Anyone (including a later version of myself) who has been reading these entries in order of writing may be confused. I said I was going to Le Puy and now I am finishing at Vézelay after just 12 days walking.

Five weeks on pilgrimage would indeed be a splendid opportunity, but I have been aware that it might be beyond me to achieve. After the second evening, my host Gerard encouraged me to think of Vézelay as my destination. His association prepared, maintains, and promotes the path Paris – Sens – Vézelay (PSV) and I have their guidebook on my phone. It runs through the medieval cathedral cities of Sens and Auxerre, and though not every village has a bar or corner shop, we’re never very far from civilization. I thought it would take me 11 days, but changed this to 12 to avoid a 25 km walk, with hills, on the last day.

Francois Lepère’s book Du Paris au Puy-en-Vélay (PPV) is based on the same path as far as Vézelay, and thereafter on two national trails, GR13 and GR3. The author has introduced his own variants, and I was told that people who follow LePère get lost. My own experience was that even with the waymarks, both guidebooks, and Google maps, I got lost sometimes. The guidebooks have similar information but different strengths and weaknesses.

Anyway, after Vézelay I would be dependent on PPV, and even Google maps would be less help in more rural areas; accommodation would be harder to find, as would the way home. The next station seems to be 6 days on.

But the real reason I gave up is that I am not as fit or competent as I thought. My feet got badly blistered. I kept going, and reached my accommodation each night, largely thanks to my hosts picking me up or dropping me off along the way, and some total strangers offering a lift in their car or, in one case, on their boat. One afternoon I took the train to avoid a long walk in broad sunlight in 35°C.

Physically, then, I failed as a pilgrim. Spiritually – and I shall reflect more on this when I write a page on the journey – I learned a lot from my dependence, on God and on others, from my response to pain which in my case was largely self-inflicted, and from the realisation that the only loss in giving up was to my pride and ambition.

And so, cheerfully and bravely, I made a final round of the basilica, said Morning Prayer in the crypt, and carried my rucksack down the hill to await the minibus to the nearest station.

I hope to return and pick up the journey next year. Perhaps I shall meet Marie-Dominique again. This year’s walk has been blessed with meetings and conversations.

In any case, the pilgrimage continues, at least till death and I trust beyond.

Marie-Dominique and I agreed to walk together further last day of this year’s pilgrimage, and to keep in touch about the future.

Breakfast was a continuation of last night’s supper, a cold drink being provided from a big bottle of lemonade. Apart from that, I had an orange and a tomato, dunked some bread in the juice, and added a few slices of cheese.

Olivier turned up just as we were finishing, and asked only the usual 20 euros. Excellent value for money. He told us that he had a few more Pilgrims coming this week, and then some school bookings for 100 or more. So glad we weren’t coinciding with them.

He told us that the route to Vézelay was well-marked, and there might be a little rain later. The latter was much more optimistic than the weather forecast on my phone, but he turned out to be right in both respects.

Our first stop was earlier than usual, outside a hunters’ cabin open to all, because it was there. The second was at a place called Hérodats. A cross decorated with vine leaves – I didn’t even notice there was a house. And the third was to take a photo of a distant view of Vézelay.

The only serious rain began just as we were settling outside a bar in a lively small town called Asquins. The plan to have a beer and walk on the final 2 km (with 150 m ascent) to Vézelay, but we quickly changed plans, as half the town seemed to, to go inside and have lunch. I chose Toulouse sausages, since Toulouse is also a pilgrim town, and Marie-Dominique ordered a “salad des gésiers”. I looked the word up in Google translate and found “gizzards”. Would you ever see that on an English menu? Or that dish under another name?

She was going to return there overnight as it is near the railway station, so was able to leave her backpack. In exchange, she carried mine part of the way up the hill.

The Ste Madeleine Centre where I was staying would be opening at 2:30, though Pilgrims couldn’t check in until 4. But I could leave my rucksack there and walk round the church unencumbered.

The external perambulation revealed a lot of building repairs and an energetic school class letting off steam. Inside, there’s an enormous narthex, and the church is surprisingly plain, apart from icons in the apse. Some of the stone carving around the doors is fascinating, and I tried to work out who this was, and why he was holding his foot. Was it Moses, removing his shoes because he was walking on holy ground? Yes, the burning bush is round the corner.

One interesting and disturbing fact about Vézelay is that it’s where Bernard of Clairvaux exhorted the people to join the Crusade. Several countries have donated wooden crosses to affirm their commitment to peace.

The Ste Alfais (not our Alfege, this one’s feminine) dorm in the Centre, when I arrive there at the top of a spiral staircase and have removed my boots outside, is a broad room under the roof-beams, and the setting for an absorbing game of “My rucksack is lighter than your rucksack”. I stay out of it, negotiate the shower, and bundle away the clothes I hope not to repack until I arrive home.

On investigation, the easiest way of getting home involves the 9:31 bus to the station, which connects with a train which connects with a train to Paris. No long delays in between. The Centre wants us out by 9 anyway. Very expensive, but that’s what happens when you change plans at short notice.

The local restaurant produced a Creme Brulée starter, the like of which you’ve never seen before, and I am waiting to find out what the cheeseboard of local cheeses can show me.

My hostess walked with me through the village, until the route and tarmac parted company. It was thanks to her that I noticed the cyclamen coming into bloom in the grounds of the castle, and learned that the stony track I would follow was the Chemin d’Agrippa. She asked repeatedly, whether I wanted to go back to the canal, and I found out when I checked Lepère’s guidebook that I could have done so and saved myself a hill. But then I would have missed the cyclamen.

My first stop, after an hour but well before 4km, was in the village of Séry. Shortly after, it was off on another Roman road through the woods. I stopped for Morning Prayer before leaving the shade behind.

Just after crossing a D road, I turned on to another tarmac road, easier on the feet than the stony tracks. This took me all the way to Lac Sauvin (though there is no lake here) by 1:30 for a long afternoon rest at the Centre d’Acceuil.

Marie-Dominique had stopped for the previous night before I did, and detoured to try to buy food on the way. Being Monday, everything was closed, and she arrived at about 6. Our host Olivier, although he had told us that he could not prepare a meal for us had rustled up some bits and pieces, and I was well content with rice warmed in the microwave to go with the Tuna Catalan I had brought, a kiwi, and sharing the remains of a bottle of wine. It was so good to have her company.

Lots of conversation over breakfast, trying to explain to a German woman travelling with wheelchair and Zimmer frame that she was not the only non-cyclist around the table.

I let Marie-Dominique go on ahead and did not leave until about 8:15. Before regaining the river, I had to walk over a hill along what was cheekily called the Boulevard des Pyrénées, and then down a “steep and rugged pathway” which I failed to “tread rejoicingly.”

In fact, I wondered about getting out my trekking pole, but knowing that, once down the hill, it was level all the way I decided against.

After a slow start, my energy returned, and I was sitting opposite a canal lock contemplating my lunch stop when I was hailed by a couple of Canadians, Ingrid and Robin, who offered me a ride in their boat. Too good a chance to turn down!

They wanted to visit some wine cellars, which would not open until 2 pm, so it was a very leisurely afternoon. After taking the boat through several locks, they eventually put me down just before the railway bridge in Cravant, leaving me only about 2 km to walk to my accommodation.

Here, I finally had a chance to put my walking clothes in a washing machine, and a meal of which tomato salad, rose wine and tiramasu were the high points.

And so to bed.

Although I was at the breakfast table before 7, it was 8 by the time I was ready to leave.  I passed a lovely picnic spot after 4 km but it was on the other side of a high fence, obviously for motorists not hikers.  A little later, I sat on a log and was preparing to complete the last blog, when suddenly …

A PILGRIM ARRIVED, AND JOINED ME ON THE LOG.

Marie-Dominique has been walking this route in stages, beginning from her home the other side of Paris.  Her present stage started yesterday at Joigny, and she also spent the night in Neuilly.  We shall be staying in the same place tonight and the day after tomorrow.

We walked more-or-less together until we realised that we were off the route.  Then she decided to go back to a side road, and I to continue to the next junction of D roads.

Before I arrived there, a car stopped beside me, and I accepted a lift to Auxerre.  I was dropped off near the Cathedral, and enjoyed a tasty expensive lunch at one of the many restaurants.

I thought the Cathedral would be a good place to chill out.

But a wedding would begin at 14:30, so I made my way to the park near the Maison des Randonneurs.  Several cyclists are also sprawling on the grass.  Perhaps they too are waiting for the hostel to open.

I hope Marie-Dominique isn’t worried about not seeing me on the road.  But I don’t think she was planning to stop for lunch.

Once I have checked in, I need to find a shop for food for tonight and the next couple of days (though my hostess tomorrow will make me a meal), and go to Mass at St Peter’s Church. The one at the Cathedral isn’t till 10:30 am, too late to start walking in the heat.