escape from Cahors

After leaving Cajarc I headed out onto what is known as the Causse, a limestone plateau full of scrubby forest and rocks and not much else. Having been told about this I was expecting a really desolate, bleak landscape, so I was quite pleasantly surprised by the autumn colours and winding paths along flat blocks of rock that led me from Cajarc to Limonge, a distance of about 20kms. I arrived early in Limongne, but on a Sunday, which means nothing is open. The communal gite was a bit spartan and crappy but since there was almost no_one there I got my own room - nice when you don't have to pay an extra 10 euro for it! Having called home for the whole five minutes that my phonecard gave me and being without a book (because they're heavy) I felt a little lost. It's always strange being in a town because it feels like I'm drifting on the edge of their day-to-day reality but without having any point of entry. I was sitting in the cafe/bar in the square (ok I lied, this is France and there's always a place to drink) when I spotted a group of other pilgrims I knew from the road. They joined me for a drink and a chat and suddenly the pilgrim world that I live in everyday was around me again and that lost feeling gave way to a wonderful sense of community that I've never felt anywhere else. Hard to explain but real enough.

After a good night's sleep and the joy of doing a load of washing - people, never take your laundry for granted, it is a thing of beauty and should be treated with reverence at all times, clean clothes are awesome - I headed out into the morning. I had my first off day that day. I just couldn't find the love or the spirit of the road. The scenery was almost exactly the same as the day before but I couldn't enjoy it, and the road was flat for most of the day but the endless kilometres of the Cami Ferrat - an ancient road built by the Romans and therefore totally straight and flat with barely a deviation for 10kms - frustrated me more than I thought possible. It was like walking on a treadmill - every time I rounded a corner or came over a small rise the road ahead looked exactly like the road behind. I kept thinking hours had passed when only minutes had. When I finally got to the gite at Le Pech I was exhausted, but not from the walk. I curled up in my bunk and just shut the world out for awhile. By dinnertime everything was fine, but it was my first lesson that even on the Camino there are dark days.

The following day we had a short day's walk into Cahors, the biggest city I'd been in since beginning the route. the joy I'd searched so hard for the day before was there for the taking and I had a song in my heart and a spring in my step (which, whezn you're lugging a bloody great backpack is quite a feat, let me tell you). The morning was beautiful and as I came over the ridge, Cahors was spread out below me with the river snaking around the town on three sides. As I dropped down the hill into the city I felt the energy change around me. It's always like that when you enter a town, but it was stronger there. There was a lot of traffic and with all the cars and people I had trouble spotting the waymarks that would lead me into town. I almost got sideswiped a few times by drivers racing around corners - partly because they're on the opposite side of the road and it still confuses me, but partly because I was looking around trying to find my way. As I walked across the narrow footpath of the bridge I passed a lot of people. But whereas in the country everyone smiles and says hello, here the city blinkers were on and no-one acknowledged my passing. I sat at a cafe and watched the flow of life around me - just so much more intense than on the road. Everyone was in a hurry, and everything was more important and urgent and there was just so much stuff everywhere. Cahors is a beautiful city but I felt so alien there. I went to the cathedral but it was more of a tourist attraction than a sanctuary. I bought a sandwich and ate it in the square and most people walked by, glancing at my hiker get-up. Then one woman approached me - she'd seen the scallop shell on my bag, the sign of the Camino - she was a former pilgrim. She asked about my journey and with a smile wished me a good journey. I wanted to go to another cafe because it felt way to early to head the 5kms out of town to the gite I was staying at, but the as I passed by each place, I just didn't want to go in. I ended up down by the river, eating my apple and trying not to watch a couple who were really enjoying each others company. I didn't know how to say "Get a room" in French so I politely looked the other way. After that I headed over the bridge and out of town. As I hiked up the cliff I felt the stress and tension melt away. When I reached Domaine des Mathieux and the gite, and was welcomed so warmly by the owner that it felt like meeting family, I wondered at the change 5kms can make. We stayed in gorgeous place and went to the owners place for a drink before we cooked dinner and sat around sharing stories and thoughts. It kind of felt like coming home.