{"id":21288,"date":"2026-05-13T21:16:19","date_gmt":"2026-05-14T04:16:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.thomryng.com\/camino\/?p=21288"},"modified":"2026-05-15T12:58:32","modified_gmt":"2026-05-15T19:58:32","slug":"via-lemovicensis-recognition","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.thomryng.com\/camino\/via-lemovicensis-recognition\/","title":{"rendered":"Via Lemovicensis: Recognition"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

B<\/span>reakfast at 7, out the door by 8. At this point, I’ve either reserved or sent reservation requests for every place but one left in France. How very different the Camino in France is from that in Spain! In Spain, the only places I reserve are Roncesvalles (because it’s required) and Santiago, because it’s crowded). In France, you are pretty much expected to reserve, although this gets a lot fuzzier the farther south you get.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was raining when I left, and the forecast called for rain pretty much all day. I picked up a little something for later from the boo lingerie next door, and then found my way to the Camino route. This looks like a pretty neat town; I wish I’d had a little more time (and energy) to explore it yesterday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I crossed a bridge over a different brown river than yesterday \u2013 this one possibly wider, definitely slower. Uphill from there, of course.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The way out of town was slightly confusing, and the signs and the GPS didn’t match all that well. This time, I chose the GPS, as it seemed to involve a lot less walking along highways through town and more cutting through parks and going down alleys.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By 8:15, I was out of the city and into the suburb of Sarbazan. I was regretting my sartorial choices this morning. The fleece was way too warm, so at the first opportunity during a break in the rain, I swapped it for my long-sleeved hiking shirt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Camino took me through a series of quiet residential neighborhoods that may or may not have been separate towns, sometimes separated by light industrial sections, sometimes by green spaces. One of these, memorably, had a couple of horses and a few cows grazing in the yard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of the worst things \u2013 and there was no shortage of bad things \u2013 about Francine’s illness was that sometimes she couldn’t recognize people she knew and loved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The first time she didn’t recognize me, it broke my heart. I know others have said the same thing. And it wasn’t consistent; one minute she would have no idea who you were, and the next she suddenly did, and vice versa.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sometimes, all it would take would be for you to be out of sight for a few seconds. It’s almost like her brain would reset. If she didn’t recognize you, you could walk out of the room and then back in, and her face would light up in recognition.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By 8:30, the suburban neighborhoods were taking on a more rural character. There were hens and ducks running around in yards, and the houses were much further apart. I even saw a couple of ponies grazing in somebody’s backyard. The rain had stopped, at least for the moment. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The houses mostly ended, and I was now walking the shoulder of a fairly busy two-lane highway into the forest. Here, I passed a sign telling me I was leaving Sarbazan. That’s one big suburb!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Every time there was oncoming traffic, I had to step off the road into the long grass. Fortunately, after maybe half a kilometer of this nonsense, the Camino turned off onto a dirt road. Mostly this was two sandy ruts separated by an island of grass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I remember Francine talking about visiting her mother in Virginia when she was under the spell of Alzheimer’s. She often wouldn’t recognize Francine, and then suddenly she would. Sometimes, the trigger was music, but sometimes it could be a tone of voice or even the way the light hit Francine’s face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sometimes she would even remember that Francine was her daughter but could not remember her name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I remember one time I walked into the room and Francine gave me this look like “who is this cute boy?” but she hadn’t the slightest idea who I was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I walked the path through the woods, the rain began again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

By about 9 AM, the path had narrowed, and it proved impossible to stay away from the long, wet grass. Soon enough, my shoes were soaked through.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pilgrim Pierre caught up with me for a bit and we chatted. He’s also going through all the way to Santiago by more or less the same route as me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The rain had gone back to intermittent drizzle. Whenever the rain would stop, I would open up my poncho to try to prevent overheating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pierre fell slightly behind me as the path widened out and got sand here. That’s OK; he’ll probably pass me in the afternoon when I’m so much slower. I continued my rosary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At about 9:25, the Camino passed through the hamlet of Corbleu, and I found myself roadwalking on asphalt. The little church here was locked. Pierre briefly caught up with me here, and I noticed he was also praying the rosary. He was using an actual physical rosary, rather than any sort of complicated system involving fingers and hiking poles like I was. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

At about 9:30, I left the village of Pouydesseaux, which I hadn’t even been aware I was in. Shortly after this, I passed a clear cut.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At 9:50, I passed a very unofficial sign welcoming me to the village of Bostens. By my map, I was roughly half a kilometer away from it, but what do I know?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I passed the official sign about five minutes later, and there was bunting hung up across the road. Now that’s a festive welcome!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The church here was originally built sometime in the 10th century, although most of the current structure dates to the 12th and 13th centuries. It is a very unusual design, and at least some of the stones here were reused from a Roman road. There’s a screen of Renaissance Art hiding the sanctuary. I presume it gets cleared away for Mass.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It is a lovely spot to stop and pray, and both Pierre and I stopped here a while.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The parish have thoughtfully set up a little kitchen next to the church entrance where pilgrims can stop and rest and have a cup of coffee or tea. I had my second breakfast here while Pierre walked on. I saw from the little guest book that both Herve and Michael had been here yesterday.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just as I was getting ready to leave, who should walk in but Yves. We had a brief chat. He is definitely going to be taking a new route to go directly to the Camino del Norte after tomorrow. He’s walking for charity, raising money for artificial limbs for Palestinian children.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I am not walking for anything quite as noble or grand. I walk because of a promise and a love. I walk for healing and acceptance. And I am ever mindful that sometimes you walk the Camino to learn why you walk the Camino.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By the time I left, it was already after 10:30. It was back to roadwalking through the countryside, mostly forest, with occasional houses and farms. The air was colder now than it had been, and I kept my poncho on even when it wasn’t drizzling. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

There would be a lot of roadwalking today.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just about 11 AM, I entered a hamlet whose name I do not know. The name does not appear on any of the maps I have, and the sign had a hole shot through it. Just a reminder that rednecks are an international brotherhood. I was passed by two large farm vehicles here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At about 11:20, I entered the village of Gaill\u00e8res. I was very roughly halfway through the day. The village church of  Notre-Dame de l’Assomption was locked, unfortunately.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I’m constantly amazed by people who somehow think that Pope Pius XII invented the concept of Mary’s assumption when he formally defined the dogma in 1950. A substantial portion of the medieval churches in southern France are named for it, so: no.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yves and I had a discussion about whether to stop at the open caf\u00e9 across the square from the church for coffee. He elected to walk on; I stayed for coffee. After yesterday’s complete lack of caf\u00e9s and bars, I was going to take advantage while I could.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

in any case, Yves seemed to be more interested in solitude at that moment. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I left at about 11:35, my spirits buoyed, and soon found myself roadwalking once more. The rain had even stopped, and there was the hint of blue in the skies overhead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By 11:50, I was passing through the outskirts of the farming hamlet of Massy. Farmland stretched out to my right, while the trees remained a constant presence on my left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Within a kilometer, it was back to mostly forest again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At 12:15, I crossed over the A 65 highway again. This is getting to be a habit. Not a lot of traffic this time of day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Near an unnamed hamlet at about 12:30 I came upon a fountain, clearly designed for pilgrims. Sadly, it did not work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It did remind me to hydrate, though. This is something I am notoriously bad at, except on particularly hot days. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It’s funny the things you miss; Francine was famous for shouting “hydrate!” every couple of kilometers when we were walking together. In 2023 when I was walking the Via Podiensis, she even randomly texted it to me a couple of times. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

At about 12:35, I walked through the somewhat scattered suburban hamlet of Agos-HarPaillot. I swear I am not making these names up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The houses, all tucked into the woods, just sort of kept going on and on. They only stopped just before the road crossed over a river on an impossibly narrow bridge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Camino took me into the village of Bougue at not quite 1 PM. The sky was blue now and full of fluffy white clouds. The tops of my shoes were finally starting to dry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I entered the little church of Saint-Candide and immediately had a sneezing fit. I suspect the culprit was one of the many plants they had scattered throughout the church. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Although originally founded in the 12th century, it was almost completely destroyed by the Huguenots and only rebuilt in its current form in the 19th century.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could not stay here long, because my nose was running so badly in there. Outside, I briefly met up with Yves and Pierre, who were just finishing up a break.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took my own lunch on the terrace of a nearby bar. I was about 22 km on the day, and I figured another couple of hours of walking. While I was eating, it began pelting rain. I was very glad to be under an awning!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I left the village at about 1:45, the driving rain having stopped. The dark clouds were still overhead, though.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Camino took a turn, and suddenly I was on a wide dirt road through the green tunnel. another railway bed? Even here, I managed to take a slightly wrong turn and had to backtrack a bit to get on the right path, which turned out to be an asphalt bicycle path almost (but not quite) paralleling the road I had been on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This stretched away in a straight line as far as I could see. Definitely a railroad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My suspicions were confirmed moments later when I passed a picnic area that had one been a railway station platform. A pair of local ladies picnicking there wished me buen Camino.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And now, it was just straight on as far as I could see.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Numerous cyclists passed me in both directions. I met many walkers or hikers coming towards me. Eventually, the sun came out again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At about 2:30, I crossed a road and passed by another one of those cookie-cutter houses. Yesterday, Yves had confirmed my suspicion that they were related to the railroad. He said the folks responsible for manually closing gates to traffic lived there. For whatever reason, it hadn’t occurred to me that people did this before it was automated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The wind was picking up again. I hoped this meant the storm front was moving away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At about 2:50, the bike path passed under a highway. It was the closest I’d come to an actual hill or valley on this trail so far.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just a few minutes later, I started noticing gardens backing onto the Camino path. I had entered the suburbs of the large city of Mont-de-Marsan, which was my goal for the day. I might have even been in the city already. It’s sometimes hard to tell where these things begin without a sign.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There were more and more cyclists and walkers now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After roughly 6 km of walking in a straight line (other than one brief bend), the path began to gently curve. There were more trees here again, though just beyond them were houses and gardens. I soon started seeing larger buildings \u2013 apartments and commercial buildings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I got my first joggers at about 3:20, one going each direction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just a few minutes later, after 7 km on the bike path, the Camino left it and plunged into the city just as it began to drizzle. I maneuvered my way around a shopping center before the Camino took me into a residential neighborhood of houses and apartments with a smattering of shops.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By 3:45, I was sitting on my bunk in the municipal g\u00eete. It was like a reunion \u2013 Herve, Yves, Pierre, and even Michael were all here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After the usual pilgrim chores, I sit out to explore the city. It’s a big place, and it seemed like everything that was close was closed and everything that was open was far away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And after walking 70 km in two days, I was not moving fast. I walk past a myriad of little shops and caf\u00e9s, three squares, over the River Midou into the old medieval section of the city, and finally to the great 19th-century church of Saint Mary Magdalene.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This church is the third dedicated to her on this site, and it is a stunning piece of architecture and art. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I found the stained glass windows particularly affecting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was moved to pray Vespers for the Vigil of the Ascension here and to light a candle for Francine at the shrine of the Virgin in one of the little chapels.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was cold and windy when I left the church; the storm clouds had returned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then I explored around the medieval fortifications here, which have been converted into a park and a sculpture museum. The museum is currently closed for renovations \u2013 until 2028 \u2013 but there were a number of sculptures out in the courtyard, including a modern Athena that I found quite interesting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then I just sort of wandered around. I’m amazed at how many little bookshops there are in French cities. I must have passed half a dozen in just an hour of wandering around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For dinner, four of us went to a cidery\/tapas place. I was the only one who had cider or tapas. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Date:<\/strong> 13 May 2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n