St. Privat d’Allier to Chanaleilles - 31kk

I find it takes me an hour to get ready in the morning without breakfast, sorting my feet out, stretching etc. Today was going to be the ‘whole 9 yards’ full pack, hills, and 30k so I set off at 07:15 in the dark planning to get breakfast in Monistrol.

The route takes you up a tiny chapel at Rochegude, this seems to add 2k of climbing for a very questionable purpose. So like many other people I left it out, working on the principle that it probably was not there when the Bishop of Le Puy did his trip in 951.

 Later I met a group of French girls (I use the term girl lightly here as they were all about my vintage) who visited anything & everything. I think they probably had the right attitude. On my first journey whenever there was a variant that made my life easier I took it. In the end this was probably my undoing as most variants are on the road… albeit very quite roads....& the tarmac was undoubteldly a big contributer to my leg problemms. On the next journeys I always stuck to the route.

As I forced myself back on the path it disappeared very sharply downwards between a bend in the road, just for once I should have stuck to the road. The path was very steep, with small rocks on top of scree.

In spite of two sticks and being very careful I fell badly bending my right foot at an alarming angle. I laid there cursing for a few moments, not because I had hurt myself, but because I thought if I couldn’t walk it would be so unfair to be ‘out’ on only my second day.

I hobbled down to the village Monistrol and sat in a bus shelter surveying the damage to my ankle. I then found a bar to have breakfast and learnt a useful lesson. There was no shop & the chances of me reaching the next town before lunchtime were nil therefore the only way I was going to get any grub was to go to a café.

At this point Alison Raju’s guide book talks of 31k continuously uphill. It is fair to say this statement was absolutely correct. The walk to Saugues was long and hard ..... as I walked (or was it hobbled) along I came to the conclusion that in this part of France cow dung was a major crop. Every farm seemed to be spending their time collecting it, moving it by conveyor, shifting it, spreading it & generally having a glorious time with it.

 In the town I looked for a busy café (Andy & Monica told me later, always look for the place with the white vans outside, good advice) eventually I found such a place at the other end of town. I certainly didn’t need a 3 course blow out but I was ready for something.

So sitting down I noticed someone tucking into his first course of a lovely salmon salad. I negotiated for just that and succumbed to an Il Flotont afterwards (well you can’t pass such things by, can you? … with Crème Brule they are one of my life’s dirty little pleasures.)
 

As I walked on I was suddenly aware of a white sheet by the road. It was snow, in April? Looking at my map I realised we were over 3000feet high.

Only three of us were staying at the Gîte and we were kindly given our own rooms.

Dinner was very French of a very high standard I became used to when eating in the French Gîte. Soup, Pork fillet with a mixture of rice & courgette, a selection of local cheese and finished off with a bowl of strawberries.