Progress, and 1 day short of Metz

Progress has been made, but sometimes under duress. I have had three days of rain, and trying to find my way through forests, while trying to stay upright. The soil around here is quite clayey, doesn't let the water get away, and sucks at my shoes and poles. Added to this, it is quite a challenge. Today, walking through the forest to Vigy, putting my foot down I had to anticipate in which direction I would head as I slipped and slithered my way along, sometimes forward, sometimes sideways.

Leaving Trier, the path goes past the huge St Matthias Church.

I even began the day with a sing inside. A big echo.

Accomodation has been the big issue on this way. In Trier, Alfons, from the Cathedral / pilgrim information centre, tried for around a half hour to find somewhere for me to stay the following night. With each new number he would and say "you must stay in Trier tomorrow and drink beer with me". It was tempting - not the beer, but the witty, charming company. Eventually we got lucky and found a place in a village called Fisch. It turned out to be a sort of cider / wine tasting room, with a fold up bed, a kitchen, and a toilet - but no shower.

My accomodation in Fisch

On the way to Fisch the path went past an ancient Roman temple (some of it reconsructed) along with an Inn. This is still the road to Rome.

The temple was built at the top of the hill, so that those travelling could give thanks for getting there. They left from Tawern,the village in the distance.

This was a long day, but when I arrived I decided to go to the church to get a stamp in my credencial, but it was a longer excursion than I envisaged - nearly 2 kms. While I was there, Brad, a Queenslander living in Germany arrived with his Parents. Luckily I was able to cadge a lift back to my accomodation, and there being nothing to do I went to bed at 8.00 and read for an hour and a half without having to put a light on - or worse - get out of bed to turn it off. It is not getting really dark till after 10.00pm

I hadn't realised it, but the church outside of Fisch is dedicated to Saint Jakobus

As it turned out, I retraced my steps the next day going past the church. It is completely on its own, and it was a surprise to find it open at night, and early in the morning. An even bigger surprise was the little white building on the right. It is very hard to find public toilets, and even harder to find them open - this one was!

There was even a rest spot across the road from the church.

It rained again the next day, but as I was heading to the village of Perl, the last one in Germany,and there were plenty of hotels I didn't bother to have accommodation booked. The lovely host of the hotel I stopped at arranged the next nights accomodation in Sainte Marguerite (like the daisy). I am constantly amazed at the prowess of these (usually) young people. He effortlessly switched to English for me, but then spoke on the phone in French - as well as using his native German.

I had to take food for dinner the next night, so a trip to the supermarket was in order. I had planned to cross the Moselle, but when I discovered that the supermarket was at the bottom of a steep hill a kilometre away my enthusiasm waned.

Crossing the Moselle, looking upstream. Germany on the left Luxembourg on the right, and France on the left in the distance.

Another day of showers dawned, but at least the temperature was cool. This was the day that I was going to cross the Moselle, into Luxembourg to the village of Schengen. This place has caused me, and others struggling to fit our itineraries in 90 days, some angst and so I couldn’t walk past without going in.

Looking towards Schengen

This was the day that I crossed into France, and immediately noticed that "guten tag" was no longer the greeting, it is now "Bon jour", though it took me a while to get the hang of it again.

Not Paris, but the French border.

This was the day, after all this time where I met other walkers, pilgrims, and cyclists. Had a philosophical chat with 2 Dutch walkers on the difference between a long walk and a pilgrimage. Hans came up with "a walker moves, a pilgrim travels", and that for a walker it is the destination that is important, for a pilgrim it is the journey itself. It is nice to have these kind of chats every so often. They set off before me, and I am not sure if they had the same problem I had, but the path had been diverted (I didn't know) and the bridge crossing the stream had been washed away. The force of the water must have been extraordinary - bits of iron railing twisted, and blocks of concrete washed metres downstream. I retraced my steps a d went up the road instead.

Yesterday I met Sabine, a pilgrim, and indeed I kept her on track a couple of times, when she had taken a wrong turn. She was impressed with the map app I'm using.

Sabine

Last night I stayed with Isabelle and "her man". She spoke English, he didn't, but somehow we managed to communicate. Isabelle called a number of places for me to stay, but without success. The only option was the next village of Vigy. The problem was that it was another 7 kms and I had to be there by 6.00pm. I couldn't make that and so she drove me to the first village to give me a head start. Little did I know how hard the remainder of the day would be, sometimes missing paths and having to turn back, as well as negotiate the mud as it sucked at my shoes and poles, and as I tried to stay upright.

My room for the night

My hosts

This is one of my favourite stamps ever. Isabelle painted this, and for those who haven't seen me in pilgrim garb she's got everything there, including my sun protection hand covers, and she put me in front of the church, where I had a sing on my way there.

It is quite sad to see some of these villages. No shops, especially no boulangerie which would have been the most important place in times gone by. I don't know if this has been a slow decline, or is a result of the pandemic.

Apart from the mud, the paths have continued to be interesting.