TerryandKenViaFrancigena2022

  • Day 17. Villequiers-Aumont to Laon. 45 km. A mountain, a Mairie and a Man Named Herve.

    Sometimes Googlemaplady is hard to understand and she sent us on some goosechases today. The first landed us on Rue de Perdu…road of the lost! 😁

    Our motel with palm tree.
    Canna lilies.
    Ken never reads the instructions first.
    Over the canal but we don’t get to ride beside it.
    A determined little morning glory growing by a light pole.
    Forest service house. A tad larger than Alberta’s old ranger station houses.
    Riding down the hills I could feel raindrops, then realized the sun was shining…not rain, but bugs hitting the windshield…except I was the windshield.
    Riding through St Gobain 9000 ha managed hardwood forest.
    Sing along! If you go out in the woods today, you’re in for a big surprise!….today’s the day the teddy bears have their picnic!

    Difficult 3 km climb up a mountain…difficult mostly from heat…but it seemed endless. Even the big road map has a warning for it. But there was a cold beer waiting for Ken near the top in your friendly superette.

    Surely this must be the summit?!?
    Let the downhill glide begin! Oops, spoke too soon…Ken got a flat tire 3/4 down the mountain on a really windy stretch.
    This is Susan from North Carolina. She has rented an apartment in Paris for a month, and is on a week long cathedral tour. She stopped to see if she could help.
    Ken pushed the bike about 1 km into town…we stopped at the first bench, which happened to be at the town office. So I kinda barged my way in and asked the lady to call us a taxi…she phoned 3 places but no one would take a bike (plan was for me to ride the last 10 km on my own). So she called a friend, the village came out and this gentleman went to get tools, then took the offending tire home, put in a brand new tube, and put it back on the bike. So grateful as it meant we could continue riding.
    Strabbie: Ce qui se passe? Cheery: Je ne sais pas. Bunger: Je sais. Cette bicyclette es merde!!!
    Our Camino angel – Herve. He would only accept a handshake.
    Odd black church steeple with a chicken on top.
    You can just make out the Cathedral towers way in the distance, about 8 km away and sitting on a very high Ridge. We still have a lot of downhill to go.
    At first I thought these were blinders on the horses but they are fly netting. Horse was wondering what the strange noise was as my shoes are very squeaky and I was pushing up a hill.
    Proof of life plus one day we can only hope that Ken will take a picture without his thumb in it.
    The road was fairly flat into Laon but by the end of this hot day any little slope felt like a big one. Rest day tomorrow!

  • Day 16. Peronne to Villequier Aumont (near Tergnier on the VF). 56 km.

    A strange hotel. As a note, France closes on Sundays, even many of the smaller hotels. This one is open 24/7, unusually. The restaurant wasn’t preparing meals (because it was Sunday) but you could order either lasagna carbonara or penne au saumon, which they microwaved for you. It was so good that it had to have been prepared in house. They also locked up our bikes in one side of the lounge. In the morning, though, breakfast was supposed to start at 630. We were packed and ready to eat and go by 800 am. But…the doors were locked…apparently the receptionist had “slept in” and we couldn’t get our breakfast or our bikes until after 9:15. Just weird.
    Convoy of 6 of these went by, and each driver gave us a honk and a wave. I am pretty sure it was to thank us for pulling over and not because of Ken’s shapely pale legs.
    Our Camino angel of the day…the Canal du Nord. Loved riding 30 km beside the canal…flat flat flat!
    We have rented self-drive canal boats before in France Italy and Belgium. On our first trip our old boat wouldn’t go more than 9 km / hour. There was a small boy on a tricycle who would peddle his little legs off riding on the tow path trying to beat Ken to the next bridge, which he usually managed to do.
    Today, Ken was that kid on his tricycle and this was his nemesis!
    Off-loading gravel from the boat. Had to wait a while before the operator noticed us.
    The ‘Snax canal-side.
    The ‘Snax waiting for the Ken’s nemesis to enter the ecluse (lock).
    Enters the lock at the lower level. A man with a delicate touch…never touched a wall going in. Boat had to be 200 feet long, one person in control.
    And departs once the water level has risen.
    Daily proof of life. Hmmm…I think I need to adjust my helmet.
    Shy goose. Obviously not Canadian.
    Two ships passing in the…
    Frick…we are not supposed to be here. Probably 10 km out of our way…but then it was all along the canal, so no complaints, especially since it put us on quiet roads instead of busy highway.
    A bug house for bees and butterflies.
    Bunger wants to move in! He is half burger, half dung beetle.
    Crucifixes everywhere.
    School zone. Another statue further on.
    Many hills after the canal. One super long 3 km uphill with no shade and very hot sun…it was a tough one, especially when I came around the corner thinking I was at the top and could see Ken over half a km ahead of me still pushing. Heavy sigh.

    In one town when I was pushing the bike up the hill an old man came out to ask if I was okay. Gee, I didn’t think I looked that bad. And we have gotten our rhythm for when we ride and when we push to save our knees.

    Endless hill through the town but Ken is home for the evening! I’ll wake him at 8 for breakfast.
    Restaurant is closed Mondays..no surprise. And the nearest is 4 km away. Ken had his can of sardines and I had roast chicken (pictured above) and a nectarine.

  • Day 15. Arras to Bapaume to Peronne. 55 km.

    Finally making some miles. So many military cemeteries and monuments.

    View from our dorm room.
    This was such a strange place. We had to go down to the basement for the restaurant…there were 4 prepared meals for dinner and then again for breakfast in the morning. Meaning only 4 people stayed here. Supper was very good…big chunks of beef in gravy with potato rosettes, lots of cheeses…not what we were expecting.
    We never did meet the mysterious 4th person but we had happy conversation and supper and breakfast with Pilgrim Pippa from New Zealand. She had started walking from Canterbury but took the train from Calais to Arras as there were no accommodations. And she hadn’t met any other walkers. The VF, especially in France, is not like the Camino where 350000 people a year walk it. I would be surprised if more than 100 people start out from Canterbury, most seem to start from Great St Bernard pass or a little further down in Italy, which is much better set up for pilgrims. We hope PIppa decides to continue her journey!
    I could have stayed here for hours, surrounded by colour and floral scents.
    The site was used by the medical units. Graves to right were all from May 1917. Those on the left all died between September 12, 1918 and early October 1918. Average age…22?
    Thank you, Albert Alexander.
    Germans are buried here as well; it is unusual for them to be in a Commonwealth cemetery…but I suppose they were being treated at the hospital. I feel for all of the mommas.
    Small roadside chapel on the VF. I am only concentrating on the “look how far we’ve come” aspects and not at how far is left to go. There is a registry book so you can see the pilgrims who have passed before you.
    A random fruit and vegetable vending machine. The cherries looked so good but no way to carry them. I am fairly certain the pineapple wasn’t local though 🍍
    A pizza vending machine! Who woulda thunk? It was pretty good…several choices…ours was creme freche, onions, potatoes and loads of cheese…and no yucky tomato sauce for Ken. And ready in 3 minutes!
    Lunchtime.
    1870 to 1871…commemorating the Prussian war.
    Met another pilgrim! Josie from England, walking solo. We won’t mention that she walked the 26 km to Bapaume in the same time we rode it! But she said she went head down just walking, and of course left waaaaaaaay earlier than us! Please ignore the fact that Ken is drinking a beer in the street.
    Remember the Somme from history classes?
    Newfoundland was not part of Canada during the world wars and so their gravestones show a caribou instead of the maple leaf.
    French cemetery. 8500 soldiers buried and 3400 in ossuaries. The numbers are staggering…a generation decimated.
    Ken looking pretty smug at making it up this huge hill.
    Valley??? You lie!
    Ken was not looking so smug after this one!
    Enough photos! Where is the hotel, woman?!
    Ken discovers a new cooler blanket. Even with the heat wave every single place has had heavy comforters with no sheets.

    Song of the day…this is a song from the 1960s that laments the lost generation of young English men after the great War but could apply to all the countries. Dancing at Whitson by Tim Hart and Maddy Prior.

  • DAY 14. Bethonsart to Vimy Ridge to Arras – this ground has been fought over and you can see the signs everywhere. 35 km today.

    Vimy Rodge is not on the VF (although we crossed it) but as we were within 10 km of Vimy and had the bikes, we felt we should go. 3rd time visiting.

    The view from our window.
    The town church was constructed in 1247 and its steeple is “crocheted”. All of the stones sticking out from the steeple are little animals or fantasy figures. A few of the originals are in the church.
    No gargoyles, Ruth.
    Little Black Devils. The Winnipeg Rifles.
    Our host Christine gave us a tour of the different carvings. She has a booklet of them all. Her house is designated as a historical building yet it is also a working farm…tricky business.
    We were once again the first Canadian pilgrims on bicycles…but not the first Canadians.
    Here we go again! But only for a kilometer and the last farm track of the day.
    The chalet I had originally tried booking.
    Mont St Eloi. Sits across the plain from Vimy Ridge and easily visible from there. Was once the largest abbey but during the French “reformation” it was turned into a quarry for its stone. Only the 2 towers remain, one of which was badly damaged by the Germans as it was a highly strategic observation tower during the war.
    Vimy. The most beautiful memorial of all. Hitler stood here and decreed that it should not be harmed because it did not glorify war but instead mourned loss.
    This is actually a piece of Canada. The French deeded the land to Canada in recognition of the Canadians turning the war in this historic battle. Many argue that Vimy was the beginning of Canadian nationalism. My boys’ many-greats grandfather was a medic at Vimy.
    Much of the park is pitted from the shelling and you aren’t allowed to leave the paths because of potential unexploded shells. They use sheep to “mow” the areas.
    We were so hungry by the time we got to Vimy, as there were no stores or eating places along the way, so I got these from the vending machine and pretended I was having spaghetti.
    Memorials to the Canadians in random places. We had to go looking for this one in a small village. Commemorates the crash of a Halifax bomber crewed by Canadians shot down during WW2 on the edge of the village. The villagers wanted to give the crew a proper burial, the Germans did not…but the mayor prevailed.
    The story.
    And on to Arras. These buildings were completely destroyed during the war but he facades were rebuilt as exact replicas.
    I crashed a wedding in the square.
    Back on the VF.
    A dozen or so chess tables set out in the plaza.
    A lending library on one side.
    A lending herb garden on the other. What an innovative idea.
    The magnificence of this building and its door are not indicative of our spartan room in this Catholic diocesan retreat house. More like dorm room but the shower was bigger than the usual bread box and the meal was hearty and very good…so…bonus!

    I came back from my walk to find the doors locked and there is no receptionist. Tried to call Ken as he had the key. No luck. Figured he was snoozing. But luckily the gate to the interior car park was open as was the back door, which I had found out about when we stashed our bikes. But up at room? No Ken. Hmmm. Did he go looking for a bar? No answer on his phone. But after an hour…is he lost? But he finally showed up. He was waiting for me in the street…he went out the front door as I came in the back! 😁

    Considering we walked through old battlefields, including Neuville-St-Vaast where the ChristmasTruce happened, the song of the day is about soldiers discovering their brotherhood. Christmas in the Trenches by John McCutcheon.

  • Day 13. Amettes to Bethonsart. 30 km.

    French toaster.
    The breakfast nook.
    These buildings were built in a time when people were shorter. Or…Ken is really tall.
    Clematis…flower of the day.
    We were the first Canadian pilgrims on bicycles for this gite, which is a popular one on the VF.
    Collette (runs the gite) and Lulu the wriggly puppy.
    Quick stop for Ken’s morning espresso and beer. Me, I had chocolate chaud. Random guy offered to take the photo.
    A somewhat daunting urinal for Ken…the kind of thing that makes a guy pee-shy. I thought it was hilarious, the look on her face is priceless! And in case you are wondering why Terry was in there, it was a co-ed bathroom.
    This was a hard push…picture does not do the steepness justice.
    French road kill?
    Ken and his fave little face cloth…he keeps it wet and it is cooling on his big kapusta. Shades of Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
    An old mill with the remains of the water wheel.
    Icy cold and refreshing.
    I am sure the French family on the other side were hoping Ken wasn’t going to go skinny dipping!
    Um…is this Saskatchewan?
    Seriously, Googlemaplady, didn’t we have this conversation yesterday? Roads, we like actual roads.
    The ‘Snax meet some French cows.
    The ‘Snax just chilling on a hay bale.
    Too bad you can’t hear Ken in the background saying “she’d take you home if she could”. He wants you to know that this is why he says “silly old lady” at least 50 times a day.
    Always a good feeling to arrive at your destination, this time another farm. Dairy cows.
    And then to find they had installed a swimming pool and had only opened it the day before! Bliss!
    The trees in their yard were loaded with pears. Hello, Cheery!
    The gateway out of the property.
    Friends everywhere I go! They are much quieter than Ken.
    One military grave in this small churchyard in a community of only 116 people; his body had been found nearby.
    The community looks after him, and visit and bring flowers on both May 8 (VE day…end of WW2 in Europe) and November 11th. Touching.
    Serendipity. The only reason I booked this place was because the chateau I wanted was booked and they referred me here. But we are so thankful. Unbelievably, after the battle at Vimy Ridge in April 1917, many of the Canadian soldiers were billeted in this very farm yard. Because the walls were made of soft chalk, the soldiers passed their time carving their names and battalions into the walls. Really quite moving to see and how lucky were we to have stayed here a hundred years later.

  • Day 12. Up Down and Around and We Are Here…Somewhere…

    Wisques to Amettes. 30 km. We continue to encounter steep hills, some of which are scary to ride down. And the Google Map App doesn’t always keep us on paved roads. Ken stops wherever he can for a drink…which amounted to only one place today, in addition to a small store.

    Which way do we go?
    La Welsch. One heck of a gas station meal. 2 pieces of toast with ham, smothered in cheese sauce and broiled with beer. Heart attack in a bowl.
    This is a gas station??? It actually has charm…and a bar. Which Ken took advantage of.
    Crucifixes in some form or another in every village.
    Well, they are not shells or yellow arrows but they will suffice.
    Monkey puzzle tree…have only seen them in Vancouver / Victoria.
    Local school children pasted these cow pictures onto the wall. We especially liked this evil cow by Hugo. Hugo is most likely a stinker! Kinda like Ken.
    Our token tourist visit to the Eiffel Tower…or some version thereof.
    Ken: Yes??? Terry: Non!
    Call to the John Deere repairman.
    Incredible hills to climb. Gotta admire the brawn on this guy. Not only is he “poussez”ing the bike, he is “tirez”ing Rawley the Trolley. Ken says pretty good for a fat old man.
    Passed a “Templar” hotel…and that is a real drawbridge over a moat.
    Not meaning to be disrespectful by photographing a gravestone but there is such a stark contrast between this and the ancient cemeteries we saw in England.
    This translates to Hanne Albert, Age 22, shot right here by a German sentry. Ken says at this time of WW2, France had already surrendered to the Germans. So why shoot this young man?
    Really, Googlemaplady, really???
    Le random rogue village chicken. Ken was terrified!
    Our Gite for the night. Ferme de 2 tilleuls. They cater to pilgrims. Tilleuls are linden trees.
    Ken pretending he knows how to hard boil eggs.
    Pigeon coop.
    Melle and Inga, Via Francigena pilgrims from Estonia.
    Outside the gite. St Joseph…someone tends these as there are often fresh flowers.
    Ken has yet another brilliant idea (Insert Terry eye roll here). Hang a car deodorizer in his arm pit so he never has to shower. Woe is me.

    Song of the day: “One more mountain to climb” by Dr Music

  • Day 11. The map is flat…why isnt the country?

    The day started off with a good breakfast, Canada Grade A maple syrup, and another ca to Christophe to ferry Ken, Rawley the Trolley and the broken bicycle back to the bike shop.
    I rode my bike back…loved this road filled with balloons.
    They opened the bikecshop an hour early for us. The Snax tried out this bicycle built for three.
    The man can sleep anywhere!
    Walking around while waiting for the bike to be repaired. You can certainly see the difference between the Cathic churches in France and the more austere Anglican churches in England. They had houseants in this one. And 3 more candles for our parents and Ryder.
    Look closely and you will see this is a peacock, with the lower garden its tail.
    Ken’s favourite place. He had waited there the day before while I ran errands and he became smitten with the sweet Stephanie. So back we went for a second day. At least she wasn’t a hungover New Brunswicker like the last woman he tried to dump me for on our 2019 Camino.
    They have the cutest little busses! I want one.
    The bicycle guy was kind enough to take us back to Licques where we had finished the day before but he had to make 2 trips. So we waited in a bar. Surprise surprise. I see a lot of this pottery around d here…classiest beer pulls ever!
    And yet another vehicle. How did he get 2 bicycles into that small car?
    Frédéric from the bike store…Camino angel of the day.
    Stringy 3. Long Camino story as to why it is so named.
    Even the bread store has classy ceramics.
    A lot of pushing and pulling up the hills.
    Much needed break…and the hill got steeper!
    This very angry turkey was guarding his chicken flock. He kept coming closer and closer, huffing and hissing and gobbling. I have great video but it is too long to post.
    We loved the sight of water towers because it meant we were at the top of the hill.
    Me: I want this!
    Also me: I want her too. Cutest long hair dalmatian.
    Still on route.
    And still smiling, oddly enough. Many big hills today. Famous last words: they can’t get any worse!
    Our digs for the night…Abbey of Notre Dame at Wisques. Not too shabby.
    Ken knows true joy when for the first time he did not have to haul the trolley up any flights of stairs.
    Ken can always find someone to talk to. Outside our small house.
    Sister Lucie, who sang Grace, and Jan from Holland and our 3rd pilgrim on the Via.
    Communal meal: soup, a slice of ham with Spanish rice and a tiny pickle if you were fast enough (Jan was not, although he and Ken did polish iff the wine), and apple compote and one cookie. Everything was carefully counted so you only got one. A simple convent meal.
    Our house.
    Bikes are parked for the night.

    Song of the day. Considering we stayed at an Abbey and the route was hilly, Ken’s song of the day is “Climb Every Mountain ” from The Sound of Music.

  • Day 10 A day derailed by a derailleur…and a good thing too!

    Picked up at 5:00 am from our guest house in Dover for our trip across the Channel to Calais. Setting my alarm for a number less than 6 is just wrong.
    Chilling line up of transport trucks waiting to cross. At one point they estimated 10000, yes, 10000 trucks in line. Dover port was a mess. So glad we decided on the train. And no wonder supply chains are disrupted.
    Ken was frightened that all the water from the English Channel would flood the chunnel. Our taxi driver tried to reassure him by asking “you brought your brolly, didn’t you, Ken?” 🤣
    3 tunnels..one for the passenger train (Eurostar), one for the car/truck train (Eurotunnel) and the escape tunnel which Ken was very interested in.
    Our driver Jonathan. Very entertaining and knowledgeable. Said the ticket prices had more than doubled since I booked. We all fell asleep whole on the train (being the excruciating early hour that we had to get up) and the joke became that Jonathan was an excellent driver but did fall asleep at the wheel.
    Finally picked up our bikes but headed out in the rain several hours later then we hoped.
    Bunger the Bugsnax with the Burghers of Calais. This statue by Rodin (he also did The Thinker) commemorates an incident in 1347 during the 100 Years War when Edward III demanded that 6 of the town’s 12 burgers sacrifice themselves so the town could be spared. The 6 men in turn were spared by Edward’s wife. Wives are good peoples!
    And off we go along the canal.
    Famous last words: this whole country is flat as a pancake, this should be easy!
    Aw…little peeping ducklings.
    8 cygnets!
    And then…oh no! Saint Theresa, help us! Bicycle breakdown. We were stuck by a church which happened to be open.
    So…after encountering unexpectedly long and steep hills (see aforementioned famous last words) and just after we crossed over the Eurostar rail line, Ken’s bike went kaput. We were 20 km from Calais. Ken being Ken he had picked up some twine along the way (Peter, we now have Stringy 3) and just like on the Camino it came in handy for some first aid on the bike…broken derailleur. He tied the derailleur up with the twine so he could at least glide down the hills to get to the next town. And push-up.
    The bike shop was not answering our calls and I remembered I had the card for a taxi driver I had hired earlier that day. I hoped he would remember me as we had sung along to the Village People’s YMCA together. He spoke some English and agreed to drive out to get us and take us back to Calais.
    Saw lots of baby bunnies while we were waiting but they were too fast.
    Just how many times are we going to stuff our bikes and trolley into strange cars? I have lost count.
    Christopher our Camino angel of the day. As a taxi driver he went above and beyond helping us out, even calling his son to bring tools to take the bikes apart. He wanted to know why we didn’t call him right away rather than pushing the bike 5 km. I blame getting up at 5:00 am for not thinking straight.
    It’s always a good day when it ends with beer! We managed to book a hitel at the end of the day, which wasn’t easy with all the holiday channel traffic.
    The Google car?

    Song of the day: “Days like this” by Van Morrison

  • Day 9. When life gives you lemons, go do your laundry.

    Today marked the beginning of the Via Francigena, filled with hope and peace and purpose as we were allowed into the Cathedral grounds before opening to begin our walk from the zero km marker.

    Off we go! Apologies for the big blue toilet sign behind us. This is a special marker for pilgrims – the 0 km start. They couldn’t have moved the sign 3 feet over? I shall write a letter to the Minister (the lord knows I’ve responded to hundreds of them in my career!)
    How cool is that?
    After a slight circle round leaving St Martin’s church, a kindly postman pointed us in the right direction.
    What a magnificent beech…at least 3 feet in diameter. Ken says it looks like one of his brawny forearms sticking out of the ground…just a healthier colour than Ken’s arm.
    Today’s flowers.
    Leaving Canturbury with a last look at the Cathedral spires just above the tree line.
    So exciting to see Via Francigena signs!
    And our first VF pilgrims! Sergio and Daniella from Italy. No Italian and no English but we managed a simple conversation in Spanish. Even managed to say that my sister was also named Daniella.
    Another scary badger hole.
    This is Mabel…what a cutie! Me: I want to foster one of the shelter dogs when we get home. Ken: Veto! Me: That’s a great name for a dog. We’ll call it Veto. Ken: No way! Me: 2 dogs? Yes! And they shall be named Veto and NoWay! …and apparently the 3rd dog will be called IGiveUp!
    Ken tried a Scotch egg and thought it was brilliant…who would have thought of deep frying a hard boiled egg in porridge?! Good stuff!
    Blackberries by thick handfuls. Yummy!
    Random water irrigation tower in the middle of nowhere.
    That’s a tall cedar hedge. Our deer at home would have eaten the whole thing by now.
    Love this driveway entrance.
    Good old Canadian Massey Ferguson. Noisy whiny thing but doing its job.
    These towns are so old they predate having multiple streets that needed names.
    Local support for Ukraine. 🇺🇦
    I looked at this sign and was feeling really good and that I could make the 32 km today.
    And then…Ken’s knee started acting up again. We pushed forward for about a km…
    And came to a train station…in the middle of nowhere. The Camino provides…
    Ken and the ‘Snax waiting for the train…only a 20 minute wait and a few stops to Dover.
    Resigned to not walking…
    Where Terry spent her afternoon. Check out the old “mangle” clothes wringer. But seriously while Ken’s knee was “the lemon”, we had lemonade by finally getting to do a week’s worth of laundry. Handwashing was not cutting it anymore. Stinky!
    Where Ken spent his afternoon, chatting happy with a lady from Northern Ireland…she lived next door to Van Morrison, he washed her windows. She had some pithy words about him but still loves his music. And they laughed together at another lady getting a ticket for parking in a pedestrian zone. When they parted she said it was a good craic (conversation). Was a highlight of Ken’s day…and hopefully hers too.
    Wish I could have shopped here.
    A teensy tiny gargoyle for my friend Ruth.
    After Ken not listening to directions we finally ended up this pub where apparently drinking rum makes you a pirate not an alcoholic. But Ken sticks to beer so…
    Look, Ruth…your favourite ferry (in the background 🙂). Apparently it was a rough crossing today with lots of green people hanging over the sides.
    The iconic white cliffs of Dover.
    The ‘Snax on the English Channel. Watch out..the tide is coming in!
    Dover lost many young men in WWI and took a beating in WW2. Ken saw a Spitfire flying overhead and it turns out you can book a flight in one…for £6000. But I can’t imagine what it was like to live in Dover and have the Luftwaffe flying overhead and to be on the receiving end of bombs being sent over from France.
    Britain’s version of the Dollar Store. Luckily for Ken’s backpack, it was closed.
    Nuts in syrup. That’s just weird.
    Peek a boo.

    And Ken is going to finish off with a song that sums up the day. Rambling Rover by the Fables. Because the theme of the song is…”at least you tried” and talks about going from the Orkneys to Dover. It’s a great song if you want to check it out on YouTube.

  • Day 8. Canterbury. A special day.

    Today was meant to be a day of rest, an opportunity to visit the Cathedral and get our pilgrim stamp, and attend a service…and do laundry. It started with a £13 taxi ride two miles to a laundromat, Terry admittedly having a hissy fit over there not being any loadable cards and struggling to finally download an app to get a QR code, asking for £10 of laundry time and being charged £20, and then the machines not working in the end because the wifi was not strong enough to actually run the machines, just steal your money! So we stormed..okay, Terry stormed, Ken sauntered out…but I worked out my frustration on the quick march back to our hotel. And then rest of the day was…so good.

    Saw a sign for the Via Francigena.
    The doors are small
    and crooked…shall we just call them quaint?
    Our hotel (Cathedral Gate) is an odd w
    arren if hallways and stairs going every which way. Ken would never find his way home from the pub on his own!
    Cathedral is breath taking.
    My three candles at top for our parents and Ryder.
    This is Chris, the only other pilgrim we met…and we were the only ones he had met. He had walked from Winchester. We had actually crossed paths with him about 2 days earlier(on the frosty lets walk 2.4 km for nothing day 🙂). We spent much time talking and ended up seeing each other multiple times during the day, culminating with sitting together during Evensong. So pleased for you, Chris, that your pilgrimage was meaningful for you and we are grateful to have been able to meet you. Congratulations on your upcoming university graduation!

    We met up with Chris in the Cathedral which connected us to Reverend Emma P who in turn gave us a pilgrims blessing standing right at the candle lit for Thomas A Becket. This site is normally closed to the public so it was a very moving and emotional moment.

    Tomorrow we begin…heading for Dover.
    Couldn’t resist asking how much for a box of good Ole Cap’n Crunch. £10!!!!
    Thank you faithful and detailed guide!
    What we followed…and learned new words and phrases. Metalled equals a paved road. Pavement is a sidewalk. Kissing gates…well, perhaps more cursing gates as he tries to get the trolley through. But have to admit, Ken does amazingly well with Trolley.