And so it begins. A flight from Basel to Toulouse, then a train ride to Cahors brought me directly to an important crossroads in the famed Chemin de Saint-Jacques, the French side of the Camino de Santiago Compostela. I can’t resist the famed Cahors wines, which are incredibly hard to find in the United States; so I purposely planned the trip so that I would have an evening meal in Cahors before starting out on La Route. Arriving in Cahors on the Monday after Pentecost Sunday is not an ideal time, it turns out. Not only are most restaurants closed on Mondays, but Pentecost weekend extends through Monday. The city was nearly deserted, and I could only find one restaurant open! But who’s to complain when the food and wine are served with kindness, and the taste is superb?
My first night to say that I had truly recovered from the jet lag, I slept a blissful nine hours and rose ready to tackle the first day of my life donning a backpack and setting out entirely by myself. It only took me 66 years to figure out how and why to do this, although I wasn’t convinced of the “why” until I starting walking.
The second part of my Cahors plan, in addition to wanting a great meal with great wine, was a plan that I had organized with the Organist Titulaire of the cathedral of Cahors: Namely to have some time on the 1863 organ (with an organ case and many pipes from 1714) in the cathedral’s back balcony. This beautiful three-manual organ is well-known throughout the world. But I learned, by an email from the organist’s wife the evening before I was to play there, that he was unexpectedly detained and would not be able to let me up to the organ.
And so it goes! Flexibility is the name of the game any time one travels, most especially in foreign countries.
I visited the cathedral this morning after checking out of my AirBnB, to absorb the ambience and to make a meditation in the space. I wanted a blessing for my upcoming Chemin which, admittedly, I was nervous about undertaking. (More about that later.) The Cathédrale Saint-Étienne (St. Stephen’s Cathedral) celebrated its 900th anniversary five years ago. And while construction began well before the first Crusade (1096), we know that the Bishop of Cahors went on that first Crusade and spent a great deal of time in Constantinople – where he was quite impressed with the huge dome (the world’s largest, even still) in Hagia Sophia. He eventually returned to Cahors and insisted that the nave of “his” cathedral include, uniquely, not one, but two domes! And they are stunning, with frescoes painted all over them.
The merchants of the town, who were far richer than most of the merchants even of Paris at the time, could not be outdone by a mere bishop! So they constructed the now-famous medieval bridge (the most famous in France) known as the Pont Valentré – which is the spot where I officially began my Walk. The bridge is directly across the City from the Cathedral’s front door; and the rich merchants who had it built insisted on building towers to the bridge which would be taller than the Cathedral’s dome so that the bishop would always be reminded of who had the bigger ego!
The Hundred Years War (1337 – 1453) saw the demolition of two of the three medieval bridges in Cahors. (And to give you an idea of the importance of Cahors, Paris had one wooden bridge while Cahors had three stone bridges.) Why didn’t they demolish the Pont Valentré? Because it’s a bridge to nowhere! The opposite side of the bridge is a cliff. It was only built to “one-up” the Bishop! It’s a folly.
Crossing the Pont Valentré, and ascending the steep cliff via a series of steps cut into the stone, my legs immediately began to complain. Why had I chosen this route? Aren’t I too old to be tackling a Pilgrimage? I started listening to a Podcast of Eckhart Tolle, talking about how to be present in the moment without judgment, expectation, evaluation, or definition. In the half hour or so that I heard that, before discovering it was eating up my phone’s battery too quickly, it put me in the right mindset to forge ahead through what proved a mostly rainy day (i.e. what would normally be a great excuse to blame the weather for feeling miserable).
So, why HAD I decided to take this journey on my own – a solo eight days balancing my willpower, my wits, my physical strength, and my inner strength? I realized that there are a few reasons for doing so.
I believe that I am a bearer of light. I came to spread that light with every step.
I believe that I am at a crossroads in my life (commonly known as hitting the retirement years). I wanted to gain clarity on my path ahead.
I believe that my career has had the trademark of over-diversifying, of spreading myself too thin. I came to understand how and where to develop more singular focus.
I believe that I’ve always doubted my ability to sustain myself mentally and physically when alone for long periods of time. I’ve come to disprove that self-doubt.
Three hours and forty-five minutes, and seven and three-quarters miles later, having traversed picture-postcard scenes, one after another, and being offered rides due to the rain (which I politely refused), I arrived in the tiny hamlet of Labastide-Marnhac. I blissfully discovered that my new poncho, while not sweat-proof, was definitely water-proof and kept my pack and clothing perfectly dry. A shower and a very friendly host were, by far, the most welcome sights of the day. And while fatigued, I am quite happy not to be in pain. Two years ago, doing a similar route in France, I developed horrific blood blisters on my pinky toes on the first day. I was convinced that the problem was wide feet in too tight of a shoe. I spent a great deal of time and money getting the widest possible hiking shoe, the best insets, etc. Then, about two weeks ago, I noticed an ad on Amazon for pinky toe spacers, designed especially for people whose pinky toe wraps slightly under the fourth toe. That’s me! Who knew? Five decades of wearing organ shoes, which they don’t make for men with wide feet, will do it to anyone!
I’m happy to report that the spacers are great, and saved the day!
A few hours of delightful conversation with my host later, and having enjoyed one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time (it turns out my host is also a tremendous cook), I head to bed with utter clarity that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be right now. Grateful, content, and happy.
©2024 Jonathan Dimmock