I had the covent cottage all to myself this morning. I made cowboy coffee, took a shower, had had a quiet French-style breakfast. Packed my honey and lunch provisions, took a phot of the art work, and said au revoir. The convent was delightful.

It was sunny. I backtrack about 2 miles, then begin a 23 mile’er to Tergnier. Early morning sun as I trek though small village after \240small village. \240No people are around and I didn’t pass any open cafes or shops. \240Kind of eerie, but always interesting. \240Every village has a church (also vacant) in varying stages of decay. \240The background was again the gentle sound of the church bells (listen below), roosters crowing, and dog barking (at me). One village is named Seraucourt Le Grand, derived from 2nd century Gallo-Romans who added the “court” likely representing the local government seat at the time. \240{Heads up for “Dolancourt coming up later).

I crossed the Somme River, which has such a devastating connection to history. \240The path is sporadicly signed (off track twice today) while other street signs are self explanatory. A touch of WW2 history in the area as the US & Allies pushed toward Germany.

Of course, all roads lead to Rome so I marched along! Stopped for lunch (thanks Sister Claire).

Then. . . at a juncture where the path was unclear, I greeted the first other pilgrim I’ve run in to (other than the father-daughter Italians). He was riding a bike, he is from Germany, he had slept outside the last two nights, and wasn’t sure where he would sleep that night. \240He spoke English very well. I told him about my planned accommodations and suggested we could check with the church when we got there- no hot water, no shower, and no promises. He was happy about the plan.

Hanno.eckstein @web.de

We walked, he talked, my ears bled. \240Childhood smallpox vaccination malady, his recent heart ablation, biking equipment, biking in Mongolia, rafting in Peru, his brother’s salary, partial blindness in one eye, etc., etc., etc. \240Much of the walk abutted a canal where occasional fishermen greeted us.

We arrived Tergnier, a village known for the clock that marks the time bombing started during the war and Oscar Wilde’s visit after his release.

Pascale from the church was very gracious. \240Communication was a bit strained but she invited the German pilgrim to stay as well — one room two beds. \240I joked that I snore, or so I’ve been told. \240She gave up a key to the entire church, wow. I noticed a rooster characture hung along side the alter (what’s up with the rooster). \240No shower, no hot water, no big deal. The “facilities” were a bit of a surprise - Bombadier practice required (and not well suited for reading the mail).

To the market for food and a bottle of wine. Another terrific day!