The renowned champagne-producing areas of Reims, Trépail, Châlons-sur-Champagne and Bar-sur-Aube are dotted along this section of the Via Francigena. The hillsides of vines are bright green with spring’s new growth and we walk with a lightness in our step.
We walk the Via Francigena as it follows the bloodied battlelines of the Western Front. For hundreds of kilometres, almost every village we pass through bears the scars of the death and destruction of WW1.
Out from Calais, we walk through a landscape still hollowed out by war. Shell holes, deep craters and bunkers collapsing onto the beach, the sand tilting them, the sea slowly subsuming them.
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Australia has a federal election, and we want our vote to count. So much so that we walk 200 kilometres, following the coast from Calais to the seaside village of Wissant before turning inland and continuing on through the rolling green countryside of northern France to Arras.
An officious French police chief, an unsung Ukrainian hero, a native of Dover shining a light into the gloom. It’s the people we meet that make this journey so fascinating.
After the lightness and brightness of the Kent countryside, Dover strikes us as dour and down at heel. Even its young people seem world-weary and bereft of joy. But then, over a glass of excellent English white wine, our waiter, a native of Dover, tells us of his boyhood roaming the chalk hills and exploring the tunnels under Dover Castle. The wildness of it, the depth of its history and the rhythm of a port town with people constantly on the move is what makes Dover sing for him.
At border control in Dover, an officious French police chief upends our plan to ride our hastily acquired BMX onto the ferry. He argues that two people on one bicycle, one pedalling and the other standing on the back foot pegs, is not only dangerous but absolutely forbidden. We plead our case but he threatens to arrest us if we don’t desist.
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The Way of St James begins in Le Puy-en-Velay in the Haute-Loire and continues for 750 kilometres, through southern and south-western rural France to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port in the foothills of the Pyrenees. From here it crosses the border into Spain and continues a further 780 km (or more depending on the route chosen) to the holy city of Santiago de Compostela.
This is the second in a three-part series on walking the Way of St James. Read More
Early each morning, as they have for centuries, pilgrims gather in the romanesque Cathédral Notre-Dame-du-Puy to be blessed before starting their journey on the Way of St James, the oldest Camino de Santiago route outside of Spain. Down a flight of 60 steps, pausing to take a last look back at the imposing white and black striped facade of the cathedral, reminiscent of the great mosque of Cordoba, and onto an ancient trail first walked by Bishop Godescacl in the winter of 951 AD. Read More
The Tour du Mont Blanc is an epic 170-kilometre walk around the Mont Blanc massif, a dazzling landscape of snow-capped peaks, ice scarred mountains and tumbling glaciers. Its high, steep mountain passes are legendary and its wildness alluring. A walking journey through three different countries and cultures beckons (France, Italy and Switzerland). And the highest mountain in Europe, a fabled dome of snow and ice, will be our guiding star.
We are in Provence to visit friends and wander slowly through the heat haze of summer, travelling from the elegant former papal city of Avignon to the Mediterranean and up into the Rhône-Alpes.
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Toulouse, capital of France’s southern Occitanie region, is close to the Pyrénées and perfectly positioned for a two-week sojourn studying french before we set off into the Haute-Pyrénées.
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Late one night in the winter of 2014 we left work, forever.
Two days later we flew to France to cycle the Loire à Vélo, our liberation ride. A 1,000 kilomètre journey from Saint Nazaire on Brittany’s Atlantic coast to Nevers in Burgundy, following the Loire, one of the last untamed rivers of Europe
A 65-kilometre warm-up ride along the coast. Past lighthouses, fishing huts built on stilts high above the water and a procession of French families carrying fishing nets, brightly coloured beach balls and striped towels. We stopped at Saint Marc sur Mer to pay homage to Monsieur Hulot and then cycled on through the salt marshes to the medieval walled village of Guerande.
Riding back in the warm twilight, our spirits soared as we cut through fields and forest trails. Our more-experienced cycling companions, Patricia and Paul, declared us Loire à Vélo ready and early the next morning we set off towards infinity and into a beautiful green valley listed as a world heritage living cultural landscape.
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