Le Hohwald to Andlau: Day 147

Over forested hills to St Odile's convent then down to the vineyards on the lower, eastern slopes of the Vosges mountains. 

Checking out of my hotel I was a little peeved. First in queue was a lady, part of a larger group, who spent a long time discussing with the easy going man on reception who had what drinks. Then two ladies jumped in ahead of me, one having a long discussion that seemed to be about the price of her room. I was ignored. Sometimes I feel older men are simply not seen, being neither a possible source of interest nor a threat. Either way the lady took her time while the middle aged man behind me checked the time on my watch. Needless to say, as a gentleman, I did not remind the ladies I was before them, even if I could manage to say it in one of the two languages being used (French and German).

Leaving I passed a Gite d'Etape where I checked a notice which stated it was for pre-booked groups only, so not a source of cheap accommodation for me. Climbing up the forested hills the wind was blowing, bending the treetops, rustling their leaves. Stronger gusts lifted last autumn russet leaves into the air or broke off new ones. Along the paths which threaded through the trees my feet sometimes crunched beech mast, other times their sound was muffled by a carpet of pine needles. Rock outcrops were an occasional feature today and I passed information boards, part of a geology themed path.

A forest walk.

St Odile's convent was the principal tourist site today. On its approach the GR5 ran below a modest cliff of the red sandstone and conglomerate typical of the area (displaying clear crossbedding I surmised it was deposited by a braided river). However the many people visiting were more interested in the buildings. Grouped around two courtyards were a hotel, café (which I patronised), the church (a minor basilica), chapels and unidentified rooms (it did not seem to be a "working" convent any more). In the smaller courtyard, with flower lined paths was a statue of St Odile. A 7th century saint born blind, on her baptism she miraculously gained her sight. There was a lot more to her story and her evil father as well. Many signs asked for quiet but it was difficult to pray or meditate in the church due to all the people vaguely shuffling about. The adjacent car park was full and there were a few tour buses. As the convent stands on a promontory there was a good view from the larger courtyard across the lower land to the east, or there would have been without the haze.

St Odile.

Before and after the convent I saw sections of the Pagan Wall, or what remains of it. Made of large, crudely squared off blocks of stone, it age and purpose is uncertain.

Remains of the "Pagan" Wall.

After Mount St Odile and its wall the trail looses height, passing a few shelters provided by Club Vosgien. On the lowest slopes I entered vineyards. Grapes had been harvested from some of the them leaving yellowing leaves, others still needed to be picked. 

Barr was an attractive town of narrow cobbled streets and old, half timbered buildings typical of Alsace. I had intended to stay at its campsite but a sign on the gate said "Complet", i.e. full. Although there looked to be a number of spaces maybe they had bookings. I was surprised as it was Tuesday and "out of season" when many campsites had closed, although maybe that was the reason this small site was full. If the office had been open I would have enquired but a sign indicated that would not happen for another two hours (it was only 3 pm when I arrived) and I felt I would have little chance of communicating effectively in French on the phone. Booking.com indicated there were hotels with vacancies in the area and two with prices of under €100 for the night, one of which I selected. It was in the next town of Andlau which seemed a good idea as it was still early and it would reduce the distance tomorrow.

Streets of Barr.

Barr among vineyards. 

Between Barr and Andlau the trail rose and fell through vineyards. At one corner a plaque commemorated an American soldier who died in 1944. A reminder that this trip was along the line of many conflicts. A little later a scary man in a tree turned out to be a dressed up mannequin.

For the last few days I have had a blister on my right heel, the first in four weeks of walking which I thought pretty good. I had been applying plasters to reduce rubbing but when I removed the plaster this evening to wash in the small hip bath in my room, a large piece if skin came away too. Unfortunately I did not bring the large dressings that it really needed, not having used any for many previous trips.