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.

Much more in my book "Through Cloud and Sunshine: Galway to Nice on the E2 Trail" by John Pucknell available from Amazon and all good bookstores.

The start of my walk through Lorraine is here.

The start of my walk on the E2 is here.

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.