Calais I am sure has lots to offer but a pilgrim’s way is often taken up with basic needs, minutia, the unkind might say. Looking for a bed did not take long, looking for our path out tomorrow took a bit longer, and our dinner place was found along the way. There are bonuses with these little walks: Corrie gets to rest, along with my pack, and little pieces of gold appear unannounced by the tourist office.
On this occasion the gold was quite large in the form of a Hotel de Ville (town hall) with its adjoining belfry tower. This magnificent early 20th century neo Flemish structural delight can be seen from other villages some distance away, but you have to be there to see the profusion of tulips, their stunning colours and shapes.
A great start to our morning walk but we are having trouble working out where our Camino path is. It was there in England, but in France it is nowhere to be seen. It’s probably because the alternate route looked kinder, and the beaches the main way looked prohibitive (physically) for us. But once the beaten path is left, it can be tricky to re-find. There are signs to our next village on our beautiful canal walk but they are not the ‘Camino ones’, so one eye is looking for them, while the other is on the other. This ‘other’ is full of casual cyclers in ones and twos, and the more serious in fours or more, with many walkers having well left their teens. Not sure what these waterways are, or were for, but noted two large transport barges next to some little fishermen.
There is a lot of ‘bonjour swapping’ on the canal walls with even the ‘nearly out of breath joggers’ seemingly putting aside spare breaths for compulsory morning greetings. Amongst the fit and those trying to be was an over enthusiastic walker, who spotted us as a fellow pilgrim. He had been walking the wrong way for months, from Rome, but probably thought it was too late to go back. But seriously he was very fit and walking very fast, that energy which people seem to get from the exhilaration of meeting a long awaited challenge.
No information on this ‘church day’ so plan ‘B’.
Cafes have gone to pray but not so the beer sellers who also sell coffee. Having formed a friendly relationship with the owner despite our French lessons not producing much in terms of conversation, I left Corrie in her care. The last of the church goers were walking or driving home but knew nothing of the pilgrim trail. A local who was returning home for a visit offered to drive us to an hotel out of town but I sadly could not because my wife was in care. I had wandered around quite a bit so luckily I had Corrie’s address. From all our enquiries we were left with the best plan B had to offer, a 2km walk out of town to a once again, roof top room in a moated farmhouse … so good.