Yum-yum bye-byes

No, I'm not (yet) insane. It's a rough translation of "Miam-Miam-Dodo", the title of an intensely practical set of books covering the whole Composetlla route from Le-Puy-en-Velay to Santiago. Within two days of discovering them, "Dodo" has become our bible - as David just managed not to say to a priest who was cross-examining us. If only Lauriane and Jacques Clouteau had done similar books for all of the GRs in France, for all of the routes we have walked!

"Dodo" lists all accommodation, all food shops, post offices, banks, chemists, cafés and restaurants within five kilometers of the route. Even any stabling for donkeys. And to provoke grovelling, snivelling gratitude in us, it gives opening hours and closing days, and the information is checked every year. No more detouring to a village where the café shut up shop three years ago and the boulangerie only opens every third Wednesday. But this is tough love too. Before you get to their mouth-watering gobbets of information, the authors knock you into shape for the challenge. I translate:

"The Way of St James isn't the Club Med. If you expect a cheap holiday with delusions of luxury but a little frisson of the Middle Ages, don't start out. ... If after the first few days you are still moaning about the accommodation which doesn't quite live up to your standards, go home immediately!"

You have to be up to earning your food and your night's rest. My heartfelt apologies for all the whinging over the past few months. I am not worthy ...

After my previous outpourings of angst about the mountains, we really did try to keep going for a few more days, but the peaks facing us were over 5250 feet, at which heights the temperature was below zero. There was fresh snow on some of the tops, mid-June or no mid-June. The depressed farmers (prevented from making their hay) and restaurant owners (whose clientèle were too miserable to spend money) all agreed we were right to be wary of the peaks in such weather. They were equally adamant that by August the sun would shine and summer would come to the Auvergne. So we bid them à bientot and skipped on a little, local, lazy train via Clermont Ferrand and Aurillac to Figeac, to pick up the St Jacques route as it comes out of the foothills of the Massif Central and heads into the beauties of south west France. Still raining, but at least it was warm rain.

Then, at Figeac, I was able to pick up emails and read such a supportive and bracing reaction to "Fear" that I'm humbled. The description of the panic that assailed me in the mountains struck chords, it seems, and several sent caring messages sharing your own moments of fear and weakness, making me feel already not so alone in the darkness. And you described the ways you deal with those times - a variety of ways that stop me and give me hope to put them into practice if I need to. Perhaps the common thread is digging as deep into oneself as the fear is, to find the corresponding self-belief to balance it out. With a side order of self-hypnosis.

Some of the advice was bracing. You're with "Dodo" on this one.

"It's strange what sparks off the extreme reactions in each of us... It's better to face up to these things, focus on each instance at a time and not give in to it!" This from my sister Sarah, who we all turn to as the strong one. And from Sal:

"We did zip-trekking in Whistler, Canada last month and the fear of stepping off a cliff at twice the height of the Eiffel Tower attached to a wire by just a hook and a canvas harness almost bowled me over - literally. I thought my legs would give in and I was going to pass out. I felt tears behind my eyes with pure fear, but it was exhilarating to have conquered it and do it! ... So go girl, you can do it!!"

I'm afraid that one had me dreaming the next night of clinging to a rock face on top of which stood Santiago's cathedral.

So although life is all smiles since arriving in Figeac and I'm behaving like a regular person, part of me wonders if, had I been able to pick up emails in Noirétable, the concert of your support, encouragment and gentle telling off would have got me over those foggy mountain tops.

21st June 2008