I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken
Tuesday 2/5/2018
Distance 15km Total Distance from Canterbury 783.6km
My original plan for yesterday had been to walk to a town called Etalans, following my Italian guidebook. I had tried several times, by phone and by email, to contact a small restaurant there with rooms, the only place listed to stay. This town is listed in my other guidebook. I had no particular reason for choosing one over the other, except for the question of accommodation. The routes were of similar length. I could get no reply so I had to change my plan and travel instead to Ornans.
So I called a hotel in Ornans, and they offered accommodation. Some time later I finally received an email from the accommodation in Etalans, saying that they were sorry they were closed for the Monday and Tuesday, BUT they would be happy nonetheless to accommodate me. I was a little sad that I had committed myself by now to the other place, as this sort of helpfulness is very encouraging. Anyway, I decided I couldn’t cancel the other booking and replied with my thanks and regrets.
Which meant I took the road to Ornans, arriving yesterday evening. I found the hotel easily enough just before the town proper. The above lines are from one of the most famous American poems of the 20th Century. It begins
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood.
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;…
If you want to read the whole poem you can do so here.
It is usually interpreted as declaring how chance decisions can bring happy and unexpected consequences, encouraging the reader to follow their heart. Perhaps. It is a much-discussed poem and you will find plenty people making the contrary point, saying it is a very ironic commentary by Robert Frost, suggesting that nothing really makes any difference. You can hear him read his own poem here if that helps you decide. I am not going to come down on one side or the other. But just to say that the chances that brought me to Ornans rather than Etalans yesterday did make a difference to my walk. We will come back to that.
Coming in to Ornans I followed the path recommended by my English guidebook, which was uneventful. There was yet another possible route I could have taken today, also to Ornans, but in part along a disused railway line, and this is detailed in my other guidebook in English. (I like lots of options.) But it also involved walking for 200m through an unlit tunnel which I would not have enjoyed.
A large statue of a trout marked the entrance to Ornans.
In the above picture you can see something else which I found interesting. Here it is more clearly.
So what is Emmaus/Emmaüs? It is a very interesting organisation. I would have liked to visit but, remember, it was a public holiday! The name Emmaus comes from the story in Luke’s gospel of the encounter between the risen Christ and two disciples who fail to recognise him on the afternoon of Easter Day. (Luke 24:13-35) It is a village about seven miles from Jerusalem. The two disciples in that story are described as downcast. We learn that they had hoped that Jesus was the one to set Israel free. Now their hopes are shattered. They walk and talk with him. During their conversation he explains to them the prophecies of the Old Testament which point towards Jesus.
In the evening they say to him: Stay with us. He does, and at their meal he breaks and blesses bread, and their eyes were opened. And in a strange twist, at the moment of recognition, he disappears from their sight. But they are left with hope restored: Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us? It is a reading which you will sometimes hear at a funeral, (though not if it is a ‘quickie’ as there are many shorter suggested readings).
Emmaus today is an international not-for-profit charitable organisation, (note the French is une association à but non lucratif – we saw ‘but’ a few days ago). It was founded after the second world war by a priest whose real name was Henri Marie Joseph Grouès (1912-2007) but who was universally known as Abbé Pierre, one of many different names he took during his work in the French Resistance. He founded Emmaus in 1949 to help homeless people and it spread widely in France and beyond. He was very well known in France and frequently topped polls during his life as the most popular person in France.
He was a tireless advocate for the cause of the poor, and was not afraid of controversy, criticising both the French government and the Catholic hierarchy. But his integrity meant that he commanded huge respect. His philosophy is summed up by himself: The Emmaus movement is about people coming together and, on seeing other people suffering, deciding to combine their efforts. That, I think, is what’s at the heart of the movement.
Emmaus International was founded in 1971 and is now a worldwide secular organisation. You can read about it here. and about Emmaus-UK here. Emmaus communities provide both housing for the homeless and employment. They recycle and repair secondhand furniture and clothes and other items which are then sold to raise funds. The “law” of the organisation is stated as follows:
Our law applies to all humankind and is that on which depends any life worth living, true peace, and joy for the individual and society: “Serve those who are less fortunate before yourself. Serve first those who suffer most.”
Anyway, the workshop was closed on Mayday!
At the small and friendly hotel, the proprietor said ‘You are Monsieur Redmond?’ before I had a chance to say anything. ‘Yes’, I said. ‘I drove past you a few miles back’, he said.
I walked into the town and was delighted to see a large number of pavement cafés, restaurants, delicatessens and a museum. Every single one of them was closed for the fête except for a single kebab shop. Oh and an electronic pizza dispenser.
I dined in my hotel and passed a restful night. This morning I was in no hurry as I only planned to walk 15km and so I had plenty of time to explore the town. It is referred to in tourist brochures as ‘Little Venice’. Quite honestly this is a little bit over the top – it would be like a Venice which had only one canal about 500m long. But it is nonetheless a very beautiful little town.
There were several monuments around the town to this man:
So after a relaxing morning I headed out of the town on a very gentle road which stuck close to the River Loue. You are never far from a vineyard it seems in France and I saw some Chardonnay grapes.
And you are never too far from religion either. The geometrical array of vines were overlooked by this cross:
But that was far from being the most exciting or interesting thing I came upon that morning. And nor was it this noisy friend:
No it was this. Along the path ahead of me I saw a group of people whom I recognised as the party of French people I had seen in the museum. They were getting kitted out. For they were pilgrims. All of a sudden, or tout d’un coup as the French have it, I had company, walking in the same direction as me at the same time.
I caught up with them and we introduced ourselves. They were every bit as excited as I was to meet another pilgrim. There were thirteen of them. They are all from the area of Pas de Calais, around Boulogne/Dunkerque. They have known each other since primary school(!) and they are roughly my age now, on the cusp of retirement. And they are walking together for a week, twice each year. They started in Canterbury three years ago and expect to reach Rome in 2020.
Here is the group, minus photographer with me in the middle:
And here is a sight I have not seen for over 30 days – people on the road in front of me.
We were all headed for Mouthier – another rather strange sounding place. I was staying in a little gîte. Here is a photo to give you an idea of the range of accommodation along the way: a little cottage this time. A very kind and welcoming elderly lady was there to meet me.
My new companions were staying in a hotel a few hundred metres away and I met them that evening for supper. They are a very hospitable group of people. This was my Robinson Crusoe – Man Friday moment. I will tell you more about them tomorrow.
The public holiday, and the delayed email, meant that I didn’t go to Etalans. Who knows what I missed there? If I had gone there I would not have spent this morning walking along the banks of the Loue. And so if I had gone there I would not have met my ‘thirteen French people.’
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Maybe.