pair of Merens horses himself – he said that he was a great fan of the breed. When we asked the restaurant owner if he knew of a hotel nearby, with a piece of grass where we could possibly install Nellie, Pascal invited us back to his house which was just a few kilometres away – in brief – we stayed in his caravan, Nellie took over the garden, we later had a barbecue with his wife, Françoise, and we can expect a visit from them soon - good friends.

08.09.2010 La Colle sur Loup to somewhere in a Parc National - 30km

2010-09-17T12:26:00.000-07:00

Again good walking until we reached the river Loup and had to walk along its banks. A perfect stretch for pedestrians, paved and raised paths in woodland, but hell for Nellie. She teetered bravely through the first stretch, but became increasingly stressed as we unpacked and packed her at 10 minute intervals. Nevertheless, we found the perfect spot next to a pool and camped there – our only issue being, once again, Nellie's tension caused by, we think, by the wild boar who are probably coming down to drink. This is the second time she has displayed her snorting cavorting behaviour when we have camped near water.

07.09.2010 Vence to La Colle sur Loup 20km

2010-09-17T12:25:00.002-07:00

Some tough, but still extremely good walking, though for us it was complicated by impassable sections – barriers, steps etc. - which ultimately led to us taking a detour and ending up in Colle sur Loup – a better alternative as it turns out. For reasons best known to the GR signers, Colle sur Loup, a pleasant town with good facilities and an acceuil pelerin in the maison paroisse, has been by-passed in preference for Roquefort les Pins, though this is in fact a longer and more arduous route. Having discovered this, we will recommend the route directly to Colle sur Loup.
Accommodation: basic but free, in a pleasant courtyard. Need to notify Beatrice Grier of your arrival at least 24 hours ahead. Ideal for walkers, but complicated for people with horses. Nellie was tethered in the courtyard, but we had to walk back (3km each way) to an equestrian centre to buy hay – last thing we needed at the end of a hard day.

06.09.2010 Gattiers to Vence – 25km

2010-09-17T12:25:00.001-07:00

All of us much better for the rest and well able to cope with the steep ascents and descents on rocky pathways – some mule paths. The signing has gone awry and the section out of Gattiers was only indicated with a few cockles shells and then nothing at all for the next few kilometres. We would have been entirely lost without the GPS trace. Nevertheless, the GR signs reappeared, shiny and new, just before Vence. A pleasant interlude, albeit entirely geared to the Nordic tourists. Galleries, open squares, tchou tchou shops and cafés. I liked it, even though its narrow streets were hell for Nellie and I. Just missed taking a stand of postcards along with us.
Accommodation: Camping Domain de la Bergerie – good facilities, restaurant etc. all of which are reflected in the higher price 15.30 Euros per person.

05.09.2010

2010-09-17T12:24:00.000-07:00

Rest no walking, except for a brief shopping and beer visit to Gattiers, plus an abortive attempt to find the GR we had missed yesterday. Nellie sleeps as I write, after gorging herself on grass for most of the morning, while my aching legs and hips are briefly forgotten in my repose against a tree – but not for long. Paul is, as ever, rushing round down doing responsible things, but with a marked decrease in velocity. And then comes the night – what a prospect – hours of rolling round on stones laid bare and lethal by the uninflatable mattress that has been gnawed through by mice. Never again.
Accommodation: camping a la ferme, vignoble de sauce – good, basic facilities in pleasant setting – 6 euro per person – 2km off GR

04.09.2010 Colomar to Gattiers – 35km

2010-09-17T12:23:00.000-07:00

Too hard and too long, but a day that also included some perfect walking on ancient and perhaps more recently constructed mule paths. Nellie, and perhaps even we, excelled ourselves in terms of agility and energy, but by the time we got to Pont della Manta leading into the town of Corrons, we were all too tired and had simply walked too far. Horses should not cross bridges where the car takes precedence, but at 18.00 with nowhere to stay but the camping site in Gattiers,4km on, we had no choice. Actually 4km was an underestimate – we arrived at the site at 22.00 after 12 hours of walking – all of us exhausted and possibly Nellie the most. We threw down the tent, attached her to a tree in a circle of lush grass and slept, my last thoughts being: Never again. And, why do we do this?

03.09.2010 Menton to an olive terrace just outside Cantaron – 25km

2010-09-17T12:22:00.000-07:00

Some excellent walking along ridges with views over the Cote d'Azur and the top of Monaco – we watched a vast, multi-tiered cruise boat sidle into a port half its size, alongside a many-masted luxury yacht - plus stretches where the mule paths have been been well preserved. Stopped mid-afternoon when the sun and distances started to make progress painful. Our campsite a terrace among abandoned olive trees.

02.09.2010 -18.5km Menton to a pool in the middle of forêt communale de Roquebrune

2010-09-17T12:20:00.000-07:00

Tough going out of Menton, but we were accompanied for part of the way by Francis (owner of the centre equestre) … a real help. Nellie remembered some of her less pleasant attributes, cavorting and generally bullying me for the first few kilometres, but she soon reverted to her better self – ascending and descending steps in the truly picturesque village of Roquebrun – and we were fine. Now we are camped on the edge of a pond with a view over the bay – not sure I could ask for much more, except a slightly less sore toe, after one of Nellie's debut, epic leaps.

22.06.2010 Bordighera to Menton 25km

2010-07-25T04:26:00.001-07:00

21.06.2010 San Lorenzo al Mare to Bordighera 20km

2010-07-13T07:49:00.000-07:00

Accommodation - rating: excellent Le Ginestre, strada Bernora, 24 18012 BORDIGHERA 0039 0184 26 23 62 0039 335 788 49 69 www.beb-leginestre.it info@beb-leginestre.it

20.06.2010 An olive grove in the middle of nowhere to San Lorenzo al Mare 27km

2010-07-13T07:47:00.001-07:00

Accommodation - A non-descript hotel in San Lorenzo

19.06.2010 Calderina to an olive grove in the middle of nowhere but near Torrazza Clavi 24km

2010-07-13T07:44:00.000-07:00

Accommodation - a leaking tent

18.06.2010 San Giovanni to Calderina 21km

2010-07-11T06:51:00.000-07:00

accommodation - rating: good Albergo La Margherita
Via San Giacomo 3, 18013 Diano Marina, Italia
0183 495185‎

17.06.2010 Albenga to San Giovanni 32km

2010-07-11T05:59:00.000-07:00

Accommodation - back of church in San Giovanni

16.06.2010 Bardinetto to Albenga 20km

2010-07-09T09:11:00.000-07:00

From this point, and until we resume our journey, the blog entries will be restricted to location, distance, accommodation and photos. We have been back in Arles since 25th June and simply cannot recall all the details of those days. Our reason for stopping is entirely positive ... we want to be back with our daughter while she is on holiday. Meanwhile, Nellie is also have a well-earned rest in an equestrian centre with a view over the Cote d'Azur.

Accommodation - back of a cemetry on the outskirts of Albenga

15.06.2010 Col de Melogno to Bardinetto 15km

2010-06-21T21:41:00.000-07:00

Before we leave, our host takes us to see his own Merens gelding, the first time we have been able to directly compare Nellie with another of her own breed. He is larger and stockier, though with a finer head. They meet nose to nose and go through the usual equine introduction procedure - invariably noisy and raucous - but for us the most interesting aspect is that in addition to sharing all the physical features of their breed, the gelding also displays many of the less pleasant behavioural traits: principally the bullying, pushy and rough behaviour that I can best describe as 'impolite'. I dislike 'impolite' horses and during our time with Nellie we have managed to teach her some manners, which makes our relationship a great deal more pleasant.

The weather forecast is correct, for the first time since we have been in Italy. It is raining, only finely when we start out, but in buckets within ten minutes of leaving our hostel. Has someone forgotten that June in Italy is supposed to be hot, scorchio, hot? The rain is hammering down, even through the thick canopy of leaves in the forest, hiding what we know must be a dramatic landscape but we are beyond caring and can only slosh on in the hope that the agriturismo in Bardinetto will take us. It does, in fact it is already expecting us because Heidi's husband has phoned ahead – perhaps there is a god, perhaps he is called Mr Heidi. We are offered a self-contained apartment, heated and with an open fire – yes there is a god and I don't give a damn what his name is. Meanwhile Nellie is offered a stable or a tether point in a nearby carpark. We would love to offer her the dry warmth, if only for our own consciences, but know that it is a waste of time because she will refuse to go in. So we tether her outside and, predictably, she is head down and mowing the patch as I write.

Accommodation – Agriturismo Fratelli Oddone - Rating: Excellent/PR – well equipped apartment, inc washing machine! Good value at 60 euros, with breakfast, and 20 euros per person for an excellent meal – probably one of the best we have had since arriving in Italy. Agriturismo Fratelli Oddone - Via Martino, 13 17057 Bardineto
Tel: 019-7907115 - Cell: 328-6423895 - Fax: 019-7907115

13.06.2010 Stella san Giovanni to Altera 32km TOTAL 1464

2010-06-21T15:01:00.000-07:00

The unpredictable weather is something to watch out for and to warn our walkers about. After a day in broad sunshine, we wake to dense fog and rain that makes any kind of mountain walking dangerous. We decide to look for a new route that will take us down to the coast on small tracks and roads and in fact succeed in creating a pleasant alternative.

Accommodation – Agriturismo – details irrelevant for reasons explained below.

Closer examination of a new map reveals that there is no viable or preferable route to the Via della Costa from Altera – we will have to get back onto the Alta Via. We spend the best part of 3 hours doing so and are rewarded with wide and relatively easy tracks to follow. This is good walking and an introduction to yet more variable landscape away from the thickly forested areas. We make good progress and finally enter Altera where we had hoped to find somewhere to stay, but enquiries at a bar reveal that there are no hostels, albergi or agriturismos in the area. Altera is a dying town, its industries failing and its inhabitants apparently spending a lot of their time in bars – fortunately for us because Nellie attracts the inevitable attention and one man, Emmanuel, hears that we are looking for somewhere to stay. He offers to take Paul in his car to a picnic area nearby, which might be suitable. In fact it is ideal and we quickly install ourselves, attracting even more attention from the families and their children who are spending their Sunday afternoon there – not one of them objecting to our tent in spite of the large sign informing us that camping is prohibited. We have been there no more than half an hour when Emmanuel appears again, but this time carrying a bottle of wine and pan of freshly cooked pasta! Another example of the Italian generosity we have enjoyed so often before. Maybe it is the spectacle of pack horse and dog that interests and reassures people so that they feel they can approach us, or maybe it is simply curiosity about what it is the two old farts are up to, but it never fails to open doors and hands. Emmanuel eats and drinks with us for as long as he can but finally leaves because he has to get back to his wife and baby daughter.

10.06.2010 somewhere on the Alta Via – La Cappaleta di Masoni 27km

2010-06-21T14:42:00.001-07:00

Nellie's nose is back to its normal size and I suspect a sting was the cause for its previous ballooning, so onwards and upwards on more tracks that this time take us into new terrain. Suddenly the forests have withdrawn and we are walking on open hillsides where the views stretch to every horizon and we can see our route for hours ahead. This is my kind of countryside, having spent my childhood riding on open moorland on the edge of Wales, I am in a landscape I can understand and appreciate. Paul responds indulgently when I take theatrical deep breaths, but I think/hope he can sense some of what I am feeling. Nellie, as much from the mountains as I am, picks up pace too and we cover distances easily, even when the ascents and descents are severe. When I am asked again if she is a mule (it happens almost everyday) I do not take offence on her behalf because I have come to realise she has all the best attributes of her cousin – surefooted, immensely strong and well balanced. My confidence in her abilities grows with every challenge we set her. Today, when faced with a vertical rock of at least a metre high, she skips up it effortlessly from a standstill and with her packs on.

In the evening we pull in at the first village we have been through all day, and that only by taking a kilometre detour, to see if there is any chance of buying food and possibly finding a place to stay, but there is no shop, the bar/restaurant is not serving food and the only accommodation is a rough sports field that Paul has managed to negotiate with a woman standing outside the church.

08/09.06.2010 Creto to somewhere on the Alta Via 20km

2010-06-21T14:34:00.000-07:00

Bad weather has enforced the break, but no one is complaining because we had already been considering the need to take a day out. We are about to embark on 2 or maybe 3 days on the Alta Via in the wilderness. No towns, no stop-off points, just a (hopefully well-signed) path, insufficient maps and our tent. We need to stock up and be sure we have everything we need in case of bad weather, bad paths etc etc. Overnight, the mist turns to rain and everything is soaked outside. We sleep until 9.00, so we must have been even more tired than we thought. Paul elects to go into town, while I stay to look after Nellie, try to dry our kit and update the blog, so here I am, in the sunshine, the mist having cleared at last.

Accommodation – Good/PR everything a camper needs at a reasonable price – 15 euros per person, with a bar/restaurant nearby – horses accepted

09.06.2010 Creto to somewhere on the Alta Via 20kmThe good news – the wilderness is not as wild as we had expected, we have in fact gone through a couple of communities where a beer and a sandwich are available. More good news – stretches of the route are outstanding – views over Genoa and beyond where all the hyperbolic adverbs relating to cloud behaviour should be used and overused. We are walking on top of the world, in and above clouds that engulf peaks and pour into valleys, on tracks that barely break the rocky surface below. I think of the partisans and the impossibilty of finding them in landscape like this – much like Afghanistan today. The bad news is that a large proportion of the tracks run through forests and consist almost entirely of broken stone, making tiring walking for us and Nellie. Nevertheless a good route for walkers. In the evening we find a grassy space off the track and pitch our tent. It seems ideal for all of us and we sleep with clear consciences that Nellie has enough to eat.

Nellie has other ideas. I wake, as I usually do, with the thought that I should check on her, but when I look out she is not there. Paul and I search up and down the road, but initially find nothing, until I say we need to go further back the way we have come – horses instinctively retrace their steps – and sure enough we find her munching her way round a grassy picnic area that had no doubt struck a gastronomic chord when we passed by earlier. She does not object to coming back with us, but when I check her over I see that her lips and nose are drastically swollen. A hundred possible pessimistic diagnoses come to mind, but none of them seems credible. If the swelling is due to an allergic reaction, it would have spread further than her mouth and I would have expected to see some other signs – difficulty breathing etc – but Nellie is apparently unaware of the swelling and happy to go on eating, so I decide to check on her at intervals to see if there is any change and only succeed in waking when her when she was just about to lie down and go to sleep.

07.06.2010 Traso to Creto 23km total 1335

2010-06-21T14:33:00.000-07:00

Tough, but again a real sense of travelling the ancient routes – we speak about projects to research their history and ensure their maintenance. By the afternoon we are too tired to tackle more unpredictable, but also predictably tough routes and opt for the winding road route up to Creto – probably also a sensible option for our future walkers. We are looking for a bed and breakfast that we have been told is there, but instead stumble on a campsite with a helpful owner who offers Nellie a perfect pitch at the end of the site – meanwhile the sun has disappeared and the cloud has come down.

Accommodation - rating: good camping villa masnata, 117, VIA DI CRETO 16165 Genova (GE) tel: 010 8301879

06.06.2010 Recco to Traso 27km

2010-06-21T14:18:00.000-07:00

There is a god! On our way out of Recco, while we are negotiating a flight of steps – yet another – Nellie now a mule step expert – we meet a man who asks where we are going and tells us about a series of good paths leading to the Alta Via de Monto Liguri that will enable us to ride along the top of ridges and avoid Genoa!! We follow his advice and discover winding roads through Sunday communities - where the churches are full and families gather in large groups – and finally find ourselves on the old contraband roads, rough-paved, tough climbing, but strongly evocative of the time – infinitely more so than the majority of the via Francigena where sections of Roman road are either buried or over-exposed. We hope that by tracing these contraband routes for our LightFoot walkers we will also support the valiant work of the enthusiasts who have signed them so that they will not be entirely forgotten.

Finally, the proverbial problem – a place to stay. As always, any flat, green space is either fenced or cultivated or both so we finally resort to the back of a church. The priest is either absent or non-existent, so we pitch camp and hope for the best. In the end we are discovered but not turned out.

05.06.2010 San Pietro di Rivereto to Recco 28km - Paradise lost paradise cost

2010-06-21T14:12:00.001-07:00

Start out on small roads that lead up and down and finally descend into hell – the inverse of the quiet resorts we have been through before. Here, every driver is intent on getting somewhere before everyone else, on a road designed for one tenth of the traffic using it. And we, two humans, a dog and a horse, have to find our own space. By late afternoon, Nellie and I are too tired and stressed to take another step, so Paul starts to look for accommodation in Camogli (a town on the ironically named Il Golfo Paradiso). Think about it – a place where there is no space and only tarmac – impossible. We are at our wits end and with no other alternative but to go onto the next town, Recco, which initially seems to be equally hopeless, until Paul spots an old football field. He should be rechristianed Il Maestro. Guessing that it is probably linked to the nearby church he locates the priest and is given the key. So now Nellie is fine, but there is still nothing for us. We try every hotel we can (at 150 euros a night) but they are all full, so we call a taxi and go back to an albergo in Camogli where the owner had tried to help us before. All good, until we try to get something to eat. Every restaurant on the beach front is full, outrageously expensive and outrageously served. If this is paradise, I'll just keep on sinning and aim for hell – it can't be any worse. Finally, having found a better served, but equally expensive restaurant in the interior of the resort, we drink a very small amount of wine and decide that we cannot recommend the road approach to Genoa for pilgrims/walkers and that we will have to go inland. Nellie would have breathed a sigh of relief if she had known.

04.06.2010 Riva to San Pietro di Rivereto 25km

2010-06-21T14:05:00.001-07:00

Evelyn takes the bus back to collect her car and we launch ourselves up and over Rocce de Sante Anna with its ruined chapel at summit. After this we have a long walk along the beach, feeling slightly out of place against the bathers in bikinis, but take time out to have an ice cream and attract the inevitable crowds of people who want to know where we have come from, where we are going, the name of our horse and dog and why are walking. Next, an unavoidable slog back up hill and on a busy road – boring and unpleasant, but broken by one good surprise – Evelyn, on her way home. She stops and waits for us while we see if the Sanctuaro Maddonna del Grazie will offer us sanctuary – it will not – so much for Christian good will. Then another parting from Evelyn and we are back on our way, negotiating a route along small roads above the coast - pleasant, but like everywhere else here, on the side of the hill, with not a single flat corner for a horse. We are getting desperate by the time we see two women come out of a church and grab the only opportunity we have been offered so far. I ask if it would be possible to speak to the priest to see if he would let us use camp on a space behind the church. They think not, but one offers her own garden instead – a meeting that leads us up to summit of the hill where two elderly sisters and their even more elderly brother live in a house with a view only seen in multi-million dollar films. Literally a dream come true. Nellie's space on tne top terrace is little more than 10 metres square of flat ground (already more than most people have), reduced by the square metre taken by our tent, and some others by olive trees and the flowers, but she has the grace to tiptoe through the gate and down the narrow path, as do we. It is one of the least comfortable and most difficult nights we have experienced, but also one of the most memorable. The garden is a series of carefully tended terraces, each cultivated to a specific purpose (food or aesthetics) with the colours appearing to blend accidentally, though I am sure by careful design. Our hosts serve us lentil soup and cherries from the garden, the brother (whose name seems to change everytime we ask him) takes photos and observes us quietly from his stone seat above us, seeming to take infinite pleasure in everything Nellie does. When we leave in the morning, they give us two lemons and thank us for staying.

03.06.2010 Moneglia to Riva 12km

2010-06-21T13:57:00.001-07:00

In the morning the female half of the hotel is less sanguine. She tells us that there is a risk that the police will be called and we have to clear every sign of Nellie's presence, which means sweeping the grass with something finer than a nit comb.

Next, another day of tough climbing, but also magnificent views over the bays and promonteries of the Cinque Terre – an excellent route for keen walkers, but hell for equines. Nellie deals with everything in her path, though on one occasion when it looks as if yet another fallen tree is finally going to halt our progress She senses my nervousness and briefly refuses to cooperate. We mess around with various solutions, including trying to build a ramp, but in the end she skips over it effortlessly and makes my concerns seem completely ridiculous.

By the end of the day the heat and the heights are finally getting to all of us so we find a home for Nellie in an equestrian centre (whose owner makes our adventures seem paltry – he rode round Europe for 2 years and round Chile - when just a child - with his father) and, after some searching, a hotel near to the beach in Riva. Once again, we have discovered the quiet sophistication of these Italian beachside towns – I could stay here for weeks. We have our 'last supper' with Evelyn, over-indulge in everything we can and then sleep, sleep, sleep.

02.06.2010 Costa near Framura to Moneglia 12Km

2010-06-21T13:47:00.000-07:00

Breakfast with Paula and her husband Jonnie and then a tough introduction to our daily routine for Evelyn. We are climbing up and down the mountains of the Cinque Terre, not a square centimetre of flat ground and only narrow, stony tracks to walk along. Nellie deals with them stoically and far more calmly than I do, while Evelyn and Paul do their best to support the process – carrying packs when we have to remove them and clearing ground.

In the evening, we find a pleasant hotel for us and illegal space for Nellie in the garden of an unoccupied block of flats. The hotel owner is nervous but seems to be reassured when we say that it is our risk and not his, then we head off into the pleasantly low-key beach resort (something the Italians seem to do so well) for dinner.

>01.06.2010 Santa Madonna de Saviore – Costa near Framura 20km

2010-06-21T11:47:00.001-07:00

Alberto delivers his promise. The routes are excellent, avoiding large roads and introducing us to an old rail tunnel (just under 5kms), now converted for cyclists and walkers, that takes out a huge climb. Nellie and Flea have a closer look at the sea when we walk along the edge of the beach and have lunch in a beach bar. Meanwhile, Alberto, whose day job is an international salesman for a line of women's clothing (that I should know, but don't), has become our PR man, announcing our arrival and explaining our presence to anyone who asks or is unwise enough to look in our direction. In the evening, when we arrive in Costa, he negotiates a place for us to stay in the hostel and a woman, who has been quietly watching the whole process, finally steps forward and offers a place for Nellie.

Paula lives at the bottom of the hill, reached like everywhere else by a flight of mule steps. When she asks if Nellie can cope I simply nod and hope for the best. This time I don't count, but it must have been at least half a kilometre in distance. Nellie is finally installed on one terrace of an olive grove and we are invited for breakfast the next day.

Next excitement – Evelyn's arrival. She has driven all the way from Arles to spend the next two day's walking with us and has all too obviously been infected by our madness. I am climbing back up the flight of stairs when I see her standing at the top with Paul and can't express the pleasure of seeing such a familiar face. A sense of Arles, which makes me realise that in spite of the excitement of being in a different place every day, I miss home and our friends.

Accommodation - rating: excellent Ostello Framaura, Loc. Costa,15 FRAMAURA 19014 +39 0187 810529 - +39 3336912079

30.05.2010 back of a church near La Spezia - 25km

2010-06-21T11:35:00.001-07:00

After three days of rest, recuperation and replacement of various bits of equipment we are back on the road, with Heiko and Susan who want to walk the first few kilometres with us and show us a route they have recommended. As promised, the route is infinitely preferable to the long and winding road down from Ponzano Superiore, but Flea has other ideas. After 3 days of rest and mooching in the quiet alleyways, he has decided that he would rather stay there. We realise that he has disappeared just after seeing a wild boar and her offspring (piglets/boarlets??) cross the track. We immediately assume that Flea has been hunting them and possibly come off worse after a confrontation with the mother. We call and search but the woods are silent, then it occurs to me that we have not seen him for sometime. I suggest that Heiko and Susan return home while we keep searching. Not longer after we receive the call we are been hoping for. Flea is outside Heiko's door, concerned that no one else is there. H and S return with (sodding) dog and we continue the journey.

Next we discover that Italian maps are inventions of an approximate geographical reality of possibly pre-Mussolini era. Clearly printed roads turn out to be either nonexistant or tracks that end in a house. With no other alternative we wind and curse our way along unpleasant principal roads for about half the day, but finally manage, more by luck than topographical accuracy, to move off onto a series of pleasant tracks and roads, ultimately creating a reasonable route for walkers, but without reasonable accommodation. After a futile search we spot a church above us, accessible by a long flight of the mule stairs that have been appearing along with the increasingly frequent steep hillsides. I point Nellie at the first and leave her to deal with the rest. She does, without hesitation – all 150 of them. Then we find a space behind the church, check with the utterly disinterested priest if he has any objections – he doesn't – throw up the tent, tether Nellie next to us and then drink enough wine to send us to sleep, at least for the first two or three hours.

26.05.2010 Villafranca – Ponzano Superiore

2010-05-28T10:59:00.001-07:00

We have been retracing our steps for the past two or three days, but now we are retracing our friendships too. Having met Heiko and Susan through my last VF blog, the contact has been maintained and now we are meeting them in Aulla with a view to walking back to their home in Ponzano Superiore, which is also on the VF route. The morning walking is generally easy, though with a long stretch on the SS26, which is inevitably unpleasant. Nevertheless, our meeting in Aulla proceeds as planned and we walk the last 10km over the final hills and into Ponzano Superiore, yet another village teetering and spilling down the steep hillsides where Heiko has arranged 5-star accommodation for Nellie and a couch in his home for us. We, and more importantly our animals, are going to have a 3-day rest before the return journey to Arles along the Italian coast, tracing a new route that will link the St James Way to its counterpart in Italy, the via Francigena. Uncharted territory.

25.05.2010 Pontremoli to Villa Franca – 21km

2010-05-28T10:56:00.000-07:00

Today we meet our first Austrian pilgrim, Wolfgang, sitting on the side of the road and airing his feet. We exchange information and discover that he has started out from Pavia and is in his second week of travel and that he is using Eurovia guides that list a religious hostel near Villafranca I know nothing about. I take details and we move on, only to meet him minutes later because we have been stopped by a fallen tree
across the track. We have no alternative but to take the SS road up to Filleta and ultimately Villa Franca.

We meet Wolfgang again outside the hostel where he is waiting for someone to arrive, so we decide to tether Nellie and sit down and wait with him - only to discover that it has stopped taking pilgrims. Now our only option is to try the camping site, even though Wolfgang has no tent and we have no idea if the camp-site will accept horses. A doubtful situation that is finally positive – Nellie is given a field to roam in and we give Wolfgang her rugs to sleep on.

Accommodation – rating – Good but at 25 euros for 3 people and one tent (cold showers too!) expensive.

24.05.2010 Tugo to Pontremoli – 25km

2010-05-27T09:01:00.000-07:00

Hot, Paul and I have tanned another shade darker, but no complaints. Today our route takes us along the tops of the mountains looking down on the descending Cisa Pass and villages along the way. The views are vast, infinite, almost entirely of forest covered mountains and one very small, surviving patch of snow. The signing is good too because we are basically following Club Alpini routes, some of which have been adopted by the VF, but unfortunately this is also another occasion where the absurdity of the offical signing system is all too obvious. In the past Club Alpini has provided additional signs for the VF, but in their own red and white colour scheme – easy to follow and regular - but now we have the expensive, difficult to maintain official signs too, alongside, literally, the original ones!

Club Alpini routes are designed for keen, fit walkers, and are always tough – today's are no exception. Nevertheless, Nellie tackles every challenge thrown in front of her and it is only after our midday break (idyllic field by a fast-flowing river that we ford subsequently) when the official route launches into a series of pointless detours to avoid a quiet, very minor road, that I call a halt. She is tired, showing signs of rubbing from her pack and sweating heavily.

In Pontremoli we discover a far more attractive town than we remembered. In our search for the hostel, we discover the old town, its castle, churches and ridiculously narrow streets where you can literally touch both sides with outstretched arms. The town is named after its trembling bridge, but we walked over it and felt nothing. There are in fact three other similarly old bridges over the river ? Each of which adds to the charm of the place. The architecture is a mixture of Romanesque and other that I haven't the knowledge to identify, but ultimately it is the colours I notice more – stone tones alongside yellows and reds that change with the position of the sun.

The hostel on via Cappucini, just above the railway station, and on the edge of town, is currently being redeveloped and will be an immense complex for pilgrims and seminaries etc. The extensive gardens above it are already planted and will be a welcome retreat in the heat of the summer. The welcome is warm too.

Accommodation – rating Good/PR – 10 euros – horses accepted. Casa Padre Pio da Pietrelcina, 2 via Cappucini 54027 PONTREMOLI 0039 (0)187 830395

23.05.2010 Cassio to Tugo a few kms beyond Berceto 18km

2010-05-27T08:53:00.000-07:00

Another excellent day, climbing alongside and sometimes on the Cisa pass, only marred by the incessant roar and whine (depending on the engine) of motorbikes. Anyone who has a motorbike brings it here. We hit 1000 metres without too much sweat or pain and threatening thunder clouds and noise come to nothing. I cannot think of anything I would rather be doing at the moment, particularly because all of us have reached a level of fitness that makes everything we do so much easier. Even Nellie's 'puff-pauses' are only taken as a matter of principle rather than need.

Accommodation – rating good/PR – only problem is that reaching it requires some doubling back, though the sign posting is excellent. Good value. Horses accepted. Ostello via Francigena,
Via Nazionale, 112
località Cassio
43040 Terenzo (PR)

tel +39 0525526110

22.05.2010 Fornovo di Taro to Cassio 22km

2010-05-27T08:31:00.000-07:00

Again, wonderful walking, climbing and weather. When it is this good I always expect a 'sting in the tail' and am rarely disappointed. This time I am the cause. We have walked well, climbing, but never too painfully and negotiating some of the off-road routes that we had rejected with our bikes in 2007. Midday, we stop for a sandwich and then proceed to Terenzo, a small village perched on one of the hillsides, where a man comes out of his garden to ask where we are going. It turns out that he is a guide writer too and wants to know more about us. I look for Paul's wallet to give him one of our business cards and the sting hits its target. I have left the wallet in the Ladies toilet of the bar where we stopped for lunch, some 4kms back. Paul insists on returning, I wait, and finally some 30 minutes later he is back, faster because he has been given a lift by the bar owner. And so we move on, Nellie and I stopping often, she to eat and I to take photos of the new flowers I keep discovering and finally Cassio – a small, typical village on the Cisa pass – incredible views.

Accommodation – a basic hostel, presumably state run, good value at 7 euros. Horses accepted.

Ostello di Cassio, via Nazionale, loc. Cassio - CASSIO 0039 (0)525 64521

21.05.2010 Siccomonti to Fornovo di Taro 25km

2010-05-27T08:24:00.001-07:00

Back in the hills and enjoying every minute. Some climbing, but infinite variation and without the sometimes daunting height and cragginess of the Alps we crossed in France. Alongside Tuscany, this is probably my favourite region. We follow farm tracks through tiny villages where the stone-built houses cluster round narrow cobbled streets and, better still, are occupied. Meanwhile, in the surrounding countryside every tractor seems to be turning hay in fields that rise and fall like solidified waves – a great deal more attractive than the blasted wastes of tomato land. Everything seems to be alive and making a vocal contribution to the world and, best of all, the sun is still shining. We make excellent progress and everything continues to be perfect until we reach Fornovo bridge. We have done this on our bikes before and so know what to expect. As an alternative we look at the river Taro and consider fording it, emminently possible and preferable in summer, but not after the recent storms. We grit our teeth and head into the traffic – Nellie lowering her head for the onslaught before we have even got there.

After the bridge and a few hundred metres of urban chaos, we are in Fornovo old town where the nearby motorway and everything else that comes with it are quickly forgotten. We make our way up cobbled streets towards the Duomo where there is a religious hostel and our second customer! Patrick (on a gap year) has last year's edition, the latest you could buy before this April (given to him as a Christmas present by his parents) and has walked from Canterbury. Hard to describe the thrill of meeting people who have used our guide, particulary when they are pleased with it. We spend the rest of the evening together chewing the proverbial pilgrim cud and getting the details on the recent English elections – incredible (and, I think/hope an improvement).

Accommodation – rating good/PR – very basic, but adequate. Horses accepted. Donation. Il Duomo, via 20 Settembre 43045 FORNOVO DI TARO 0039 (0)525 2218

20.05.2010 Fidenza

2010-05-27T08:19:00.000-07:00

No early starts today. Leisurely breakfast, slow trawl through various, not too arduous chores – washing, emails, blogging, checking Nellie's legs, cleaning kit, then a gentle mooch back into Fidenza, where we hope to meet Carla Cropera, Secretary General of the ASSOCIAZIONE EUROPEA DELLE VIE FRANCIGENA. No chance. We always knew that pilgrims have a small voice with regard to the via Francigena, but at her level, we have none at all. One wonders who the VF was created for in Italy (in spite of its grandiose name the AEVF in fact only represents the VF in Italy). No, on the contrary, we know who it was created for – the commiteees, events organisers and the people who attend them – invitee lists that do not include pilgrims. Our meeting with Irene Amadei and her staff is useful, informative and in some ways encouraging, if only because it confirms a number of our suspicions. The VF project is still choked by administrative red tape. The lamentable state of the signing is unlikely to change in the near future, meaning that pilgrims will still have to rely on one guide book or another to see them through Italy (we estimate that only 10% of the junctions are signed on the section we have currently verified). But more positively, the VF route from Montgenevre has been officially recognised as a VF variant, as have a number of others. Equally, the excellent work carried out by the enthusiastic signers in that area has been recognised by Irene and others. A small step in the right direction.

When we get back, Nellie is sprawled out in the sun and we do not have a great deal to do, other than get our freshy washed sleeping bags back on the beds and watch a red sunset follow its course. This is the life!

19.05.2010 Fiorenzuola d'Arda to Fidenza 30km

2010-05-27T08:12:00.000-07:00

Morning and Gabriele is waiting for us with more gifts – flowers for Nellie and I (half of which she immediately eats and the other half I stick in her headcollar – she is not impressed), books and some breakfast biscuits. Then he announces that he will walk the first kilometre with us, after we have had coffee and a croissant with him. He refuses to let us pay. In fact he walks the first 3kms with us and then gives Paul a guided tour of the chapel Charevelle while I hold Nellie – a really positive addition because without him we would have walked on by. Then he takes his leave and we say all the things that people say when they are trying to say goodbye and thank you in a way that sounds sincere – someone should create a new vocabulary. Then it's more tomatoes, more small country roads, more walking, but also more sun and the Appenines getting closer, at last producing a positive shape to the horizon. I am almost looking forward to climbing again. Meanwhile, Flea has found out that Nellie can provide a more comfortable ride than Paul's rucksack and rides regularly, until she is spooked by a dog and he is left dangling from the lead we had attached him to. It takes some coaxing to get him back, but by the time we reach Fidenza he is spark out on the top of her pack.

Reaching Fidenza is less simple. Just when we have it in our sights, with only a couple of kilometres to go, the directions tell us to cross a ford where the bridge has been swept away and the recent floods have produced enough water to fill every available space. Fine if you are a fish or have wings, not so good for pilgrims with a horse. Nevertheless, we find an alternative route, one that will also serve other people following us and finding themselves in the same situation, but it adds a few kilometres.

Fidenza is probably our second favourite town after Pavia. Open-aspected with wide streets designed for cyclists and pedestrians and a large central square that invites people in. The kind of place where you can draw a deep breath and let your heart rate slow. The buildings, churches and other, are large, solid, in the main old redbrick and spanning at least 3 centuries. Paul and I spent a number of days here last time (looking for a bike part) and loved it. We also plan an extra day this time, but primarily because we hope to have a meeting with Carla Cropera of the AEVF. Today, we stop off to say hello to her secretary Irene and ask for help with regard to finding a place for us to stay. They try their best, but in the end can only recommend a religious hostel in Siccomonti, 7kms further down the VF route. Not such good news – we have all walked enough – but unexpectedly the perfect solution.

Though just outside Fidenza, Siccomonti is already in a different landscape – gently rolling hills, scattered with small woods and farms and NO TOMATOES. The extra kilometres are a pleasure to walk and when we finally reach Siccomonti church with its small refuge, we find ourselves in a pilgrim Shangri-la. Endless, hock high grass for the horse, a kitchen, beds, showers and a washing machine for the humans! I am probably more excited about this than anything else. Paul and I install Nellie and then ourselves – food, wine, bed.

18.05.2010 San Bonico to Fiorenzuola d'Arda 27km

2010-05-27T08:09:00.001-07:00

The sun is still with us, Nellie has filled out on hay and flirted with the horses over the fence all night. The roads are good and in spite of the drab tomato culture around us we can see the grey outlines of the Appenines ahead (we will be going over the Cisa pass). Then we come to the ford. In summer the river Noure is probably nothing more than a trickle at this point, but fed by a succession of storms it is now deep and fast flowing. With only the main road and a long diversion as an alternative we decide that we have to get across it, if at all possible. Shoes and socks off, I do a trial run and find that a large section is filled by stones and debris that we can walk over, but in between there are three, unavoidable channels. Two are reasonably shallow and slow-running, the third is over the knees and with a current that I can barely stand in by myself, but could probably manage with Nellie's support – if she gives it. We decide to try. Paul carrying Flea and standing upcurrent from Nellie, so that he can lean on her, and me leading with a hand in her mane to cling onto if I lose my footing. Well, I'm writing now, so it worked. Nellie pausing briefly in the strong current, but more to check out the challenge than anything else. Paul using her as his block and me holding on and hoping for the best. Later, we cross two more rivers, but they are puddles by comparison and we are professionals by now.

Then we reach Fiorenzuola d'Arda. Our intention is to go to a religious hostel and see what they can do for us, but we are stopped on the way. People ask us if they can take our photo all the time, so when Gabriele cycles up behind and stops us we think nothing of it. We listen politely when he tells us about his involvement with various societies, one of which is involved with horses, and agree to wait while he goes to get his camera. When he comes back he has his camera, copies of a book about the town and history for us and for the mayor of Arles (he writes a special message for the latter), flowers for me and a series of postcards that he asks us to send back to him when we can. Then we pose for the photos and put ourselves in his charge. He knows the priest, he will ask if there is room for the horse and us in the hostel. Actually, he seems to know everyone, and our arrival is broadcast across the town before we have even properly entered it. We must be the most photographed pilgrims on the route. At the hostel, where we find out that 25 children from under-priviledged families are fed every night and are currently eating, we are given a film star welcome. Everyone comes out, children and adults, to see Nellie, their first equine pilgrim. She walks calmly through a 5-a-side football game and basks in the glory. Flea behaves, but finally snaps at a child when he has had enough. We are given a patch of garden for Nellie and a bedroom for ourselves and the dog that the priest agrees not to see. Payment is refused (but we give it anyway to support their excellent work ). Once again an overwhelming experience, that still has not ended. I am just getting out of the shower when Gabriele comes back – large shopping bag in one hand. Wine, biscuits, sweets, carrots for Nellie and meat for Flea. «The supermarkets are shut tomorrow.» He tells me, even though it is a weekday.

Later, another pilgrim joins us in the hostel. An Italian, 60 plus years of age, exhausted. He has just walked over 50kms and plans to walk another 40 the next day. I'd like to ask him why, but am not sure I will like the answer.

Accommodation: Rating – excellent/PR – dormitory – 5 euros a night. Horses accepted. Presso il Duomo, don Gianni Vincini 0523 98 22 47

17.05.2010 Sopraviva to San Bonico 25km

2010-05-27T08:02:00.001-07:00

Orfeo can't get a car so Danilo drives us to his house – we drink coffee, meet his wife for the first time, remember his time with us in Arles and then try to work out a way of finding a place for Nellie, so that he can drive out to us later and bring us back for supper, shower and bed with his family. The generosity is endless and impossible to thank without repetition (in the evening when I call to say that we have found a place to stay and that it is really too late to come out, he says that if we don't visit him soon he will come back to Arles and visit us there. A welcome threat).

So after all that it's eleven o'clock, a late start, but who cares? Danilo and Gracia make it even harder to leave. He has made us sandwiches and Gracia has collected an enormous bag of bread for Nellie. Not sure who cries first, but we are all mildly damp when we finally part. The animals are not keen to go either, Flea (now at least a kilo heavier – we have had to loosen his harness) ducking back before we notice, meaning that Paul has to return to collect him, Nellie stopping every tenth step, but eventually we get going and the going is good. We are skirting Piacenza, because we have already been through it with a horse and know how difficult it is. Danilo has given us instructions that generally keep us on small roads, but still, unavoidably, involve crossing the Po over a bridge that serves a national route. Nellie bears it well, but lorries skimming past us within centimetres, while simultaneously letting off their air brakes, are simply more than one could expect any horse or person to tolerate. We get through, but will only recommend it with huge warning signs. Next, more small roads and one of so many encounters that could only happen to a pilgrim. A man slows down to ask where we are going etc (this must happen at least 10 times a day), we tell him and he wishes us well and drives off. Half an hour later he is back - «I have hay for the horse, I went to collect it from a friend who also has horses. Have you anywhere to put it?» The answer is no, but we cannot refuse, so we empty one of our large plastic holders, tip everything loose into one of Nellie's packs, fill the bag with hay and tie it on behind everything else – now we really do look like gypsies, but he is pleased as Nellie will be too, later. We thank him effusively, but start to get nervous when he puts his hand in his pocket, obviously searching for change. «No, please don't.»
«Donate this for me in St Peter's Square.»
We haven't the heart, or the courage to say that we won't be going there, but one way or another we will do as he asks, probably through Chris O'Grady, if we manage to meet up. If not, it will go towards Anne-Marie's project. Later, a large van, a mobile shop, pulls up to ask the usual questions and compliment Nellie. In return, Paul asks if we can buy a bottle of Coke. We are given one, payment refused.

Since leaving Danilo we have moved into a new landscape, shaped (as is so often the case) by the agriculture. Italy is a network of monocultures – fruit trees, rice, kiwis, hazelnuts and here tomatoes, where every metre of spare ground is ploughed and prepared for the seedlings we see being planted now – 4 people seated in a row, towed by a tractor and extracting the seedlings from a revolving drum – hell of a job. Hardly a tree or a bush has been left standing and in a country where the people are so open every property is marked Privado Divieto de Accesso, even the abandoned farm buildings. A monotonous, featureless section of our journey where it is impossible to find a secluded place to camp in. By the time we get to San Bonico, everyone is tired and are only hope is a church in the middle of the village. We are heading there when Paul realises that he has left his rucksack (passports, everything in it) about 3km back in another village where we had stopped to get Nellie a drink. We decide that he should go back while I find somewhere to stay. Not long after, when I am almost at the point of despair, a woman comes out of a farm to ask if her daughter can stroke Nellie – I'm am not going to miss this opportunity. In brief - I explain the situation, she phones her husband, her husband phones a man who has horses just a kilometre away and we are installed! Nellie has a paddock and we have a space in front of it for our tent. While we are waiting for Paul, the owner, a man of about 70, tells me about his farm and finally shows me the empty cow stalls, immense hangars that must have housed hundreds of the beasts, plus two huge, bourgeois houses that are now standing empty. «A disaster,» he says sadly «Impossible to get anyone to work for me.» His eyes are full. «But I kept my horses.» The fact that I will be gone tomorrow probably makes it easier for him to confide in me, another feature of being a pilgrim.

16.05.2010 Soprariva

2010-05-20T12:29:00.001-07:00

16.05.2010 Soprariva
Showers, clean clothes (washing-machine clean clothes - even Nellie's rug has been washed on Gracia's insistence) food, food and more food with Samuel and his family and friends, an idyllic location on the banks of the Po, sunshine and no walking. Just what we all need. Nellie has eaten her way through numerous cropped circles along the dyke, Flea has eaten pasta and pork chops with Danilo's dog and we have eaten more in this one day than in the ten before. Paul has also helped Danilo bring in six cycling pilgrims ashore after crossing the Po on his boat – not an easy task at the moment because his usual landing stage is a metre under water. By the evening we are content and probably fit enough to get going again tomorrow, but it will be a late start. Orfeo, who stayed with us in Arles while on his way walking to Santiago, and lives nearby, is coming to see us before we leave.

Accommodation – Danilo has a hostel and usually works on a donation basis though he will charge for the meal. However, due to subsidence caused by the Po river and a high water table, he may not be able to receive pilgrims all of the time. Advice is to phone first. Caupono Sigerico, via Soprarivo 270227 SOPRARIVA (05) 23 77 16 07 homoviator@alice.it

15.05.2010 A wood near St Giacomo – to Soprariva 40km

2010-05-20T12:28:00.001-07:00

This morning all I can remember of the day before is walking, walking, walking and grey skies. There were other parts too, I am sure. Glimpses of the Po rampaging in places it had no right to be, lunch in a bar with Nellie tied up in a parking space and a policeman giving a ticket to a car next to her, some villages that may have been better than others, but in essence our intention was to cover the kilometres for two principle reasons:
1.We wanted to be with our very good friend Danilo Parisi (Po Ferryman) and his wife, Gracia, for Sunday lunchtime, at the very latest, when Samuel and his family (also a good friend and part of Danilo's pilgrim group, Homoviator) would be there. We had already missed the day when a film company from the UK had been there to film Danilo (we had recommended him to the film company), but Samuel had phoned us while we were travelling to see if we could possibly make this second date. We had to and the best way was to get there the night before.
2.We had nowhere to stay, other than outside in the tent again, but after the previous night and so many others before, the prospect of yet another wetting was just one painful step too far.
So we took a thousand more steps, painful too, but with a positive goal. Nellie, plodded on without complaint, I plodded on less silently while Paul kept his eyes glued to the GPS with occasional references to crow-flying distances that he hoped would raise my spirits. Suffice to say that after this experience I will throttle the first crow I can get my hands on.

But we arrive, finally, at 21.00 after a 7.30 start, and Danilo is there, cooking for hundreds of people (he also a restaurant on the banks of the Po) but with time to welcome us with open arms and plates and plates of food, accompanied by wine. We almost feel human again, and if it wasn't for my right foot that has ballooned to the size of a pumpkin, Paul's back ache and a suspicious/worrying lump on Nellie's back (I suspect pressure from her rug) I would say that we had survived the experience unscathed.

14.05.2010 Gropello Cairoli to a wood near St Giacomo – 32km

2010-05-20T12:27:00.001-07:00

Small roads, small villages, a long section along the dykes lining the Ticino, a tributary of the Po, massively swollen by the recent rains, lunch in a bar on its banks and then Pavia, never a disappointment, but always a place we wish we had more time to explore. Our entry to the town is over the Ponte Vecchia, an ancient covered bridge that slices our view of the town into framed sections as we pass over, and then into the centre and along a number of quiet streets where people stop to ask where we are going etc. «Bellisimo, complimenti» is a comment we hear often. Pavia is possibly our favourite town, memorable for its architectural features, open piazzas and relatively tranquil atmosphere. Our visit also includes the obligatory ice-cream stop, always our first in Italy and always the best, then we have to head out into the industrial suburbs where everything unattractive but necessary is relegated. Our intention is to reach St Giacomo, where there is an equestrian centre we once stayed in with Lubie (though we are not intending to ask again this time because we sense that our previous welcome had only been because the owners themselves had been away), until the threatening thunder, grumbling over our heads for the past hour, finally decides to go for bust. We are drenched in seconds and have only one alternative – get off the road, get the tent up and get in.

13.05.2010 Mortara to Gropello Cairoli - 35km

2010-05-20T12:15:00.001-07:00

Morning, more photos of us for Tino, breakfast, sunshine, everything good, except our feet. We have been walking in water for the past week, our shoes our sodden and we have trench foot, or something similar. Anyway, they hurt and our progress is painful, but the going is easy, more canals, more green fields, more good instructions and more back-patting. Then we walk into Tremello and our old friend Gian Carlo. «Cavallo!» We hear him from behind and then suddenly he is there in front, a tiny spider of a man, throwing himself first at Paul and then me.

Gian Carlo has traced and signed a section of the VF in the region of Tremello to Madonna de Bozzolo, perhaps 15km that he maintains and surveys for pilgrims. We met him in 2007 on the route and then spent some time with him in Tremello, admiring the frescoes he is restoring in the church there (he still has the photos I sent). Now we are back and nothing has really changed, except for the bike (a new model) he uses to go up and down the VF. He is still restoring frescoes, still welcoming pilgrims and still pleased to see us. We share a beer, check the details for the local hostel in our guide book and then say our goodbyes.

Next encounter, Brother Cesaré in Madonna del Bozzola (Italiano numero uno – he told us the first time we met). Again we have stayed there with Lubie and our bikes and are recognised as soon as we stick our heads round the Bar de Santuario, where Brother Cesaré is the barman – how many barman have you seen with a crucifix round his neck. He has changed little, except for adding some more weight to the weight he had added to the last time we saw him. Once again, he refuses to let us pay for our drinks, insisting that our visit is a gift – difficult to find an answer to that one. So we drink, talk, wait for yet another storm to pass over, and then we go on and on and on – hours more of walking on feet that should be hospitalised – until we find the Agriturismo where Nellie can have a night in a paddock and we can sleep in proper beds and use someone else's towels – a point appreciated only by people who have travelled for at least 4 weeks, slept outside and washed themselves and their clothes in streams resembling pea soup.

Accommodation - rating: good Agriturismo Sant' Andrea, viale Zanotti
27027 Gropello Cairoli raffaellamoroni@virgilio.it 0382 1862762 0382 1862761 348 4523005 http://www.agriturismo-santandrea.it

12.05.2010 just beyond Palastro to Mortara 27km

2010-05-20T12:08:00.001-07:00

We squelch our way back onto the road to Robbio, the next village, under grey skies and the threat of more rain. Things can't get much more miserable. We are damp, grumpy from lack of sleep and non-communicative, but a coffee and a slightly bizarre encounter with a woman whose enthusiasm involves a great deal of shouting and spittle throwing, makes us laugh and feel marginally better, meanwhile the rain holds off. Once again we are walking between rice fields and drainage ditches and vegetation bursting with colour and scent (I can smell the Jasmine!) but we are also following and verifying the instructions from our latest guide and the good news is that they work! They are correct, we do not lose ourselves, which presumably means that other people do not get lost either. A good feeling. By the time we reach Mortara our spirits are back up and we stop to talk to the owner of a restaurant/hotel where we have stayed twice before – once with Lubie (where she was tethered at the edge of the railway track in front, until driven crazy by mosquitoes and his daughter gave us her garden to let her lose in) and our bike in 2006, and then again in 2007 when we did the journey for our first guide book. He and his wife recognise us immediately (and correct the telephone number in our book). Sadly, he seems to be slightly more frail each time we see him, but the welcome is a warm as ever. We tell him that we will back to eat a Pizza later that evening.

Religious hostels are an important feature of the VF and other pilgrimage routes, offering simple, affordable accommodation and spiritual extras for those who are looking for it. St Albino, run by Tino, on the edge of Mortara is a good example, but ironically the heavens open directly over it just when we are unloading Nellie. Another epic storm, someone is looking for an Oscar. Lights go on and off, the roof shudders under brutal claps of thunder and the garden where we have tethered Nellie, is transformed into a swimming pool, but she seems to be blissfully unaware.

11.05.2010 Sali Vercellinese to just beyond Palastro 30km

2010-05-20T11:55:00.000-07:00

One of those days best forgotten, starting with Nellie refusing to go over a narrow bridge and forcing a 3km detour for me. From here, the new VF signs that we had been following suddenly disappear and leave us floundering at the edge of Vercelli, with a murderous main road to cross. We manage and slog on through the city, too tired, too late in the day to appreciate its qualities and heading stolidy for Robbio where we hope to stay.

Five o'clock in Palastro and we have another 8km to go, I am exhausted, Nellie is fractious and the heavens are grey and threatening. Has He already forgotten my blog-prayer or I have committed an unwitting sin? The route out of Palastro (that would have cut the distance by 4km) has been sliced between a concrete drainage ditch and a paddy field, lethal for horses and cyclists and not much better for walkers. When Nellie has only a few safe centimetres to walk on I turn back and announce that I am going to look for a place to camp – no questions or suggestions accepted. We slog on and finally find a place behind a closed down bar, overlooking the river ¨Po as we have never seen it before. A vast, sleek mass of water grinding its victims – trees and islands of land - through a series of circular currents and finally hurling them and itself down a weir. The thundering drone is intensely threatening and induces a mild state of panic everytime I get too near. I wash in its jettisoned fringes, but hurriedly and superficially. By the time we have put the tent up the rain has started, by the time we have finished our food thunder and lightening is crashing directly over our heads. Another storm, the fourth since we started out and with exactly the same consequences – sopping sleeping bags, wet clothes and dripping shoes. The only good point being that, once again, Nellie has remained calm, benefitted from a good wash and also gained a few extra mosquito-free hours.

10.05.2010 Lamporo to Sali Vercellinese 39km

2010-05-14T00:35:00.001-07:00

We are walking through the Po valley, a landscape I will never tire of, not only because it is blissfully flat after the mountains, but also because it is so unique. Some may declare it monotonous, but I find infinite variation in the rice fields, cascinas – vast architectural wonders that are now sadly often abandoned – the canals with their sluice gates and the shimmering horizon that comes from water baking in the (intermittent) sun.

Today is one of those rare days when we feel that we have managed to bring real value to the route. Our guide book offers a 22km walk along the SP1 to Vercelli as the only option, but not one we are prepared to risk. If an accident were to occur, even if we were ostensibly not to blame, it would be reasonable to ask why the hell we were there in the first place. So, it is down to us to find an alternative, and incredibly, we do – navigating our way along a series of tracks and minor roads that take us into Sarlasco, and another high-point of the day.

We are used to having frequent and often regular communication with people who buy our books – it is one of the great pleasures (usually, if we have got it right), but we have yet to meet one face-to-face. A pilgrim is a rare sight on the VF, so when we see this one, in Sarlasco where our route meets the VF, Paul shouts out a bon giorno, to which the other replies - «Are you English?»

We see our book in his pouch from 10 metres away and tell him, perhaps rather too enthusiastically, that we are the authors. If he wants to get on his way he is polite enough not to say so. Chris is walking from Pershore to Rome, the culmination of 7 years of preparation. One of a number of goals (raising money for a project in Nepal is another) is to complete the journey at a minimum cost, in terms of accommodation. Not a Scrooge-or poverty based notion, but one that tests both his ability to ask for help and others to give it. Thus far the test has been supremely positive and his concluding statement that «I have learnt that the world is a good place.» also reflects our own experience as pilgrims who repeatedly rely on the generosity of people who have never seen us before.

On a practical level, we also discuss the guide Chris is using – the first edition we produced, which I hope has been significantly improved in the third edition, but I listen to some of his comments and cringe when he asks if we have really done all the routes. Yes we have, but maybe it does not seem like it and I ask him to note down every issue he has with our instructions and data generally.

Our intention had been to walk into Vercelli and try out the religious hostel there, but by the time we leave Chris it is already 5.00 and we have only a realistic hour of walking left. We prepare to sleep under the stars until we spot a village ahead and, inspired by our previous conversation, decide to ask if we can put our horse in the football ground, if they have one, or on a piece of grass where we could also camp.

The village is about 2 kilometres of the officially signed VF route, but everyone knows about it. Heads turn as soon as we walk in and then the questions start. When we explain that we are looking for a place to stay, a woman tells her husband to get on his bike and go ask at the Castello. In fact we don't even get that far because another woman sticks her head out and says that her husband speaks French. A few minutes later Nellie is tethered on the grass behind their yard and we have a place in their barn to sleep. We and our animals are treated like celebrities and in the morning our hosts, Umberto and Louise, insist on us eating breakfast with them. We discuss the effects that mechanisation has brought to the area, a benefit in terms of yield, but a loss for its population. Sali, once a village of something above 800 people has shrunk to 100, with the associated commerce disappearing too. The farm that once employed 8 men all year and up to 1500 during the rice harvest, now only needs two. «There is a very high cancer rate here too.» Umberto tells me quietly. We have seen the bags of chemicals stored in every farm and sprayed into the water. Then it is finally time to say our goodbye's, which takes at least half an hour, and when we say that do not know how to thank them for their generosity they tell us that our visit is a gift they will treasure.

09.05.2010 Torrazza Piemonte to Lamporo 15km 08.05.2010 Gassino Torinese to Torrazza Piemonte 24km

2010-05-14T00:21:00.001-07:00

Our first (literal hurdle) is the sluice gate that is pouring water into the rice fields. For a walker this is nothing – 2 concrete slabs separating a metre of air and below a quick running flow of water. A walker would do this in a bold stride. But we have to pursuade half a tonne of horse to jump this with a tiny take_off and landing platform. She looks, considers, ponders the alternatives and then leaps clearing the channel and putting a second jump to the field below to show how easy it was.

Babette is walking well, eats and drinks a little, but needs coffee. Our first village turns out to be closed – I thought this only happened in France. We walk on. Lamporo boasts a whole host of dots on the sketch maps from our guide book and so I hope it will provide some options – it turns out to be a crossroads (with traffic lights), a church and mercifully a bed. We will stay in the Parrocchia and let Babette rest. The football season is over and so I commandeer the football ground as a paddock for Nellie. The crossroads also boasts a Tratorria with the option of a pilgrim menu (not seen one of those since Spain). I will use the menu as a test of Babette's health before making the last 30km into Vercelli.

Accommodation Parrocchia Lamporo: rating – PR – the only game in town, but it has a good clean bed, a warm shower, sits on the route and is across the traffic lights from the Tratorria.

Paul
Babette has declared prayers and churches redundant because God is clearly a Blog-follower. The sun is shining and the rain has stopped.

We take a deep breath and pay up to the very friendly though well-heeled patron and set sail up a very busy Strada Statale for the old town of Gassino. There seems to be some unwritten rules about these little yellow pilgrim signs that we follow:

1.When you need them most they disappear.
2.Don't expect to find them in towns
3.and don't expect to find them on busy roads.

I think this last rule arises through some kind of conscience on the part of the sign stickers. How can they possibly ask pilgrims to walk down this busy road with no pavement and crash barriers closing off any possible escape from the traffic? And so they salve their conscience by not putting up any stickers at all. This compounds the sin as we wander back and forth trying to spot the right direction amid the Saturday traffic. Mercifully this was a short experience before arriving in the old town where we were surrounded by a throng of via Francigena enthusiasts and being presented as heroes to the priest at the church in old Gassino. Thereafter the route is on quiet roads and is gloriously signed (by the enthusiasts) even with regular maps to chart your progress.

In a very short period we experience the warmth and the isolation/insularity of these lovely Italians. The warmth – we are walking down a pretty busy stretch of road when a car swings across lanes and pulls up beside us. The driver (a young professional woman) leaps out and pleads to be allowed to touch our horse – I cannot think of another country where this is just the way the people are..The isolation – every and I really mean every house in the region has 2 must haves: an electrically operated port-cullis (horizontal) and a collection of chained and rabid guard dogs. From behind one of these barriers a voice asserted that our horse was not allowed to eat the grass spilling from the verge of the road.

We are extolling the virtues of the local community taking responsibility for route finding and signing when we suddenly cross the border into the parish of Torrazza Piemonte where the signing is virtually invisible and the route is on muddy and overgrown tracks beside the flooded rice fields. We guess that the town of Torrazza Piemonte will not offer a great welcome to our crew of scruffy 2 and 4 legged pilgrims and so opt for a night under the stars in a glade between rice fields with night birdsong to send us to sleep - which birds sing all night long with a never ending variety of songs? Nellie is less entranced by the setting as she has to put up with the attentions of millions different kinds of fly and deal with one of her remaining phobia – rattling and hooting trains..

Around midnight Babette wakes and decides to check on Nellie. I see her disappear from the tent with torch in hand and wait her return. After a couple of minutes I wonder what is wrong and peer into the darkness – no sign of the torch, perhaps she is settling Nellie as she is not too keen on the bright torch light – 2 more minutes and I start calling – no answer – does this mean be quiet and don't disurb Nellie? - 2 more minutes and I am on my feet trying to find Babette. She is just regaining consciousness after fainting on the way back to the tent. We get back to the tent and I try my best to minister to her and work out what happened. Babette thinks that our bizarre evening meal (salami, cheese, curiously dry bread, custard filled rolls, chocolate biscuits, more chocolate and red wine) got her. I think it is a recurrence of the low blood pressure that she suffers from. For the next couple of hours I poke and prod her to make sure she has not fainted again before falling asleep myself. In the morning she professes to be fine although with a sensitive stomach. I worry, what the heck do I do with a horse a dog a potentially sick wife and 60 kilos of stuff in the middle of a rice field 50km from the nearest hospital.. so I turn to the only available remedy – hope.

07.05.2010 Rivoli – Gassino Torinese 35km

2010-05-07T19:24:00.000-07:00

We have crossed Turin with a horse. Given the choice I'd rather climb Everest in bare feet, but we survived and came out with a unique view of the city (huge, baroque, beautiful and in places very chic) and the Italian people.

Early, cold, wet start, to beat some of Turin's traffic, though in fact only until we reach the outskirts and then all hell lets loose. People in cars should made to get out and stand next to a busy road on a regular basis just to hear and see what their vehicles do to the rest of the world around. Nellie is bludgeoned into a state of near-terror by the roar of the traffic, thundering lorries, blaring buses and hissing airbrakes. Where we can, we walk on the pavements, dodging the crowds hurrying to work and out of the rain – a crazy situation that has an unexpected upside. In spite of the time of day, the weather and the chaos, people stop to talk to us, admiring Nellie – Bellisimo, que belle – wanting to know how old she is, where we are going and so on. In one narrow street we are stopped by a man driving a white van, who also stops all the traffic behind, to ask the usual questions and then, to our embarassment, insists on us giving us 10 euros. Finally we take it, but only after explaining that it will go towards Anne-Marie's project – an anonymous donor. Later, while buying some bread for Nellie, Flea also gets a handful of dog biscuits from a pet shop owner who discovers him sheltering under Paul's rain cape. Then, after what seems like an eternity, we get into the centre and onto the pedestrian precincts – another world and where we would have loitered had the weather been better. Still, we are able to appreciate the broad boulevards, lined with shops and cafes and an amazing choice of Turin shrouds offered on every street corner. Nellie is harangued by crowds of admirers and takes it all in her stride and finally we break through into the vast piazza in front of the Duomo – an unforgettable experience. We have unwittingly arrived a week after the Pope came to see the Turin shroud and in time to run slap-bang into a huge exhibition event that has closed all our exits. At our wits end, we stop to ask a group of policeman for help, and once again Nellie and this time Paul, under the arm pit of a huge caribinieri, are the subjects of numerous photographs. Then onto the final stage, more roads, then tracks along the Po, which is looking dangerously swollen after the rains (reaching teetering at the top of its banks and bridges) and still more rain from above. It would have been a good day, in the sunshine, but we are tired, cold and after 35km ready to stop. Finally, just when I am not sure we can do another step and the only bed & breakfast establishment we have an address for seems to have vanished into thin air, we see a sign for 'beds' over a pizzeria. Paul, the spokesman in Italy, rushes over and after 5 tense minutes for me returns with the thumbs up. Don't know how we do it, but we have fallen on our feet again. The owner has horses, a space at the back of the restaurant, and time to go and get some hay and food for Nellie. So maybe there is a god after all and maybe he does occasionally take pity on sinners like us and maybe he could just go that one step further and turn off the rain.

Practical Route Info
After Montgenevre the signing is taken over by our 'yellow man' - a familiar figure on the VF, but so much better in this region. The signs are relatively fresh and the signers have really given thought to the position and frequency of the signage. Better still the route respects the need to stay off main roads and difficult intersections (unlike the previous guide options). So far we need to look for only one or two alternatives for horse-riders and perhaps some preferable choices for walkers - for example the railway bridge in Turin - no pavements and no space between people and cars - suicidal.
The VF itself seems to be far more well known than its equivalent in the Aosta valley. People living in the area are aware of it and often know precisely where it runs. The French seem to be the greatest number of users and we are currently following a group from Nice, whose progress is being tracked on Italian TV. We are constantly being asked if we are part of it.
Accommodation is still sparse and not yet as pilgrim-focused as in Spain, but there are a few options and as the traffic increases so will the support.
In brief, a great deal easier to travel on this section of the VF than our previous experience from Aosta onwards. Cannot understand why the focus has been so Swiss-border orientated when this option has so much to offer in terms of landscape, historical interest and good walking.

Accommodation - rating good but possibly beyond the pilgrim budget Via Torino, 235
10090 Castiglione Torinese TO, Italia
011 9601304

06.05.2010 Vaie to Rivoli - 27km

2010-05-07T19:17:00.000-07:00

No rain, easy walking with with not too much exposure to large roads and finally goodbye to the mountains. Our entry into Rivoli, a suburn of Turin, is less comfortable. A long section on a very busy road and then a difficult passage down narrow cobbled streets that were not built for cars, and still less for cars and horses. Nellie and I are constantly squeezing ourselves into insufficient spaces and progress is slow, but it is not all bad. The repeated, unadulterated and entirely genuine interest of the people who stop us to admire Nellie, ask us where we are going and coo over Flea, lifts our flagging spirits. Then, just when the tiredness is really being to set in and Nellie is letting us know that she has had enough, cashiers from a small supermarket bring out apples and five minutes later a customer emerges with a kilo of carrots.

Our night is less comfortable, because grass and horse-appropriate space is hard to find. After some hopeless searching, we take the only small lane we can find and find a patch of grass hidden behind a few houses. We camp illegally, but if anyone sees us he or she says nothing. Our abiding memories of the night will be the encessant city-noise – how do people live with it? And Nellie's silhouette as she stares over the vast expanse of city lights.

05.05.2010 Susa to Vaie - 27km

2010-05-05T11:44:00.001-07:00

Rain and more rain, with only a break in the middle for the day to give us a forlorn hope. It started again just an hour later with even more force. I still don't understand why water in droplets is so unpleasant, but it is. Even Nellie shows signs of having had enough. But the route is good, no dreadful roads and no dreadful climbs and just when the rain turns into steel rods (and I am at the end of my very wet tether, Paul (always at his best in adversity) finds us a B&B in a no-name town. Once again, we have been taken in by people who cannot do enough to help us and love our animals. Nellie is tethered in lush grass, after munching her way through a few kilos of dried bread, Flea is lolling on his own, personal blanket and we have reduced our room to a steam bath as we make best use of two radiators (!) to dry our drenched clothes. Life is good, but the weather forecast for tomorrow is shit!

Accommodation - rating EXCELLENT B&B Sanpancrazio, via san pancrazio 10050 VAIE 39 (0)11 9634028 338 7580678 sanpancrazio@sanpancrazio.net www.sanpancrazio.net

03.05.2010 Oulx to Susa 28km

2010-05-04T01:33:00.000-07:00

Another tough climb back up to the top of the valley – up and down is all we seem to do – but the yellow man is looking after us. We are taken along small lanes and tracks that lead us past vineyards cultivated on vertical slopes – no risk of mechanism here – and through huddles of houses that show as barely a pin prick on the map. The landscape is a mass of massive wrinkles, like cardboard scrunched up and sprinkled with streams of water in its hollows. Tamed, but barely. I would not miss this for the world. Then, a brief set back when we find that the bridge we need to cross (a substantial roadbridge) has been washed away and the road apparently abandoned. The yellow man forgot about cyclists and horse riders. We have no alternative but to follow a brief section of the SS24, during which a cyclist gestures that we should go on the destroyed route below, prompting a futile, though satisfactory episode of pilgrim-rage during which I imagine a head over wheel spin, accompanied by my explanation that he should try it himself. Finally we enter Susa, with no idea of where to stay and in the pouring rain. There is a St Franciscan convent, but we have vetoed it because our last experience with the Franciscans included (ironically) a refusal to let our dog inside – we slept in the tent outside – but in the end and after some persuasive talk from Paul in the tourist office, a telephone calls reveals that this convent welcomes animals (as per St Francis) and has a place for the horse.

04.05.2010 Susa 0km
A place! A Shangri-la! Nellie is knee-deep in grass, has access to vines if she wants them (thankfully she does not) and more dry bread than she can cope with. Flea is admired, fussed over and allowed into our room, which is warm, en suite and only 30 euros per person. We are staying. It is raining still, Nellie has not had a day off since her injury, we have mounds of dirty washing to deal with and items to replenish.
Items lost to date:
1 Tether stake
Sock several – I blame Flea
1 horse boot
1 dog lead
4 pairs of glasses (two lost, two destroyed)
1 camera
1 T-shirt
1 filling -will try to survive without going to the dentist before we get back.

Accommodation - excellent! Convento San Francesco
I Chiostri Onlus
Piazza San Francesco 3
10059 SUSA TO

Tel.:+39 0122 622.548
Fax:+39 0122 600.047
e-mail: ichiostrionlus@sanfrancescosusa.com

01.05.2010 – Le Fontenil to Cesana Torinese – 23km 02.05.2010 – Cesana Torinese – Oulx 27km

2010-05-04T01:18:00.000-07:00

WE ARE IN ITALY!!!
Snow was our greatest fear and it was, in the end, our greatest challenge. Having patted ourselves on the backs for getting to within a kilometre of Montgenevre on broad, high altitude tracks without any real snow, we then hit a river crossing and 500 metres of deep snow, with no way to go back. If Nellie had not been so familiar with the stuff we would not have made it, but we did, though we lost one of her precious boots in the snow (no amount of searching finds it, but fortunately we have a spare). Then coffee and a sandwich (we had left our woodland campsite without breakfast because we had none) and mounds of dry bread for Nellie in Montgenevre, donated by the only cafe open in the whole of the town. Off-season it is a depressing place to be.

Our entry into Italy is uneventful, in fact we are not even sure where we enter, though the signs must have changed at some point. After this we leave the SS24, a fairly main road, and go off into the mountains and the snow, with some trepidation and promises to turn back if it got to risky.

If it were only the ascent, I would describe this as one of the best days so far. Sun shining, Nellie revelling in her return to snow - eating it and once even trying to roll in it with her packs on, which, sadly, I have to forbid – the sense of climbing and walking at eye-level with the other peaks around, then finally reaching 2000 metres with our amazing horse, dog and each other. If only it could stop there.

The descent is hell, 6km deep, crevassed snow that Nellie falls into up to her belly and we stumble through like three-legged drunkards. The only one who seems to be able to enjoy it is Flea, because he is light enough to skip over the surface. Again, without Nellie's experience of snow, the ending could be very different, but she sets the example and we follow and we survive and walk into Cesana and the Italy we fell in love with the last time we were here. Suddenly we are surrounded by interested, warm admirers. Every one of them complementing us on our horse, our appearance, our expedition and all wanting to help. The only people who seem to be cold and aloof are, we discover as their car drives away, French. Apologies to the French nation, we live there by choice, so it can't be all bad, but the difference in attitudes and human-warmth between you and the Italians is stark. Within half an hour Paul has, with the help of the Tourist Office, tracked down a hotel willing to take us and our animals, and we are quickly installed in our room while Nellie is once again surrounded by an admiring crowd and proffering hands. We are good at camping 'au sauvage', we can do it and find ways to make it comfortable (particularly with an air bed), but a hot shower and a good dinner are hard to beat.

Accommodation – Casa Cesana, rating: Good, but not PR because of the price – at 45 euros per person, it is an expensive pilgrim option, but for those with a larger budget, the welcome is warm, the food is good and the rooms comfortable.

02.05.2010 – Cesana Torinese – Oulx 27kmTough day, too tough, but in the end productive in terms of our route and the value we can add to it for pilgrims following in our footsteps. Preferring to take people off the dreaded (frankly suicidal for walkers and horse riders) SS24, recommended by the current guide book, we find an alternative off-road route, which is great until it starts to climb steeply and then finally disappears at the top of a rocky outcrop. Having a pack pony is great for 95% of the time, but the final 5% is always indescribably awful. Suddenly at over 1000 metres up, the still climbing track narrows with sheer drops on one side and trees on the other, which means we have to take the packs off every few strides, while teetering on the edge – then Paul has to carry them for whatever distance is required - each one weighs 22kilos. Meanwhile Nellie, our previously hyperactive equine, stands untethered and stock still, waiting for us to do what we have to do and her next instruction. I can't even begin to describe the value of such behaviour – in fact it is invaluable. Then we ask her to slither up and down rock faces, teeter on the edges of vertical drops and scramble over the temporary paths we make where the trees have fallen. She does it all and then we realise that we should have taken a previous turn and must retrace our steps. There are days and moments when I just want to give up, but they are always when we have gone so far that there is no turning back, and now we have the descent. An almost vertical winding path, strewn with rocks and roots that Nellie, with her packs has to find her way down. I am in front, with a ton of horse thundering behind. My instinct is to step-aside and let her go ahead, but I can't because I am the path finder. Nellie steps where I step and when I want to warn of her a large drop or obstacle to watch out for I jump higher so that she is aware of what she must do. We reach the bottom, safe, proud of ourselves for discovering the way out and a better route (for walkers and mountain bikers), but steaming with sweat and fear.

From here to Oulx the going is relatively easy, wide paths and more self-congratulation because we have found our way back onto a new set of via Francigena signers (yellow man) who seem to understand the need to stay away from main roads and other horrors. After Nellie's hotel night, with only a bare lawn to feed on, we our determined to ensure that she gets a bellyfull of the lush grass that lines the valley floor, so we stop off at what looks like the perfect woodland clearing, let her go and start to set up the tent. But Nellie is not impressed, in fact she is sniffing the ground and giving it an equine thumbs-down. Then we look more closely at the slightly broader leaves and Paul becomes aware of a pungent, but familar smell – garlic. We have parked ourselves in a field of wild garlic and though French, Nellie is not a garlic-eater. So we move onto the next clearing and find better fare for Nellie and shelter from the threatening rain for us. Another night under the stars, slightly damp, rather cold, but free and easy, with the help of a box of wine that Paul found in Oulx.

Meanwhile … Flea has been rechristianed DH (the Deer Hunter). Previously a furious, but futile, hunter of butterflies, Flea has discovered a new and presumably much more exciting prey. These woods are full of them, so much so that we have given up commenting on the sight, but Flea is in dog-heaven, forgetting his place in our team and our place as his masters. When he picks up a scent he is deaf and blind to anything else, disappearing so often and for so long that in the end we refuse to wait or call, leaving his fate to fate, which to our surprise proves to be the miraculous cure. Finally he is back, whimpering, tired and obviously scared by the prospect of losing us – he has not strayed again …. yet.

30.04.2010 - le Villaret to just after Le Fontenil - 10km

2010-05-04T01:14:00.000-07:00

Some days are just horrible and this is one of them. Desperate to get to Italy, we seem to do nothing but go round in circles the wrong way and meet ourselves coming back. It's frustrating, time-consuming, tiring and plain annoying, but having finally reached Briançon, we assume that the worst is over. Wrong. On previous journeys we discovered what we called the 'one-eye towns', where people seem to be more closely related than is entirely healthy, and other towns where the 'bastard' gene predominates. Briançon is the latter. Having found the route up to the citadel without a flight of stairs (Paul is tracing the one with the stairs), I then find that it is blocked by a van whose owner absolutely refuses to move it the 5 metres that would give Nellie and I enough space to pass. He is doing some electrical work and does not see why he should stop for a weird woman and her horse. I try to discover an alternative, but this one is also blocked by a group of people moving house – it would be too much to ask them to move, so I go back and ask the van-man (it's white), though less politely than before. It makes no difference and then his neighbour comes out to give me some verbal too. By this time I am raging, but Paul has come back and with no alternative so we launch ourselves into the main traffic and somehow weave our way up to the top of the town, where I generally indulge in an episode of pilgrim-rage - every bit as dangerous as its equivalent road-rage, except that it involves hell and damnation too. Then the story only gets worse, the previously blue sky is getting more grey by the second and we are later than we should be, so we stop in le Fontenil where there is a gite d'etape … of sorts. I'll say no more than we did not want to stay there and he did not want our dog – an easy get-out for everyone concerned. Sometimes sleeping out in the wilderness is preferable, so we did, in the woods just beyond Le Fontenil and just before the heavens opened, at which point it is probably appropriate to add that though one of the disadvantages of travelling in early spring is the bad/wet/cold weather, one of the distinctive advantages is that you have the opportunity to watch the countryside burst into life. Blossom pricking out and then pouring colour over bare branches, hillsides changing shape and tone by the hour – the variety of greens infinite as the trees come into leaf and the ground is patchworked with small flowers. As for wildlife, Nellie has brought our attention to a pack of fox clubs playing in the woods, a marmot running across the road and then stopping within less than a metre of us (I thought it was a shaggy cat until it whistled) and numerous deer.

29.04.2010 - L'Argentiere-la-Bessée to le Villaret 24km

2010-05-04T01:05:00.000-07:00

We start the day by grabbing a quick call to Lucy who has her birthday just one day after Richard – it is her 21st.

Now determined that as we approach the highest parts of our journey we will not take any more risks on these crazy paths. Today's path passes through woodland and although high above the Durance, it feels protected by the surrounding pine trees. Until again at the narrowist part of the track we run straight into the aftermath of a land-slide. Grey-clay has wiped way all the trees to the river below leaving a track barely a foot wide and crumbing all around.

We often quote that « paths are made by walking ». In this case the path was made by bare hands and a claw hammer. After 30 minutes of hard labour we had managed to widen and strengthen the pathy so that we could all pass in safety.

From there we chose to stick to the certainty of the tarmac for the rest of the day and have luckily stumbled on a cheery camp-site with a neighbouring Centre -Equestre and so Nellie, Flea and the pair of us can take an easy evening before setting out for Montgenevre and Italy tomorrow.

Accommodation - - Rating Excellent/PR special rates for pilgrims. Camping Hameau de Prelles 05120 ST MARTIN DE QUEYRIERES 04 92 20 26 66 contact@camping-isclesdeprelles.com http://camping-isclesdeprelles.com

28.04.2010 St Thomas to l-Argentiere-la-Bessée 27km

2010-04-30T00:44:00.000-07:00

The horse is amazing, despite the catastrophe of last night she is up and ready to go with the larks. After the incident with the rope we had decided to let her just graze freely and over a very light breakfast (just water for us) she happily mooched around the tent.

In St Crepin we stocked up on bandages and more good coffee before starting our morning climb. This time on deserted narrow roads. Today's gorge is fore-shortened at Pallon where the silver miners had the good sense to put in a real bridge.

High above Pallon we have another of those forks to think about..the broad track snaking slowly up the hill or the narrow direct route. This time we opt for the narrow route. Quickly the route begins to flank the steep hillside with the hill sloping steeply away below. The track becomes to narrow to turn Nellie and so our sole option is to go on. This is fine until rock outcrops emerge that reduce the track to inches before falling to the river below. We have no choice but to ask Nellie to go ahead. She is of course reluctant but tries and for one awful moment begins to slither down the hillside before finding grip and recovering the track. We are all scared and do not want to repeat that, but minutes later we are in the same position again. What to do? Try again or try and turn and face the risk of her falling. We decide to choose the devil we know. This time she skips around the outcrop without a thought and we are happy to have to retrace the 3 or 4 lost kilometres to the safer route.

We spend the night in Moulin de Papillon – a gite that caters for Alpinists, hikers and tonight 30 teenager kyakers. The house is full but we can put our tent and Nellie in the Garden and use their kitchen and showers and electicity – a real example to compare with the horror that some people express when faced by a couple of dirty pilgrims.
Le Moulin Papillon
Bénédicte Voruz
rue du Fournel
05120 l'Argentière la Bessée
Tél : 04 92 21 85 14
Port : 06 83 25 27 95
Mail : moulin-papillon@orange.fr

Today was my son Richard's birthday.

27.04.2010 Châteauxroux-des-Alpes to St Thomas. 24km

2010-04-30T00:30:00.000-07:00

Paul
So I have been handed the keyboard to record my thoughts over the following days.

The day starts beautifully and slowly with bright sun and few worries over Nellie and that sense that we are in no hurry, after all this is our project with no one but us to satisfy. We take time to park Nellie beside a fountain in the centre of Châteauroux-des-Alpes while we have the rare delight of a hot cup of coffee. It seems days since we have tasted hot-food and it only serves to make the coffee that much better.

Climbing out of Châteauroux-des-Alpes (in this trip as with all of our others, there is a law of nature that says the day starts with a climb) we discover a fork and look down at a narrow track snaking along a precipitous slope. This is something that I just don't want to do with Nellie. Fortunately the signposts are with us and show a shorter alternative along and wider and safer track. So why not!

I need to do more research on this but I guess the Roman Road here is now buried under the tarmac of the Route Nationale and instead of offering us the obvious route to follow as it must have done to the earlier generations of pilgrims it offers us just risk and so we are consigned to the hills.

As we make our way up the valley of the Durance there are deep gorges cut by fast running torrents of melt water and today we just have to make the loop up the gorge to a safe crossing point and then back down again. Well that was the plan because this winter must have been a lulu. The safe crossing point was a wooden bridge which we discover has been half destroyed. A pedestrian could wade through the torrent (think white water rafting) and then shin up the centre pier to cross the deepest and fastest section, but this is not something any horse is going to manage and so with slightly hanging heads we retrace our steps and tackle the Route Nationale. Mectifully we are able to choose a route that limits our exposure to just a couple of kilometres before returning to the high wooded slopes.

Approaching the impressive and scary hill-top fortress town of Mont-Dauphin we go into one of those phases of "what do our readers want from their route". Here we can see a way to cut out 4 or 5 kilometres, a bunch of climbing and a few nasty road crossings. The price is not seeing Mont-Dauphin close-up. We go for that option.

Tonight we aim to go au-sauvage, but passing through St Thomas we come across a new wrinkle – au-sauvage in a camp-site. Here it seems the season does not really get going until June and so there are all these deserted camp-sites just crying out to offer sanctuary to us and Nellie. So we choose the best spot on the site right beside the river and settle into a period of self congratulation (helped by the newly discovered joys of small plastic bottles of white wine). Our reveries do not last. Babette is on her feet shouting to Nellie, who has wrapped herself in a cat's cradle of rope and is panicing. We rush and release her but it is too late to avoid the rope biting into her nearly healed wound. We apply all the medication we can find and she seems to be strangely undisturbed despite the blood. So our joy turns to fear that this could have reversed the great progress we have been making.

26.04.2010 Abbe de Boscodon to Châteauroux-des-Alpes – 22km

2010-04-30T00:19:00.000-07:00

In the morning our hosts present Nellie with a bag of feed for the journey, the two girls give her a last hug and we are on way. Once again the route rides up and down but is generally easy because the paths are wide. In Embrun we dawdle and lose our way, but see more of the town, which is rewarding. In one of the many pedestrian precincts we stop to buy ice cream and are immediately surrounded by a crowd of interested people. Paul takes them through our various stories until Nellie loses patience and we have to move on. Later in a small village we give her a drink at a fountain, which attracts a group of children who climb all over her, but she takes it all calmly and even seems to play to her audience. Tonight we are in a campsite where Nellie meets her first admirer in an invalid buggy. Though initially nervous she backs away, until a hand emerges to offer food, which changes everything. I suspect that in the future babies in prams, wheelbarrows and anything vaguely similar will be accosted Nellie-style. Later the owner of the site, who has made us very welcome, offers to look out for her while we go off for a pizza. Being so obviously odd, but harmless, has its advantages.

Accommodation – rating: Good/Pilgrim Recommended – good facilities, helpful host, horses accepted. Camping les Pins, Les Pins 05380 CHATEAUROUX LES ALPES 04 92 43 22 64

25.04.2010 Prunier to Abbe de Boscodon 23km

2010-04-27T00:25:00.000-07:00

As we set out on yet another perfect day, it occurs to me that we have been walking under the shadow of snow-capped mountains for nearly ten days. Our progress has been a series of ascents and descents ranging from 400m to 1300m, and sometimes we have even touched the snow. Our slow pace allows us to watch the gradual change in the contours of the landscape and saunter through communities that wouldn't even register if we were in a car. Today has been particularly interesting in this respect and has introduced us to a continued rural existence that I had assumed to be long gone. In addition there seem to be groups of younger people who have taken over older hamlets and adapted them to their own way of life … food for thought. Otherwise another excellent walking day, with no real obstacles – long may it last. Nellie is performing perfectly in every respect, crossing a kilometre long bridge over Terre de Ponçon, where the drivers give her no space and even overtake other cars in front – frankly terrifying for me, but she seems unperturbed. Having said that, there are as many drivers who signal their approval of what we are doing (usually with positive gestures but also occasionally by blowing their horn, which Nellie appreciates less), or even stop to tell us so. Tonight we are staying in a Gite next to Abbé de Boscodon which is everything one would expect a contemplative place to be (the abbey not the gite). Our first sight is round a corner of the small track we have been following through the trees that suddenly break open into a wide open space to reveal the yellow-stoned abbey - an unforgettable view. From here everything is marginally less tranqil because we have managed to arrive in the middle of a commemoration ceremony for soldiers lost in the last two world wars and, judging by the age of some of the attendees, more recent ones. Nellie is tied to a ring in the abbey wall and immediately swarmed all over by children, all of which she seems to tolerate and perhaps even enjoy. Flea is less appreciative, and tries to bite a couple of children who come too close – something we have to watch out for. Some hours later, Nellie is finally allowed to go to her overnight tethering post, above the memorial itself, with flags and flowers still in place. She has no grass but is fed mounds of dry bread and apples, plus a mound of hay to see her through the night.

Accommodation – rating: Excellent/PR – reasonable price (45 euros, breakfast inc), even though the dormitory was not available and we had to take the chambre d'hote option. Hosts very welcoming and helpful, couldn't do enough for Nellie.
Gite d'Etape, Auberge de Montagne, Abbé de Boscodon 05200 - CROTS 04 92 43 00 50 gite-boscodon@tiscali.fr

24.04.2010 Notre-Dame du Laus to Prunier 26km

2010-04-27T00:17:00.001-07:00

Good walking, wide paths, not too many climbs and the sun shining. We also meet three pilgrims, which acts as a reminder of what we are doing and why. All seemed to have 'done' the St James Way before and were looking for a less popular/calmer alternative. A category we also fit into. On the way we find a perfect river for Nellie to stand in for the statutory 10 minutes and she is already in there up to her hocks before I have to explain. She is getting into the routine. In Chorges, Nellie and I stop next door to a circus while Paul goes off to stock up on supplies. A boy comes out and admires her and we get onto talk about the horses he has and what he does in his act. As we leave we see his little coloured mare and two shetlands. If we had had more time I would have stayed to watch the performance. When we reach our chosen camping site, a farm on top of a hillside, we realise that we have not checked the details and it is in fact closed. Still, Paul manages to persuade the woman in the farm next door to let us pitch our tent and tether Nellie on a patch of grass nearby. It is idyllic, with panoramic views over the vast lake below and a stream to wash in. Before going to bed we watch the clouds cast shadows over the snow-capped hills and I realise that I have never taken the time to observe this more – a humbling experience on many levels.

23.04.2010 Gap to Notre-Dame du Laus, 17km

2010-04-27T00:05:00.000-07:00

A short day because we still do not want to push Nellie too hard and we will be stopping off at Decathlon on the way out. We leave our hosts after an excellent breakfast and set out into the morning commuter traffic, a daunting experience, but apparently not for Nellie, who dawdles through it all and waits at zebra crossings as if she has never done anything else. Then, having found a place in the city centre, though with enough grass to keep her happy for at least an hour, Paul leaves us to see what he can find in Decathlon. We have a long list of requirements, including an inflatable mattress for the tent. Yes, we have given in, sapped out, or whatever else you want to call it, but successive nights lying on stones do nothing for the body or the spirit. In fact we have gone one step further down the road to materialistic hell, we have bought a battery-powered pump!
Getting out of Gap is relatively easy, the only highlight being when our path is blocked by a group of people working in the forest and stoking an enormous fire. When one of them asks if she will pass it, I tell him it will not be problem. In truth I have no idea, but where there is no choice there is only one answer. So we give it a go and Nellie does not let me down. From here our walk is a series of gentle climbs and descents until we top the last ridge and look down on Notre Dame du Laus, a memorable experience artfully prolonged by a zigzag path that gently leads us into the valley. Doing my utmost to leave well entrenched predujices aside, I have to say that the accommodation is simple but ample and Nellie has been given one of the best fields yet. She is currently munching knee high grass under fronds of lolling blossom. Allowing a slither of my predujice through, I would add that the sight of barely pubescent nuns and barely disguised commercialism in the name of religion still makes my flesh creep. Notre-Dame du Laus, was predictably built at the request of the Virgin Mary (yet another vision for a poor shepardess), is equally predictably, a highly successful affair.
Other news – Flea has gained a kilo and lost a tooth.

Accommodation – Rating: Good/PR Possibly good value if you can persuade the receptionist to give you the simple version, we did not and paid for it. Camping possible. Horses accepted. Hotelliere Notre-Dale du Laus 05130 ST ETIENNE LE LAUS 04 92 50 30 73 accueil@notre-dame-du-laus.com www.notre-dame-du-laus.com

22.04.2010 Tallard to Gap – 25km

2010-04-22T13:16:00.001-07:00

Breakfast and once again Flea prompts another round of 'guess the breed' - a game that usually involves examination of the poor dog from every angle, a great deal of prodding and probing and finally the verdict, which can range from the more or less sane to the plain ridiculous. Flea has been described as everything from a doberman to a dachsund, but on occasion even a pure breed, to which I only reply with a smile, while thinking that given his provenance he probably isn't even pure canine. While on the subject of Flea, I should also mention that without any other siblings available, he seems to have adopted Nellie as his big sister or maybe even mentor, following her lead in just about everything she does. He lies at her feet, drinks when and where she drinks and eats when and where she eats (which includes large amounts of grass and lumps of carrots). In return, Nellie tolerates her new friend and only nudges him out of the way when he is lying on a choice piece of grass.

From Tallard we enjoy great walking on good paths, sometimes through awe-inspiring, vaguely unnerving mountains of shale that look as if a passing giant emptied the dust out of his pockets there, and then into Gap and all the traffic that any large town entails. Nellie is perfect, right up to the last turning where our hosts have found us a field of lush grass and a tree to tether her to. Life is good again, we have a soft bed to sleep in, a shower to shower in and our washing is dry. Mme. Chantal Henke, 3ème chemin de la Brèche 05000 - GAP 04 92 51 58 00 chantal.henke@laposte.net

21.04.2010 Urtis to Tallard – 20km

2010-04-22T13:08:00.000-07:00

Morning, Nellie wakes with a soft whinny, that might have been an equine version of «what time do you call this then?» We get up, aching and sore from the various rocks and roots we have been sleeping on, but otherwise in a reasonably good state, though Flea is shivering with the cold. We find the coat that was supposed to have growing room in it, but it is far too small and Paul comments that he must be the only pilgrim wearing a Burberry on the Chemin de St Jacques. Then we get going - walking along the top of the world, staring incredulously across valleys that we have crossed and re-crossed and seeing, for the first time the distances we have travelled and the heights we have reached. Incredible.

Midday, we are in Tallard, riding under the shadow of its chateau, but also looking for a place to stop for a beer and a sandwich. We are dithering around because we can't find a good place to tether Nellie. «Put her in the boulodrome» a man shouts over from the bar. «But what if she shits in there?» I ask. «The lumps will test their skills.» He shouts back. So we go in, drink a number of beers, share some bread with Nellie and receive more excellent instructions, this time with regard to a quieter road out of the town and in the direction of the place where we will be staying for the night.

All goes well until we come off the quiet road and onto a main one that takes all the traffic to Marseille. Nellie, as ever, ignores the trucks and speeding cars, but when two collide to her left with a screech of brakes and smashed headlights, her calm is briefly and understandably shattered, as is mine. What the hell happened? The two cars have stopped some 50 metres ahead and a woman is screeching and waving her arms around. At first I think she must be hurt, but I quickly realise that she is swearing at us in best Marseilleise and the bloke (her partner) is joining in. «What happened?» I ask. «What the f... are you doing on this road?» the guy demands back, while stompinging in our direction and concluding by thumping me hard in the chest. Paul is there in two seconds, fist poised to smash his nose onto the other side of his face, but fortunately the woman holds her partner back before the situation gets even worse, though she keeps on shouting, as does he. «You're not even from our country.» He goes on. «You've no right to be on our roads.» My response that we live here and probably pay more taxes than he does is lost on him, but when I suggest that we call the police instead, his girlfriend takes over. «No, no police, we are on our way to the doctor, we are stressed ….. no police. Just fuck off and go.» So we do, as fast as we can, though not before partner has spat at Nellie and told her and her owners to get back to their own countries. I am rarely speechless, but it takes me at least ten minutes to produce a rational explanation for what has just happened, in fact I am still struggling to understand it as I write. I suspect that the two cars were following each other too closely and that the driver of the second one was distracted by seeing a horse on the side of the road and ran into the back of the first. Someone had to be to blame, and as they were all friends, the only other scapegoat could be the 'foreigners'. From here the madness continues, but in the most congenial of ways. Our chambre d'hote is just a kilometre ahead and home for just about every animal you could imagine. First there are the goats (Nellie's favourite – she stops and stares wistfully every time we pass goats or hear their bells), then the chickens, the donkey, the shetland pony and finally the emus. Our host proposes that we let her loose in the field and see what happens. I am not so sure. Nellie is already reacting badly to the shetland's amorous grunting, and the emus, who are dangerously inquisitive are at risk of being laid out by one flick of her hind leg. Finally, the owner of the beasts comes out and suggests another field where they can touch noses, but nothing else, and so all is well. We can shower, eat and sleep, knowing that no one will come to harm and Nellie will be able to eat her fill of the lush grass.

Accommodation – rating: Good/PR. Good horse facilities, in separate field. 27 euros per person, breakfast included. Warm welcome. La Grange, Le Petit Collet, Route de Marseille, 05130 - TALLARD 06 86 66 77 12

19.04.2010 La Motte du Caire to Urtis – 20km

2010-04-22T12:58:00.000-07:00

Hard day! Possibly the hardest day since the last hardest day, I am losing count. After deciding to leave the GR/Chemin de St Jacques in preference for a route that would be more suitable for long distance, as opposed to day-walkers, we had an easy start, but then everything went downhill, or to be more accurate, up hill, from there. After spending an hour fighting our way through fallen trees, literally moving trunks that had fallen across the path after the recent storms, we discover that we have in fact missed a turning and should have gone along another clearer, but entirely vertical path. With no alternative, we can only look at Nellie, leave it up to her and keep out of the way when she gets up speed because without speed/velocity there no way she is going to reach the top. 500 metres up in under a kilometre is a steep climb. I am a shaking heap at the top, but we have made it and Nellie is the heroine. Later, when we finally start to go through snow, she surprises us again, this time by the way she heads for a choice patch and starts eating it - we suppose a a remnant of her previous life in the mountains. In the evening we decide to camp 'sauvage' and find an ideal hideaway in a group of trees next to a small river that I try to persuade Nellie to stand in (cooling therapy for legs). She is not keen, it is too small and too deep, so instead she jumps clear over, many times, but I am equally determined so we fight on and finally reach a compromise where she agrees to stand with two hind feet under water. After this she simply leans across to hang her head over my shoulder and dribble gently down my back. Perhaps she is saying sorry, or perhaps she is giving me the chance to say how sorry I am. Either way, we have made up and are friends again. Meanwhile, Paul is setting up camp, pitching the tent so that we have a row of primroses in front of our door and a fireplace close to a rock we can sit on. If it were just slightly warmer, I would say we were as close to heaven as Paul and I are ever likely to be.
Accommodation – free, though the bed was rock-hard.

18.04.2010 St Geniez to La Motte du Caire - 19km

2010-04-19T07:05:00.000-07:00

A tough day, one of the toughest, too many metres over too short a distance, with ravines, cliff edges and every other anti-equestrian difficulty thrown in, but Nellie hangs in there and so do we, but only because there doesn't seem to be any other alternative. The signs indicate that the route is also suitable for horses – though I suspect they must have run out of space to add the parenthesis (if they are called Pegasus). Nevertheless, our flying equivalent has a go and survives somehow, though Paul often has to carry the packs. In the evening when we arrive at the perfect gite equestre (abundant food and space for horses and humans) we are all tired, stiff and keen to find an excuse to hang on for another day. Who cares if the trip takes a month longer? As long as we can find someone to look after the cats at home it doesn't matter, and today, the 19th, after a lunch in the sun, nothing else seems to matter. Nellie has had another 10 minutes in the river, her legs are not perfect, but better, and we have benefited from the break in more ways than just physical. We have agreed that time is not of the essence, that the guides we are following are desperately inaccurate and need some rationalisation by GPS-devotees like ourselves, and the journey is the goal, rather than the goal … if you see what I mean … I'll stop right there!

Accommodation - rating: excellent/PR - excellent facilties for horses, 14 euros a night. La Bâtie Neuve, 04250 - LA MOTTE DU CAIRE 04 92 68 36 51 labatieneuve@wanadoo.fr

17.04.2010 Entrepierres to St Geniez - 10km

2010-04-18T13:11:00.001-07:00

Wake to frost on the ground but a clear blue sky, the sun starts to feel warm just after 8.30. We pass the 1000 metres today and Nellie seems to be showing positive signs of recovery – important markers in so many respects. Other highlights – the singing rocks (we assume due to the wind) and in appearance reminiscent of mount Rushmore, though without, and therefore preferable, the presidential faces, yet another herd of goats and an invitation to coffee in a small village on the way up. Tonight we are staying in yet another gite equestre, so Nellie can have good food and we can sleep under a solid roof – rain threatening as I write.
Gite equestre – rating: Excellent/PR – horse accommodation (8 euros with feed). Warm welcome, with evening meal (16 euros) Les Cavaliers de St Geniez, Le Bachas, 04 92 61 00 87

16.04.2010 Peipin to Entrepierres 17km

2010-04-18T12:39:00.000-07:00

Yet another unforgettable day. Some main road at the outset, but after this a generally very pleasant climb into the mountains, surrounded by bluffs of rock. On the way we are stopped by a reporter from La Provence who takes pictures and tells us that we will be in next week's edition. Later, we give Nellie another therapeutic (and for the humans, freezing) 10 minutes in a river of barely melted ice-water, which she tolerates stoically. In the evening we camp next to the same river's much smaller and turbulent passage higher up and prepare a fire, until we discover that we have lost our matches. Without this, the picture would probably be too perfect.

15.04.2010 Chateuneuf de val de saint de Donat to Peipin 12km

2010-04-18T12:21:00.000-07:00

I could list on one hand the memories I would like to take to my grave, if that were possible. My daughter's birth, marriage to Paul, and days like today are among them. Scaling the mountains we have been looking at from a distance since starting out, takes us into a new world that for the most part leaves us breathless (literally) and searching for words to describe the vast views. In the end our enforced silence probably says far more. As the low kilometer count indicates, we are still taking small steps forward, while Nellie still recuperates. Her hind legs are still disturbingly swollen and we are considering more rest days if there is no improvement.
Accommodation – Gite equestre – rating: Excellent/PR – horse accommodation (8 euros with feed). Warm welcome, with evening meal (18 euros) Denis et Raymond
Gîte d'étape et de séjour
Impasse de la Fenière
Quartier Champarlaud
04200 Peipin
Tél. (33) 04 92 62 44 02
lafenierepeipin@free.fr
http://lafenierepeipin.free.fr

14.04.2010 Peyruis to Chateuneuf de val de saint de Donat 20km

2010-04-18T12:05:00.000-07:00

Breakfast with the Klintons followed by a cold and damp start, enhanced by the views and Nellie's epic performance when we ask her to tiptoe along cliff edges and launch herself up vertical rock faces – this is when she is at her best. At her worst she is bossy, bad-mannered and close to her elephant namesake, but we are working on a long-term education-programme. Meanwhile, Flea is changing shape almost as we watch. Gradually his front end is taking on a worringly bull-dog form, which Paul correctly describes as looking like a weight lifter bursting out of his black leotard, but the rest of him – his rear in particular – seems to have a great deal of catching up to do. Having said this, his energy his inspiring. He runs all day and refuses the rucksack, until it starts to rain, when he literally jumps in. So, gradually the team is growing into cohesive unit – Nellie waiting if one of us gets left behind - that accepts and compromises for the strengths and weaknesses of each one. Paul and I, who should know each of these all too well, continue to learn about each other and occasionally protest, but up to this point we have avoided any major clashes. The mountains I am staring at now may change all that. Wisely, Paul has suggested that we buy more clothes before our entry into the snow, because he knows that cold feet are most likely to throw me into immediate depression. While I have set about ensuring that we have enough food and chocolate to feed an army. Tonight we sleep in absolute luxury, beds and clean towels, with our clothes washed and dried.
Chambre d'hote rating: Poor (not for the service but for suitability). Though listed in the PACA list, the owners are not prepared for the pilgrim trade and prefer to have long-term guests. They are prepared to take people off-season, but in essence we advise people to look for other more suitable (large choice) in the village. They will not be listed in our guide.

13.04.2010 Forcalquier to somewhere near Peyruis – 30km

2010-04-18T11:56:00.001-07:00

An excellent day … until the heavens opened and we could not find the gite. I hate days like this. By 7.00 in the evening we were cold, lost, wet and without hope, but then we met M. et Mme Klinton (yes they are French) who had just come back from 3 days in Italy, but still had time to help us. Within 5 minutes, Nellie was comfortably installed in a barn with the best hay she has eaten since leaving her home in Haute-Alpes de Provence and we were somewhat less comfortably installed under a tent, in the same barn. But we were soon invited in to join them for dinner … only pilgrims with a slightly over-dominant horse and undersized dog, could expect this kind of treatment!

12.04.2010 Lincel to Forcalquier – 20km

2010-04-18T11:40:00.000-07:00

12.04.2010 Lincel to Forcalquier – 20km
We wake to grey skies and light rain, but nothing too unpleasant. Our hosts give us a great send off with an apple for Nellie and some local produced crystallised fruit for us – consumed within the first hour. Our animals have made a big impression and there is a hint of wet eye as we leave. From here the walking is along pleasant farm tracks that Nellie seems to be tackling without any difficulty, though we have noticed what can only be the echoes of a donkey gene in her performance. Where the going is straight and easy, she lapses into a lazy mooch, head down and eyes half closed, refusing to be hurried. But as soon as we hit a difficulty, steep climb, stoney descent, anything out of the ordinairy, her ears prick up and so does her pace. You can almost hear her say «let me at it ».
Highlights of the day are passing the 12th century Prieuré de Salagon, an incongruous, but impressive monument that appears to be undergoing extensive renovation, the crossing of a narrow Roman bridge – previously unthinkable for Nellie - scaling an almost sheer rockface, again Nellie's achievement, and our first view of Forcalquier clustered round a small mountain pinnacle. But from here just about everything is the flipside of our previously good day. Rain, freezing cold and drenching, starts to fall in earnest. Our campsite is further away than anticipated and on the side of a hellishly busy road where all of sudden Nellie remembers that she used to be frightened of traffic, a state enhanced by the appearance of ludicrously horny stallion, separated from our now equally horny mare, by a single electric wire. Having negotiated this obstacle, we then try to make our way up the lane to the campsite, past a field full of deer. Here, Nellie absolutely refuses to go any further and behaves as she did at the very start of our journey – walking on hind legs, kicking out and generally rejuvenating the hidden donkey gene. Meanwhile, the rain is still hammering down and having found the owner of the site and agreed that we would prefer to have a room, we then have to find a place to tether Nellie in one of her most recalcitrant moods. Finally, the best solution for everyone emerges by accident when she heads for a pile of hay, introduces herself to a row of calves and settles down to eat their food. Since then, she has been moved inside a barn, to yet another pile of hay, and everyone is content. In addition, this will also do her disgruntled digestion some good – the last few days of rich grass having caused some unpleasant, messy symptoms. Days like this make me wonder why the hell we put ourselves through so much unnecessary discomfort, but now that my feet are dry and the rest me is more or less warm, I think I'll give tomorrow a go and see where we end up.

Accommodation Chambre d'hote or camping (price not known) rating: Good/PR – horse accommodation (no price). Warm welcome, with evening meal (18 euros), but at 50 euros, outside the recommended pilgrim price. Le Bas Chalus, Route de Niozelles 04300 Forcalquier 04 92 75 05 67 baschalus@orange.fr

10.04.2010 Moulin de Lincel 12km (without Nellie)

2010-04-10T08:16:00.000-07:00

Good news, the vet has been, no problems, just need to keep her cut clean and start another course of antibiotics. I had not been able to keep the wound clean enough, but now we have even more medications to help me. We will give her a rest until Monday and then it's back on the road and no stopping. Meanwhile, more reading, reflection and – Paul's greatest fear - long periods of inactivity when I have nothing else to do but let my imagination roam …. « Paul, I've been thinking … » a comment guaranteed to raise his blood pressure.
And ... apparently, Flea is already 5 months old, not 3, as we had been told previously.

09.04.210 Reillanne to Lincel – 7km

2010-04-10T08:07:00.000-07:00

This morning we wake to clear blue skies, no rain and a horse at the end of her tether, literally. She has pulled it out of the earth and has been dragging it around all night, without incident. The second time already, perhaps she is trying to tell us something. Our hosts, Steven and Christian, serve a hearty bio breakfast, we load up and feel good to be on the road again. A short journey that takes us all of just over an hour to complete, but enough to tell us that Nellie is not recovered. While walking well for us she is still clearly tender and with so many hundreds of kilometres ahead we are not going to risk anything now. But apart from that, our next stop at the Moulin de Lincel is also a small Eden, heaven on earth, or as far as Nellie is concerned, 5-star accommodation. A field to herself, knee-deep in grass and with a river nearby where we have been bathing her leg. It's not so bad for the humans either. So, having battled with the Calvinist, Catholic and various purveyors of guilt, I am now sanguine and happily resigned to staying here at least until Monday. Yes, we will be behind schedule, yes it is knocking a hole in a budget, but as I mused to Paul as we walked 5km to the next village (creating a GPS trace and so still trying to do some work), most people can only be in a place like this for a brief holiday, with the prospect of the 9-5 routine at the end of it, but this is our life … sauntering round generally undiscovered villages and countryside and meeting people at a level otherwise unimaginable, which brings me onto a pilgrim theme. Being a pilgrim, or pseudo pilgrim, or simply a traveller with a different story to tell, opens doors to houses and people and viewpoints generally reserved for the trusted few. Our profile, two mad English people with a horse and a dog is potentially interesting, potentially ridiculous, but never threatening, which is already a great asset in today's environment. After 11 days of travel we have been offered beds, free accommodation, free phones, assistance and honest discussion on a level one would never expect otherwise – an addictive place to be.

Accommodation – gite, rating: excellent/PR. Horse accommodation excellent in purpose-built paddock with shelter (no charge) 20 euros per person, inc breakfast (also excellent). Welcome exceptional. Moulin de Lincel 04870 ST MICHEL L'OBSERVATOIRE 04 92 76 46 34 06 16 09 81 78 moulindelincel@aliceadsl.fr www.moulindelincel.com

08.04.10 Gaudins to Reillanne – 21km

2010-04-09T00:50:00.000-07:00

We spend a comfortable night with Nellie nearby, tethered to a ground stake we have brought with us - the owner is protective of his trees. When we wake we hear her grazing close by, very close by, and when we look out her head is looking in. She has pulled out the stake and wandered unrestricted for who knows how many hours, but she is still with us. Another tick in the box for behaviour, with just a few more to add before she can becomes perfection itself – in equine terms. In the evening we find a chambre d'hote, after what seems like hours of wandering up and down woodland paths, where the owner has set up a tether for us – the rain is still hammering down and worse still our spirits. Then we realise that we left our collapsible bucket at a campsite!

Paul

So as Babette heads off once more to tend to Nellie's foot I am handed the laptop to add my two-penneth to the blog.

First I am tempted to address the inevitable why are we doing this again question. The honest answer is I am not entirely sure.

I can make some apparently virtuous assertions that it is to help others enjoy the pilgrim experience by providing the information they need in an accurate and digestible form for the less well travelled routes - but maybe that was just an advertisement (you see even after 5 years of retirement « selling » seems to be ingrained trait). Nonetheless there is some truth in this. There is something about pushing back the further onset of ageing... « if I can walk all this way then surely I can't be so old » and anyway I need to lose a few kilos. Not far from this there is the ego boost of being able to say we have done something a bit out of the ordinary. There is also the desire to rediscover those wonderful events and friendships that seem to emerge in the darkest moments of difficulty when someone steps forward and offers a helping hand.

Strangely the need to travel with animals fits in here somewhere too. They so often act as the bridge to new friendships, but they provide the hour by hour motivation for overcoming the next hurdle and yet repay every effort with their simple loyalty.

Perhaps the journey provides another chance to look over the edge and outside the daily routine to learn a little more what makes us (me) tick. And of course we hope to use the journey to give something to those that have not and may never have the opportunity to do something similar – I am, of course, talking about Anne-Marie's project. All of these things are true, but I am not sure which really drive me. Perhaps this will become clear as we proceed.

To return to the concrete world. Steven, the owner of the chambre de hôte had gone out and so had left his house unlocked for us to get out of the rain. We had only spoken to him on the phone for a few minutes and yet he was prepared to trust us with his home! After a much needed rest on a soft bed, aided by an excellent bottle of côte de Ventoux we have decided to take timeout today and allow Nellie the opportunity for her cut to heal. On our previous journeys we both took a long time to learn to throw the schedule away and progress at the pace of the slowest member of the team, but now, despite a long list of things that must be done when we get home, it seems that the lesson was well learned and we are tearing up the calendar after just 1 week on the road. A fellow pilgrim, Mike Metras, has written about learning to « live in the now » and maybe this is a small example of what he means.

After her rest Nellie's foot looks much improved, but we will only aim for a very small distance tomorrow to test her reactions and if need be we will have another short day afterwards.

Accommodation – chambre d'hote, accepts horses if tethered. rating: good/PR. 70 euros, expensive for the pilgrim pocket, though owner is considering cheaper gite facilities for pilgrims. Stephen Lévy, La Crzu Barruom 04110 REILLANCE 06 76 06 36 12 www.montagnedeprovence.fr stephen.levy@hotmail.fr www.lamaisonbleue.org
The next blog entry will confirm whether or not the day went well.

Saignon to Gaudins - 9km

2010-04-09T00:49:00.000-07:00

The hips won't do it. After a sleepless night, we pack Nellie up and go, but not for long. By the time we reach Gaudins the very basic campsite we find there seems like heaven, except that it is 6km from any shops and we have no food. Paul, the gallant, has gone off on foot, while I prepare camp and do the other necessaries, washing etc. But not everything is bad, just before coming into the village – picturesque, hanging off the edge of a hillside, with views over a gentle arable landscape – we crossed a river that looked ideal for Nellie. Suffice to say, we have been paddling. Though fun, the main purpose for this is to wash her cut fetlock and bring down the remains of the swelling, all of which Nellie seems to enjoy. We wade out midriver, both of us knee deep in the strong current and enjoying the chill on our feet. But when Flea plunges into join us he is swept down by the current and I have to rush over to pull him back. Meanwhile Nellie, the unperturbed, watches us and waits. Back at the campsite Flea valiantly protects the tent and Nellie from a dog that is a larger version of himself, before settling down for yet another meal (he eats at least 3 times his own body weight in a day) and getting into trouble for stealing the cake Paul brought back. No doubt his thieving behaviour can be explained by his vagrant beginnings, but it is about time he believed us when we say that there will always be enough food for him. His thieving is not restricted to food either - socks, single, because the owner is currently putting the other one on, disappear in seconds, as do shoes and any other portable item.

Accommodation – camping, rating: basic/PR. Minimal facilities, basically in a field with shower etc in one corner. 15 euros. Les Monguets 04 90 75 28 62

Les Clapiers, near Robion – Saignon - over 30km

2010-04-09T00:48:00.000-07:00

Always be suspicious when the day starts well. Our progress is good, Nellie is learning to push her way down narrow paths without worrying about the branches scraping on her packs, the route is pleasant and varied, we meet a number of people who stop to ask us where we are going, we receive a call from Anne-Marie and my feet seem to be holding out, until we start walking into Apt. After four long trips, with many days like this one, I defy geographers and anyone else who knows about this stuff, to explain the strange stretching phenomenon of distances at times like this. What should have been a total of 29km, grew to something closer to 40 and felt like 90. My blister is back, but worse still my arthritic hips feel like the worst toothache, but in the wrong place. When we reach the campsite after 7.00 in the evening, I am close to tears with the pain and even Nellie seems to be feeling the strain. We find her a place to graze, fling up the tent and I go to bed, freezing, exhausted, without eating or showering, but unable to sleep. Paul, amazingly, seems to be in fine form, making me feel like a feminine wimp.

Accommodation – camping, rating: good/PR. Accepts horses good facilities. Le camping des Cèdres, Mme Lucie Bouillet - Gérante, 63, Impasse de la Fantaisie
84400 APT Téléphone/Fax : +33 (0)490 741 461 Portable : +33 (0)490 741 461

04.04.2010 Eygaliéres to Les Clapiers, near Robion – 20km

2010-04-09T00:46:00.000-07:00

I have a blister the size of an egg on my heel, but Paul seems to be unaffected – not fair! Another memorable storm, but this time we are inside, sleeping in a proper bed, though Nellie has opted to weather it once again, rather than risk going through a large doorway into a stable – we have so much to learn about her.
In the morning, she is wet, but as keen to go. Our hosts are impressed and tell us that she is 'belle', we know and we should, because everyone we meet, professional horse people included (the vet must have said so at least 3 times within 15 minutes) tells us so. More amazingly still, Nellie negotiates the busy main road without flinching and then crosses a motorway bridge, with a railway line and train running alongside it, so that we can get into Cavaillon. On the other side I turn round to ask Paul to help me tighten her girth but he is crying. No wonder, she has just performed a miracle.

From here an easy cruise through the town, a brief stop to buy an easter egg, much appreciated by Flea, and then slow progress (Nellie has discovered her mooch mode and refuses to be hurried) to our night here in a campsite where the grass is long and we have a mobile home instead of the tent. Life is good – I can tell campsite owners that Nellie is well behaved and can be tethered, without crossing my fingers behind my back, our host, who ordered pizza for us last night, has just brought pain au chocolat for breakfast, the sun is out, my blister has burst and we are travelling through Luberon Naturel Parc Regional. We are in the Provence of Peter Mayle – Provence at its most Provence and most expensive. We appreciate the countryside, but the pretentious towns and their inhabitants less so. Every other shop is an Immobilier.

Accommodation – camping, rating: excellent/PR. Good facilities. Horses accepted if tethered, warm welcome, good price. Les Cerisiers, 454, route de Lagnes 84440 ROBION 04 90 20 24 25

03.04.2010 – St Rhemy to – La Sarriette, near Eygaliéres 32km (14km unecessary)

2010-04-09T00:43:00.000-07:00

No rain! Off-road tracks meandering through the hills taking us across and finally out of the Alpilles, hypnotically beautiful countryside that leaves us walking in the best of silences. Surprises too:
the swathe of fallen trees crossing our path and well into the forest – sad witness to the strength of the storm and also to our luck - we had considered sleeping 'au sauvage' that same night.
Nellie's transformation – our first days with her consisted of battling to get her past dogs, hanging on when she decided to walk on her hind legs (usually when a truck past), leaping over every white line on the road and winding herself up in the tether rope. Today, she is a seasoned traveller, listening to me when I tell her there is nothing to worry about and neatly stepping around her tether rope.
Now for the bad news … either through lack of French or simply misunderstanding our location, we walked an additional 14km in an attempt to find the gite d'etape (part of a centre equestre) we had chosen because another storm is forecast. Suffice to say that we are exhausted and our blisters have doubled in size, though Nellie still seems to be full of energy and prepared to go on.

Accommodation – gite equestre, rating: excellent/PR. Good facilities for horses and humans, well-priced for the pilgrim, evening meal provided if requested, breakfast included in price. La Sarriette, Rte du Mas des Mauneirs 13810 EYGALIERES 04 90 95 94 50 06 74 68 23 44 http://lasarriette.com

1.04.10 St Gabriele to St Remy en Provence - 19km

2010-04-09T00:41:00.000-07:00

Unforeseen, the slight slip that pulls off one of Nellie's boots and cuts her fetlock, though there is nothing to see at the time. It is only later in the afternoon, after a memorable walk across the Apilles, that she starts to show some discomfort.

Unforeseen, the good luck to find a campsite that welcomes horses and gives us the secluded patch at the back, overflowing with rich grass, where I am writing now.

Unforseeen, Nellie's ability to tie the tether rope in knots around all four legs at the same time. Paul and I spending half the night checking that she is not in a cat's cradle … again.

Unforeseen, Eveline's wonderful arrival night, with food and wine and a small fire to warm us just when the cold starts to set in (we had no food and it was a 1.5km walk to the village). How many pilgrims are fortunate enough to have friends prepared to share wine from their father's cellar, and a bottle of champagne?

Unforeseen, the frost on the inside of our tent and the inadequacy of our sleeping bags - Paul and I fighting over Flea's warmth. But today the sun is out, our washing, sleeping bags and tent are drying and Nellie's injury has been confirmed to be superficial by the vet - curable with a brief course of antibiotics and magic herbal cream that I will order in box loads on our return. So, far from feeling cursed by whoever is up there with the power to do so, we feel blessed. The unforeseen and enforced rest has restored us physically and mentally, in preparation for what is likely to be long wet walk tomorrow – rain forecast and we have to reach a centre equestre to stay in.

Accommodation – camping, rating: good/PR. Good facilities, horses accepted if tethered. Camping à la Ferme, Vieux Chemin D'Arles, 13120 ARLES 04 90 92 27 22 www.campingsaintremy.fr

31.3.10 Arles to St Gabriele - 22km

2010-04-09T00:38:00.000-07:00

Everything hurts, I have at least two germinating blisters and Paul looks as if he is walking on hot coals, but it is day one and we expect nothing else. More positively, the send-off was incredible. Having walked the 5km from Mas Regala (Nellie's home, for which our thanks go to Marie-Jo Taddei) and persuaded Nellie that the narrow streets of La Roquette were negotiable (after an episode of walking circus-style on her hind legs) we entered Place Paul Doumer and a cheering, clapping crowd of friends, family and supporters of Anne-Marie – a brief sense of celebrity, quickly shattered by Nellie emptying her bowels and bladder, in quick succession. But for me, the highlight in all of this was Lucy's (beloved daughter about to turn 21) unexpected appearance, along with a large number of her friends.

Having left the encouraging crowd behind us, our exit from Arles (a fast track introduction to milling pedestrians and impatient traffic for our equestrian country bumpkin) was supposed to include a brief interlude and photograph in front of St Trophime, except that another horse had got there first. Nellie was ecstatic and no doubt impressed by the high-stepping grey beauty, but we were less enthusiastic. The prospect of trying to tear our horse out of a haute-école display being too horrible to contemplate, Paul and I yanked her in the opposite direction and escaped up a side street. Meanwhile, Alex and Lily were looking after Flea, ensuring that he was neither lost or squashed in the crowds of people. I don't know how we do it, but on every trip we seem to arrive just in time for every celebration of every nationality in every town, and always with fractious horses and huge pack bags. It looks as if the tradition will continue.

From here the walk was uneventful and easy, except for some boys who used Nellie as a moving target and an embarassing moment when my battery-powered eyebrow plucker went off in Nellie's pack – she made no comment, but Paul will not let me forget it. I have always eschewed every feminine frippery, make up included, on these trips, but the first time I sneak the smallest and lightest item a woman could ask for, I am discovered within the first few hours!

Next, the junction for Montmajour – hear my sharp intake of breath as the prelude to yet another diatribe against the Association Grande Randonée and others who trace the pilgrim routes and either forget or dismiss the importance of safety for the people who travel them!!! The proposed route is a main road lined with safety barriers, which forces pilgrims into the traffic, an unacceptably dangerous situation for everyone involved. Now imagine this with a horse that is nervous in traffic and walks on her hind legs everytime a truck drives past. Without Mme?? who saw our difficulty and offered us a way out through her farm, we would have had to turn back. The other positive aspect was that it also gave us a unique and very private view of Montmajour itself, an unexpected bonus. On our return, as on so many occasions before, we will spend time looking for a safe alternative to offer in our guidebook. But from here the travelling is good, off-road and up into the undulating scrubland of the Alpilles and past the remains of a Roman acqueduct. Better still, Nellie is now able to show us what she can really do - a transformation from whirling dervish to mountain goat within minutes of leaving the road. Clearly unaware of the bulky packs on her back, our horse is picking her way along narrow paths and up steep inclines confirming everything that has ever been said about the tough, surefooted and strong Merens breed. We love her all over again. Flea is doing fine too, for a dog who was probably brought up in the Arlesian back alleys and on the refuse of its inhabitants. After initially resisting the rucksack, he now understands that it's what gives him a lift when he is tired, meaning that he runs until he has had enough and then jumps up at Paul when he wants to stop.

Unforeseen – the new byword for this journey. The storm in St Gabriele after a brilliant day is unforeseen, as is Nellie's reaction. None. The heavens open, bang, crash and lit up like Trafalgar square on New Year's Eve, but she remains unperturbed while Paul, Flea and I huddle down and try not to think about all our stuff getting soaked outside and in. Having said this, I have to add that she is anything but calm the next morning, tying herself up in knots on the lead rope and digging a cratar in one of the (fortunately) tolerant campsite owner's pitches.

Accommodation – camping, rating: good/PR. Horses accepted if tethered. Mas Ginoux carrefour St Gabriel 13150 TARASCON 04 90 91 19 83

2010-03-17T10:39:00.000-07:00

Paul and I are almost professional pilgrims - if the term exists. This is our fourth journey along ancient pilgrimage routes, the second being so tough it inspired us to write a guidebook that would make it less tough for people following in our footsteps. We have travelled on horseback and bikes, but never on foot. Walking long distances while carrying a huge rucksack is my idea of hell on earth, but having a pack pony reduces the pain.

Our motivation for this latest pilgrimage is two-fold. First we have been told that people are asking for a guide book that will form the interconnection between the via Francigena and the St James Way, but more importantly we hope to use our kilometres to raise money for an important and absolutely viable project in Burkina Fasso.

Having worked with a number of NGO's in the past, I think it is fair to say that I have a realistic view of what foreign agencies can bring to countries in need of development support, but I also have a less favourable view of the way a number of these agencies operate. The AMS, an association founded by our neighbours, Ann-Marie Sasse and her husband, is a prime example of how small agencies can and should be managed. Here is her story, in her words:

Jean-Claude and I were in the open scrub land of the de Haunde province, Burkina Fasso, when a crowd of happy, chatting children stopped to talk to us. As a consequence, we also met their teachers, three for 310 students, who showed us round the school and explained that only the oldest students had classrooms, while the youngest were taught under a simple shelter. It was on this day that we decided to provide them with a classroom too, one that would protect them from sandstorms, rain and above all the sun. The AMS association - children of Yabiro - was created at the end 2008 and thanks to numerous donations from friends, relations, customers and local businesses, we were able to begin the construction of the classroom at the beginning of March 2010. Now we need your help to finish the project .

Ann-Marie and Jean Claude pay their own travel expenses and all other operational costs. Any money raised from our walk will be seen in every brick and tile of the school building.

If you would like to donate to the project then please use the donate button:

Unfortunately the team on the other side of this project is far less impressive. Paul and I are early-retirees, with multiple ambitions, but insufficient finance, time or talent to complete even half of them. In 2005, we stumbled on the St James Way pilgrimage and thought it would be an opportunity to opt out of the daily routine while making some major life-decisions. Needless to say they are still on a list waiting to be ticked, but we did discover an entirely different and utterly seductive means of travel. Day after day, night after night, with our horses, our dog and ourselves … I'll stop before risking the hyperbole that so often accompanies descriptions of the pilgrimage experience and simply add that five years later we are still hooked, addicted and on the road again.

With our original horses in comfortable retirement, Nellie has been brought in to take their place and is by far the most suitable and competent member of the team. As a pure bred Merens, (a hardy French breed), she has all the sense, strength and stamina we lack. She is also quite beautiful, in a buxom kind of way. Paul was smitten within seconds of seeing her vast silhouette and had rechristened her Nellie (after the elephant) before even signing the cheque.

Flea's addition to the team was a complete surprise, for us as much as for him. A few days into March, during a particularly cold and wintry period, I and another woman saw two dogs dodging cars on the main high street in Arles. Something had to be done before one of them was hit. We dived into the traffic and finally managed to catch the smallest, a puppy of about 3 months, while the other dog, possibly his mother, ran off down a side street. Now, a few weeks later, Flea (so-named because I wanted to call him 'puce', but still can't deliver the French 'u') is still with us, unclaimed, much-loved and a great rucksack rider.

So that just leaves Paul and I, the weak links in this chain, tasked with avoiding the mistakes made on previous pilgrimages, gathering enough data for our next guide book, inspiring thousands of people to support Anne-Marie's excellent project and finally enjoying our good fortune while it lasts – it won't, as anyone following our blog will see.