The French Way

[Sladen Stark]

Saint Jean Pier de Port.

Sladen had been travelling for some time on foot, having started back in Paris. The first couple of days was spent walking through suburbs and along highways, which was not as scenic and quiet as the young man had of preferred. However, after a while, the area eventually opened up to a more scenic view that he had desired. One major attraction of this route was that it was less crowded than others, perhaps because of the poor start. But by time he reached Bordeaux, he was not regretting his decision. Being one of the traditional start-points, having scallop shells pointing the way, he felt like he was stepping through history - as long as he ignored the people and the tarmac roads. That was easily done, however, as ignoring things around him was a specialty he had learnt back at school. As he passed through les Landes, however, he began to meet up with more people from Le Puy and Vézelay at Gibraltar. However, it was still worth it. The beautiful medieval route still managed to run into many old, Roman roads and had quite a few pilgrimage centres along the way if he ever felt the need to socialise with others. He had to detour at times, to avoid walking along main roads, but the little farm routes were perfect for a loner like himself. He could protect himself sufficiently, and didn't need to have someone talking his ear off.

He looked around at the cluster, rather aged buildings. He had just left the wide, open greenery for this, and he was not quite regretting it. He liked the quaint little houses with the cobbled streets and open ended woodlands. There was plenty of space, in his opinion, and so he decided to linger in the town more than he would otherwise have. While he had been on a long journey, he was not carrying as much as others. He did not like having to carry a huge backpack on his back, the blond felt he didn't need to carry too much, he just needed a few essentials and he was fine to just fly free. He was planning to cross the border soon, but perhaps he could spend a little while in this place, catch up on the sleep he had been neglecting in return for walking and admiring farmland. He had been sharing his walk with a small group of people that he had neglected to ask the names of, as he didn't care. No-one with him truly peaked his interest - maybe one, but Sladen rarely began conversations, he simply finished them.

As the group began decided what they would do, Sladen made a quick salute gesture and continued walking through the streets, not expecting to run into those people again. He pulled out his pocket watch to check the time, and nodded to himself. He was making incredible time! However, his thoughts were interrupted when he heard someone call his name. Hoping to Merlin above it wasn't someone boring, Sladen looked over his shoulder, and recognised his caller as the pretty brunette guy he had neglected to pay much attention to. Hermin? Harold? Harvey? Henri. That's it, Henri. "Er, hey," he greeted, turning around completely and giving the man a small smile. "I was just going to branch off. What's up?"
​

 

[Henri Keto]

The ancient pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela in Galicia, Spain, was a privilege to behold. The French Way, as it was so called, was the most popular of the routes of the Way of St. James. Running from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port on the French side of the Pyrenees to Roncesvalles on the Spanish side and then another 780km on to Santiago de Compostela through the major cities of Pamplona, Logroño, Burgos and Léon, it was a gruelling walk. A typical walk on the Camino Francés took at least four weeks, allowing for one or two rest days on the way. Some even travelled the Camino on bicycle or on horseback. Henri had started the pilgrimage in Vézelay himself, a place he had visited once before. He had not even intended to follow with the pilgrimage, except for the fact that he had randomly accidentally knocked a guy over and then in turn agreed to accompany his group of people for the next town. However once he got there, he had decided to continue on, finding a group of his own to continue on the pilgrimage with. The route itself was magnificent, the medieval essence floated around like stars in the sky and it was simple to tell the beginners from the veterans.

By the time Henri got to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, he started meeting up with others from one of the other two ways, namely Paris and Le Puy. Henri had also heard that there was a fourth French route originating in Arles, in Provence, and crossing the French-Spanish frontier at a different point, between the Pyrenees towns of Somport and Canfranc. Apparently the fourth route followed the Aragonese Way and joined the main Way of St. James at Puente la Reina, south of Pamplona, in Navarre, about seven hundred kilometres from Santiago de Compostela. He didn't know anyone on this route or that one, seeing as he didn't know anyone, but he had heard that the scenery in Arles was legendary. Even so, he had so far enjoyed the sights of this hike and was rather relieved that he had chosen to come this way. Walking in bigger much more sociable groups was a lot of fun and to be honest, Henri was quite the talker when he wanted to be. These little adventures served to remind him of that. He liked to have people around hims and he had a had a hard time coping with being alone. All things considered, he would have rathered dying in a humiliating way, then to have to walk the entire pilgrimage alone.

The group finally came to a way point and Henri listened as they all made decisions about what they were going to do. This was the last stop before they reached the border into Spain and continued onto Val Carlos. Though honestly, Henri was more likely to continue onto Roncesvalles, mostly because it was only small, but had an excellent rest stop and a wonderful array of wines that he wouldn't mind digging into. Noticing one of the group break off, Henri waved at the others that he was also going to continue on and followed the man, calling out his name. "Hey, Sladen!" Probably the only reason that Henri remembered the man's name was that he was very good with names and had an excellent memory, also the fact that he had such an unusual name and seemed exactly the type that would be willing to take a tumble with him. He remembered those people the best. "I thought you might like some company." He explained, catching the man up and crossing his arms. "It's a nice walk, granted, but you don't seriously prefer solitude, do you?" He had been with this guy for a number of hours now, so he knew that he actually did seem to prefer solitude, but it was worth a shot. "Don't mind if i tag along, do you?"​