In France the 1st of May is Labour Day. My uncle left at 6am for the UK. This is a public holiday and would thwart my plans to visit the Napoleon Museum in Brienne. It does not open on a Monday or a Tuesday, so my uncle and I couldn’t visit and now, a Wednesday, it was closed too!

Napoléon had attended military school here in the town, and it is fair to say that the town are proud of their links with the sell-styled Emperor. As well as the museum, a statue of the young Napoléon graces the town hall, various businesses take his name and we even spotted a bar named Le Petit Caporal.

The previous day, we had taken a day off the Via Francigena and visited Verdun – about 90 minutes drive away. Travelling over much of the ground I had taken days to walk over, in twenty minutes was very odd indeed. However, now I was back to my usual 4.5km/h.

Accommodation has continued to prove difficult. A theme park Nigoland lies about a day’s walk from Brienne and because of this, I could get nowhere around there to lay my head. Instead, I found a place at Dienville, but a few kilometres out of Brienne and would then strike out for Bar-sur-Aube the following day.

I had a few hours to kill before I needed to get going, and had a look round the church at Brienne and also obtained a very Imperial looking stamp at the tourist office.

I rather liked the way that pictures of the 55 parishes in the deanery were displayed on the pillars in the church.

And then to start. It was warm and humid; thunderstorms were forecast later in the afternoon / evening. I felt hot and sticky walking. However much of the route was through woodland which kept the walking conditions more favourable.

Brienne is dominated by the château which gives it its name. Today it is part of a large psychiatric hospital complex. Here viewed from the woodland at the rear.

A little way on at Brienne-le-Vielle was the site of a battle fought by Napoléon in 1814. It was one of the few battles he lost on French soil (Waterloo is in Belgium!).

On the other side of the woodland, Lake Amance appeared in the distance. It is around here, on the official route, that the Via Francigena and the Camino to Santiago de Compestalla part ways. One of three large lakes, created as reservoirs, Dienville sits on one of these lakes. I was to stay in “Port Dienville.” It summoned up visions of Port Sunlight, but was more a water sports, leisure and restaurant complex than a model village for soap factory workers!

There was an artificial beach and a tempting number for restaurants. The sound of motor boats speeding around hung in the air.

Afraid of getting caught in a thunderstorm, I had arrived much earlier than the check-in in the AirBnB, so padded around exploring. (I also had a snooze on a bench!).

Eventually I was able to settle in for the night and get on with my washing and other admin. I checked and re-checked the forecast for tomorrow. It seemed to be getting worse. By the time I went to bed, among flashes and bangs of an electrical storm a few miles away, it was due to rain all day tomorrow. I drifted off to sleep feeling slightly gloomy about the day to come.

I awoke the next morning, with a more positive sense: grim determination perhaps. Rising at 6am, I bought breakfast in Dienville (above) and strode off. The latest forecast predicted no rain until 8am, so I hoped to get a few dry kilometres under my belt.

In this hope, I was successful. I had seven dry kilometres before having to don my wet weather kit. I had decided not to follow the official route today; it would weave in and out of muddy woodland, scramble up and down hillsides. I decided particularly it was wet, that it would be better to follow the D46 which kept to the valley floor of the river Aube and was very quiet.

From kilometres 8 until 24, I wore the Green Goddess. A large poncho style arrangement that comes down to my knees and covers my rucksack. I do look ridiculous in it, but I can vouch for its effectiveness. I arrived at Bar-sur-Aube remarkably dry from the knees upwards.

I had bought lunch at the bakery in the morning and sat in a disused shop to eat it. It was warm and dry and I attracted friendly comments from a number of passers-by.

The rain eased a little in the afternoon, allowing me to visit St Peter’s Church and to see the renovation work undertaken at the Collegiate Church of St Marouc. I gave thanks for surviving what I worried was going to be an awful day. As it happened, it had been rather enjoyable in a strange sort of way, and certainly a temperature I was used to!