Day 18- CahorsAfter a nice stay in the Convent at Vaylats we had an early start for Cahors. This is possibly our longest day so far in more ways than one. We walked 24km very pleased to arrive and rather tired as it had been warm. We visited the Cathedral where there was a procession taking place for Good Friday, we presumed it was the
Stations of the Cross, but as it was in French we were left a little uncertain and also there were no signs of any of the 14 stations on the walls or in the cloisters as we processed. Just as well we left early today for when we arrived at our refuge we found it had closed permanently. So much for having a reservation made! Well with a lot of difficulty we found an alternate place and with even further delay we eventually found a taxi that was not booked to carry us and our travelling companion (non pilgrim bag) to our destination. The taxi was already occupied as the driver was taking his wife and father out for a drive through the city of Cahors. I think he picked us up just as a favour as he knew we were having so much trouble in obtaining transport. It would seem that taxis in Cahors are called by mobile directly to the driver. All that said I think Cahors is a nice place but as we have not seen a city for over two weeks it is hard to acclimatize to the bustle and traffic Like most towns over here there is a sharp demarcation between the old and new sections. We saw our first policeman since leaving Paris! In many of the little villages crime seems remote and doors are not necessarily locked. Today we add 40 year old Daniel Bagdon, recently deceased, to our prayer list. Over the past two days the countryside has becoming drier, the vegetation more sparse like much of Spain and all the high creeks are dry. Before descending into Cahors we worked our way up through a narrow valley for 3km. As it seemed unlikely for us to make any Church Service I started to meditate on the path in front of me. You may recall the French village of a few days past where hatred and distrust were all too obvious. I had been reading John’s Gospel over the past week and noted particularly the passages where he refers to Jesus emphasizing the hatred the world would show him and his followers. I imagined this dusty rough path as the road to Calvary, lined with people showing hatred and yelling abuse as they did at Jesus, while he carried his heavy cross. The hour was similar to that journey around 2000 years ago. How would I have coped in the heat after a night of abuse with all forms of indignities thrust upon me. The 3km path was hot, and the stones hurt even through the thick soles of my walking boots. The 4kg pack (my excuse for a cross) started to feel heavy, it seemed to increase in weight with each step, how would I have coped with a cross much heavier, crudely hewn with sharp edges that dug into my shoulders? I had no people showing hatred towards me, no Roman soldiers kicking and beating me each time I fell. I didn’t need a helper to share the load of the cross with me nor did I fall but still it seemed so hard that I felt like running away from my meditation, because I knew the road to the top was long. These thoughts and many more brought a new realism to me about Good Friday. I think the Camino today gave me the most wonderful gift possible. I have always loved the hymn “Were You There when they Crucified my Lord” but I have never felt I was truly there. Today as I trudged up that hill, for the first time it was different. I found it so moving, perhaps next year others may care to try a similar meditative journey on Good Friday.
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