In the morning I visited the very lovely and impressive cathedral and got my passport stamped, and had a short walk through the town before bridling up and heading out. It was a lovely day.
I had decided to take the small departmental roads, since the official route was longer and a slog through mud, which did not appeal. Took an hour to descend from the city – every time google said turn right, it was to stare down a 60-degree set of stairs or ramp. I tried one ramp and quickly realized that even with brakes, I did not have the upper-body strength to handle the chariot on a slope like that. If I had a video of my attempt it would have been on America’s funniest. So it was the hairpin road for me all the way down, which wasn’t bad at all, really.
On the outskirts of Laon, a blessing – a small shelter with automated distributeurs, not of soda or chips, but organic products from the local farmers – there was cheese, there were eggs, and there was sheep’s yogurt, the first real yogurt I had had since being in France, where Danone and Yoplait reign in the shops and the yogurt served at breakfasts often seems quite slimy. And there was a big rock I could sit on, attend to a minor blister and enjoy the sun. What more could one ask?
This proved to be quite an interesting and varied day as far as the hike was concerned. After that blessed pause, it was the usual middling-quiet road by agricultural fields, with a few rises and dips, then I came to a small town with the grand name of Bruyere-et-Montberault, with some equally grand houses (right across from some quite modest ones, and that’s frequently the case, interestingly), and some more statuary, and then rather suddenly, the town became more suburban-ish, and then all of a sudden I was on a forest (muddy) path, going uphill. After we survived that slog, which involved pulling and pushing the chariot, the path came out again into fields, with a divergence of paths (I decided against google’s recommendation), and walked down through a farm with a mounted obus (not sure which war) in front of it and back onto tarmac. The road slowly rose and wound and then there were wide vistas and views down into valleys and I wondered where exactly I was going to come out.
It turned out, onto a major road, with a lot of truck traffic and not much shoulder. A bit disconcerting. I had to deal with this for about 8km. I was happy for google at this point, because the satellite quality was such that I could predict which side had the better and safer shoulder (the traffic was not so bad that I could not occasionally cross) and I moved as needed to one side or the other. At one point I took a break (there was nowhere to sit but there was a small road leading into a field so there was a wider space to be safely to the side, and an older man pulled up in a small car and asked if he could give me a lift, but then taking a look at the chariot’s wheels, realized he could not manage it – still I appreciated the gesture.
Finally, after one last hill, I arrived in Corbeny, to stay at the Hotel des Dames, a rather strange place with a run-down bar in front, an empty but pleasant dining area for guests, a baroque-looking hallway and rooms with too much textile of tired vintage. But the people were quite friendly, the salad was gigantic and the fish and rice with sorrel sauce were pretty darn tasty.
I fell asleep with the light on. I woke up around 1am or so and as I was coming to, I saw a little bug cross the arm I was lying on. I started. I looked at it closely for a second or two. I smushed it. And then I panicked.
Bedbugs are the bane of the camino, as they are of every place they have infested. But it’s considered very bad form to carry them from place to place as a pilgrim.
I got up and took all my belongings off the bed and piled things on chairs and the table. I looked under the sheets and the mattress (no sign). I inspected the carcass (what was left of it anyway) again. I googled bedbugs. I checked myself for bites (none). It didn’t seem the right color – bedbugs are reddish and this one seemed black, but maybe I couldn’t see well enough. Anyway, I was stressed.
Finally I went back to sleep, because really, what was there to do at that point? The next day I was going to Reims, the capital of Champagne — which is where one really wants to spend time dealing with bedbugs, of course — and I would figure something out.
