The 9:31 Eurostar was a good idea, and enabled a full day’s walking after arrival in Paris. First stop Notre Dame, or rather, the Diocesan offices nearby, to get my credential stamp. They first said no, the proper stamp had been lost, but when I persisted, they produced some others before settling on one normally used for marriage documents.
The guide book led me along the Seine, not using the Riverside walk of Paris Plages for fear of missing the turn. Most of the stalls along the quais were closed, except for a couple selling posters of pop stars.
After a few side streets came a delightful raised walkway with little gardens, followed by a road to the first town after Paris, Charenton, where the Marne and Seine meet. Writing on a wall directed me across a carpark to a footbridge over the Marne, where a walker asked me where I was going. We had a good conversation. He had been to Santiago in 1999, and was now on a local walk home. I showed him the guidebook, and he said he would have chosen to follow the Marne rather than the Seine at this point because it is more beautiful.
The day before, at Morning Prayer with my colleagues, I had asked them to pray that I might meet Pilgrims on the way, so this was an answer to prayer and a hope of more to come.
On the footbridge, and along the Seine, there were plenty of waymarks, the first I had seen today. The most helpful one told me that I was following a cycle trail to Villeneuve Saint George’s, sometimes alongside the road, sometimes closer to the river. There was another path lower down, and I saw a walker ahead of me on that one, but there was no way I would have caught up with him.
I was feeling ready for a rest, and took one after 12 km: more than half way. I measured my progress as one bridge after another came into view: a bit like the Thames Path. At last I saw Montgeron ahead of me.
Villeneuve was a disappointment. I saw little of the town, emerging from a station carpark to steps up to one busy road, then along another. Hungry, and looking for somewhere I could sit and make a phone call, I went into the first place that offered, O’Tacos, and ordered a wrap filled with minced meet, cheese, potato, and who knows what else? I rang my host for next Monday in spite of very noisy children at the next table, and discovered that he was going to give me an evening meal.
It was probably a mistake to follow the guidebook through Crosne, especially as I couldn’t find the park through which I was meant to take a footpath. More to the point, it brought me to the centre of Montgeron, while the hotel was some way out to the northwest. It was also nowhere near the address given in the guidebook, but round the back of Kentucky Fried Chicken near a retail park. It was dark by the time I found it.
The room was comfortable enough, and I slept well. But tomorrow’s walk will be that much longer than if I was starting in the centre, and my pack heavier after shopping.
emeritablog: life after work 