WHEN WALKING

Home to Santiago – Day 22

Ligugé Abbey to Lusignan: 31km

Today is proving to be a pleasant, nondescript day after the excitements of yesterday. 

After getting up early, although not early enough for Lauds, I have breakfast alone, because everyone else is better than me. And I set off through the village of Ligugé, stopping for a supplementary pain au chocolat, as I’ve been rather too restrained.

I follow a path past another Romanesque abbey, this time Augustinian in origin, so plain inside it could almost be English. It is apparently built in a style that was fashionable in the 11th century. It seems strange to think of 11th-century people thinking, let’s be a bit more modern and try a bit of this.

A man on a bike, stopped by the road, wants to chat to me. We have a conversation. He asks me the frequently asked , “Why do you walk alone?”

“Why are you cycling alone?” I say.

He doesn’t seem to see the connection between the two questions.

But the day is made special for me by arriving in the village of Coulombier, where, as far as I can see from looking at my map, nothing is open. On spotting that outside the hotel a board is up saying, “15 euros fixed-price lunch menu is served”. I suddenly have my hopes raised, and think I’ll allow myself such a treat, only to find that the place, as I had previously thought, is closed.

But then, to my surprise, the little boulangerie, with barely anything in it, is still open Sunday at lunchtime, with a sign saying sandwiches are made on demand. And so I decide, as I was about to spend a whole 15 euros on a menu, I will devise a 10 euros menu from from the boulangerie.

The man in the boulangerie is very happy to help. What’s more, when I ask him if there is a picnic area nearby, he gives me excellent slow instructions and repeats them again before I leave.

So here I am, sitting outside with my first course of orange and pineapple juice with water, my main course of a ham sandwich with crudités, which in this case appears to be just tomatoes, but nice ones, and the ham looks good. The pièce de la resistance, a box containing the most delicious-looking panna cotta I have ever seen. Now there’s a menu.

There are a few drops of rain just as I am finishing lunch, and I am hoping the storm will break. But it is a false alarm, and the heat becomes quite stifling from this point. Luckily, it is not too far left to go.

The last part takes me to the enchanted woods of Mélusine, the famous mermaid fairy. She crops up a lot in legend. I think she is the ancestor of our royal family, via Elizabeth Woodville’s mother. But apparently she is getting married all over the place, and she is also the ancestor of the family of Lusignan, which is where I am walking to. 

The wood finally opens into a beautiful campsite by the river that I carry on through to the reception, where they are expecting me. Here, to my delight, I am told although they do not sell drinks, there is a guinguette just next door. And I can relax on the terrace by the river pool and drink my not-quite-as-large-as-I-wanted-it-to-be panaché.

I am toying with the idea of getting another, but I realise I could easily spend a few days’ budget downing them one after another.

So I set off up the hill, always a hill, to Lusignan, where the Halte Jacquaire is in one of the buildings of the old castle. Claire, who was at Ligugé, is already there. She got lost during the day; she has had to hitchhike the last part. I tell her I will show her my app. I don’t think you can rely on just the arrows here.

Making my excuses, head to my room, do the usual daily washing of myself and my stuff, hang it out. I am actually early enough for a few things to dry today. And I go to bed and have a half-hour nap, which turns into an hour and a half. Claire tells me she is going down to eat. But for now, I am happy to have the place to myself and eat noodles.

And as it gets close to proper bedtime, I take myself for a walk through the quiet, very beautiful streets of Lusignan. I get a glimpse of its stunning church at the highest point of the village. This must have been an important place once.

The buildings in this region are starting to change, no longer the high-steepled roofs of the townhouses. Still the same slate-roofed turret towers that have appeared on the fancy places since approaching the Loire, but a vernacular starting to look more southern. In the town square itself, some houses even resemble the heavily timber-framed huge houses of the Basque country. Changes come gradually when you walk

When I get back, Claire is waiting for me. I share with her the wonders of the mapy app (mapy.com), as promised, to help her avoid getting lost . I tell her, “It transforms walking, you will never be lost again”. Unless you choose to be lost, I should have added.