Gustavo's diary extracts

17.30: At a café opposite Reims cathedral, sipping a 5-euro flute of champagne - extravagance justified by the fact that we are in one of bubbly's capitals and before one of the grandest of European churches. We are looking at three exuberant porticos, punctuated by two great lead gargoyles representing a rhinoceros and an antelope; as other cathedrals we have seen so far, this too is partly covered by scaffolding supported by Brussels funds. As we cycled in, I noticed that the nearby library was called Carnegie; it turns out that the benefactor from Dunfermline contributed to its restoration after the building was bombed during the first world war.

21.30. Val de Vesle. Here we are, sitting on the steps of a small church, a few yards away from our campsite, having done our washing and taken showers, today's 100km of cycling under our belt, hungry and without any prospect of finding an open hostelry. The one shop in this tiny village shut at 7pm, and the adjoining bar soon afterwards. By the church there is a bus shelter where the local youth gather to chat, just as in Ceres. Only here they drive cars and are very polite, saying bon soir to strange middle age visitors that look tired and famished.

It's all in a day's travails for pilgrims, who are supposed to be a stoical lot. So we head camping-ward to make some porridge.

Sunday 27th June 04

16.45. Vezelay. We never planned it, but we arrived at this great site for pilgrims, base of the Association des Amis de Saint-Jacques, on a Sunday after 799 km, which is pretty much exactly the half-way point of our estimated total of 1,000 miles for the trip. We called at the Association's office and were warmly received. After that we headed for the presbytery of the Franciscan monks who issue the créanciale or pilgrim's passport, to be stamped every day from now on at a suitable office, religious or secular. We were served by a young monk in sandals and blue cloak, and whilst we were sitting round a table, the abbot, an Englishman, came to greet us. On our way out he asked whether we might have the time and inclination to listen to the vespers at 5.30 that evening in the basilica. We accepted gladly.

Monday 28th June 04

12.20. Corbigny, 33 km from Vezelay, and it's been the best run of the journey so far, no doubt as a direct result of the benediction we were given by the abbot this morning. He had made the offer just before vespers last night, when we were sitting in the front row still in our cycling gear (the Saltire shirts which by coincidence each of us decided to wear that day). He said he could see us this morning at 10.30. The vespers were sung by two groups of four or five members, one of nuns and the other of monks, including our two friends. It was very pleasant and peaceful, and even Ken liked it, though he said in jest that things could get too religious for his taste.

After the benediction (which included a welcome request for shade when the sun got too strong) he told us a bit about Vezelay, whose origins as a sacred place can be traced to prehistoric times, as shown by painted caves nearby. As we parted, having shaken hands and walked our first few steps off, he called out: "send my regards to Scotland; my mother was Scottish, you know."

Wednesday 30th June 04

10.00. About to leave the camping at La Chatre, another wonderful site, virtually empty, great facilities and the friendliest welcome so far, from a large rugby fan and his thin wife, who even offered me their phone to ring home as there wasn't a call box. (There was no answer).

12.00. Aigurande. 29 km later, we are stopping for a coffee in this small town after a very lumpy ride. We had a nice farewell from the couple at the campsite, who turned out to have been teachers who have such a quiet life during the year that they wanted to do some real work in the summer! Alastair gave them one of his two-flag lapel pins (Scotland and France); the rugby fan was chuffed.

Thursday 1st July 04

12.15: At a café in the centre of La Jouchére St Maurice, in the Limousine region, a very beautiful part of the world indeed: luxuriant woods and elegant farmland, scattered with small characterful villages like this one. A disadvantage is the area's hilliness, which made us work hard for the first 22km of today, from the dually christened village of Fursac and our most economical camping so far: 4 euro for the three of us, three bikes and two tents. Fursac has two administrations, St Pierre and St Etienne, their respective mairies with separate entries into the same symmetrical building; appropriately we too divided ourselves so that I now have a stamp of St Pierre in my pilgrim's passport, and Ken and Alastair have St Etienne. [There is a bloody story behind their schism, involving a runaway chicken crossing ancient borders, as Alastair was to find out later].

14.45: St Léonard de Noblat. A main pilgrimage site. We visited its charming and peaceful church in honour of the second saintly echo of St Andrews, after Brugge's St Salvator's cathedral. St Léonard is the saviour of prisoners and helper of infertile women. We are now in a bar which has remained untouched since the 1950s, run by an old lady in a dress and make up wholly consistent with the décor. As we are the only customers, she frequently goes through a door behind the bar to attend to her other concern, a mercerie next door.

22.20. At a bar in Aixe sur Vienne, some 10 km outside Limoges. After pitching up at our campsite in the most magnificent setting so far, by the river Vienne, we walked up the road for a tasty meal of tongue and rice. We are now having cognacs in the bar and making conversation with a crowd of local butchers and joiners who have been having an extended aperitif and are now ready to have their food. They were excited to hear we were from Scotland and said some nasty things about the English. They are all into rugby and one began to intone Flower of Scotland. The barman was also in jolly mood and as he waxed lyrical about a Bee Gees song playing in the background, which reminded him of youthful love, he bought us a round.