“The world has not to be put in order: the world is order incarnate. It is for us to put ourselves in unison with this order.”
Henry Miller
•••
The day began over breakfast then seeing off the Belgian pair I shared a gîte with. They held the distinction of being one of the only couples to go on the trail one by foot, one by bike.
Something that Rita, the walking half of the couple, said at breakfast would change my course.
“Oh, no, no, for the bag; 8 kilos maximum”
I had estimated this number to be much higher. I was stubbornly holding on to too much and waiting to get stronger. But I noticed by the last 5 km everyday, my backpack felt almost unbearable. I really didn’t know what inside I was arching, hunching, hiking up, to support all time, but after breakfast, I went back to my room to find out.
It took much of the morning, but I ended up making a neat bag of clothes to drop in the collection bin. I set off to the city feeling light and new.
From the city’s tourist office, I received instructions to eschew the marked Via Francigena path for the yellow trail markers that could also take me to Besançon. I was wildly entertained by the thought of following the yellow brick road to my destination.
The solitude of the woods brought self awareness. First of all, I don’t know nearly all the words to the Bruce Springsteen song “Atlantic City” like I thought I did. I ate my lunch when I felt lost and before I felt hungry. My calf muscle felt strained when I mulled over conflict but felt better when I walked on.
I finally settled into the wide path and began talking out loud, just noise, about what was on my mind. It was like taking an aspirin.
Then I thanked out loud every person again who had helped me on my way; the people who were just doing their jobs, the people who filled my water bottle from a garden hose. All this into the wind.
I felt a lot of energy to walk on in the shade of the trees, with a lighter backpack and many good thoughts. I finished an audiobook; Principles by Ray Dalio.
I was in fine shape by the time I reached the town of Pin, but it was about 5 or 6 PM and the hotel/restaurant sign indicated it might be a good place to stop after 25km.
I learned the hotel had closed, but the woman behind the bar very kindly offered me a drink,
“Cadeaux, Cadeaux”
So I enjoyed an ice tea there and watching music videos with her, taking down the names of French rappers as the picture cut in and out of the television. The wind was interfering with the reception.
I didn’t know what would come next. Somehow, after walking 25 km of trail I was still 20km away from Besançon.
The woman stuck her thumb out at me. “Pas dangeroux ici, eh” she said. This worried me. But I couldn’t worry, I could just walk outside with my eyes open.
The first thing I saw was a new silver taxi with its lights on going down the other side of the road. My New York instinct took over and I lept to flag it down on the other side of the road. The driver pulled to the side to wait.
“A Besançon? C’est possible? Le prix?” I asked.
The driver was just about done for the day, but counter-offered to take me to the edge of the city. I buckled up and again said a prayer of thanks for people that help me, even if they’re just doing their job. In the end, he waved off the price on the meter, and pointed me to the city about 5km away.
It still took me almost all of the daylight left to walk to the centreville, but I was checked into a clean, quiet room by the time I walked out to see the sun set over the city.