The French call it le Chemin. We started seeing the same people as we hiked either from the gite the night before or at stops to sit or drink. There was a group of three ladies walking much faster than we did laughing and talking a mile a minute. One of them always wore shorts, even on the day we got heavy rain and wind. On our very first night at our gite we met a man we would see over and over, sometimes on the road or in our gite. We used a company to carry our bags to each gite. I knew I wouldn’t be one of those with a huge bag on my back. There were a few places to get fresh water but toilets were rare. I am not a camper and don’t like the whole potty in the forest thing but had to a few times. Most of the meals we had each night were what Maurice called “gite food”, not the best but filling. There were always big tables for the hikers at dinner so we got to know each other.
There were symbols of the pilgrims everywhere. This was on the side of a church. The scallop shell represents Saint James as those that made it all the way to his burial site brought back a shell to prove they had made it.
There were churches everwhere and lots of little places set up for pilgrims too.
Lots of roses and crosses.
There were signs everywhere, especially in villages. Mostly we depended on the red and white ones for directions but still managed to lose our way a few times.
Spring flowers were everywhere, especially these white daisies.