Sadly, the last day in Belgium was my worst. In fact it was the worst, weather wise, of the whole trip so far. It drizzled as I left in the morning and got steadily heavier as the day wore on. This, coupled with very strong winds, meant that I was unable to take many photos, couldn't read the guide book without it getting drenched, and because my head was down most of the day I didn't see much of the beautiful forest I was walking through. By the time I arrived at my Chambre d'Hôte in St Michel I was drenched through. The only dry bit of me was a strip of my trousers on the back of my calves! Fortunately though I was warm enough because of all the merino layers I was wearing. It was an effort to get to my room in a small château as Madame stood over me while I stripped off all my outer rain gear and my shoes and socks. In my room I put my pack on the bath mat which soon became sodden, though its contents were dry fortunately.
I rested in the porch of this little chapel.
At the only other sheltered rest spot, a derelict shack, I had a view of hundreds of wild daffodils.
Interestingly, the next day at the next Chambre d'Hôte I met a Belgium man who had walked from Brussels. He too had an awful day the day before and had asked to stay an extra night to recover. On the other hand, I decided I was OK and set off. Trouble was, I wasn't - OK, I mean, and walking to the abbey at St Michel I had to stop and rest every 200 metres. At this point I decided it was time to turn around and catch a bus (I had already reserved a room for the night and don't have the language skills to cancel it, hence my forward progress). The problem was that there was no bus. The path followed an old train line and was very pleasant and easy and so I slowly made my way along it, resting frequently, until I thought I was close enough to walk out to the road and hitch.
The beautiful abbey at Saint-Michel.
The path along the old train line made for easy walking fortunately.
The path went past old stations, now converted into dwellings.
At the village of Wimy I saw an amazing church (closed) with two castle like towers at the front, and as I moved through the Thierache, the region I was in, I was to find out more about this and other such churches. The man who gave me the most information was the one who gave me a lift from the edge of the village. I was a bit gob smacked when he informed me that he had been to Adelaide, liked it better than Sydney, and that we have a very good museum and that he liked our old buildings - he lived in a region with buildings from the middle ages!
Now to return to these fortified churches, for that is what they are called, and there are over 60 in the region. This part of the world was more or less sandwiched between the armies of France (yes I know it is in France now, but presumably it was different then) and the armies of Austria and Spain whose kings had formed an alliance. There were no castles which could protect the people and so the people of the villages banded together and fortified the largest and strongest building in the village - the church - congregating in their safety when the armies were on the march. Hence in almost every village in the region there is a grand castle like church.
This is not actually a church, but the tourist office in Saint-Michel. It is very near the abbey and has a tower too.
The first of the fortified churches I saw, in the village of Wimy, and below, more fortified churches.
The following day I followed the old train track again all the way to the town of Guise, where arriving early, I spent a delightful couple of hours with Mark, a young Frenchman who, like me, couldn't get into the hotel - because no one was there till 6.00 pm.
On this journey I haven't retraced my steps, on previous pilgrimages, until now. My destination the next day was Saint Quentin, a town I had spent a week in trying to recover from tendonitis while walking the Via Francigena. I actually planned to stay here for three nights to do chores such as washing, but also to make sure I had a bed over Easter. As an Australian you can imagine my surprise to discover that Good Friday was just a normal day - children went to school, the bakeries were open, and the tourist office and shops were open all day. I loved my stay here as much as I did in 2011 and made numerous trips into the square to hear the very lovely Carillon on the Marie (town hall).
The Mairie in St-Quentin.
The Basilica in St Quentin has had a tough time over the years with havoc been wreaked on it during the wars. The photo above shows the cracks in the stone work and some of the repairs. It stood roofless for many years.
The Basilica interior, with the beautiful labyrinth and the exterior (below).
When I get the technology sorted I will add some photos, and will do a post shortly of this last leg into Paris.
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