May 4, Sunday 2025

Day 2 from Vézelay 

L’Esprit du Chemin

Getting Lost in a Sudden Downpour, but All’s Well with a Fine Ending

We had a lovely visit with our host Chantal this morning, and set off in high spirits, this time carrying plenty of water. The first part of our walk was gradually uphill through old forests filled with masses of spring flowers. 

We rounded the Chateau at Bazoches, and probably should have continued on the old Roman road. Instead we descended steeply into Bazoches, missed a turn and retraced our steps descending more and then ascending through more woods to a deserted Chapelle de St. Roche.

Then down to La Neuffontaines where we shared one of our sandwiches at a picnic table bedside the road across from an old lavoir. Feeling quite proud that we were making good progress, we should have been cautious.  After all, pride comes before fall. We left the village with its abandoned church and climbed up out of the village. A woman working in her garden wished us “Bon Chemin” so I  was confident we were on the right track. But Kent said, ”We shouldn’t be following a paved road out of town.”

We came to an intersection with a cross and dirt tracks crossing the road marked by a Compostelle marker that pointed at an ambiguous angle. 

I decided we should turn right onto the dirt track, which we did, seeing nary a marker along the way. We came out on another road, just as the map showed, but no markers in sight,

“Look at that big cloud!”  We headed to an intersection with lots of signs, none of them for the Camino, and none with any names we recognized.

What to do now? We studied our maps and I tried to pull up other maps on my phone.  We hadn’t figured anything out when the sky opened. We grabbed our ponchos and struggled to pull them on in the wind and rain. A scrawny tree offered no protection.

What to do? I waved down a passing car. It looked like a middle-aged woman and her mother.

“Nous sommes perdue.” I said in my impeccable French. 

 “Where are you going?”

  “Le Chemin de Compostelle.”

They shook their heads.  No idea about that.  I tried to think of names of places ahead of us. They were all tiny hamlets no one would have heard of.  

Finally I remembered Corbigny! Meanwhile we were getting wetter and wetter, my hands were so cold and wet I could not bring up anything on my phone, and rain was pouring through their car window. Corbigny was behind them, they told us.  They tried hard to be helpful, but we didn’t even know what to ask. Bless them!We let them go, and Kent suggested we walk back to Neuffontaines to try to find where we went wrong. As we walked back on the road that we hoped would take us there without cutting back through the field, which would now be muddy; the rain stopped.

We returned to our sodden map pages. I gave up on the phone. Without the rain pounding us, we could study the map.

Kent guessed we should return to the road where we’d met the car and continue in the direction the car had been going.  There was a church on top of a hill we’d seen from miles away.

“We need to be on the other side of that hill,” Kent said.  I could see he was right. We’d turned off the road out of the village too soon.  We realized that the faint gray lines on the map meant paved but unmarked roads.  We’d been on the right road in the first place.  Sure enough another km or so along the D142 highway, we came to the track we should have taken from the first road out of the village, and there were Compostelle signs!

I was relieved. And humbled. We walked around the high promontory, and the sun almost broke through. When we passed a weathered cross surrounded by blue and yellow irises, I started to cry, grateful for Kent and grateful we were on the right path. The scenery was spectacular. we passed through and near almost empty villages, and found Compostelle markers at every turn, through steep downs and ups, curious cows welcoming us at the top of a long climb and one snorting bull who charged to to a fortunately strong fence as I passed by, my blue poncho blowing in the wind.

Now we are spending the night in the loveliest gite imaginable and we even have our own room with a large double bed, sheets and a warm comforter. And who else is here: Alain, and another dozen people. Dutch, French, German, many English-speaking. We had a delicious communal dinner at a long table, all much better than we deserve.  There is even WiFi.  Plus I was given additions to the Organic Maps app that shows where we are and where the camino roads and lodgings are.  So we should get hopelessly lost again! Merci!

26,903 steps or between 9 and 11 miles 

So Bon Nuit!