DAY 258 - SUIPPES TO PRUNAY: 19.3 MILES (38,600 STEPS)

5 January, 2012

19.3 miles (Total: 2440.2 miles)– 38,600 steps (Total: 5,224,801 steps)

I was unable to find accommodation in Suippes so, exhausted, I took the train back to Verdun to get dried out as the next day presented a major challenge – to try and get from Suippes to Reims (28 miles) in one go and I would need a hot bath, a good night’s rest, a buffet breakfast, and an early start to stand a chance of completing the journey.

All seemed to be going well as I arrived at the station the next morning for the 6:44am from Verdun to Suippes, but as I bought my ticket I was told that the train had already gone. Impossible I responded and produced my timetable that clearly showed the train was at 6:44am; it was then gently pointed out that in the notes at the bottom of the page it said that on a Thursday the train left at 6:07am. “Prochain train?” I asked and was told that the next train wasn’t until 10:44am. My heart sank. It was already going to be a good ten hours to complete the walk from Suippes to Reims, but this would mean I wouldn’t get there until about 10pm with six hours spent walking in the dark along fairly busy roads. I had no choice. I then asked myself, “What can I do now that I couldn’t do before?” Initially I took out my Kindle and began to read a book by Philip Yancey – this took me to 9am, but what next?

I decided to visit the offices of the local newspaper in Verdun called ‘L’est Republicain’ and see if they would be interested in my story. This turned out to be a good decision as I met an English speaking journalist, Lea Boshiero, who was from Verdun but had studied in Dundee. We had a good conversation over coffee – see:http://www.estrepublicain.fr/meuse/2012/01/06/un-lord-pour-la-paix and I then set off back to the railway station.

I left Suippes and walked as far as Joncherry where I paused at yet another mass military cemetery and saw to my right black clouds heading for me with lightning flashes every couple of minutes. I did not want to get caught out in the open in a storm this strong, but there seemed to be no cafe/bar/shop in which to seek shelter. I then came across a fantastic bus shelter on Rue Jean Andre which was enclosed on all sides with a narrow doorway and even came equipped with a telephone. I waited in the dark for forty minutes as the shelter was battered but stood firm, which would have been more than I would have managed outside of the shelter.

I then set off again, but such was the torrential downpour that there were large amounts of water at the sides of the road where I was walking, and whilst most of the drives and especially truck drivers tried to avoid splashing me, there were many times when there was traffic in both directions and I got an early bath. It was interesting that although everything seemed to be going wrong this day, none of my earlier feelings of questioning the wisdom of continuing the walk returned. Having something to fight against, even if it is just the weather, seems to provide all the reason required to battle on.

The terrain between St Hilarie and Prosnes was flat and without a tree or hedgerow in sight with the road stretching out straight for about 30km. This seemed to create the perfect conditions for storms to whip up speed and intensity uninterrupted, a freedom which was taken full advantage of. I was hit three times by storms of similar intensity to that which I had sheltered from in Joncherry and this time I had nowhere to hide. When the winds were head on, I was leaning into them like a ski-jumper, albeit Eddie the Eagle, and at other times the winds would come from the north and catch my rucksack on the side causing me to almsot spin. The fact that I was walking along a fairly busy ‘A’ road facing the oncoming traffic and the cars and lorries who were battling as hard as I was to keep their vehicles on the road made for many ‘close encounters of the real kind’. Twice the gusts were so strong they blew me over, and on one occasion I landed on my slowly recovering left arm and shoulder.

As the night closed in the conditions became more dangerous and I was still five hours off Reims. I could have done with a cafe/bus shelter or similar to try and come up with a plan (b) but I just plodded on. Being an optimist, I pictured every light as a Hotel Campenile, Hotel Ibis or even better a MacDonalds, but no such luck. At about 6:30pm I saw the lights of what I presume was Reims in the distance and to my left a train passed. I connected the dots and thought that there may be a railway station soon where I could get into Reims and then return the next day to finish off the remaining 15km. At Prunay I found the station and the timetable showed that the last train to Reims was due in thirty minutes. There was a bar next to the station where I almost fell through the door causing a ‘piano stopping’ moment as the locals tried to make sense of this soaked traveller with a fluorescent jacket and a flashing red light on his head.

I smiled and gave a nice confident ‘bonsoir’ with an English accent after which people turned and continued their conversations. I ordered a hot chocolate and asked if they had anything to eat, and ‘non’ came the blunt reply. Running a little low on the old patience I looked along the bar and saw a group of big chaps tucking into a large apple pie so I walked along and pointed at the pie and looked back at the bar tender and said “mange, tart aux pommes?” The piano stopped again and the big chaps turned round as if they intended to do a bit of “pomme bashing” as the Aussies might put it. The bar tender said “non” again and continued “tarte est anniversaire” (his birthday cake). I sat in the corner and finished off my hot chocolate and then one of the men came across and offered me a slice of the pie. ‘Joyeaux anniversaire’ I declared and wolfed it down.

The train was on time and I found a reasonably priced hotel just next to the station; I was too tired to have a bath and so just fell asleep with the satisfaction that I had made the best of a bad day.