Day 4 – Wisques to Auchy-au-Bois

“If I’d known you were coming I’d have baked a cake…”

Wednesday 4/4/2018

Distance 29.3km Total from Canterbury 118.8km

Abbeys a bit like buses. You wait a long time for one and then two come along. Mass in Nôtre Dame was not until 0945 and I didn’t want to be that late setting out. But Soeur Lucie told me there was Mass at the men’s abbey at 0645 so I got up early and headed down the 400m to the other abbey. With the hour having gone forward this was before dawn so I  had to imagine the way a bit. The male abbey L’Abbaye de St Paul is also a foundation of Solesmes. The two abbeys are nonetheless independent of each other though I daresay as good friends as two enclosed communities can be. I arrived as morning prayer was finishing, again all sung in Latin Gregorian chant, the men more visible to the congregation than their neighbours. There appeared to be about a dozen in a church clearly built for many more.

With the end of Morning Prayer there was a little flurry of activity and three small altars were prepared for Mass, two in the choir and one outside the enclosure, at the rear of the church. And then 3 priests came out to say three Masses, each with a server (another priest or Brother) or at the back where I was a very elderly layman. This is a very ‘traditional’ way to say Mass which I am old enough to remember. It changed with the Second Vatican Council in the 1960s. The priest  faces away from the congregation, the Mass is said entirely in Latin and it is said in virtual silence with only an almost inaudible muttering from the priest. There is a certain amount of movement of the missal and turning around now and then of the priest. The loudest words come after the consecration, the solemn centre of the Mass, when the priest says Nobis quoque peccatoribus , ‘To/for us, sinners, also…’ With this the elderly server hit his breast like a Lambeg drum, successfully dislodging a tenacious bit of phlegm at the same time as recalling his failings. Doubly relieved I hope.

I returned to Nôtre Dame for breakfast and was soon on the road again. Almost immediately I had a bit of trouble with the Raju book which somehow missed out the next town called Wizernes and also 5km. But is was easy enough to follow and reach Helfort. This tiny village had extensive roadworks in every street. Perhaps they are getting fibre! After that I was soon out on the open road. Of the Cupola, a building with 5m thick walls built by Hitler to launch bombs on London, I saw nothing. It is now a museum.

Soon I reached Thérouanne a larger little town. Again extensive roadworks. I found a bar on the left and went in. I asked if they had food. The young man said no ,and possibly sensing my disappointment added ‘Bon courage!’ and directed me to the right where I found a busy cafeteria and enjoyed lunch. The first establishment serving food I have seen since Calais. I had crudités et frites and there was a little difficulty on my part understanding the meaning of ‘sumo’ which was offered. It turned out to be saumon, in fact smoked salmon, and very fine too.

From there to Auchy-au-Bois was straightforward on a country path through a series of tiny hamlets, one called Transvaal. Google brought me to the door of the gite I had booked. Still, all day, no help from VF signage.

The door was opened by a cheerful looking lady whom you would guess was a farmer’s wife. She looked slightly flustered but welcomed me in and showed me up to a comfortable room under the eaves of the large house. She asked if I’d like a drink and I said I’d like coffee and she said it would be ready in five minutes. Six minutes after that she came back upstairs, now rather more flustered, saying she didn’t know who I was and she had no booking for me! I showed the booking and receipt for payment on my phone so she invited me down to her computer and together we worked our way around the back end of Booking.com and happily found my booking from several weeks previously. All was now clear. She had been on holiday at that time leaving bookings in the care of her non-resident daughter. The daughter had not passed on the message. ‘Les filles! Bouff!’ she said, with a paradigmatic Gallic shrug. Henceforth we became the best of friends.

As she was not expecting me, she had not prepared dinner but said she would happily prepare a petit repas, which consisted of onion soup, cheesy pasta, an omelette, a cheeseboard from heaven and a dessert. All preceded by her homemade apéritif and accompanied by fine wine. What more could you ask for?

Madame Brigitte has a mixed farm, 30 cows, 4 hens and lots of crops managed now by her son and some Romanians. She has had a B&B for 25 years, and enjoys meeting pilgrims. She photographs them all and puts them in her visitors book. I was delighted to see some friends there. She told me about her recent holiday, cruising in the Med. Naples – it rained. Etna – it rained. Stromboli -it rained. Pompeii – it rained. Capri – it rained. And the sea was rough but she has un estomac fort so no problem with mal de mer.  And her apartment on the ship was ‘de luxe’. She has visited Ireland and brought me to see a little St Brigid’s Cross in her car. And she visited Connemara to see Les Lacs. This song is bizarrely popular in France. I ran a half marathon in Connemara last year and there were a dozen French people singing along on the bus. Connemara is just the place if you like natural beauty and rain.

I slept well.