If I had booked my hotel at least the night before I could have organised myself better. I didn’t book my hotel until the afternon before arriving to Perron. My first choich was well located to continue the next day, but FULL. By the time I found a second hotel that had also gone. In the end I had to take a hotel in the suburb at the wrong -west- end of Perron. This resulted in much more walking than I had expected. I was knackered after about 29km walking. The sun was wery strong. Too late before I left London, I discovered that my polaroid clip-ons were damaged and I suffered the penalty, my eyes were hurting. I consequently needed to buy new ones before I could continue.

I was off-course by many km, so just to get clip-ons and walk back on track would take hours and I would be -out-of-sync with my accommodations ahead, which I early on had to reduce to about 20-25km max. So all accommodation had to be researched anew.

In Reims a couple of friends were going to meet me and stay the night. I would meet them after a short rail journey from Tergnie. Unfortunately one came down with high fever, so no fun at the end.

In the end the negatives outweighed the positives, so I decided to return to London.

I had done some basic internet research the evening before, so left early for a breakfast in town.

I used the Deutsche Bahn’s and Rome2Rio apps and had all buss and train times to take me to Chaulnes SNCF, the closest railway station and from there to Amien and the choice of three different connection points to Eurostar and London. The first bus leaving 12.28 for Chaulnes SNCF, bags of time, BUT for my life I could not figure out where the bus stop Perron Chapelet was located.

I took a taxi, who dropped me off at the wrong place le Chapelet, a girls school, so 1.5km walk back into town. By now it was noon. Luckily a young school girl waited at a bus stop and was sure it was the right stop for Chaulnes. The fourth bus was the right one. I asked all the previous drivers, better safe than sorry.

We arrived at the Chaulnes station. What? No trains! The time table was correct, but it turned out that the rails were being replaced and 5 hourly trains replaced by one bus in three hours time. The driver contacted the station master, they came up with the suggestion that I should continue with the same bus to Mondidier, where I could take another bus 18:30 to Amien.

On to the bus again and getting off at Mondidier. The bus driver told me they are famous for their potatoes. The friendly bus driver drove off. I waited at the staion bar. Three hours to kill. I calculated what would it cost me to stay overnight in Amien. Perhaps 80euros all in. A taxi could be 95Euros. I mentioned to the bar owner, that if someone could drive me to Amiens SNCF station I’d pay 80euros cash. He talked to an off-duty bus driver at the bar. Oui why not ? About 40 minutes drive to Amien.

During the drive it turned out the off duty driver was a local boy, who had worked 10 years at Euro Disney, but in the end it got boring, so he started driving busses.

Amien SNCF ticket desk, Discussion back and forth, then we decided the safest option was to take the train to Paris Gare du Nord. “You buy the ticket there, if there are seats it is OK”.

Boarded the train at platform 1. I happened to have my GPS on during the journey. The TGV reached 156km/h and Yes, that is Sacre Coer in the distance

So dear folks, now on the 21.00 Eurostar to London St. Pancras at a cost of 236 euros, gulp! The speed is 298km/h.

As the Germans say: “Wer eine Reise tut can etwas erzählen” The one who travels can tell you something.

Planning saves money. You can also solve problems by throwing money at them.

Glorious morning, blue sky, but windy. I passed a bookshop and there is no doubt what the locals are doing on their spare time.

I have seen them everywhere. In proper lycras.

The fields are bleak. Whatever eco-system existed must by now be non-existant. I saw a couple of hares running away from me. Two falcons in the sky. Ther may be some life in the few bushes.

I was pleased to see a proper energy plantation of fast growing willow.

I was late booking ahead and my planned hotel in an ideal start tomorrow was FULL. I spent 30 minute in the field trying to find another that did not cost too much. Booked it because it was near the town centre. But it was near on the wrong side, so I had to walk extra distance. Then I cam across this memorial.

Well, I had no choice DETERMINATION. It was along day. Tomorrow the temperature will hit 26 deg. C. Yes, I have suncream.

No fog for a change. I left Arras and shared the streets with people going to work and school children. Todays walk was very good. For a change the French got it right. Empty country roads and farm tracks. I came across the first war grave.

About 400 graves. Also a reminder that the Indian army contributed soldiers. Not only that. I know that 80000 Indian soldiers remained after the armestice to clear the trenches. They were all very young, most about 19 years old.

The path went along a disused railway line. Nice and level and shaded by trees on each side.

I jumped a little when I discovered the object below.

An unexploded 15cm artillery shell. Yes the explosives is still inside, but the timer fuse on the front was probably faulty. It was marked, so someone will come and do a controled explosion. Further on the fuse remained after the shell had exploded and was put on a stick.

The agricultural fields are vast, beyond the horizon. It was still very windy and now I see many mor wind generators.

The night quarter was in a bad ** hotel, but cheap, I get what I pay for.

However good breakfast and they still do proper Caffe noir here, none of this Americano stuff.

Good nights sleep and a slow morning after a good breakfast. The hotel may be ** but the breakfast was really good with proper butter nice baguettes, jams, cheese. Proper cafe noir.

I studied a guide lent to me by the owner and walked on a small detour to Saint-Vaast Abbey, now the Museum of Fine Art and until 4th November also house the exhibition “Napoleon – Images of the legend” with some 100 pictures. He was his own PR agent and commissioned numerous paintings of the episodes of his life.

I show the painting of the Army passing the Great St Bernard Pass 16-20 May 1800 at Bourg St. Pierre (detail) two weeks before the battle at Marengo in Italy, ruled by Austria at the time. The Via Francigena also passes the Great St Bernard Pass. Every year on the Via Francigena FaceBook group there are the question if the pass is snow free and can be passed. Which is usually last days of May to end of September. Napoleon’s soldiers were early and had no easy time as my next picture shows

A solder with perhaps frostbitten feet is looked after in the snow by the locals at a warming fire.

There is also a permanent collection. I happened to look at “St. Peter repentant” by Gerard Seghers 1591-1651 and noticed St. Peter’s feet.

They also had bunions like my own that I showed yesterday. Well, well, I would not say I am a Saint, but I have some attributes in common with St.Peter. Good night.

Fog as usual. The challenge was to get to Arras 30km along my route. I had shortened my daily distances to max. 25km to be realistic and avoid problems. Public transport into Arras? The original distance to Arras from Caucourt, my earlier planned stop 6-7km further on , was 23.5km so the total would come closer to 30km which I wanted to avoid. Anyway let’s see how it goes. Back on my route and after about 2km on the footpath of The Chausee Brunehaut the D341 main road joined from the left. My own originally planned route was to turn right off the main road. I had now measured the distance to Arras along the straight D341 main road and it was a further 19km. The total distance would be 21km i.e. within my comfort zone. (The short side of an A4 page is 21cm = 21km on a 1:100000 scale map).

It was Saturday, bright sunshine and very little traffic, no lorries on the wide road with a good grass verge. I decided to take the direct D341 route to Arras.

I have passed a couple of places like the restaurant above. They were all old with a big gate. I assume the horses and stage coach stopped inside, so the travellers could embark dry without stepping on to much muck and avoiding the gaze of the locals. Further on, time for a short break on a BENCH ! Outside a cemetery.

But after about 7km on the D341 i.e. still 12km to Arras, I got intense pain in my right big toe and hobbled along to the next cross road. I never had any problems like this before.

After some map reading I found the closest railway station was about 5km to the right. I had to hobble along to it.

Luckily after about 10 minutes I could hear a bus from behind. I stopped, turned around and could read “Arras Gare” on the lit sign on the bus. I waved my walking sticks. The bus stopped. I ran/hobbled up to it. I feared I would have to present some sort of pre-paid card to travel. But I was asked for and paid one Euro and boarded it. Obviously Divine intervention after my previous prayer at the Abbey. God was on my side. It must have passed every village and every school North-West of Arras before passing two Lychees and arriving at Arras station. If you want an education in the countryside you have to travel. I tipped the driver 2euros.

• In spite of the 30km distance, I assumed I could find public transport in the outskirts of Arras and had booked accommodation in Arras the night before.

After 6 minutes of hobbling I arrived at the Hotel Diamant Arras ** at Place des Heros, basic but OK.

My feet are not something of beauty you will see on Roman or classic sculptures. You can buy plaster casts of those on the internet. On my feet, two bunions have developed over the years, but no real problems until now. Anti-inflamatory cream will help, I hope. Rest day in Arras.

The day started as the previous ones. Fog and the chilly wind. The moisture slowly creeps up on you. Perspiration from your body and the fog from outside. The technology of “wicking membrane jackets” a good one, does not help. Today I walked very closely and on the Chausee Brunehaut, a Roman or older road that goes straight for more than 60km to Arras. The pleasure of walking is that you see so much more than when you travel in a car or on bike.

On the open field I came across this small memorial. Before I wrote this I investigate a little. Albert Hanne was a 22 year old miner on his way to work, who was shot by mistake by a German watch at this spot. He died in the local hospital 20 July 1942. I can imagine that the German soldier was probably as young as Albert and also as scared as he.

I continued in the fog towards the church spire that in the haze rises above the horizon. In that church yard are the graves of a British flight crew that crashed nearby 1943.

At the church is a board that informs about the local stretch of the Via Francigena. It sadens me that so much effort and enthusiasm has been spent on it, but it is not for the pilgrims walking to Rome. It meanders too much. Probably a way of telling local people about their past history and culture also encourage them to get up and walk, which is a good thing. I shall walk on the grey stretch in the middle of the picture, the Chaussee Brunehaut, not the most pleasant experience, but it is a part of history under my feet.

The pictures are all along the Chaussee. The actual modern road, the D341, bypass a couple of villages and is also blocked at a couple of places. I reach my Gite in Houdain and walk a short distance to the local supermarket for food, a light tuna salad. Tomorrow will be tricky. Because I have shortened my daily distances, it can be a long walk.

Left the Abbey without a soul in sight, so I put a big donation in the letter box. It was an interesting stay. I hope it was the right one. Miserable morning. Damp and windy and I had to accept the down a slop and up a slope It drains my energy. I am still unfit. I am told it gets better. Once I am on top of the ridges it is an endless view of agricultural field. However todays walk was more on flatis plateaus, I could feel the roads were made for horsedrawn carriages in the 19th Century. Pleasant day. I did pass temptations along the route in Theouranne.

But I can resist one, but a cold beer in the bar further on had to be a reward.

Further on the nice straight farm track was intterupted by a big chalk extraction area.

According to the guide I am supposed to make detour that adds 2-3km.

Anarchy rules OK! So two steps to the side of the pit and straight across the farmers field and a slide on the high grass verge down to the road and continue. Take off the rucksack in situations like that and use a stick. In general I now make small adjustments to the rucksack. Pull a strap 1cm more or let it out 5mm. It makes a difference. I also pack my rucksack when it is horizontal, to avoid everything getting to the bottom but staying vertical close to my back. The nights Gites included a three course meal, that was well made and nice with 250ml red wine. It was a good day in the end.

Today the weather was very nice all day, blu sky, little wind, perfect.

I passed a couple Gites good for future pilgrims. Unfortunately that detracted from my navigation. Instead of turning sharp left, I simply walked straight ahead. Mistake discovered after 50m so I turned 180 degrees and walked back and turned right and back on the right road. Second mistake. Remember the first was sharp left, not just left. Sloppy navigation Jonas. Anyway on route. Today was short, but due to my idea of walking in a straightish direct route I had to climb up on ridges and down in the valleys where the villages are located and protected from the prevailing winds and closer to water. 15km felt like 25km, but I entered The Abbey St Paul in good time mid afternoon. Was shown my room,spartan 1950 French modern. I was told: Supper at 19.30. Meet here 19.20.

I had time to think ahead, interrupted by the bell every quarter of an hour.

We were 8 guests and about twenty monks. Only two of us walking pilgrims. 4-5 students of a sort and one person who, I got the impression wanted to join the order. First some chants of a hymn? Soup for starter, Lightly roast potatoes and stewed spinach, Blueberry youghurt for desert. All eaten in silence. It sounds very simple but everything must have been super fresh from their own garden full of flavour and prepared with skill.

There are lots of villages ending with …hem. Hem in Scandinavian is Home, so no doubt An old Norman village. I also noticed that any village is situated in a dip in the landscape. The wind is constant. A couple of modern wind-generator well located and at the village of Moulle is a what the Danes call Moelle i.e. and old fashioned wind mill. My theory of the shortest route was tested today. Rapid exit from Guines along a modern, wide road, OK, but pure transport. Then off on more interesting smaller roads, some coincided with the “official” route. Some good farm tracks.The night was at a hotel/camping site, ok. Tournehem was the place for a watermill, so a mill owner’s grander house , He obviously had a monopoly on reliable power. At one point the view was fantastic I could see the high rise building in Calais. The birdsong interrupted by the noise from the Eurostars and motorway Video.

Further on a ruined chapell

1. I forgot to take something for breakfast on the ferry, started my day with a hebal tea instead of my usual two cups of Nespresso. All my hip pain from the Canterbury to Shepherdswell walk was gone. YES!  The weather was very misty. I needed something to eat, so I walked along the main road to a supermarket further on. I passed the baker, but the smell of freshly baked bread too much, so I returned and got a baquette. The supermarket provided ham.   Halfway to the beach I had my breakfast. I decided it was no pleasure to walk along it in dense fog, so continued to Sangatte along a nice pavement, where I finally got my coffee in the caff “Le weekend”. Two euros for a cafe noir. Further on I turned left and after a short walk hit my target. The old Roman road to Guines. It is just the stretch, not paved with flag stones as Via Appia from Rome. However, it runs straight like a bullet. A combination of paved roads, farm tracks and footpaths. On the internet I had found a pizzeria and a caff in a good timing for a lunch break near the path. The pizzeria had shut permanently and the caffee was run by a very old man  with his bedridden wife just noticeable in the backroom. He had nothing edible apart from crisps and only served coffee and wine. The interior <picture> was untouched, a gem for anybody who wants character. I was charged one euro. Too cheap. The last stretch of Roman road before Guines,  I walked on a newly plowed field. The farmer had simply destroyed the path. On modern maps it is shown as a foot path. During my walk from Canterbury to Guines I found two benches to sit on. One in England and one in France . We are talking about 55km of walking, so I walked into the Guines tourist office and mentioned it. “People are ment to walk the Via Francigena not sit at it” was the rude answere in good English. My polite reply made her blush and after that we the managed to discuss the matter of les banks. My night quarters was in the most stunning chambre d’haute i.e. B&B. I hope I can add the pictures. A bust of Marie Antoinette, the last Queen of France looked down on me at breakfast.  The owners cat observed me too.