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.