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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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