Day 4: Calais to Licques

April 17, 2019

I got up at 5:00am, and was slow-moving. I showered, got dressed, and spent way more time than I should have repacking. I’m still finding things to leave behind as I get creative with trimming down weight. It’s been an interesting exercise in discovering the items I prioritize over others. I went down to get breakfast in my lodging and snuck an orange and extra croissant in my bag for a snack later.

Today was another double-stage, meaning the Lighfoot guidebook has it as two (Calais to Guînes and Guînes to Licques), but I’m going to do both and stay a full day in Licques. The weather predicted roughly 50% chance of scattered showers periodically throughout my route so I had my rain jacket and rain cover for the pack ready if I needed it. It was a little gloomy in Calais but crisp, and I love walking through a city as it’s waking up, so the walk out was pleasant.

The route followed a canal for a good chunk of the beginning, not breaking off until kilometer 5. It overlapped some public footpaths so there was some activity and friendly people wishing me a “bonne route.” A rooster randomly joined me for about 90 seconds and I stopped to say hi to some ducks.

There weren’t as many pilgrim markers today, but the path I copied from the guide was relatively straightforward and the GPS was holding up, so I didn’t have too much trouble.

I started to lose the excitement/adrenaline energy around the 10km mark, but Guînes was not far off. When I arrived there was a boulangerie open and I was indulgent and ordered two things: a chocolate eclair and a pretzel-shaped thing made out of glazed croissant. The baker was so friendly, grabbing my hand and wishing me a “bonne route.” I stopped by a duck pond and ate half of each and saved the rest incase I didn’t encounter food options later.

I realized I hadn’t taken many pictures in Guînes, but about 20 minutes after I left the village, I turned around and saw this view of it and thought it gave justice to its bucolic vibe.

The afternoon had its rough bits. My feet and knees were starting to hurt again. Also, though Guînes felt like the half-way point (because it would have been the stop if I was just doing one stage), it was really just over 1/3 of the route, so the afternoon felt even longer than it was and I stopped a lot. I promised myself I could stop as much as I wanted as long as I kept going after.

It was pretty pleasant out and it looked like I wasn’t going to get any of the potential rain, so I blasted some music and did the walking equivalent of “cruise control” for a stretch. Btw, if you’ve ever wanted to know a good album to walk through the french countryside to, it’s The Decemberist’s The King is Dead. I’m positive there are many more, but that was a happy accident that kept me going.

Morale took a massive plummet when my hiking pole started to fall while I was peeing and I reach my left hand out after it into a patch of stinging nettles. 😦 I had never felt stinging nettles before, and I never want to again. I rubbed tiger balm all over it in a desperate attempt to help alleviate the stinging, and it help a bit, but it was painful (note: I found out later you’re not supposed to rub a nettle sting because it exacerbates the rash. Well now I know 🙂 )

I soldiered on the last 6 km into Licques and was rewarded with some beautiful views of the country. The last kilometer or two into town is a steep decline from a ridge overlooking Licques. It was tough, but I remembered I wouldn’t have had the pretty views if not for the ridge.

I hobbled into Licques and not much was open though it was still the afternoon. They had a little town square (but a triangle) with the Catholic church and city hall, and a monument. I collapsed on the picnic table by the monument and just sat there dazed and kind of vibrating. My lodging was still 2km off but I had plenty of time and really just wanted to regroup and see if I could find protein somewhere.

After some searching I decided to stop the wild goose-chase for non-sugar food and figured a shower and some water would be just as good. On my way out of the town square I heard someone call “‘Allo! ‘Allo?” I turned and there was a middle-aged man and a teenage boy kitted out with packs and hiking poles just like me: fellow pilgrims from Belgium! They had just descended the ridge into town and looked like I felt (and probably also looked). He asked me if I had lodging yet for the night and I said yes, and showed him where on the map. I also directed him to the camp ground near where I was staying, and pointed out both were about 2km away. He blew a raspberry and said, “My son. He will not go. I may have to carry him.” I look past the man and see his son flung across the same picnic table I’d collapsed onto.

He asked when I started and it turns out we both started around the 14th from Canterbury. He and his son popped over during the school holiday to walk the first bit of the VF for a week. He asked where I was stopping, and when I told him Rome he looked skeptical. I didn’t take it personally, though, most of the time when I think about it I’m skeptical, too. 🙂

On the way out of the town I spotted a boulangerie that was still open, so I grabbed another eclair (coffee flavored this time) and an apple croissant. There was no protein, but I won’t complain about french pastry for dinner (I actually ate my previously halved treats for dinner and saved the fresher ones for breakfast, but whatever. :))

I walked the last 2 km out of the village square and over into a rural neighborhood. I was staying at a “gîte” (like a holiday bungalow) of a woman named Delphine. I walked right past it and didn’t realize it for a few minutes and then turned around and passed it again. When I finally realized the location and was truly on my last leg, I knocked on the front door. It swung open and a joyful man spouting french at full speed greeted me. I couldn’t keep up so I demurred, “Delphine? Je suis désolé, mon français n’est pas très bon.” He smiled big, put one finger up in the air and reached for something with his other hand. Out popped a teenage boy. “He translator, eh?” The boy smiled sheepishly and tried his best to keep up with his father’s narration. He seemed to get about every 3rd word and I made up the difference by interpreting the man’s body language.

They showed me next door and then the man realized he forget the key. He left and the boy asked me if I’d walked. I replied “yes, I’m walking the Via Francigena.” He was shocked, “All alone?” I replied “For now. But my partner he will join me near Switzerland.” He nodded, “You’re brave.” (I wonder if men walking solo get told they’re brave as much as I do?)

Then the man came back with Delphine following him. I don’t even know how explain how loving and sweet and welcoming these people were to me, and how renewed by their energy I felt. I’m looking forward to a rest day here.