Thursday morning dawned, fresh and bright. I awoke feeling neither fresh nor bright. Indeed, after the turbulent evening I’d had, the dawn could just jolly well wait for a bit. I pulled the covers over for another hour, before venturing out around the house.

Jaded was probably the right word to use as I walked down the Charmes high street, if it can be thus described. The advantage of lying in, I told myself, was that I could visit the Mairie for a stamp and the butchers for some pâté for a sandwich in addition to the bakery. Yet I could not shake the sense of foreboding that this walk was going to be long and I would get into Laon feeling tired and grumpy.

I have been musing much on the subject of saints and of angels as I have walked. No doubt I will share some of these pearls of wisdom with you at some point, but for now, let me just tell you about the angel of Charmes. As I passed the charcuterie (soon to open) I saw a woman walking towards me bearing a broad genuine smile and open, friendly face. She simply said “Bonjour monsieur” (and I replied accordingly), but left me feeling markedly better about my prospects for the day. I found an yet undiscovered spring in my step, and even ventured a small, but confident whistle as I continued on my way to the bakery.

You see, I’m not convinced that angels are created beings, but rather they are expressions of God’s character. We personify these character traits because it helps us understand and process the enormity of God within our limited, mortal minds. Thus, God’s desire for justice is seen as Michael, healing as Raphael etc. This woman was not a celestial being – I am pretty sure she was flesh and blood like you and me, but she briefly communicated God’s love, hope and strength. It would have been very appropriate, I mused, had her name been Gabrielle.

Anyway, I had promised not to give you a treatise on angels, so I shall move on. I naturally felt a lot better once I had breakfast secured, and following a slightly torturous interview at the Mairie, where the receptionist very carefully scrutinised my credential as if it were indeed a passport, I obtained my “cachet.” To add to the successful haul, I also purchased a most delicious looking “tranche” of rabbit pâté.

And so off on the open road. I had spotted two women who might be pilgrims on my food sweep of the village, but they must be well ahead of me by now, and not wearing my pack, they hadn’t recognised me as a pilgrim either.

I had long been aware that this leg would be challeging. The official stage is Tergnier to Laon, which is an eye watering 39.5km. I had reduced this by at least 7km by staying at Charmes and I fully intended to take some further road shortcuts to reduce it further. Therefore I took the D55 out of Charmes direct of Bertaucourt-Epourdon and then continue on this road all the way to St Nicolas-aux-Bois, thus saving at least another 5km.

As I approached Bertaucourt, I was aware of a figure, with back pack and walking sticks approaching along the ridge at right angles to the road that bore the official path. He or she was a good 700 yards in front of me, and walking at a fair pace. Despite averaging 5km/hr at this point, I was not able to catch them up before they headed right again on the official route which took them into the woodland of the Forêt de Saint-Gobain. I would, I was certain, see them again because my shortcut would put me in front of them.

For me St Nicolas heralded my entire into the woodland, which would be the principal feature of the remainder of the day’s walk. I thought of those back home at Sutton St Nicholas and my forthcoming chat with Keith for the Sutton Voices podcast. Such musings didn’t last long however, as there ensued a sustained climb out of the village and, through several hairpins, the top on the D7 St Gobain to Laon road. On the way up, was the former Abbaye de Saint-Nicolas, with its ponds and quiet beauty. Taking this photograph permitted a short breather!

And thus onto forest trails. As the route here ran along high ground the paths were free from the usual mud. The sun was out, but it remained refreshingly cold and I estimated that I was almost halfway to Laon already.

Shortly after stopping to take this photo, the other pilgrim on the route that day caught up with me. Gregorio was an Italian student who had just finished his studies and like Alexander who I had met a few days before, was walking the Via before considering what to do next. He came from Ravenna and planned to walk all the way to Rome.

We walked together for the rest of the day, lunching just outside Cessières-Suzy, and talking a lot which was glorious. He hadn’t walked with anyone for over a week, but he had walked with Alexander for several days. I was able to explain that because Alexander had missed out St Quentin, he was now a day ahead of us, but because he planned to take a rest day in Laon, Gregorio should be able to catch him up.

This is one of the wonderful things about the pilgrimage route such as this, there is a travelling community along the way. When you meet another pilgrim you ask them about routes and you ask them about other pilgrims, and messages are passed forward and back along the Via by word of mouth. And so there is not simply a connection historically with those who have trodden the same ground as you before (in some cases centuries ago), but there is a living connection along the route as well.

As we emerged out of the forest beyond Le Certeau, we caught our first site of Laon, sitting high on a plateau above us. Gregorio exclaimed that it was just like being at home – “they saw a hill and they put a city on it!”

We made our way through the suburbs and were hailed by students from the college which was disgorging teenagers to the four winds. On learning that I was English, one lad made a brave attempt at saying who he was and what his hobbies were. I half expected him to ask me which was the best way to the railway station. Yet we pressed on, Gregorio trying to arrange accommodation for the night – a task which was becoming quite pressing as it was 4.30pm. Finally as we began our ascent, he secured a place with a host family.

Now in mentioning the ascent, let me just say that the official route has chosen a rather foolish way of getting to the cathedral if you ask me. I had fully intended on taking some gentler, more oblique streets to get me towards the summit, but Gregorio was determined to follow the route and do “the steps.” I had pointed out earlier that I was 20 years his senior (a fact that he very generously made a show of disbelieving), however I did not want to curb his enthusiasm, so after the best part of 28km, we embarked on a relentless set of steps.

Very quickly I made way for Gregorio to go ahead of me, but puffing and wheezing, I did make it to the top and only convinced I was going to pass out twice!

We found our way to the cathedral, and the end of our day’s walk together. I was rather sad that I would not be able to walk with Gregorio again – I suspect his pace and drive will take him well beyond me over the next few days. But it had been a wonderful experience and we parted as friends.

I found my accommodation and headed out for an evening meal and toasted Gregorio in his absence.

As I type this I am coming towards the end of my rest day. It has rained for much of the day, but I have been able to catch up blogging, clothes washing and recorded another schools video. I also managed a walk around the cathedral and environs (although I was careful not to come down off the plateau today!). I leave you with a gallery of pictures of the cathedral and city – a beautiful place, well worth a return trip!