Via Lemovicensis: the Tale of the Man who Lost Everything and Walked through the Long Grass

This morning as I prayed lauds, Maas read over a letter written by a friend of his to him before he left for Camino. It is a fairytale about a man who lost everything and so went for a long walk. He said he read it again every morning, like a prayer, because it was so moving for him. He also said it was difficult, if not impossible, to really translate out of Dutch.

Over the years, I have met many people who were brought to walk to Camino because of loss. And now, I am one of them.

A late breakfast, because Alain our host could only get the bread when the boulangerie opened in the morning. It was a large spread – definitely more breakfast than I’ve been used to here. And our hosts were so lovely, welcoming, and kind.

It was after 8:30 before we were finally on the road again. A gravel and then grass road took us on a slight shortcut back to the Camino path.

It was a very cold morning – just 1° above freezing – and the grass path was covered in frost and dew. My shoes were soaked through before I ever got to the Camino. Maas was moving more slowly than I, and he planned to walk much further than me today, so we said our goodbyes with the promise that we would have a beer together in Santiago if we didn’t meet up again before that.

By about 9 AM, the Camino left the grass and the dirt and returned to asphalt through the fields and woodlands and a scattering of rural homes.

Yesterday I learned from Maas that the blocky cows in this region are called Limousin, after a region of France. The capital of that region is Limoges, which I’ll be passing through towards the end of the month. 

These cows are renowned for their beef. They are definitely more rectangular and less round than the cows I am used to. And they are absolutely enormous. They are very curious beasts. As I walk past their pastures, a group of them will often thunder up to the fence to get a closer look at me.

They are, I think, the primary inhabitants of this region. I’m sure I’ve seen more cows than people to this point.

At about 9:30, I walked into Livry, my first village of the day. The village church has a really interesting bell tower that starts out square at the base and becomes octagonal at the top. The church was, of course, locked.

I had hoped for a shot at second breakfast here, but though the village appears prosperous, nothing was open. I checked the signage on the number of places, and everything appears to be closed on Wednesdays. That’s a new one on me.

After the village, it was back to roadwalking through the countryside. There were more houses and farmsteads along the way than in previous days.

At about 9:50 AM, the Camino took a sharp turn onto a dirt and gravel road. My feet were definitely thankful!

As I walked through the fields of yellow flowers, my mind kept returning again and again to the tale of the man who lost everything. Many days, it certainly felt as though that was true for me. I’ve even said it that way: Francine is my everything.

But of course, strictly speaking, that’s not true. I have faith and family, home and friends. They have all supported me in their own proper way over these past months. And for this, I remain very grateful.

Even in our marriage, the love of God was the center and heart, and our deep and abiding love for each other was an echo of that divine love. My favorite verse in all of scripture is from Saint John: God is love.

Loss is real. Grief is another expression of love, which is I think why Jesus says, “blessed are they who mourn”. God himself grieves and mourns. Jesus wept.

So although it feels as though I have lost everything, I know that I have not. And someday I will learn to carry this burden with a lighter heart. But that day is not today.

Meanwhile, the Camino returned to asphalt, and at some point after 10 AM I walked through the village of Chambon. I realized at this point that I had been so distracted that I had completely wandered off the Camino route. Fortunately, it was relatively easy to cut through the village to get back to it – though it did involve walking through tall, wet grass again. Just when my shoes had started to dry out!

By the time I was back on asphalt, my pants were soaked to my knees, and my shoes were squishing as I walked. In retrospect, I probably should have just backtracked.

When I found the Camino again at about 10:20 AM, my thoughts were consumed with wet shoes, the possibility of blisters, and the sound of a cuckoo in the distance mocking me. Fair enough.

I was now walking past a constant stream of large houses on my left, while on my right through the trees I could glimpse the wide River Allier.

At about 10:30, I finally left Chambon and crossed a long bridge over the river. And in doing so I left one region of France for another. I left Bourgogne-Franche-Comté and entered Auvergne Rhône-Alpes. 

Sadly, I don’t have the flag for this region at home – I’ll only be here for two days – so Pistachio House will have to keep flying the flag of Burgundy a little while longer.

In Auvergne, I entered the village of Le Veurdre. The church had an unusual steeple design, which I had not seen before. The church was locked.

This is a charming village with dozens of little shops. Sadly, none of them were open. What do the folks around here have against Wednesdays? So I sat on a low wall and had a snack out of my stash. I am just starting to get to the phase of the Camino where I am hungry all the time.

It was 11 o’clock before I was moving again. The day had warmed up considerably – it was probably 65° F already – and the sun was shining. The village went on and on, and by the time it finally petered out and I was back in the countryside, it was almost a kilometer later.

I passed an enormous farmstead at about 11:20 AM. How enormous? The main house had a tower and a turret. The the main barn (of at least four I could see) was probably three times the size of Pistachio House.

At about 11:30, I caught up to Judith. She’d gotten ahead of me during my little misadventure earlier. We had a brief conversation to make sure we both knew where our gîte tonight was located, and then I walked on ahead and she lagged behind.

The dirt road wound around fields, and at one point was again a path of wet grass. My shoes had been drying nicely to this point, and now I was back to square one again. 

Finally, all semblance of a road stopped entirely. I was bushwhacking through tall grass at the edge of a farmer’s field. And yet, my GPS said I was absolutely still on the Camino path.

I finally intersected with a dirt and grass farm road and turned to follow it. Incredibly, this too soon turned to pure grass. At least here, though, I could see where the road was supposed to be. It was tedious and tiring, at least until it merged into a proper dirt road at about 12:05 PM. of course, this wouldn’t last very long, and it was back to grass.

We need more pilgrims to walk this route so that the tall grass is flattened into something walkable!

At one point the Camino was diverted off the main path to follow a grassy little foot path that included a bridge over a river. It appears that there had been a larger one on the road at one point, but no longer. After the little footbridge, however, it was at least a solid road.

Somewhere before 12:30, dirt transitioned to stone, with intermittent sections of broken asphalt. Shortly thereafter, I passed by the hamlet of Grand Beaumont, which overlooked a bowl-shaped valley filled with cattle.

The place had what appeared to be a little chapel, but it was fiercely guarded by a very no-nonsense looking horse roaming through the surrounding yard. After this, it was back to roadwalking on asphalt through the hamlet of Le Pettit Beaumont and back into the French countryside.

Once again, I was so caught up in my own thoughts, that I was half a kilometer down the wrong road before I realized it. Fortunately, I ran into one of the French GR hiking trails that took me back towards the Camino. This section was a pleasant dirt path with a cover of trees, perfect for hiking.

I reconnected with the Camino at about 1:05. It was a deeply rutted dirt road that wound its way through tree and field. Sometimes, there was quite a lot of mud, and for a couple of sections it was again a road of grass.

There were so many little flying bugs on this part of the route, that at one point one of them literally flew down my throat and I started choking on it. I was probably coughing for ten minutes after that as I walked. I cannot recommend the experience.

And then I snagged a branch of thorns on the back of my leg, and I had to use my hiking poles like chopsticks to pull it off. It’s almost like this part of the path was rising up to thwart me.

It was 1:40 by the time I emerged into the tiny hamlet of Chambrun and was roadwalking on asphalt through the countryside once again.

Soon enough it turned into another one of those ridiculous grass roads. I was sorely tempted to just walk to the main highway instead, but this had tree cover, the highway didn’t, and the sun was at the hottest part of the day. So in I went.

It was sometime after 2 PM when I emerged in the little hamlet of Les Avignons and onto asphalt briefly before returning to the rutted dirt and grass road once more. The grass was dry now, but my shoes were still wet.

I was more than 24 km into what on paper was a 22 km day. By this point, I was dreaming of relaxing in some outdoor café with a glass of beer and a bag of chips.

At 2:20, the Camino took me into a residential neighborhood of the town of Lurcy-Lévis, which was my destination for the day. Within ten minutes, I was in the town center. Huzzah!

My first stop was the Church of Saint-Martin, a Romanesque church built in the 12th and 13th centuries, with various restorations and remodels throughout the centuries. The apse is an unusual trefoil shape, hard to capture with the camera. It’s almost as though there were originally three altars facing the center of the sanctuary. I found it strangely peaceful just being in that place.

The nave is… unusual. It seems to be a much later construction, and done by somebody who had more expertise in building halls or barns than they did churches.

I prayed there a while, and I lit a candle for Francine near the altar of Saint Martin.

Then I walked across the street to the bar, and my dreams were fulfilled. It was 3 o’clock, and the sun was blazing overhead. I sat in the shade of a canopy and drank a glass of beer and ate a bag of chips at one of the tables outside the bar.

Maas arrived about five minutes later and joined me. Judith joined us ten minutes after that. Our little Camino family was back together for one last time. We shared a drink, and then Maas had to press on; his gîte was another 8 km down the road.

Sometime after 4 PM, Judith and I finally decided to head over to our gîte. It’s a quirky and charming little place inside the old presbytery. Once I was showered, I ran to the pharmacy.

As a rule, I almost never get blisters unless my shoes are wet. Well, my shoes were wet, and it looks like I have two small blisters on my left foot. So to the pharmacy it was – while I was there I also got something for sunburn. Mistakes were definitely made today.

Since there was no communal meal at the gîte, Judith cooked something out of her stash and I wandered down to the place we’ve been earlier. The food there came highly recommended, and it was delicious.

Today marks the end of one week walking. My total kilometers this week was 178.4, which averages out to 25.4 per day, which is pretty much my sweet spot. 

I am often amused by the poetry of God, and today was no exception. 

Date: 15 April 2026

Place: Lurcy-Lévis 

Today started: Saint-Pierre-le-Moûtier  

Today’s Photos!