Via Lemovicensis: Lauds in Paris, Vespers in Vézelay 

In retrospect, it might have been better to spend two days in Paris and just one night in Vézelay. I only had seven sites in the city that I wanted to explore, and I still only managed to get to four of them.

Up early to catch the 6:30 train to Sermizelles. I set an alarm, but it turned out I needn’t have bothered. I was wide awake at 4 AM. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I repacked my bags (again), prayed lauds, and did a little reading before leaving the Hôtel Claret Bercy at just after 5:30.

The train station was a three minute walk. Needless to say, none of the three cafés there were open, though there were a plethora of vending machines with snacks. The station was a big empty modern space, and there were already other folks here waiting for their trains. There was nothing in the world I wanted more right then than to pick up my phone and call Francine.

By about 6:15, the little station was starting to fill up with people. The train left on time, and as we travelled I was struck by how large Paris and its suburbs actually are. It was probably 20 minutes before we ran out of suburbs, and this is a regional train, so it was moving pretty fast.

After the suburbs, we passed through a woodland called the Forest of Fontainebleau, which I am given to understand was the world’s first designated nature preserve. In the forest we passed a village named Thomery, which made me laugh.

After that then it was succession of rural farmland, forest, and villages. 

The train’s first stop was the city of Sens, 120 km southeast of Paris at 7:30. That’s an average speed of about 75 miles an hour. We had now left Île de France and were in the region of Bourgogne-Franche-Comté. 

This rural land was much more sparsely populated, and the villages tended to be much more rustic with less obviously modern construction.

By now, I was the only one left in my train car.

I debarked the train at the village of Sermizelles, the stop closest to Vézelay, at about 8:55. The lovely old station building appeared to be entirely abandoned. Indeed, I stepped off the train onto grass next to the platform.

Now it was time to walk to the starting point. I crossed a rural highway and then followed a one-lane blacktop to the village of Givry. On the way, I passed the first cows of the Camino.

Because the route was unmarked, I had to follow the directions on my phone, so I couldn’t use my hiking sticks. That felt distinctly weird.

After Givry, I turned onto a slightly rougher one-lane road that wound around and followed the River Cure. This is where I finally had to take out my poles. Although the air was cool, there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and I could already tell that it was going to be pretty warm this afternoon. So much for the cloudy and drizzly weather I was promised!

At about 9:45, I came around a turn in the road and caught my first view of Vézelay on a great hill in the distance. It literally stopped me in my tracks, both for the size of the basilica and for the size of the hill I had to climb to get there. This route has a reputation for being very flat, but it sure doesn’t start out that way.

I immediately thought of Francine’s reaction to seeing this, and I had to laugh.

The road occasionally moved closer to the river, and when it did I could glimpse restful-looking woodland alternating with idyllic meadows along its banks. Birdsong filled the air, and my heart felt a great deal lighter.

I think I understand why they named the river Cure.

At one point, I was followed by a small herd of curious cows. I greeted them with a hearty “bonjour!” and moved on, while they were stuck behind their fence.

At about 10:30, I crossed a bridge over the river into the village of Asquins. This was the first village I’ve been to today that was large enough to have a church and a bar. I stopped in the bar for café crème, and then tried to make my way to the church.

On the way I saw my first shell in the road and also a sign for a municipal gîte. It turns out that there are actually several gîtes in the village. The church, of course, was on top of a hill. It is dedicated to St. James, and there was another shell emblem in the path nearby. 

Uncharacteristically, the church was locked up tight. It was my experience on my previous Camino in France that the churches are generally open during the day.

As I was walking back down the hill from the church, I realized that there was a trail of shells embedded in the road from the church all the way to the center of the village. and it was here that I saw my first blue and yellow Camino blaze.

Somehow, even before getting to the starting point, I am already walking the Camino. The shell emblems continued through the village. 

By now it was after 11 AM, and starting to get pretty warm. The road I was walking on out of the village just sort of ended, and I took a grass path through the farm fields that seemed to be vaguely going in the correct direction. There were no longer any trail markers to be found.

The uphill climb had now begun.

This eventually brought me to a monumental cross and the 12th-century Franciscan Hermitage of Cordelle, now undergoing restoration. The simple stone chapel was open, and I sat in the cool air for a while and prayed. 

The path up took me past the monumental cross and into the woods. The way up wasn’t very long, but it was steep. I had to stop a couple of times to catch my breath. 

At the top, I came to a road which seemed to run around the course of a monumental stone wall. Directly ahead of me was a gap in the wall marked “Porte Ste Croix”, but the Camino blazes had resumed and pointed me down the road towards the right.

I elected to follow the blazes and walk in the shadow of the walls. I soon came to a proper gate, which based on the parking lot around it, seemed to be one of the main entrances into the village.

I entered the village of Vézelay just before noon. It might have been my imagination, but I was hit briefly with the powerful scent of chrism oil as I walked in the gate.

I made my way to the basilica, more by instinct than by anything else (up, always up), and arrived just as the bell was tolling noon.

First impression: it’s big. Overwhelmingly so. The narthex is almost the size of my parish church, and considerably taller. It’s clearly undergoing restorations and renovations. The walls are bare stone, although there are a few scattered places where the original medieval paint may still be found.

I hadn’t been there very long when a Franciscan sister handed me a psalter. Within minutes, the various religious communities of Vézelay began singing the psalms of midday prayer, which flowed immediately into Mass. The singing was absolutely heavenly, and it resonated through the immensity of the basilica.

After Mass, I spent some time exploring the numerous side chapels of the basilica. This was interrupted when I briefly joined some of the other visitors in chasing a squirrel and shooing it out the door. I think that’s a first for me.

I lit a candle for Francine at the shrine of the relic of Saint Mary Magdalene.

At this point, it was nearly 2 PM, and I was anxious to find a café and my gîte. I found the gîte easily enough – it was literally down the block from the basilica – but the doors wouldn’t open for another half hour or more.

I walked all the way down the main street, Rue St. Pierre, and I do mean down as the village is built up the side of the enormous hill that the basilica sits on top of. I found plenty of likely places for dinner, but nothing open at this time of day that wasn’t outrageously expensive. This makes sense – I was in that uncomfortable time in France between the end of lunch and the beginning of dinner.

Unfortunately, the boulangerie that I had scoped out to eat a piece of cake for my mother’s birthday today was also closed, perhaps permanently.

So I headed back to the gîte to wait. For the first night, I have a private room which clearly used to be a monastic cell. I will be staying in Vézelay for two nights, and my second night will be in the pilgrim’s dorm.

We always used to joke that we should write a Camino guidebook that just rated showers in the various albergues. Well, if I were, Centre Sainte Madeleine in Vézelay would get five stars.

There are at least nine pilgrims staying in the dorm tonight, including some who started walking in Belgium, the Netherlands, and Germany. I feel like quite the amateur! At least five of them plan to make it all the way to Santiago. 

I spent a little more time in the basilica, this time going down into the crypt where the major relics of Saint Mary Magdalene are held. More medieval paintwork survived down in that cramped space than in the enormity of the main church itself.

Then ran a few errands – ATM, take dry laundry off the line, that sort of thing. Since I’m staying here another day, I thought I would hold off buying food supplies until tomorrow, but then I discovered that the only grocery in town is closed on Wednesdays. 

My exchange with the checker reminded me of something that I’ve noticed all day. Almost nobody clocks me as an American, but everybody is very sure that I’m not French. The two most common guesses are English and Dutch. And then there’s the hospitalera, who just started speaking to me in German when we met.

Then back to the basilica for Vespers, and then dinner – the first actual meal (as opposed to snacks) I’ve had since the lamb yesterday. Boeuf Bourguignon. Dessert was a pistachio cake.

Date: 07 April 2026

Place: Vézelay 

Today started: Paris 

Today’s Photos!