Belle Roche to Schirmeck: Day 144

Into true mountain country, climbing up to the summit of Le Donon then down to Schirmeck. It left me a little tired.

Before leaving my camping spot I again admired the view from the red sandstone rocks of Belle Roche. The surrounding green, tree covered mountain reminded me of a photo taken from the Appalachian Trail in the USA from a similar outcrop. Soon after I had started out on the trail again I disturbed a family of wild boar. On hearing me they rushed off to the left, all except one piglet. He was somewhere to my right, I could hear his snuffling. Then the hairy creature rushed across the path in front of me to join his family. My route for the next four and half hours was upward to a greater or lesser degree on tracks and paths through mixed woodland of spruce, birch, beech and unexpectedly (to me) sweet chestnut trees each protected by a triangular fence. Periodically there was some item to break up the journey: a shelter and bench, a cross, a road, a car park and an information board describing the fierce fighting that took place here in 1914.

As I approached the summit of Le Donon, the path swung left and right as it strove to climb the steep gradient. Large rocks on the final section required added dexterity to clamber over or around them and avoid the many people coming the other way, often with their dogs. Finally at the top the Temple of Donon greeted me. Not an ancient structure, it was built in 1869, however Gallo-Roman remains have been found in the area.

Temple of Donon (19th century).

View from summit of Le Donon.

Having reached the top I admired the panorama of endless, green, tree covered mountains and the plains beyond to the west. Then after a snack from my supplies it was time to descend. Initially the path was rocky and irregular and my knee suffered. Steps had been constructed near the top but were too deep to be kind to my joints. In time the track become more accommodating however the damage was done and my knee was painful on the long descent into Schirmeck.

I had wondered if there might be a café at Col du Donon. The GR5 did not take me past one and only a couple of hotels were marked on Google which I did not consider worth pursuing, so I spent the hours of my descent through the forest hoping for a Salon du The at Schirmeck. Google was not promising but as I walked the streets of the town I spotted just the place. Soon I was sitting down with a coffee, a cheese and ham pretzel (!) and a Mille-feuille pastry. My peace was disturbed by a succession of powerful motorbikes, generally in groups several riders strong, that were passing through the town and motoring up the winding road to the Col du Donon. Noisy when accelerating and their exhausts popping when they turned down the throttle I gained the impression that many were middle aged men in leathers trying to regain their youth. You could argue I was doing the same, fighting my age my continuing to walk long distances, but at least I do so quietly. 

Suitably refreshed I checked into my Airbnb, nodding thoughtfully as the landlady told me many things in French that I did not fully understand. A small apartment and lacking a washing machine I set to work in the sink washing my clothes. As it was Sunday tomorrow when the Supermarkets were closed I then visited one to stock up on lunch snacks. Jobs done for now I was the first to arrive at a proper French restaurant for a three course dinner with wine and a digestif. A reward for some long days walking.

Lorraine GR5: Some comments

The E2 in Lorraine follows the GR5. Although not the most dramatic or historic part of either trail there are some scenic moments, such as the view over the Moselle at Liverdun. Villages such as Vic-sur-Sielle also have historic buildings if you look for them. Metz, a large city of ancient foundation and great interest is an outlier on the Lorraine GR5, most of the trail is through woodland, farmland and small villages. Enjoyable rather than exceptional walking.

Lack of accommodation can be an issue and forward planning is needed on this section of the route. Nevertheless by camping and walking some long days I only had to resort to wild camping once, which was on the southward section from Metz. Wild camping and days of over 30 kilometres could have been avoided by the use of public transport or maybe following the variant GR5F. Not all the accommodation is on booking websites, so phoning Chambre d'Hotes may be needed, or to avoid language issues, e-mailing them in good time. Email allows the use of Apps like Google Translate to write the message in French. I could possibly have investigated the use of Gite d'Etapes, which I have slept in on previous trips elsewhere in France.

Food was a little disappointing. Although French cuisine is famous, most of the food available (if any) was Italian (i.e. pizza or pasta), burgers or kebabs. One really good French source of sustenance were the boulangerie - patisseries with an excellent variety of bread, pastries, quiches and sandwiches. Usually they had a small coffee machine (serving Italian sized cups). In some places there was no-where to eat or buy food in walking distance and it is wise to plan ahead to ensure you are carrying enough provisions.

Waymarking (the French white stripe above a red one) was generally good with a number of deviations from the route in my guidebook (dating from 2017) and the GPX files I had downloaded. A map, paper or digital, is needed for when you miss a waymark.

Link to start of blog is here.

Link to start of Lorraine section is here.

Gondrexange to Belle Roche: Day 143

My last day in Lorraine, one in which the Vosges mountains became ever closer.

Overnight I dreamt I was still at work and unable to extract the information I required from a recalcitrant computer program. I wanted to ask a colleague what to do but I could not remember his name. In a semi dozing state I then found I could not remember any of the names of the people I once worked closely with, only the vague form of their bodies. Increasingly awake and worried I was suffering the sudden onset of dementia I concentrated hard and began to recall what a few of my former colleagues were called. Then I rationalised that I was never good with names, and as I recalled an increasing number of people I began thinking how odd or musical their surnames were as I drifted back into sleep.

My morning began with a visit to the Boulangerie - Patisserie for a coffee, croissant and large croque monsieur (most of which I ate for lunch). These little shops are invaluable for getting a morning or afternoon pastry or sandwich with a coffee or soft drink. Suitably refreshed I packed up and headed off.

After a brief walk along the canal and a diversion of the GR5 to take advantage of an underpass beneath a busy road, I reached a high point from which I could see the blue ridge of the Vosges mountains ahead of me, their peaks now easily visible. This evening I knew I would be at their foothills. Tomorrow I planned to climb up to the first pass, the Col du Donon, from the campsite at Abreschviller, then drop down to Schirmeck where I had booked an Airbnb for two nights to give me a rest day. This plan was causing me some concern as it involved a 30 kilometre day tomorrow with over a 1000 metres of ascent. It had been a while since I had completed such a day with a fully laden pack.

Distant views of Vosges. 

Today was similar to recent days in Lorraine, mixed farmland, woods and small villages. Almost everyone you pass exchanges a "bonjour" with you. One lady working in her garden also checked I had enough water. If I could speak fluent French I am sure there would be many conversations to be had. I was looking forward to arriving at the larger village of St Quirin which claimed to be a particularly beautiful one. Its church had one of those bulbous steeples and stood next to a school where children were outside playing noisy games. I peeped inside the church's interior, admired the light filtering through the stained glass, said a pray, left a few coins in a collection box and left. Really I was looking for a place to sit down with something to drink. After almost giving up I found a bar, busy with a party of bikers, where I bought a Coke.

St Quirin village. 

From St Quirin the countryside changed. The remainder of my day was in mixed woodland with more birch and conifers than I had encountered in recent weeks. Gradients were also steeper. Arriving in Abreschviller I was not impressed by the campsite. More suited to "Camping Cars" no-one was about. A notice asked you to telephone but there was no answer to the number given. As it was before 3 pm, I decided to push on and wild camp on the path to Col du Donon, that way I could reduce the distance and amount of climbing tomorrow. So I filled up with water at the empty campsite, fortified myself with a coffee and brownie from one of those wonderful patisseries (the nearby Salon du The was up for sale), and bought a smoked ham half baguette and an apple pie for dinner. 

The subsequent climb up through the forest was a pleasant one despite being uphill, partly because there was no particular hurry. A Gallo-Roman site of interest lay close to the track, basically piles of stones outlining huts. Reaching "Belle Roche" I found a wide ranging view of tree covered mountains from the top of a large outcrop of red sandstone. Two backpackers were there, but soon headed off. The spot looked too good to leave and being after 5 pm, with a flat area of ground under nearby trees, a bench and a shelter, I decided to pitch my tent here for the night. My ham roll tasted really good as I ate it slowly sat on a bench watching the surrounding mountains as the cloud filled sky slowly darkened.

View from Belle Roche.

Dieuze to Gondrexange: Day 142

A day among the "Etangs" or lakes (plus more woods).

Over breakfast the owner of the Chambre d'Hote attempted some conversation, in French of course. I guessed the questions she was asking by the odd word I picked up, a few seconds thought and my expectations of what people usually ask. Where are you from? Where did you walk from yesterday? We managed to get onto which kind of dogs my wife and I looked after, and I managed to comment on all the horse riding trophies she had. She said she no longer rode but I think she was pleased I noticed. Later, after packing up and brushing my teeth I returned to the kitchen to pay. My fellow, GR5 walker from Belgium who I met at the campsite at Vic-sur-Seille was having a late breakfast. The landlady and the Belgian seemed to think the 28 kilometres I planned to walk today was excessive, and as I started down the road my left knee agreed. However, the walk was almost flat with good surfaces so I reached my destination without too much pain, although after sitting for a while my legs became rather stiff. 

From the map in my guidebook it appeared that I would see lots of lakes today in an area known as "Pays des Etangs", but due to embankments and things like trees in the way I could only see the expanses of water on a few occasions. These reed lined lakes or "etangs" are artificial, the water held back by low dams. Created in the Middle Ages to supply fish, they also support birds and waterfowl.

Etang de Lindre.

Apart from lakes there was mixed farmland with a few fields of white Charolais cows. Just as on all the previous days of my walk there were plenty of woods, mostly with mature deciduous trees today, a village with no café and a diversion of the GR5. In some villages much effort is made with flowers. I saw some impressive displays in boxes on bridges, mostly red busy lizzies and geraniums.

Cow looking at me, another etang in the distance. 

Thinking that I was not using all my senses on this walk, focusing mainly on what I could see, I spent some time listening. After recognising that the countryside was very quiet, I listened more carefully. I could hear the sound of my boots as they hit the ground (different sounds according to the surface), a faint rustle of my trousers, a creaking of my rucksack. On occasions there was the sound of a distant tractor, or a breath of wind which made a slight sound over my ears and stirred the leaves of the trees. Twittering and chirping of birds in the bushes was there but rare. As I passed a lake there was the flapping of a heron's wings as it took to the air, or the more protracted take off of a cormorant. Mallards gave a "quack quack quack" of sarcastic laughter.

Towards the end of my walk the GR5 followed the Canal de la Sarre, joining the Canal de la Marne-au-Rhin. Fast walking on the tarmac of the towpath allowed good progress. Not as fast as the bikes that passed me (this was on the Eurovelo 5 route going to Rome although most cyclists were out for a shorter ride). There were a few old bikes attached to the ground in places as a sort of art installation. Two pleasure boats motored by, their wakes disturbing the opaque, green water of the canal, one took a very wavy course, an amateur helms person I assumed. Only on climbing up the stairs of a pedestrian bridge over the canal could I see that it was crossing a lake. The embankments between lake and canal, thin lines separating different water levels and hiding the waters of the etangs from people walking on the towpath.

Canal de la Marne-au-Rhin. Note the lake on the other side of the embankment on right hand side, out of view is another on the left.

I was somewhat concerned about the campsite at Gondrexange as the information on the internet was out of date and the reviews were poor. However the reception was manned by two ladies (who tried to speak to me in Dutch) the toilets are old but adequate and after some uncertainty as where I was meant to camp, I am now settled in. Needless to say the restaurant is closed, however I planned for that so it is tinned fish and tortillas tonight.

Etang at just after sunset.

Vic-sur-Seille to Dieuze; Day 141

Today I walked through villages much more important in the past than they are now.

But what I appreciated most, what gave me a "buzz", was when I checked my email mid-morning. A hiker said how much they appreciated my book on the E4, my blog of my trip through Greece on the E4 and the associated GPX files on Wikiloc. He was using it to plan his own walk on the E4 through Greece which he had just started. One reason I write a blog is to help others making the same journey. The second reason is so that family and friends can look up where I am and what I am doing. Thirdly, days on a long distance walk can blur together so you forget where, when and in what order you did what. A blog is a good reminder that in turn brings back other memories. Finally, as one ages dementia becomes a concern, writing a blog, thinking of words and phrasing, deciding what to write, is an exercise for your mind, more interesting to me than Sudoko or the Times crossword (which I could never do even when young).

Back to this morning, as I did not have far to walk today and could not arrive at my Chambre d'Hote (bed & breakfast) before 5 pm I tried to say in bed (i.e. my cosy sleeping bag) a little longer. 15 minutes extra was all I  managed before I got up! I delayed a bit more by walking into the village in the cold and mist of the morning for a croissant and an "escargot", not a real snail but a spiral of bread with currants and icing. Although intending to eat them at the campsite, they did not survive the walk back (the croissant had a lovely crispness on the outside, but was beautifully soft and slightly moist inside). Then I gave up delaying, packed up and left before the Belgian walker next door had stirred from his tent.

The GR5 had been adjusted in recent years and gave me a tour of buildings in Vic-sur-Seille that I had not seen yesterday including a 16th century half timbered house. Then I had the inevitable climb up the hillside into woodland as the sun burnt away the mist, causing me to  remove a layer of clothing, apply sun tan lotion and don my sunhat. 

I dropped down and crossed fields to reach Marsal, which had a very grand entrance for such a small village. Salt was the reason for its importance, the 17th century gatehouse was once part of the fortifications but now housed a salt museum. As I had time I walked around. From Neolithic times salt has been harvested by heating underground brines, and production remained important until the 17th century. Although once important the village now had no shops I could find and the café-bar was closed.

Porte de France gatehouse at Marsal.

After Marsal it was a long straight, quiet, flat road across open fields almost as far as Dieuze. Doing a final wriggle the GR5 included a woodland walk, a lake, an army barracks (complete with soldiers out for a run) and some parkland. However I was looking for a coffee which I found at a Salon du Thé with a slice of the delicious baked cheese cake they cook around here.

One of the many crosses and shrines beside the roadside in these parts.

The straight flat road from Marsal.

"Barn doors" typical of Lorraine on houses in one of the villages 

After strolling around Dieuze, which also looked like it has some historic buildings, I headed off my to find my Bed & Breakfast. School had just finished so I made my way through crowds of pupils to the house in the suburbs where I am in the basement. Returning to the town's centre for a burger I could not resist a beer sitting beside the square. Shear (but slightly guilty) joy!

Bioncourt to Vic-sur-Seille: Day 140

Woods, open fields and a few villages on a sunny day in Lorraine.

20 kilometres only (!) today across easy landscape. Sustained by a good breakfast from the Clos des Pommes B&B (fruit, bread, cheese, jam, orange juice and coffee) I strode off down the road back to where the GR5 crossed it. The day was spent crossing open hedge-less, fence-less fields of ploughed earth, grass or sunflowers gone to seed, although there was one anomalous field where the sunflowers were still in flower. This was by a convenient shelter and bench where I finished off the chocolates I bought yesterday. 

A late flowering field of sunflowers with the village of Grémecey beyond.

Gentle hills gave periodic views of the surrounding villages with houses of white or light coloured walls and red roofs. Church steeples poked over hillsides looking like little rockets. My route took me through a few villages, the large barn doors on many buildings that I had noticed before seem to be a characteristic of Lorraine, my guidebook calls them "portes de grange".

Inevitably there was a woodland section but in this one forestry operations were in progress. Piles of tree trunks had marks spray-painted on them in luminous pink, the track had deep, wide and muddy tyre marks, and I could hear the sound of power tools in the distance. The route was diverted a little from where my GPS had it, maybe to avoid where work was underway.

These towers are everywhere, used by hunters to shoot at deer.

Some of the tracks had pipeline or powerline markers beside them, like upturned books or little roofs on poles, which may explain the straightness of the tracks and their good level of maintenance. However I was puzzled that a sign indicating a buried ethylene pipeline. Ethylene is used by the chemical industry and there was no sign of any such industry in the open countryside around me, although I suppose it is used to move the product large distances between refineries across France.

Track side view.

Vic-sur-Seille, the village where I am staying announced itself as a "Petite Cité de Caractère". It seems pleasant place, with a museum of an artist I had not heard of, although everything was closed for lunch until 3 pm when I walked through to my campsite. The site itself, mainly static trailers, has an end of season deadness. Another GR5 backpacker joined me, having similar problems finding anyone at the campsite reception. In the village the pizza place was fully booked, the nearby restaurant was closed so I ate at a kebab place housed in a bar that serves no alcohol.

Afterwards I strolled around the backstreets of the village which improved my view of it. There were buildings such as the Hôtel de la Monnaie, once a money exchange, which dated from the 15th century with attractive masonry, although a little over-restored. A chateau gatehouse, a former convent, old buildings and narrow streets added to the town's atmosphere in the kind light of the setting sun.

Hôtel de la Monnaie, the balcony was added by "restoration" work.

On returning to my tent in the dark, I discovered I have pitched opposite a static caravan surrounded by many multi-coloured and flashing lights. Hopefully they will be turned off later. (Update: they were not, but seemed to run on solar power, so that only a few of the lights were still flashing in the morning, however they did not disturb my sleep).

Liverdun to Bioncourt: Day 139

On the last of four long, tiring days, I saw a lot of trees.

After picking up my croissants and coffee for breakfast from the campsite shop I sat down again with the Dutch cycling couple I met yesterday, at the table reserved for campers. They were on an open ended trip maybe reaching Spain. Two French cyclists joined us. We were all retirees. Last night we agreed that our generation had much more opportunity to travel than previous ones, at least while our health allowed. I mentioned that the first time our family left Britain on holiday was when I was 12, and we took all our food with us, powdered soup and packets of "Vesta" beef curry. The Dutch man said the first time his family left Holland on a trip to Italy, his father filled the space above the spare tyre of their 2CV with potatoes, because everyone knew that Dutch potatoes were the best (this was also a sort of joke the Dutch told on themselves).  The Dutch lady had soaked oats and dried fruit overnight in water and powdered milk and added apple slices and walnuts this morning to make a sort of muesli. A lot healthier than my croissants!

After saying our goodbyes, belatedly exchanging names which I have now forgotten, I started up the hill out of the Moselle valley. Thankfully this first gradient was not too steep. Then there was a lengthy woodland walk across the plateau before dropping down to the Moselle again to the town of Custines. Here I planned to pick up some food for tonight, there being no restaurant near my Bed & Breakfast. I also stopped at the patisserie for an early lunch which I ate on a wall nearby (while watching an elderly French cycling couple as they spent a long time examining a map). The Quiche Lorraine I bought was a little salty but the strawberry tartlet was loaded with luscious, flavoursome, firm fruit, although its base was softer than I would have liked. Although at breakfast it was so cold that I was wearing four layers of clothing, now in just my tee shirt I had made sure to sit in the cooler shade to eat them.

A long steep climb followed out of the valley but once on the plateau the track was straight, flat and easy walking through woods for many miles. I saw no-one about, maybe as it is Monday, as the tracks and paths were well used, otherwise they would have become overgrown. Tyre tracks showed they were popular with cyclists. As kilometre of trees followed kilometre of more trees I began to obsess about their details (more healthy than comparing the attractiveness of different sheep which I was reduced to on Wales' Glyndwr Way). The woods I was in had few mature trees, mainly beech, oak and hornbeam, with one group of pines. Mostly they were young trees four metres or so in height, in addition to the aforementioned there was much hazel and field maple and a rare ash tree. The trees grew in clumps, some from the stumps of older trees. Beneath the trees were saplings searching for light, a russet coloured bed of last years leaves, broken branches and beds of ivy. Beside the track were occasional drifts of what looked like white Michaelmass daisies. Apart from some screeching there was little birdsong. Above me the sky was blue with wisps of high cloud. Contemplating the purpose of the forest, the lack of management suggested it was not a commercial enterprise. Maybe it was left for recreation, nature, biodiversity or hunting. While pondering such important issues I disturbed a fox.

More woods.

Feeling I was making good progress I checked my GPS, discovering to my disappointment that I was barely half way. By the time I reached 20 kilometres (30,000 steps) I was tired. However, as a gym instructor told me, your body always tries to stop you exerting yourself to the full. Tiredness does not mean you cannot walk for the next three hours, although increased concentration may be needed to avoid stumbling. A change in the scenery helped. Leaving the woods I could see on the far horizon, beyond the fields, woods and hills in front of me, a long ridge, only a slightly darker blue than the sky. Today the GR5 has changed direction, turning from a southerly heading to begin an easterly one, so I hoped the thin blue band on the horizon was my first glimpse of the Vosges mountains which I hope to reach in five days or so. 

You need to look closely to see the thin blue line of mountains on the horizon.

A few villages followed, I lost the waymarks in Moulin distracted by the out of date track on my GPS. A shame as my guidebook said that on the new route there was a man with log book to sign. How many people I speculated, had it recorded walking the GR5 recently? In Amance I peered into a church with a historic monument sign. Of the many churches I pass I doubt many are needed in our more secular age, such signs indicate a wish to preserve a few.

Historic church of Saint John the Baptist at Amance, 16th century. There is an excellent view in front of the church of the surrounding area, shaded by a Cedar of Lebanon.

A little after 4 pm I reached the final woods for today, the "Forêt de Brin". Among the mature trees lay a lake the "Etang de Brin". There seems to be a number of "Etangs" coming up in the next few days. A jogger and dog walker were indications I was close to civilisation (like the birds ancient mariners searched for as a sign they were close to land). Fortified by a coke and 500 calories of chocolate from an unexpected shop in the next village I walked the final stretch of road to Bioncourt. My Bed & Breakfast room is in the roof and I am looking forward to a pleasant night's sleep and a shorter day tomorrow.

Montauville to Liverdun: Day 138

A day of woods and open fields with a number of small villages, in one of which I visited the village fête.

Waking at 6 am, I brushed my teeth and packed with only my head torch to provide a pool of light. No moon helped me and the first light of dawn was yet to appear. Every direction looked the same, black beyond a few saplings picked out by my light. Lacking any idea of where I had come from I relied on my GPS, and the track I recorded last night to return me to the path. Not long after pieces of gray were visible above me, and as I turned onto a more open track I no longer needed to rely on my head torch, although I keep it on a little longer for fear hunters might mistake me for a deer. At that early hour it was cold but the clear skies led to a warm and sunny day, although mist persisted for a while over lower ground, "steam" rising from streams and wet vegetation.  Unlike on other trips there had been no "dawn chorus" of bird song this morning. Owls exchanged hoots overnight and a few pigeons cooed once the sun had risen, but there was none of the joyful dawn birdsong I had found elsewhere. Maybe the wrong type of woods or the wrong time of year.

Morning walk.

Today was a mixture of deciduous and mixed woodland, interspersed with a series of small villages: Mamey, Martincourt, Gézoncourt, Rogeville and Rosières-en-Have. Each village had a church, war memorial, a mixture of houses and buildings with large barn doors, presumably once (and maybe still) used to store hay or other farming related items. Compared with previous days they looked well cared for.

Farmland crossed by the roads and farm tracks used by the GR5 consisted of large open fields. No hedges or fences interrupted the sight lines over the curving land. Many fields had recently been ploughed, in others there were leafy, green vegetables. Sunflowers had long lost their bright yellow petals and now their drooping grey seed heads awaited harvest. Some grain crop had been harvested leaving a field of stubble, another field of grain was still green despite the lateness of the year.

A field of yellow mustard beside the track.

As the sun filtered through the leaves the woodland stretches looked as pretty as ever. Although beech was common, today there was much hornbeam. The three pointed "leaves" that surround the fruiting body covered the path in places, and when the many clusters hung down they gave the trees a reddish brown hue when viewed from a distance. 

With three hours of walking still to go my left knee was giving me some pain, having been knocked about on rough tracks of stones or grass with unseen dips. To give it some rest I decided to sit down for a while when I reached the village of Rosières-en-Have hoping for a bench. I wished it would have a café although from my research I knew it did not. I thought of the unexpected but enjoyable events that sometimes happened on my walks and could not think of any recent ones. It seems that God was listening to my selfish pray because as I entered the village I saw a sign for the "Festiloup". Following the signs I found a village fête. Entry was free but the tombola stall was positioned such that it would be difficult to avoid buying a ticket from the three young people eager for your custom. I am hoping I do not win as taking delivery of the basket of goodies, which was the prize, would prove difficult. The fête was similar to one in Britain with craft stalls, produce for sale, a band (two guitar players and a cello) and refreshments. In Britain tea and cakes would be served, the cakes made by the village ladies, however here it was beer and coffee, steak haché sandwiches and crêpes. I bought a steak haché sandwich however it had only grazed the grill and was essentially raw. Now I am hoping their hygiene standards were good and I do not suffer any ill effects. Although the crêpes looked delicious I knew overloading my stomach would mean indigestion for the next few hours of walking.

Band skilfully playing tuneful variations. 

I am now camped at Liverdun, a campsite once again by the River Moselle. The village itself has a medieval centre and stands on a high point well above the river, which has encouraged me to eat at the campsite restaurant tonight, especially as a Dutch cycling couple has offered a share of their wine.

Looking down on the River Moselle again, this time from the village of Liverdun.

Arnaville to Montauville: Day 137

A walk through the woods with reminders of war.

In Metz I had planned four days of walking more than 30 kilometres each day (almost 20 miles). This would have been ambitious even before my knee started its protests, now I was worried that it was foolhardy. The plan was driven by the limited amount of available accomodation, and still included one night's wild camping (tonight). Yesterday I completed the first stretch of some 33 kilometres, and in the evening my left ankle stiffened up. A return of the Achilles tendonopathy which I had experienced before. I blamed it on a section of track on which a layer of rough rock had been deposited. In time the wheels of vehicles will break it down, squashing it into the ground to make a rough but less rugged surface. However the fresh rock forced my ankles and knees in directions they would prefer not to go, so I was suffering. 

Fortunately this morning all seemed to be functioning. The owner of the place that I am staying gave me two eggs which I scrambled and enjoyed intensely with a cup of coffee and an apple.

Most of the day was walking through beech woodland on paths and forest tracks. As I was planning to wild camp tonight I was worried that the French hunting season had started, so I was listening for the sound of gun shot. Instead I heard the whine of motorbikes, driving up and down forest trails. A noisy disturbance to the peace of the woods.

I enjoyed the flatter plateau stages but there were several long steep up and downhill sections as I crossed valleys. Villages were enclosed within the arms of these valleys. Rather than going through the centre of the first pair of settlements (Bayonville and Onville), the GR5 followed a path a little to the north by allotments and what may once have been small apple and pear orchards. There was a small area of vines with a dozen people picking pinot noir grapes (a sign indicated the grape variety).

Bayonville hiding in the valley. 

Further woodlands followed until I approached Pagny-sur-Moselle. Avoiding most of the town the trail headed for Prény Castle, which sits on a hill at the end of a steep uphill climb. In my imagination there would be a refreshment stall in picturesque ruins. Sadly an ivy covered tower behind railings constituted the remains and not much else (although the nearby farm might have absorbed its entrance arch).

More downhill, uphill and woodland walks followed. While there was mature woodland, much of it was in an earlier growth stage. One long section looked as if lines of mature beech trees had been cut down many years ago and now clumps of thin saplings had grown from their stumps. Ditches and banks among the trees suggested an even older history.

After the next valley in which another small village lay, I started on my final long stretch of woodland. Hidden in it I spotted the remains of a wartime concrete pill box. Around a later corner a large monument rose up, commemorating the Battle of Bois-le-Pêtre in which a great many French and German soldiers died in 1915. Not long after I reached the edge of Montauville where there was a large military cemetery with thousands of uniform concrete crosses marking the graves of the dead soldiers. Mainly from the First World War but including a number from the Second World War. Of those from the latter there were a number Soviet Citizens who must have assisted in the fighting here. They had triangular headstones rather than crosses. Tired by the long walk I sat for a while at the cemetery wondering how much joy and pleasure the young men had experienced before their lives were violently shortened. Maybe they should only send old men to die in war, people who have already had plenty of opportunities for enjoyment. 

Cemetery for the dead of the two World Wars.

Walking  down into Montauville I was delighted to see a Bar-Tabac open. A can of coke and some chocolates revived me so that I managed a few more kilometres before seeking a secluded spot in woodland to camp.

Metz to Arnaville: Day 136

A day in three parts: a walk along the banks of the Moselle; a wandering route through villages on the valley side, and finally a walk in the woods.

Yes the GR5 is back to following the Moselle valley after a couple of days on the Lorraine plateau. Leaving the cathedral behind, the path ran right on the riverside. When I went to fetch some pastries for breakfast earlier I was walking against a tide of children on their way to school. Now it was dog walking time and not all the dogs were well behaved with some impolite barking when they met each other. The dog walkers, a few joggers and I were enjoying an area of parkland beside the river. Boats were moored to the riverbank and I could probably have skipped a few miles by catching the Metz riverbus.

Leaving Metz on a path beside the Moselle River.

Just before a small boat marina the GR5 turned inland, wandering up and down the valley side visiting adjacent villages. While the Moselle valley is much broader here than in Luxembourg its western side could still present a steep climb. There were reasons for these uphill excursions: an old church, a charming village and the Museum of Robert Schuman. I do not recall hearing of Schuman before but apparently he was instrumental in setting up the European Union (or it least the organisations that grew into the European Union). The museum is in his former house.

Between the villages there were a few vineyards and signs for the "Route des Vins". A dozen or so grape pickers were about. I also counted three "lavoirs", large concrete basins of water under a shelter where women washed clothes in the days before washing machines and female emancipation.

A lavoir.

The last of these villages had a boulangérie so I lunched on a chorizo bagel and a raspberry tart, the latter especially nice as the pastry had a slight crunch which contrasted softness of the fresh raspberries almost toppling off the top. One consequence was that for much of the afternoon I suffered from acid indigestion. My body seems to struggle with walking and digesting food at the same time.

Today's highlight was the remains of a Roman aqueduct which had signs, including an English translation, describing how they were built. An unusual design feature was that it had two channels, maybe so that one could be shut off for maintenance, while water could still flow along the other. Nearby was a memorial to the 1870 Franco-Prussian War, which France lost and in consequence was forced to cede Alsace and parts of Lorraine to Germany (regained after the First World War). Later in the day I passed a boundary stone that once marked the start of German territory. The "F" was clear on one side but the initial on the German side had been chiselled out. 

Remains of a Roman aqueduct.

For the third part of my walk today the path headed uphill into woodland visiting the Cross of St Clement (him who killed the Graoully I assume). There were showers as forecast, the annoying kind where, by the time you have put on your waterproofs the shower has stopped. The weather was too warm to leave them on until the next shower, I would have become wet with sweat instead of rain. Eventually I reached Gorze, a place of narrow streets enclosed by tall shuttered buildings. Many of the shutters had peeling paint and missing slats which gave the place a rundown appearance although some houses were making an effort with boxes of busy lizzies.

After more woodland tracks, beech trees with occasional oaks and hawthorn, I reached the road down to Arnaville, a village where I had booked a room for the night. Although I knew the address of La Grange des Oiseaux, from the road it looked like a small, inconspicuous house. However its name was beside a bell, which I rang. Appearances were deceptive. As the land dropped away to a small river so the building grew in size and from the back looked like a small chateau. 

There being no restaurant nearby I had brought some food to cook. The owner also gave me some bread and eggs. I am looking forward to an omelette for breakfast!

Metz rest day: Day 135

Ate too many pastries today then tried to rest.

I was conscious that if I pushed on too quickly on my excursion down Europe on the E2 my knee would accumulate fluid and refuse to bend, ending my trip, so I prescribed a precautionary rest day. Metz was a good choice as it is full of restaurants, patisseries and attractive narrow streets. Having camped at modest cost for many nights I decided to splash out on an apartment in the old quarter. An apartment as all the hotels appeared to be fully booked (it also had the benefit of a washing machine). The area dates from Roman times, a nearby shopping centre had tombstones that had been dug up from the 2nd century. I liked one of a man and his wife holding hands, so romantic (although according to the description it just meant they were married)!

Street by my apartment, the dragon on the banner is a "graoully" a beast who lived in the Roman amphitheatre until killed by St Clement of Metz.

I could have spent all day sightseeing but that would not have allowed much rest, so I limited myself to activities in the morning and a restful afternoon. One crucial activity was to buy some food as tomorrow night's accommodation does not seem to be near any shops or restaurants and the following night I expect to be wild camping. Provisions bought, before visiting the cathedral I enjoyed a cheese cake and coffee at the same patisserie that I acquired my morning croissants. 

The nave of St Stephan's cathedral, a sizeable affair, was very tall and supported by bulky columns. Tiers of stained glass windows were in a great variety of styles, from traditional images of saints to modern designs in which the subjects were less clear but more colourful. As with many cathedrals bits were ancient but various additions were added over the centuries. By the cathedral was a covered market with stalls of fish and sea food, meat and charcuterie. I wished I could have bought a portion of one of the huge variety of cheeses on display to eat on my travels but it would not have survived the hot weather. After wandering the narrow streets I returned to my flat, briefly stopping to buy what looked like a current bun and two small things which were crispy on the outside and entirely whipped cream on the inside. These I ate with a salmon and tagliatelle microwaved dish for lunch and subsequently felt very fat.

Nave of Metz Cathedral. 

St Stephen's Cathedral, Metz.

Having spent the afternoon resting, checking the BBC news on the television, reading other people's blogs and a book on my kindle, I am thinking of diner.

Later - for diner I felt obliged to order the local dish, Quiche Lorraine, served with salad and chips. Having ogled the cheeses in the market earlier I then had the cheese course. Pleasant but the three types of cheese were rather mild, not as pungent or sharp as many French cheeses, not the "old socks" varieties. I dined in an all but empty restaurant, with the waiting staff wandering around in a slightly lost manner. Heavy rain was probably keeping people inside.

Kédange-sur-Canner to Metz: Day 134

A long day at over 35 kilometres but I made good time on straight trails over only slightly hilly terrain.

The Hotel de la Canner was one of the few, possibly the only, hotel in the area, maybe as the region is not a tourist destination (apart from the city of Metz). Consequently most people at the hotel seemed to be business people or tradesmen of some kind who swiftly dispatched their breakfast (a typical continental buffet of bread, cheese, salami, ham, yoghurt, fruit, and miniature croissants). 

Aside from the odd dogleg the route today was mercifully straight, with none of the serpentine curves that lengthened the E2 in Belgium and Luxembourg. One could argue that this was because there were few sights to interest the walker in, and indeed much of the day was over undulating farmland and through deciduous woods. Nevertheless I was happy striding along straight tracks between open fields, ploughed brown or green with grass, admiring the scabious and knapweed flowering on the wayside, or else walking on a path in woodland, careful to avoid stumbling on protruding roots. One stretch of path was between high hedges of shrubs of various varieties. The orange red of the rose hips and the deeper crimson of the hawthorn berries warned me that summer was drawing to a close. On a road between a ragged lines of horse chestnut trees, the shiny brown chestnuts lying on the ground reminded me of games of conkers in my youth, when we discussed ways of hardening them in the oven or soaking them in vinegar (never worked for me). Earlier in Luxembourg I had seen walnuts on the path, dropped from trees, not something we found in Cardiff.

Rosehips, a sign of summer's end.

Countryside views.

My route visited a few villages today, such as Saint Hubert and Vigy, and bypassed others. There were two restaurants in Vigy offering pizza or plats du jour, but I did not want anything too heavy and settled for a cherry coke and Twix from the shop on a bench outside the church. There had been a traffic jam in the village of parents picking up their children from school at 12:00. Were they just taking them home for lunch I wondered or was there a half day for some reason?

Every village has a Marie or town hall with a mayor.

After a few false starts the GR5 could not keep me from the suburbs of Metz any longer and I entered an area of white apartment blocks surrounded by grass and parents walking young children. Residential areas followed and eventually the roads became busier. After a visit to a MacDonalds for a very late lunch, my final stretch was by the city walls of Metz and along the riverside. Turning into a network of narrow streets as cafes were arranging their chairs for the evening trade, I arrived at the apartment I had booked, hidden behind some shops. 

Tomorrow I have designated as a rest day and have already washed my clothes in the flat's washing machine, one of those rest day chores. I have chosen a restaurant in front of the cathedral for dinner, which no doubt adds a few Euros to the bill, but is also a pleasant place to watch people walking by as well as admiring the delicate masonry filigree of the cathedral's spires, flying buttresses and saint filled arches, highlighted by floodlights as the evening sky darkened.

Sierck-les-Bains to Kédange-sur-Canner: Day 133

A change in landscape as I leave the Moselle River valley behind and cross the gentle hills of Lorraine's plateau.

While the street lamps were still reflecting off the waters of the Moselle I made a trip into the town to pick up a croissant and what turned out to be a variation on a sausage roll. Sierck-les-Bain has at least three boulangéries, maybe a sign I was now in France.

Having enjoyed breakfast at one of the tables at the campsite, watching a couple spending much effort to fold their tent and shake off last night's raindrops, I packed up my own. Just as I was leaving my allocated pitch, the little white haired lady next door in a small caravan offered me a large orange. Her timid smile and outstretched arms offering the fruit made it impossible to refuse so I accepted it with a "Merci" and a smile and headed on my way. Such kindness was surprising as I had not thought she had noticed me before. I attempted to eat it for a mid morning snack. Although orange in colour it was more like a very juicy grapefruit, which I am not meant to eat with my blood pressure pills. (I later wondered if it was a Pomelo).

As I climbed out of the suburbs of Sierck-les-Bains watching parents take their children to school, I discovered that the waymarks did not match the route on my GPS, my guidebook or my phone's OutdoorActive App. After discounting the possibility that it was another GR trail I followed the waymarks. They looked fairly new so presumably there had been a change in the route. Leaving the houses behind they took me along a pleasant woodland path to the village of Montenach where the deviation re-joined the trail on my GPS.

From there it was a climb up to a plateau of undulating mixed farmland. As well as a few cows, there were ploughed fields, the remains left after harvesting maize, fields with rolls of hay in pastel coloured plastic wrapping, sunflowers in seed, their heads drooping, and some leafy vegetable crop. Unlike earlier parts of the E2 the route was mercifully straight and direct, following farm and forest tracks and quiet roads.

Farm track across Lorraine. 

I walked through one farming settlement. Its houses looked neglected, some with large cracks, quite different from the neat villages of Luxembourg.

The straight tracks continued into woodland of deciduous trees. Half hidden in the undergrowth of one of the woods were remains from the Maginot Line. Consisting of concrete bunkers and armoured gun turrets this defensive line was built in the 1930's to protect France against German aggression. It failed. The Germans advanced at the start of the Second World War through Belgium and Luxembourg outflanking the Maginot line. Long abandoned, green moss and undergrowth were trying to integrate these relics into the natural world of the forest. 

Gun turret on Maginot Line.

Straight tracks through woodland. 

Today the red and white GR5 waymarks and the Scallop shell symbol of the Camino de Santiago shared the same trees. Both paths were heading for Metz. At a crossroads beside a bench there was a wooden sculpture celebrating the pilgrimage route, and a sign motivating pilgrims by announcing that they still had 2200 kilometres to walk to reach Santiago de Compostela.

After a further diversion off the trail in my guidebook I reached Kédange-sur-Canner and my hotel for the night.

Luxembourg E2: Some comments

Although Luxembourg looks like a small country the route of the E2 makes it seem longer. Running close to the German border for the length of the country, it takes a circuitous route at times, visiting two types of scenery. 

For most of the way it is through woodland, mainly of beech, often following river valleys in particular of the Our and Sauer. This section includes a day among the cliffs and huge blocks of rock of Little Switzerland (Petite Suisse).

For the last two days of the E2's journey south the route passes through extensive vineyards beside the Moselle River.

In both parts the trail moves up and down the slopes of the valleys. Steep climbs and descents must be expected. To help the weary lots of benches are provided often with waste paper bins and sometimes picnic tables and shelters. 

Waymarking of yellow circles in the north and yellow rectangles in the south (both on a blue background) is very good. Although someone has scrawled GR5 on a few signs the E2 actually follows four National Trails - Sentier de l’ Our, Sentier Maurice Cosyn, Sentier de la Basse Sûre and Sentier de la Moselle. Nevertheless it is easy to miss a crucial junction, and sometimes the waymarks are ambiguous or missing, consequently a GPS is needed with a suitable digital map and the track of the E2 loaded onto it, or else suitable paper maps.

There are a few larger towns on the route such as Echternach, but on many days facilities like shops are limited, nor were there as many cafes as I hoped. Stains left by old lettering and the remains of signs showed some bars and cafes had closed, whether due to Covid or the general decline in village facilities seen in Britain as well as Europe. Hotels and bed & breakfasts proved difficult to find with any vacancies and in consequence most nights I stayed at campsites. These all had restaurants attached or nearby although in one case the restaurants were closed. One night a full campsite and a lack of other accommodation forced me to wild camp. The remaining two nights were spent at Youth Hostels which provided clean and affordable accommodation with the opportunity to meet others.

In addition to beautiful countryside there are also historical sights such as Beaufort and Vianden Castles, plus the more recent history of the Second World War and the Schengen Treaty.

Its unlikely that I will ever master Luxembourgish however for most of the route German was widely spoken. Little surprise as Germany was often just on the other side of the valley. English was also commonly understood but if that failed French is one of the official languages of the country. Greetings on the trail varied, frequently a "Hallo", but it took me a while to realise that they were often saying "Moien", Luxembourgish for "morning".

The yellow circles indicate the route and there are frequent waymarks for the E2. For part of the way the E3 follows the same route as the E2. The E3 takes the walker to Santiago de Compostela and that is also the purpose of the scallop shell symbol.

Link to start of blog is here.

Remich to Sierck-les-Bains: Day 132

Today I left Luxembourg at Schengen, and after a brief visit to Germany, I am now in France.

Sometime in the night I was aware of thunder, lightening and rain, but it scarcely disturbed my sleep. Fortunately, despite a pessimistic forecast, there have only been a few raindrops since I packed away my rather wet tent this morning.

As I crossed the bridge over the Moselle from my campsite on the German side back to Luxembourg I noticed that the Café de Pont was open, allowing me the pleasure of a morning coffee. As I drank it I watched the CNN news on the bar's television. For some reason it was CNN Portugal with pictures of flooding. I am not sure what the people in the bar were speaking, not French or German two of the main languages used in Luxembourg, the third official language is Luxembourgish however there is a large Portuguese community according to my internet research. 

Leaving the bar I noticed a patisserie so I was able to buy something for breakfast and a salami sandwich for later on. Before tackling my croissants I climbed the first hill out of town to a handy picnic area at a high point. People were already out picking grapes, mostly by hand, putting the grapes in large grey containers which were being brought empty and removed full of grapes on trailers pulled by tractors, some of them looking quite old. The pickers were men and women of all ages, sensibly dressed for the outdoors complete with wellington boots. I only saw one case of machine picking. A tractor had a winch whose wire stretched down the slope between the rows of vines. The angle of the slope was such that I could not see what was at the end of the wire but I assumed a device picking grapes. Maybe the steepness of the valley sides made hand picking a more viable option. They certainly meant I put a lot of effort into climbing up roads. Today the route seemed have been planned so that I climbed the hillside out of some village, walked along the valley side on one of the many small, parallel roads through the vineyards, then descended down a long flight of steps starting at a shrine with the Luxembourg flag and ending at the next village.

Leaving Remich.

Grape pickers starting work.

First crate of grapes.

St Donat patron saint of wine producers.

Long flight of steps. 

By taking a circuitous route the GR5 kept me in Luxembourg a little longer than maybe necessary. Schengen is the final village which the GR5 enters from the south rather than a more obvious (and shorter) route from the north or west. Schengen is famous for the treaty signed here in 1985 to allow free movement between the signatory countries. The Schengen area now includes most European countries and is a great boon to travellers such as myself, as well as doing away with a lot of bureaucracy, which can only be good. Beside the riverside in the village of Schengen, flags were flying of all the countries who have joined the treaty (actually they were drooping due to lack of wind). Great Britain was noticeably absent, the English Channel separating Britain and Europe leads to a different approach. There was a European Museum dedicated to the history of the treaty but somehow it did not sound that interesting a subject for a museum and anyhow, I had a campsite to find.

Schengen was chosen as a place to sign the treaty as it is one of those points where three countries meet. I crossed the bridge from Luxembourg into Germany and at some point soon after I walked into France, and more particularly the Lorraine area of France. Waymarks returned to the white and red stripes of the GR5. The stretch from Schengen to Sierck-les-Bains was not that inspiring, running beside a railway line, the river hidden from sight. However Sierck-les-Bains is an interesting place. Castle walls brood over the riverside town. Narrow backstreets, canyons between four storey terraces, and shutters of peeling paint give the place a shady, run down appearance despite the boxes of flowers in the square. Being Monday the only choices for dining out were kebabs or pizza. Choosing pizza I found it surprisingly good, cooked in a wood fired oven it retained the smokiness of the wood, as well as the traditional flat base.

View of Sierck-les-Bains castle from my campsite.