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Monday April 13. Chavanges. 24.3 km.

 Last night’s stay wasn’t totally perfect as there was no wifi.  Which wouldn’t matter quite so much if I could only figures out how much data I have left, but that is completely beyond my skill level. So that is why my daily posts were late again.

Chavanges is another small village with no services other than a small grocery store (closed on Mondays) and a country château, privately owned and not open for visits except for its garden in rose season.


I now recognize a wash house when I see one.


There are more benches in this part of the world, and this was a good lot of signage!


The land here is still full of water, with ponds and the largest artificial lake in France, which unfortunately the path never approached.  Lots of birds as it is a protected area.


My bird call app works fairly well here, and I was rather surprised when it told me that I was hearing a nightingale.

And hark! the Nightingale begins its song,

‘Most musical, most melancholy’ bird!

           From Coleridge, “The Nightingale “


Surely a nightingale would have a soft, melodious song? Not this one! The loudest of the birds and quite an aggressive call.  Maybe they get more sweet sounding at night??


Walking along and turning a corner, I saw a crouched down figure with crazy-looking hair holding out a hand like a beggar. Coming closer, it was a pilgrim with an open tin of sardines in one hand and a hunk of bread in the other. Guillaume is a younger Belgian walking to Rome because he has always wanted to see Rome.


I continued on, having decided to have my lunch at the next village, Outines. Such decisions are important, because the thought of lunch at a precise point on the map of the day helps motivate progress! So half an hour or so later, while I was sitting on a bench with an open tin of meat pâté in one hand and a hunk of bread in the other, along came Guillaume looking for water. As he is camping out every night, getting enough drinking water is important, and the church cemetery didn’t have a tap. (Thanks to Napoleon, every cemetery in France is mandated to provide clean water for drinking).  Some was found.


Outines is a very small village with a lovely sixteenth century wooden church.




In the nineteenth century a priest tried to make it more ‘respectable’ with oak panelling and rounded covers to make the posts look like columns. Then in the twentieth century there was a plan to tear it down and replace it with a modern church.  Happily, this didn’t happen and in 1990 extensive restorations were done, replacing the foundations and stabilizing the building.


Another wooden church in the next village, Bailly-le-Franc.  There are six churches of this type left in this region.  Both of the two I saw today are used for a service only once a month.



The day ended with a spot of rain.






Comments

  1. RitaApril 14, 2026 at 2:30 PM

    Quite the stunning atmospheric photo, Celia, well done!

    ReplyDelete

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