Pour la gloire de Dieu... as they say
Off we go then: it's Day 6 and time for the first progress report.
We set off from Iford on the 24th July with the ambitious goal of getting to Winchester on the first day. Salisbury plain may well be fairly barren, but certainly has its fair share of hills, as we discovered. However, a hearty lunch in the pub in Devizes saw us through to Andover (not the prettiest of places I've ever visited) where we visited Lidl, that top quality "Mecca" of German 'alimentation'. By 7 pm, taking things fairly steadily on the first day, we arrived at James' godfather's house in Easton and after a most welcome bath, were treated to a lovely meal. Somewhat serendipitously, the Oranges also had a cousin visiting for supper from France. After a long conversation during which I attempted to defend English food, education etc. he kindly offered us a bed south of Paris when we got there. (As I write, we are about to set off in his direction).
The following morning, after I had fixed the slow puncture which had done its bit overnight, we set off for Claire Blewett's, in Portsmouth, with the intention of catching the overnight ferry. All went to plan, and the Blewett's very kindly (or perhaps sensibly, since we both stank!) offered us showers. Bolstered by a wander round the old town, some steak and much conversation, we departed in the dark for the ferry terminal.
There were very few people on the ferry, even less booked into the recliners at the front, so finding an empty salon proved easy. Trust me to pick the one which was subsequently filled with 60 screaming French school-children! We opted instead for the room containing 4 motorcyclists with smelly feet.
Day 3 had little to redeem itself, but for the fact that it meant the end of a sleepless ferry journey; Caen is fairly appropriately twinned with Portsmouth - both have their moments. Argentan, where we finished the day, should be twinned with the Walthamstow trading estate.
Beautifully sunny conditions greeted Day 4 and a gentle cross valley ride to l'Aigle through orchards and endless fields of corn. Truly this is the Alabama corn prairie of France.
L'Aigle was a jolly place but we left relatively early for Chartres as we wanted to have time for excess touristing. A strong head wind put paid to that idea, however upon arrival around 5.30pm, we found ourselves a very adequate and excellently priced hotel just down from the cathedral: Chartres is rather had to explain. It is one of those places that one just has to visit - ecclectic in building style, eccentric in its welcome to tourists and pilgrims alike - but not pilgrims to Rome in this case: rather, Chartres is on the Chemin de Saint Jaques de Compostelle, one of the famous routes to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. Whilst I am heartily tempted to join the route southwest, we are headed southeast towards the St. Bernard pass and Turin; to Italy, not Spain.
So we must depart from Chartres. I will sign off, suggesting only that if you are in the area, a day or two in this place would certainly not go amiss.
We set off from Iford on the 24th July with the ambitious goal of getting to Winchester on the first day. Salisbury plain may well be fairly barren, but certainly has its fair share of hills, as we discovered. However, a hearty lunch in the pub in Devizes saw us through to Andover (not the prettiest of places I've ever visited) where we visited Lidl, that top quality "Mecca" of German 'alimentation'. By 7 pm, taking things fairly steadily on the first day, we arrived at James' godfather's house in Easton and after a most welcome bath, were treated to a lovely meal. Somewhat serendipitously, the Oranges also had a cousin visiting for supper from France. After a long conversation during which I attempted to defend English food, education etc. he kindly offered us a bed south of Paris when we got there. (As I write, we are about to set off in his direction).
The following morning, after I had fixed the slow puncture which had done its bit overnight, we set off for Claire Blewett's, in Portsmouth, with the intention of catching the overnight ferry. All went to plan, and the Blewett's very kindly (or perhaps sensibly, since we both stank!) offered us showers. Bolstered by a wander round the old town, some steak and much conversation, we departed in the dark for the ferry terminal.
There were very few people on the ferry, even less booked into the recliners at the front, so finding an empty salon proved easy. Trust me to pick the one which was subsequently filled with 60 screaming French school-children! We opted instead for the room containing 4 motorcyclists with smelly feet.
Day 3 had little to redeem itself, but for the fact that it meant the end of a sleepless ferry journey; Caen is fairly appropriately twinned with Portsmouth - both have their moments. Argentan, where we finished the day, should be twinned with the Walthamstow trading estate.
Beautifully sunny conditions greeted Day 4 and a gentle cross valley ride to l'Aigle through orchards and endless fields of corn. Truly this is the Alabama corn prairie of France.
L'Aigle was a jolly place but we left relatively early for Chartres as we wanted to have time for excess touristing. A strong head wind put paid to that idea, however upon arrival around 5.30pm, we found ourselves a very adequate and excellently priced hotel just down from the cathedral: Chartres is rather had to explain. It is one of those places that one just has to visit - ecclectic in building style, eccentric in its welcome to tourists and pilgrims alike - but not pilgrims to Rome in this case: rather, Chartres is on the Chemin de Saint Jaques de Compostelle, one of the famous routes to Santiago de Compostela in Spain. Whilst I am heartily tempted to join the route southwest, we are headed southeast towards the St. Bernard pass and Turin; to Italy, not Spain.
So we must depart from Chartres. I will sign off, suggesting only that if you are in the area, a day or two in this place would certainly not go amiss.
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