Having coped very well, physically, with the rigours of the pilgrimage, with a mere few blisters to show for it, I awoke on Tuesday morning feeling very rough, after a somewhat disturbed night. I am still not quite sure why; I suspect I had dehydrated a bit, and seen a bit too much of the sun on the previous afternoon, during the Mass. It had not been bright or hot, so I had not covered my head or ensured I drank lots of water. And then it may have been the addition of having a (small) beer before dinner and two (small) glasses of wine with dinner. Whatever the cause, I felt pretty dreadful and had an upset stomach to boot. What was worse was that I had also wrecked my voice by over-singing in the final miles. The reason that mattered was that I was meant to be teaching and leading the chant for our final High Mass in the crypt of Chartres Cathedral.
Fortunately James Belt and Brother Rosario were quick to learn the double Alleluia, and we all already knew the sequence. We started to learn the Introit (I have a keyboard app on my phone, which was helpful, as I couldn't sing a note to guide them) but ran out of time. For the Mass we were joined by Jamie Bogle, and between us we made a reasonable go of it (though we managed to start the Gloria at the wrong time and had to stop and wait for the Mass to catch up with us - still not quite sure how that happened).
The Mass was sung by Fr Ian Verrier, with Fr Mark Withoos as Deacon, and Fr Gerard Byrne as Sub-Deacon. Fr Withoos preached a powerful sermon on Christ as the Door. A wonderful and fitting end to the pilgrimage.
The crypt at Chartres has some claim to be the oldest Christian shrine, as it is a pre-Christian one! Apparently the Druids had had a revelation and had inscribed an altar with the words virgini pariturae: the virgin who will conceive.... This is one of the wonders of Chartres, and we were very blessed to have a Mass there. (Amongst the other great treasures of the Cathedral are Our Lady's veil and the statue of the Black Madonna, both of which we had time to visit. ) We concluded the Mass, of course, with the Regina Caeli and the great French Marian Hymn, Chez Nous.
After Mass, we were privileged to receive First Blessings from Fr Ian Verrier, one of our chaplains, who was ordained in the FSSP just under a year ago.
Then, it was back on the coach, and back to London, via a train that runs under the sea (What will they think of next?). I have to confess that I slept for a lot of the journey, after my rather restless night; but that did mean I was able to bowl up at my London friends' house in a fit state to be a reasonable guest for the night...
And so ended my eighth (I think) Chartres pilgrimage.
The true highlights, of course, I have not, and cannot, describe: my confession; the reception of Our Lord in Holy Communion; some of the reflections arising from the meditations; some of the conversations with fellow pilgrims. For these, gentle reader, you will have to come to Chartres yourself.
Showing posts with label walking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label walking. Show all posts
Friday, 20 May 2016
Thursday, 19 May 2016
Chartres 2016 (3)
I realise that I left out a couple of important moments on Pentecost. After the Mass we marched on, of course, and eventually ascended a hill, covered in barley fields and some light woodland, until, as we rounded a corner, we got our first glimpse on the horizon of the twin, but asymetric, spires of Chartres Cathedral. That is always a moment of special joy, and we always greet it with the Regina Caeli.
And it was not long after that I noticed what the increasingly boisterous chapter of French girl guides were singing: an old French marching song that I had first heard on the train back to Paris last year. The chorus runs as follows:
This was sung with such gusto that I was pretty sure that it was being sung in our direction. But this year we ignored it, and pressed on for the campsite at Gas.
On Monday morning we always get a lie-in. It was 5.30 before they woke us up... It was also slightly less cold than it had been the previous morning: no ice on the tents, though still pretty fresh. And the same routine: breakfast, tents packed, luggage onto the lorry... No! Jerk awake. Luggage goes onto our coach, for those staying in the hotel in Chartres. Those unfortunates who forget this have to trek down to the yard the other side of the station, and lug their luggage back up the hill to the hotel at the end of the day.
And then we march. But the end is in site, and today's march is a mere seventeen and a half miles: hardly worth putting your boots on...
By the lunch stop we are getting positively light-headed, as we realise how close we are to Chartres. And then we are singing one last rosary as we enter the city and wend our way through the outskirts. As we ascend the hill we always sing a quick Requiem aeternam at the war memorial, before launching into some serious singing of Jubilate Deo as a canon, which will take us right up to the Cathedral, until we are drowned out by its tolling bells.
This year, as the Cathedral is still full of scaffolding, as they work on the magnificent restoration project, fewer chapters than usual could fit inside. As we were well down the order of march, we were right at the back of the square outside, so could barely even see the screen. However, we got a fantastic view of the procession entering and leaving, including seeing St Joan of Arc's ring proudly carried by, which has only recently returned to France, after being bought at an auction from its previous English owner.
And then scores of clergy, many very young, and of course the banners of all the chapters; and then a couple of bishops... And then the High Mass, the culmination of the pilgrimage. And once again, with all the nationalities filling the square, the eminent good sense, and simple Catholicity of having Latin as a common language was apparent.
After Mass, we gathered for the traditional photo, having already said goodbye, unfortunately, to those who had to rush off for trains in order to get back to England that night.
Then it was back to our hotel for a celebratory dinner and a glass or two of wine, before retiring to bed - bed, I tell you! For the first time since Friday night!
And just before retiring, I looked at the data captured on my iPhone:
And it was not long after that I noticed what the increasingly boisterous chapter of French girl guides were singing: an old French marching song that I had first heard on the train back to Paris last year. The chorus runs as follows:
Buvons un coup, buvons en deux
A la santé des amoureux
A la santé du roi de France
Et merde pour le roi d'Angleterre
Qui nous a déclaré la guerre!
This was sung with such gusto that I was pretty sure that it was being sung in our direction. But this year we ignored it, and pressed on for the campsite at Gas.
On Monday morning we always get a lie-in. It was 5.30 before they woke us up... It was also slightly less cold than it had been the previous morning: no ice on the tents, though still pretty fresh. And the same routine: breakfast, tents packed, luggage onto the lorry... No! Jerk awake. Luggage goes onto our coach, for those staying in the hotel in Chartres. Those unfortunates who forget this have to trek down to the yard the other side of the station, and lug their luggage back up the hill to the hotel at the end of the day.
And then we march. But the end is in site, and today's march is a mere seventeen and a half miles: hardly worth putting your boots on...
By the lunch stop we are getting positively light-headed, as we realise how close we are to Chartres. And then we are singing one last rosary as we enter the city and wend our way through the outskirts. As we ascend the hill we always sing a quick Requiem aeternam at the war memorial, before launching into some serious singing of Jubilate Deo as a canon, which will take us right up to the Cathedral, until we are drowned out by its tolling bells.
This year, as the Cathedral is still full of scaffolding, as they work on the magnificent restoration project, fewer chapters than usual could fit inside. As we were well down the order of march, we were right at the back of the square outside, so could barely even see the screen. However, we got a fantastic view of the procession entering and leaving, including seeing St Joan of Arc's ring proudly carried by, which has only recently returned to France, after being bought at an auction from its previous English owner.
And then scores of clergy, many very young, and of course the banners of all the chapters; and then a couple of bishops... And then the High Mass, the culmination of the pilgrimage. And once again, with all the nationalities filling the square, the eminent good sense, and simple Catholicity of having Latin as a common language was apparent.
After Mass, we gathered for the traditional photo, having already said goodbye, unfortunately, to those who had to rush off for trains in order to get back to England that night.
Then it was back to our hotel for a celebratory dinner and a glass or two of wine, before retiring to bed - bed, I tell you! For the first time since Friday night!
And just before retiring, I looked at the data captured on my iPhone:
Chartres 2016 (2)
It is often cold over night, camping on the pilgrimage, and given that the day had been relatively mild, I put on extra layers before crawling into my sleeping bag. Nonetheless, I awoke in the small hours feeling very cold, and struggled to get back to sleep. For once, I was grateful when it was time to get up (at 5.00) and that cheery French voice that we know and love of old resounded throughout the campsite via the formidable PA System: ‘Bonjour, chèrs amis pèlerins, il est cinq heures, et il est l'heure de se réveiller.' Within minutes, he is chivvying us further. “Chèrs pèlerins, il est l'heure de sortir de vos tentes pour les démonter.’ And only seconds after that: “Je vois qu’il y a toujours des tentes qui ne sont pas démontées!' And all too quickly: "Les premiers chapitres départent en quelques minutes!"
Despite having been so cold, we were surprised to find that there had been such a heavy frost that some of our tents had ice on them! Packing wet tents with frozen fingers is not a lot of fun, but it did make us appreciate the hot coffee (or hot chocolate à choix) provided for breakfast, along with the ubiquitous bread rolls.
We were some way down the marching order, so had plenty of time to get our luggage to the legendary camion sac (étranger), before raising our flags, gathering the chapter together and starting out again.
We started the day, as usual, with a morning offering, and then, it being Pentecost, sang the Veni Creator Spiritus. And then on with the same routine: marching, rosaries, meditations, songs sacred and secular, chat...
Perhaps it is worth reflecting a little on the role of the Chef de Chapitre. Nobody has ever given me a job description, but Julie Carey, (who along with her husband Francis organises the whole thing every year) let slip that they had identified me as a future Chef on hearing me sing Green Grow the Rushes-oh with great vim one year... So I conclude that one aspect of the role is to keep the chapter singing, at least intermittently. And it is certainly important: clearly singing fifteen decades of the rosary every day is at the heart of the spirituality of the pilgrimage; but also the hymns and songs are very helpful in keeping weary feet marching.
At the end of the first day, there is a long and steep hill: when one has been marching for nine hours or more, and covered some 23 miles, it is easy to find the heart sinking a little at the sight, and for limbs to feel heavy, and the whole thing to slow down. But we sang our way up the hill with gusto, and although it was long and steep (and of course, singing requires more oxygen) that really does help.
So motivating the chapter to keep going is a key role. Not least because we are, of course, required to march to someone else's pace. That is one of the things that is not immediately obvious, but actually makes it tough. There are times when the pilgrimage proceeds very slowly, with lots of stops and starts, when we have to cross roads etc. And then there are times when we are walking at a fast pace, normally to make up time when we are behind schedule. Our job is to maintain a constant distance between ourselves and the chapter in front: close enough to stay in touch, but not so close we are breathing down their necks.
That gap also allows the priests to walk between the chapters and hear confessions. But of course it gets more difficult when people in the preceding chapter start to straggle behind. We maintain the distance, they drop further and further behind their chapter, and suddenly their is too large a gap: we have to overtake them and catch up. And so on.
Allied to that is the maintenance of a modicum of discipline: keeping the group together, and not allowing our chapter to spread out too far, to the inconvenience of following chapters.
Then there is the aspect of looking after people as they walk: particularly keeping an eye out for anyone struggling; but also for anyone who is alone, especially new pilgrims, and trying to make sure that they are integrated into the group.
And then there is balancing the activities as we walk: trying to have the right amount of praying, meditating, singing, chatting and so on, so that people feel that they are busy with purposeful spiritual activity, but also have sufficient unstructured time for chat, or private prayer and reflection.
As always with me, I am very much better at the theory than the practice of this art...
The highlight of this second day, of course, is the big Pentecost Mass, celebrated in the open air on a magnificently constructed altar. We were a long way back from the altar, but there was also a large screen and a good PA system, so that we could see and hear everything. Also, one of our pilgrims, Mordi, kindly does a simultaneous translation of the sermon for us, so that we can follow that (the rest of the Mass is in Latin, of course, so following it is easy).
The Consecration is always an important moment, of course; and at this Mass is marked by the banners to the sides of the altars bowing, as well as the bells ringing; for some reason I always find that a moving spectacle.
Distribution of communion to so large a gathering (I think between 8,000 - 10,000 this year) could be problematic; but not so. Large numbers of priests, each accompanied by a server carrying an communion plate, and another carrying a large umbrella as an ombrellino, distribute communion to the pilgrims, who kneel in the dust and receive reverently on the tongue. It can be done, where there's a will...
And after Mass, we had a lunch break, and then three more marches to the campsite; on this second day we had covered 27 miles, but again the mild weather had made it very much less arduous than in some previous years. We arrived singing loudly, as before, and then collected luggage, pitched tents and had some soup for supper.
The campsite is in an old quarry at Gas. Here there is another altar, and adoration continues throughout the night (indeed I was awoken at 4.00 am by the Tantum Ergo, followed by the Divine Praises in French...). But for myself, I just made a quick visit to the Blessed Sacrament before retiring for the night: I find that sleep is very important (if possible) if I am to maintain that cheerful demeanour and high energy level that seems a requirement of the Chef de Chapitre role. It was another cold night, but not quite as cold as the previous one; and until the early morning Benediction, I slept well.
Despite having been so cold, we were surprised to find that there had been such a heavy frost that some of our tents had ice on them! Packing wet tents with frozen fingers is not a lot of fun, but it did make us appreciate the hot coffee (or hot chocolate à choix) provided for breakfast, along with the ubiquitous bread rolls.
We were some way down the marching order, so had plenty of time to get our luggage to the legendary camion sac (étranger), before raising our flags, gathering the chapter together and starting out again.
We started the day, as usual, with a morning offering, and then, it being Pentecost, sang the Veni Creator Spiritus. And then on with the same routine: marching, rosaries, meditations, songs sacred and secular, chat...
Perhaps it is worth reflecting a little on the role of the Chef de Chapitre. Nobody has ever given me a job description, but Julie Carey, (who along with her husband Francis organises the whole thing every year) let slip that they had identified me as a future Chef on hearing me sing Green Grow the Rushes-oh with great vim one year... So I conclude that one aspect of the role is to keep the chapter singing, at least intermittently. And it is certainly important: clearly singing fifteen decades of the rosary every day is at the heart of the spirituality of the pilgrimage; but also the hymns and songs are very helpful in keeping weary feet marching.
At the end of the first day, there is a long and steep hill: when one has been marching for nine hours or more, and covered some 23 miles, it is easy to find the heart sinking a little at the sight, and for limbs to feel heavy, and the whole thing to slow down. But we sang our way up the hill with gusto, and although it was long and steep (and of course, singing requires more oxygen) that really does help.
So motivating the chapter to keep going is a key role. Not least because we are, of course, required to march to someone else's pace. That is one of the things that is not immediately obvious, but actually makes it tough. There are times when the pilgrimage proceeds very slowly, with lots of stops and starts, when we have to cross roads etc. And then there are times when we are walking at a fast pace, normally to make up time when we are behind schedule. Our job is to maintain a constant distance between ourselves and the chapter in front: close enough to stay in touch, but not so close we are breathing down their necks.
That gap also allows the priests to walk between the chapters and hear confessions. But of course it gets more difficult when people in the preceding chapter start to straggle behind. We maintain the distance, they drop further and further behind their chapter, and suddenly their is too large a gap: we have to overtake them and catch up. And so on.
Allied to that is the maintenance of a modicum of discipline: keeping the group together, and not allowing our chapter to spread out too far, to the inconvenience of following chapters.
Then there is the aspect of looking after people as they walk: particularly keeping an eye out for anyone struggling; but also for anyone who is alone, especially new pilgrims, and trying to make sure that they are integrated into the group.
And then there is balancing the activities as we walk: trying to have the right amount of praying, meditating, singing, chatting and so on, so that people feel that they are busy with purposeful spiritual activity, but also have sufficient unstructured time for chat, or private prayer and reflection.
As always with me, I am very much better at the theory than the practice of this art...
The highlight of this second day, of course, is the big Pentecost Mass, celebrated in the open air on a magnificently constructed altar. We were a long way back from the altar, but there was also a large screen and a good PA system, so that we could see and hear everything. Also, one of our pilgrims, Mordi, kindly does a simultaneous translation of the sermon for us, so that we can follow that (the rest of the Mass is in Latin, of course, so following it is easy).
The Consecration is always an important moment, of course; and at this Mass is marked by the banners to the sides of the altars bowing, as well as the bells ringing; for some reason I always find that a moving spectacle.
Distribution of communion to so large a gathering (I think between 8,000 - 10,000 this year) could be problematic; but not so. Large numbers of priests, each accompanied by a server carrying an communion plate, and another carrying a large umbrella as an ombrellino, distribute communion to the pilgrims, who kneel in the dust and receive reverently on the tongue. It can be done, where there's a will...
And after Mass, we had a lunch break, and then three more marches to the campsite; on this second day we had covered 27 miles, but again the mild weather had made it very much less arduous than in some previous years. We arrived singing loudly, as before, and then collected luggage, pitched tents and had some soup for supper.
The campsite is in an old quarry at Gas. Here there is another altar, and adoration continues throughout the night (indeed I was awoken at 4.00 am by the Tantum Ergo, followed by the Divine Praises in French...). But for myself, I just made a quick visit to the Blessed Sacrament before retiring for the night: I find that sleep is very important (if possible) if I am to maintain that cheerful demeanour and high energy level that seems a requirement of the Chef de Chapitre role. It was another cold night, but not quite as cold as the previous one; and until the early morning Benediction, I slept well.
Wednesday, 18 May 2016
Chartres 2016 (1)
So, another year, another pilgrimage to Chartres...
I have written about this so many times in previous years, that it is hard to know what to say without repeating myself endlessly (see the tag Chartres for previous accounts).
One difference this year was that I went alone; none of the children were free to come with me, for various reasons. So I travelled down to London alone the night before, and arrived very late, due to an incident on the line, and stopped at a B&B in Victoria.
We start the pilgrimage with Mass at 7.00 am in the Cathedral Crypt, which was surprisingly empty at 7.00 am. I wondered if I had got it wrong, but Fr George Roth was there to say the Mass - it was only the congregation who were lacking. They all piled in a minute or two later as Mass was starting: I never did find out why.
The Mass, of course, was in the traditional Roman Rite (the Extraordinary Form, as we now call it), and was very prayerful. The other priests on the pilgrimage also said their Masses at the same time in other chapels in the crypt. (This was the only photo I took on the whole trip. Those wanting pictures should look at the LMS Facebook page, or the official pilgrimage site.)
Then we all got on the coach, and it was off to Dover to catch the ferry. Avid readers will remember that a couple of years ago, my eldest daughter had left her passport behind. This year, it was one of the Readings who could not find his passport, so cancelled - he clearly hadn't heard how we had smuggled Ant over the border... Rumour has it that Fr Roth did not have his passport with him, either, but we pass lightly over that.
The ferry crossing was pleasant enough, with fish and chips for lunch (it being Friday) and we got to our hotel outside Paris without further ado, with a few hymns and a rosary or two. There we went to an Italian restaurant just around the corner (why, I don't know: go to Paris and eat pizzas....) but it was pleasant enough, and the company convivial.
The next morning we started the tougher part of the pilgrimage: up at the time my children normally go to bed, so as to have breakfast at 5.00, get on the coach by 5.30 and get to Notre Dame for 6.00 am. There we met the indefatigable and inimitable Fr Mark Withoos, the chaplain of our chapter, who had flown in from Rome (he is Cardinal Pell's private secretary, and had been granted an exeat on condition that he didn't wreck himself as he did last time he came...)
Then we had High Mass in the Cathedral, which is always a wonderful and moving celebration, and finally set off on the long march out of Paris; onto the rive gauche, past the Luxembourg gardens, and out through the suburbs. This first march is one of the longest, and often one of the toughest: two and a half hours of city walking, until we get to the park in the suburb of Plessis-Robinson, some 6 1/2 miles from Notre Dame. The apples we are always treated to at this park are provided by the local municipality as a gesture of welcome. The official website for the pilgrimage carries a wonderful sentence in English (almost) on this subject:
The English were marching in two chapters, one under the banner of Our Lady of Walsingham (until the banner pole snapped) and the other, the youth chapter of which I am titular Chef de Chapitre, under the patronage (but not banner, as it too had broken) of St Alban.
This year the weather was very kind to us; pleasantly mild, which was perfect walking weather. The rest of the day followed the same pattern: march for ages, rest for minutes, march for more ages... until we got to the campsite at Choisel, somewhere around 8 o'clock. By this time we have been up for about 16 hours, and marching for 10 of them, covering a fraction less than 25 miles. So we always make a point of singing lustily as we arrive, to show that we Brits are nothing daunted by such a trivial stroll. This year was no exception, and we made a decent noise as we arrived.
Then bags were retrieved (they travel by lorry, mercifully), tents pitched, soup and rolls eaten, and the sensible ones among us retired for the night as soon as possible, putting in our earplugs, against the carousing of the French Scouts...
I have written about this so many times in previous years, that it is hard to know what to say without repeating myself endlessly (see the tag Chartres for previous accounts).
One difference this year was that I went alone; none of the children were free to come with me, for various reasons. So I travelled down to London alone the night before, and arrived very late, due to an incident on the line, and stopped at a B&B in Victoria.
We start the pilgrimage with Mass at 7.00 am in the Cathedral Crypt, which was surprisingly empty at 7.00 am. I wondered if I had got it wrong, but Fr George Roth was there to say the Mass - it was only the congregation who were lacking. They all piled in a minute or two later as Mass was starting: I never did find out why.The Mass, of course, was in the traditional Roman Rite (the Extraordinary Form, as we now call it), and was very prayerful. The other priests on the pilgrimage also said their Masses at the same time in other chapels in the crypt. (This was the only photo I took on the whole trip. Those wanting pictures should look at the LMS Facebook page, or the official pilgrimage site.)
Then we all got on the coach, and it was off to Dover to catch the ferry. Avid readers will remember that a couple of years ago, my eldest daughter had left her passport behind. This year, it was one of the Readings who could not find his passport, so cancelled - he clearly hadn't heard how we had smuggled Ant over the border... Rumour has it that Fr Roth did not have his passport with him, either, but we pass lightly over that.
The ferry crossing was pleasant enough, with fish and chips for lunch (it being Friday) and we got to our hotel outside Paris without further ado, with a few hymns and a rosary or two. There we went to an Italian restaurant just around the corner (why, I don't know: go to Paris and eat pizzas....) but it was pleasant enough, and the company convivial.
The next morning we started the tougher part of the pilgrimage: up at the time my children normally go to bed, so as to have breakfast at 5.00, get on the coach by 5.30 and get to Notre Dame for 6.00 am. There we met the indefatigable and inimitable Fr Mark Withoos, the chaplain of our chapter, who had flown in from Rome (he is Cardinal Pell's private secretary, and had been granted an exeat on condition that he didn't wreck himself as he did last time he came...)
Then we had High Mass in the Cathedral, which is always a wonderful and moving celebration, and finally set off on the long march out of Paris; onto the rive gauche, past the Luxembourg gardens, and out through the suburbs. This first march is one of the longest, and often one of the toughest: two and a half hours of city walking, until we get to the park in the suburb of Plessis-Robinson, some 6 1/2 miles from Notre Dame. The apples we are always treated to at this park are provided by the local municipality as a gesture of welcome. The official website for the pilgrimage carries a wonderful sentence in English (almost) on this subject:
An apple a day keep the pelgrin alive !During the marches, we sang hymns (Faith of our Fathers, to start with, and then a variety of others) said prayers (starting, as each day, with a morning offering) and sang the rosary (in decades variously in Latin, French and English). We also have a meditation, normally read by one of the priests marching with us (as well as Fr Withoos, we were looked after by Fr Roth and Fr Verier, who was ordained almost a year ago into the FSSP). We also have plenty of time to chat amongst ourselves, and this Catholic conviviality is an important part of the pilgrimage. Indeed, a few marriages have resulted, over the years...
The English were marching in two chapters, one under the banner of Our Lady of Walsingham (until the banner pole snapped) and the other, the youth chapter of which I am titular Chef de Chapitre, under the patronage (but not banner, as it too had broken) of St Alban.
This year the weather was very kind to us; pleasantly mild, which was perfect walking weather. The rest of the day followed the same pattern: march for ages, rest for minutes, march for more ages... until we got to the campsite at Choisel, somewhere around 8 o'clock. By this time we have been up for about 16 hours, and marching for 10 of them, covering a fraction less than 25 miles. So we always make a point of singing lustily as we arrive, to show that we Brits are nothing daunted by such a trivial stroll. This year was no exception, and we made a decent noise as we arrived.
Friday, 22 May 2015
Off to Chartres
We leave for Paris today, and tomorrow start the great pilgrimage to Chartres. For more details on this (ie my accounts and reflections from previous years) click on the Chartres tag.
In outline, our timetable is this:
Saturday, Pentecost Eve
4.30 Rise
5.00 Breakfast
7.00 Mass in Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris
thereafter
March 1: 2hrs 45 mins
Rest: 15 mins
March 2: 1hr 30 mins
Lunch: 1 hr
March 3: 2hrs 40 mins
Rest: 15 mins
March 4: 1 hr 10 mins
Rest: 15 mins
March 5: 1 hr 30 mins
Arrive at campsite (c. 8 pm)
Pentecost is similar, but with Pentecost Mass at noon, and 6 marches (but abut the same number of hours walking).
Whit Monday is easier: 3 marches (totalling a mere five and a half hours walking) and Mass in Notre Dame Cathedral, Chartres, at 3.00 pm.
I will pray for all readers of this blog: and ask that they all pray for me.
Notre Dame de Paris: Priez pour nous;
Notre Dame de Chartres: Priez pour nous.
In outline, our timetable is this:
Saturday, Pentecost Eve
4.30 Rise
5.00 Breakfast
7.00 Mass in Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris
thereafter
March 1: 2hrs 45 mins
Rest: 15 mins
March 2: 1hr 30 mins
Lunch: 1 hr
March 3: 2hrs 40 mins
Rest: 15 mins
March 4: 1 hr 10 mins
Rest: 15 mins
March 5: 1 hr 30 mins
Arrive at campsite (c. 8 pm)
Pentecost is similar, but with Pentecost Mass at noon, and 6 marches (but abut the same number of hours walking).
Whit Monday is easier: 3 marches (totalling a mere five and a half hours walking) and Mass in Notre Dame Cathedral, Chartres, at 3.00 pm.
I will pray for all readers of this blog: and ask that they all pray for me.
Notre Dame de Paris: Priez pour nous;
Notre Dame de Chartres: Priez pour nous.
Sunday, 16 March 2014
First dip of the year...
After Mass today, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the dog was desperate for a walk.
So we went down the bridle path to the river.
That took us past the field where the first lambs in the village are. There mother is still very cautious with them, and walked them away as she saw us coming down the path. So they are very tiny in the photo (but then they are very tiny in real life).
Which reminds me of a story about Picasso. Apparently someone criticised one of his paintings: 'Why do you not paint things they way they really look?' 'I honestly don't understand what you mean,' he replied. The critic pulled out his wallet and produced a photo of his wife: 'Look, like this: that's what my wife really looks like!' Picasso looked at the small square of photographic paper with an image on it. 'She is very small, isn't she. And very flat!'
But I digress.
So we wandered on, down to the river and Goldie retrieved a few sticks and fished a few stones from the bottom, as is her wont.
Then Ant and Bernie went for the first dip of the season. They assure me it was very cold, and I have no reason to doubt them. But as a spectator sport, I highly recommend it.
So we went down the bridle path to the river.
That took us past the field where the first lambs in the village are. There mother is still very cautious with them, and walked them away as she saw us coming down the path. So they are very tiny in the photo (but then they are very tiny in real life).Which reminds me of a story about Picasso. Apparently someone criticised one of his paintings: 'Why do you not paint things they way they really look?' 'I honestly don't understand what you mean,' he replied. The critic pulled out his wallet and produced a photo of his wife: 'Look, like this: that's what my wife really looks like!' Picasso looked at the small square of photographic paper with an image on it. 'She is very small, isn't she. And very flat!'
But I digress.
So we wandered on, down to the river and Goldie retrieved a few sticks and fished a few stones from the bottom, as is her wont.Then Ant and Bernie went for the first dip of the season. They assure me it was very cold, and I have no reason to doubt them. But as a spectator sport, I highly recommend it.
Sunday, 16 February 2014
A Family Picnic
So the sun was shining in between the snow showers, and therefore it was deemed a good day for a family picnic.
We were right; by the time the sausage rolls and pasties were warmed in the oven, the flasks filled variously with coffee and hot chocolate, the crisps, apples and bananas assembled, and the water bottles filled, the snow showers had stopped.
So we drove into the hills, and walked. The first part is along a long glacial valley, with a misfit stream, some murrain, and frequently (as today) some red deer. We were walking south, into the sun.
Following that is a long ascent up a cleft between two fells to a high mountain pass, or Hause.
We stopped at the Hause for our picnic, to recover our breath from the first serious uphill pull of the day, and admire the magnificence of the view.
Then we shouldered our packs again, and turned to the north west, for the second (and final) serious ascent of the walk. It was steep, but worth it for the superb panorama at the top. (I think the kids manage to do clever things with their phones to take 360 photos, but my technical skills are those of a middle aged dad…)
Once over the top, we were on north facing slopes for the descent, which meant the snow was still drifting thickly for the first half mile or so.
Then we dropped below the snow line, with the sun still on our backs, and into the valley to recover the car.
We were right; by the time the sausage rolls and pasties were warmed in the oven, the flasks filled variously with coffee and hot chocolate, the crisps, apples and bananas assembled, and the water bottles filled, the snow showers had stopped.
 |
| Looking back down the valley where we passed the deer |
So we drove into the hills, and walked. The first part is along a long glacial valley, with a misfit stream, some murrain, and frequently (as today) some red deer. We were walking south, into the sun.
Following that is a long ascent up a cleft between two fells to a high mountain pass, or Hause.
 |
| The view at the Hause |
We stopped at the Hause for our picnic, to recover our breath from the first serious uphill pull of the day, and admire the magnificence of the view.
Then we shouldered our packs again, and turned to the north west, for the second (and final) serious ascent of the walk. It was steep, but worth it for the superb panorama at the top. (I think the kids manage to do clever things with their phones to take 360 photos, but my technical skills are those of a middle aged dad…)
 |
| The second ascent... |
Once over the top, we were on north facing slopes for the descent, which meant the snow was still drifting thickly for the first half mile or so.
 |
| Descending from the final summit |
Then we dropped below the snow line, with the sun still on our backs, and into the valley to recover the car.
 |
| Anna admiring the Misty Mountains |
Tuesday, 28 January 2014
Oh, and just a couple more things...
One of the things I forgot to mention in yesterday's post about the Chartres pilgrimage, is that now is also the time to start getting in shape for it.
If you are super-fit, like me, and run up the fells with your dog every morning before breakfast, this may be less of an issue.
But if not, it is worth serious thought. The pilgrimage is not unmanageable: indeed young children (who tend to be quite fit) do it readily. But many adults, used to a more sedentary life, do struggle. We walk serious distances (albeit over very easy countryside) over the first two days: about 50 miles. It can also be very hot.
So it is worth getting a bit of walking in now, on a regular basis, and also getting your boots broken in. Whilst it is kind to the Order of Malta volunteers to make them feel useful, they do have a very busy few days treating blisters.
The other aspect, of course, is the spiritual preparation: you can start collecting prayer intentions, maybe make a novena or two; also, get others praying for you on the pilgrimage.
Notre-Dame de la Sainte-Espérance, convertissez-nous.
If you are super-fit, like me, and run up the fells with your dog every morning before breakfast, this may be less of an issue.
But if not, it is worth serious thought. The pilgrimage is not unmanageable: indeed young children (who tend to be quite fit) do it readily. But many adults, used to a more sedentary life, do struggle. We walk serious distances (albeit over very easy countryside) over the first two days: about 50 miles. It can also be very hot.
So it is worth getting a bit of walking in now, on a regular basis, and also getting your boots broken in. Whilst it is kind to the Order of Malta volunteers to make them feel useful, they do have a very busy few days treating blisters.
The other aspect, of course, is the spiritual preparation: you can start collecting prayer intentions, maybe make a novena or two; also, get others praying for you on the pilgrimage.
Notre-Dame de la Sainte-Espérance, convertissez-nous.
Monday, 27 January 2014
Go on, you know you want to...
It is that time of year when you have to start your planning, if you want to go on the Chartres Pilgrimage.
Yes, of course you want to: to read my gripping account of the last time I went, try here here here, here and here. How could you resist?
The pilgrimage always takes place over Pentecost weekend. This year that means leaving London on Friday 6th June, walking on Saturday, Sunday and Monday (7th, 8th and 9th) and returning to London on Tuesday 10th June. That's why you need to start planning now: book those dates in your diary, find baby-sitters, pet-sitters, book time off work, and so on.
It is a truly wonderful experience - and you will have the added bonus of meeting me in the flesh. What further inducement do you need?
Yes, of course you want to: to read my gripping account of the last time I went, try here here here, here and here. How could you resist?
The pilgrimage always takes place over Pentecost weekend. This year that means leaving London on Friday 6th June, walking on Saturday, Sunday and Monday (7th, 8th and 9th) and returning to London on Tuesday 10th June. That's why you need to start planning now: book those dates in your diary, find baby-sitters, pet-sitters, book time off work, and so on.
It is a truly wonderful experience - and you will have the added bonus of meeting me in the flesh. What further inducement do you need?
Wednesday, 1 January 2014
Ring in the New
We had a great evening, to see out the Old Year and welcome the New.
We were one down, as Bernie is in London with her boyfriend, and was watching the fireworks on the South Bank.
We were also one family down, as the friends who have joined us for New Year's Eve for many years had other commitments (a better offer) elsewhere.
So we decided we would simply have to have a good time on our own, and we managed it. After a few games around the stove, we climbed a local fell. Ant had a rucksack full of kindling and wood, along with hot chocolate and coffee.
We noticed others planning to ascend, so thought we would settle just below the summit; but that proved impossible: the wind was very strong and rain and sleet were coming down. So we ascended to the top, where there is a large stone obelisk, which provided a measure of shelter.
There we were joined by a couple from a village further up the valley, with their youngest boy, who enjoyed watching us trying to get a fire lit. Eventually, by getting the whole family (minus Bernie) lying in a circle to form some sort of wind break, and by dint of striking matches in large bundles, we managed to get a flame to take hold. And then the fire really got going. The wind gusted it into strong flames and it produced real warmth.
So we treated our new friends to a few Scottish ballads (mixed in with the odd Tom Lehrer, Don Mclean etc song). Suddenly midnight was upon us, and as we sang Auld Lang Syne, all the hotels around the lake we were looking down on let off their fireworks. It was a magnificent site, seen from above. Goldie did not enjoy it, but she is quite a patient dog.
Then our new friends revealed they too had some fireworks: they had thought they would struggle to light them in the wind and rain, but by using a glowing stick from our fire, were able to do so; so doubtless all the hotel partygoers enjoyed the sight of fire and fireworks on the mountain too.
It was very wet and windy, and quite cold, so we didn't hang around too long. But the descent was hilarious. There is a broad grassy trod for a lot of the way, pretty steep. The rain had converted this into a very hazardous descent, and I went down a long way, inadvertently, on my back, to the children's delight. In fairness, they did little better, and only Mrs T reached the bottom with her dignity intact and her overtrousers unmuddied.
And so home - where Charlie played the piano, and we all sang along. He was flicking through various song books, starting stuff at random stopping when he got bored, and then playing other things from memory which he preferred. My favourite was A Farewell to Stromness, some of which he remembered correctly…
So it was two before we headed off to bed - and for some strange reason the kids aren't up yet, though it has just gone eleven o'clock.
Happy New Year and a Happy Feast Day to all my readers.
We were one down, as Bernie is in London with her boyfriend, and was watching the fireworks on the South Bank.
We were also one family down, as the friends who have joined us for New Year's Eve for many years had other commitments (a better offer) elsewhere.
So we decided we would simply have to have a good time on our own, and we managed it. After a few games around the stove, we climbed a local fell. Ant had a rucksack full of kindling and wood, along with hot chocolate and coffee.
We noticed others planning to ascend, so thought we would settle just below the summit; but that proved impossible: the wind was very strong and rain and sleet were coming down. So we ascended to the top, where there is a large stone obelisk, which provided a measure of shelter.
There we were joined by a couple from a village further up the valley, with their youngest boy, who enjoyed watching us trying to get a fire lit. Eventually, by getting the whole family (minus Bernie) lying in a circle to form some sort of wind break, and by dint of striking matches in large bundles, we managed to get a flame to take hold. And then the fire really got going. The wind gusted it into strong flames and it produced real warmth.
So we treated our new friends to a few Scottish ballads (mixed in with the odd Tom Lehrer, Don Mclean etc song). Suddenly midnight was upon us, and as we sang Auld Lang Syne, all the hotels around the lake we were looking down on let off their fireworks. It was a magnificent site, seen from above. Goldie did not enjoy it, but she is quite a patient dog.
Then our new friends revealed they too had some fireworks: they had thought they would struggle to light them in the wind and rain, but by using a glowing stick from our fire, were able to do so; so doubtless all the hotel partygoers enjoyed the sight of fire and fireworks on the mountain too.
It was very wet and windy, and quite cold, so we didn't hang around too long. But the descent was hilarious. There is a broad grassy trod for a lot of the way, pretty steep. The rain had converted this into a very hazardous descent, and I went down a long way, inadvertently, on my back, to the children's delight. In fairness, they did little better, and only Mrs T reached the bottom with her dignity intact and her overtrousers unmuddied.
And so home - where Charlie played the piano, and we all sang along. He was flicking through various song books, starting stuff at random stopping when he got bored, and then playing other things from memory which he preferred. My favourite was A Farewell to Stromness, some of which he remembered correctly…
So it was two before we headed off to bed - and for some strange reason the kids aren't up yet, though it has just gone eleven o'clock.
Happy New Year and a Happy Feast Day to all my readers.
Saturday, 2 June 2012
Chartres 2012 - Part 3
5.00 am on Pentecost morning, and I am awoken by heavenly music. As I come to, I remember where I am, and realise the music is Handel, being played over the campsite PA to wake us gently.
But they soon give up on that: ‘Bonjour, chèrs amis pèlerins, il est cinq heures, et il est l'heure de se réveiller,’ blares out an unreasonably cheery French voice. Within minutes, he is chivvying us further. “Chèrs pèlerins, il est l'heure de sortir de vos tentes pour les démonter.’ And only seconds after that: “Je vois qu’il y a toujours des tentes qui ne sont pas démontées!’
And so another day begins.
I woke the girls who had managed to sleep through all of that, and was pleased to learn that Ant was fully recovered. In sluggish fashion, we dressed, got some hot chocolate and bread for breakfast from the indefatigable kitchen teams, and packed the tent away.
Then we lugged our baggage and tent over to the Etrangers lorry, and found the rest of our chapter (by seeking out the Union flag) ready for the day’s walking. The first Region to walk was Centre, led by the Chapter from St Pétronille, of Le Mans. Centre also includes the two Chapters from Chartres itself.
Normandie were the seventh Region to leave the camp, so we were off at about 6.45 I think, though to be honest it's a bit of a blur.
Normandie were the seventh Region to leave the camp, so we were off at about 6.45 I think, though to be honest it's a bit of a blur.
To everyone’s relief, Sunday morning was slightly overcast, so although it was very hot when the sun was out, there was intermittent relief. Also, the day didn’t start with the gruelling march out of Paris which we had endured yesterday. In fact all the Sunday marches were under two hours.
Other than that, the pattern was much the same: a morning offering to start the day, and then sung rosaries, meditations, hymns, marching songs and conversation. However, as we passed the local cemetery on the way out, we also said a prayer for the dead and sang the Introit from the Requiem Mass.
One of the things I particularly enjoy is the variety of music we sing. Highlights are the great French Marian hymn, Chez Nous, and the various rounds, (Magnificat and Jubilate were always good rousing ones!) But also many of the secular songs, ranging from the old favourites such as Green Grow the Rushes-O to the Macgregor special: You push the damper in and you pull the damper out... complete with actions and words gradually omitted to trap the unwary.
In the middle of the day, we stopped in a large field at Les Courlis for the Pentecost Mass. This was a full High Mass, sung at a resplendent field-altar, which would have shamed most permanent altars in English (or French) Churches.
In the middle of the day, we stopped in a large field at Les Courlis for the Pentecost Mass. This was a full High Mass, sung at a resplendent field-altar, which would have shamed most permanent altars in English (or French) Churches.
We always particularly love the way in which the banner-bearers incline the banners in salutation at the Consecration. (Unfortunately they weren't caught in the act, but here you can see some of the banners: you have to imagine the action!)
After Mass, it was lunch time - and then more marching. By now, we were mainly marching through fields of wheat and barley. This area is known as the bread basket of France, and one could see why.
The highlight of Pentecost afternoon is always walking up a hill between fields to a summit from which the first glimpse of Chartres Cathedral may be had. It was faint, as the day was bright and a bit hazy in the distance, but very distinctive with its asymmetrical spires. A heartening moment, and it is only later, as they appear to get no closer for hour after hour, that the excitement wears off a bit.
The last march into the campsite is up a steep hill, and as one has by now marched about 78 km (48 miles) over two days, it is a tough pull. However we all made it, and once more, marched into camp singing lustily.
Supper was soup and bread, once again, and the same routine of pitching tents and washing in cattle troughs was followed.
To celebrate the Feast, there is Exposition and all-night adoration. I have to confess that after fifteen minutes, I retired to my tent...
UPDATE
Dominique tells me my brain is addled, and the steep hill is at the end of the Saturday march not the Sunday one. She is, of course, quite right.
UPDATE
Dominique tells me my brain is addled, and the steep hill is at the end of the Saturday march not the Sunday one. She is, of course, quite right.
Thursday, 31 May 2012
Chartres 2012 - Part Two
...In which our intrepid pilgrims march out of Paris, and brave the hottest day of the year...
The Mass at Notre Dame started at 7.00, and it was about 8.30 by the time the procession had left the Cathedral.
The walking started at about 8.45 for the first Chapters. As you would expect, a statue of Our Lady leads the whole pilgrimage, and is carried the entire distance on the shoulders of a succession of volunteers.
This year, the Rhone-Alpes region led the pilgrimage for the first day, and the first chapter was the parish of St André, from Grenoble. The 12 chapters from Rhone-Alpes were followed by another 12 from Provence/Languedoc (led by the chapter of Sainte Madeleine of Le Barroux), and then 20 chapters from the Nord region. After them were the Normandy chapters, which included us and the Australians as guests. So we left Notre Dame at about 9.00. There were another 9 regions behind us (as well as the Family and Children groups of chapters, which had a different itinerary). In total there were nearly 200 chapters, with about 50 pilgrims in most chapters, so I think that makes it nearly 10,000 people marching. The last pilgrims were due to leave Notre Dame at 9.30, though I didn't stay around to check that they did. So it took about 45 minutes for the procession to pass any one point.
The first march took us through the streets of Paris: down the Boulevard St Michel, past the Sorbonne and the Luxembourg gardens, and then through various suburban parks. In our chapter, we started with a Morning Offering, as we did every day, and then sang Faith of Our Fathers and other hymns and then some marching songs as we walked through the bright Parisian sunshine. Once we were out of the traffic, we sang our first rosary of the day: the Joyful Mysteries. These were sung in Latin, and took the best part of an hour. For all of that time, our priests were available in the spaces between the chapters to hear confessions, and we were frequently reminded of the importance of confession as part of the pilgrimage. This first march of the day was long: about 2 hours and 45 minutes (12.5 kilometres). So we were grateful to reach the first rest point, and collapse on the grass, having been handed fresh bottles of water and apples as we arrived.
But the brutal organisers only allow 15 minutes for a break, so all too soon we were on our feet again, putting our boots back on, shouldering our packs, raising our banners,hearts and spirits as best we could for the second leg. It was getting much hotter now, and we were grateful that some of our way, at least, was through woodland paths. We listened to a meditation, sang more marching songs, and then sang a second rosary. As we approached the lunch field, some 90 minutes and 6 km later, we were asked to stop singing, as the Children's Mass might not be finished. It transpired the family and childrens' chapters (some 20 of them) had not been made to get up for the early sung Mass. Instead a magnificent altar had been set up in the field and they had heard Mass there just prior to our arrival.
For lunch, you are issued with bread rolls and water. Anything else you want, you bring with you - or scrounge from friends. We had some wonderful cheeses and cold meats which Mrs T had thoughtfully put in a cool bag - and they had indeed stayed cool. The lunch break was alleged to be 60 minutes, but it passed all too soon.
Then came the toughest march of the day. In the bright, hot sunshine, from around 2.30 to 5.00, we marched another 10 km. Again, we spent the time singing the rosary, listening to meditations, chatting convivially, singing rounds and marching songs, and simply keeping each other going. The spring in the step was noticeably less than a few hours earlier, and the only relief was the fact that packs were lighter after lunches had been eaten. However, this is also the time when friendships are being forged: not the easy conviviality of the morning, but friendships forged in the heat of the day, when it is easy for the mask to slip...
And so it went on. We had another break, another march, another break and a final march. All the way along, there were regular first aid posts, doing a brisk trade in treating people for sprains, heat stroke and so on. Likewise there was ample water, and we were constantly reminded to drink plenty and keep our heads covered. There were also buses at each stop to pick up anyone who could not walk any more. Nonetheless, it was hard walking: so much so that my eldest, Antonia, who has done the pilgrimage many times in its entirety, was overcome by the heat and was brought into camp in an ambulance...
It was soon after 8.00 pm that we arrived at the Camp Site, and we marched in singing, to show the French we were undaunted by a stroll like that. It was about 11 hours since we had started walking and we had covered 41 km on a blisteringly hot day.
One of the nice features of the Pilgrimage is that the children's chapters, who walk only part of the distance and are then bused ahead, are encouraged to wait at various points and cheer us on to encourage failing limbs... So we were frequently greeted by hoards of small French Scouts and Guides singing 'Allez, les anglais!' with great gusto.
I have to admit that I was pretty tired by this stage, so Dominique and I collected our luggage and Ant's from the Etrangers lorry, and found a spot in the Normandie enclosure to pitch our tent. I then lay down (just for a moment, you understand) and next thing I knew, Dom had pitched the tent, and Ant had turned up, feeling ready for bed. So she crawled into her sleeping bag, while Dom and I got some of the communal soup which is served up by the vast makeshift catering facility. Then after a quick splash in the cattle troughs that pass for basins, we too, gratefully, crept into the tent. Sleep was instant.
The Mass at Notre Dame started at 7.00, and it was about 8.30 by the time the procession had left the Cathedral.
The walking started at about 8.45 for the first Chapters. As you would expect, a statue of Our Lady leads the whole pilgrimage, and is carried the entire distance on the shoulders of a succession of volunteers.
This year, the Rhone-Alpes region led the pilgrimage for the first day, and the first chapter was the parish of St André, from Grenoble. The 12 chapters from Rhone-Alpes were followed by another 12 from Provence/Languedoc (led by the chapter of Sainte Madeleine of Le Barroux), and then 20 chapters from the Nord region. After them were the Normandy chapters, which included us and the Australians as guests. So we left Notre Dame at about 9.00. There were another 9 regions behind us (as well as the Family and Children groups of chapters, which had a different itinerary). In total there were nearly 200 chapters, with about 50 pilgrims in most chapters, so I think that makes it nearly 10,000 people marching. The last pilgrims were due to leave Notre Dame at 9.30, though I didn't stay around to check that they did. So it took about 45 minutes for the procession to pass any one point.
The first march took us through the streets of Paris: down the Boulevard St Michel, past the Sorbonne and the Luxembourg gardens, and then through various suburban parks. In our chapter, we started with a Morning Offering, as we did every day, and then sang Faith of Our Fathers and other hymns and then some marching songs as we walked through the bright Parisian sunshine. Once we were out of the traffic, we sang our first rosary of the day: the Joyful Mysteries. These were sung in Latin, and took the best part of an hour. For all of that time, our priests were available in the spaces between the chapters to hear confessions, and we were frequently reminded of the importance of confession as part of the pilgrimage. This first march of the day was long: about 2 hours and 45 minutes (12.5 kilometres). So we were grateful to reach the first rest point, and collapse on the grass, having been handed fresh bottles of water and apples as we arrived.
But the brutal organisers only allow 15 minutes for a break, so all too soon we were on our feet again, putting our boots back on, shouldering our packs, raising our banners,hearts and spirits as best we could for the second leg. It was getting much hotter now, and we were grateful that some of our way, at least, was through woodland paths. We listened to a meditation, sang more marching songs, and then sang a second rosary. As we approached the lunch field, some 90 minutes and 6 km later, we were asked to stop singing, as the Children's Mass might not be finished. It transpired the family and childrens' chapters (some 20 of them) had not been made to get up for the early sung Mass. Instead a magnificent altar had been set up in the field and they had heard Mass there just prior to our arrival.
For lunch, you are issued with bread rolls and water. Anything else you want, you bring with you - or scrounge from friends. We had some wonderful cheeses and cold meats which Mrs T had thoughtfully put in a cool bag - and they had indeed stayed cool. The lunch break was alleged to be 60 minutes, but it passed all too soon.
Then came the toughest march of the day. In the bright, hot sunshine, from around 2.30 to 5.00, we marched another 10 km. Again, we spent the time singing the rosary, listening to meditations, chatting convivially, singing rounds and marching songs, and simply keeping each other going. The spring in the step was noticeably less than a few hours earlier, and the only relief was the fact that packs were lighter after lunches had been eaten. However, this is also the time when friendships are being forged: not the easy conviviality of the morning, but friendships forged in the heat of the day, when it is easy for the mask to slip...
And so it went on. We had another break, another march, another break and a final march. All the way along, there were regular first aid posts, doing a brisk trade in treating people for sprains, heat stroke and so on. Likewise there was ample water, and we were constantly reminded to drink plenty and keep our heads covered. There were also buses at each stop to pick up anyone who could not walk any more. Nonetheless, it was hard walking: so much so that my eldest, Antonia, who has done the pilgrimage many times in its entirety, was overcome by the heat and was brought into camp in an ambulance...
It was soon after 8.00 pm that we arrived at the Camp Site, and we marched in singing, to show the French we were undaunted by a stroll like that. It was about 11 hours since we had started walking and we had covered 41 km on a blisteringly hot day.
One of the nice features of the Pilgrimage is that the children's chapters, who walk only part of the distance and are then bused ahead, are encouraged to wait at various points and cheer us on to encourage failing limbs... So we were frequently greeted by hoards of small French Scouts and Guides singing 'Allez, les anglais!' with great gusto.
I have to admit that I was pretty tired by this stage, so Dominique and I collected our luggage and Ant's from the Etrangers lorry, and found a spot in the Normandie enclosure to pitch our tent. I then lay down (just for a moment, you understand) and next thing I knew, Dom had pitched the tent, and Ant had turned up, feeling ready for bed. So she crawled into her sleeping bag, while Dom and I got some of the communal soup which is served up by the vast makeshift catering facility. Then after a quick splash in the cattle troughs that pass for basins, we too, gratefully, crept into the tent. Sleep was instant.
Saturday, 18 June 2011
Chartres
Ant and I got back from Chartres just the other day.
As you may know, the Chartres Pilgrimage is a traditional annual event every Pentecost. Pilgrims assemble at 6.00 am in front of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, and after a brief prayer in the Cathedral, set out to walk to Chartres: around 8500 of them, mainly young, mainly French, but with many other nationalities represented.
On the first day, we walk for some 15 miles, then stop for Mass in the woods and lunch, and then another 15 miles to the campsite where we spend the night.
The second day, Pentecost Sunday, is similar, with all-night adoration at the campsite for those who can't - or choose not to - sleep...
The third day, we walk the remaining 10 miles or so to Chartres, for High Mass in the Cathedral.
All the Masses are in the Extraordinary Form, and along the way, we pray rosaries (sung in Latin) and have meditations, confession, hymns and marching songs, and good old-fashioned conversation...
Those are the bare facts: what is much harder to convey is the experience: to be one of so many Catholics of so many nations, marching in honour of Our Lady, united in belief and worship (Latin is so self-evidently the way forward for the Universal [=global = Catholic] Church); to walk till it hurts and realise it is only lunchtime; to sing till your voice gives out, and realise there are five more decades to be sung; to turn over and over in your bed, and then be told (at 5.00 am) that it is time to get up; to be offered grace after grace...
This was the fourth time I have been and the fifth Ant has; we both agreed it gets ever-richer and we will be back!
You can see the photo album here.
As you may know, the Chartres Pilgrimage is a traditional annual event every Pentecost. Pilgrims assemble at 6.00 am in front of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, and after a brief prayer in the Cathedral, set out to walk to Chartres: around 8500 of them, mainly young, mainly French, but with many other nationalities represented.
On the first day, we walk for some 15 miles, then stop for Mass in the woods and lunch, and then another 15 miles to the campsite where we spend the night.
The second day, Pentecost Sunday, is similar, with all-night adoration at the campsite for those who can't - or choose not to - sleep...
The third day, we walk the remaining 10 miles or so to Chartres, for High Mass in the Cathedral.
All the Masses are in the Extraordinary Form, and along the way, we pray rosaries (sung in Latin) and have meditations, confession, hymns and marching songs, and good old-fashioned conversation...
Those are the bare facts: what is much harder to convey is the experience: to be one of so many Catholics of so many nations, marching in honour of Our Lady, united in belief and worship (Latin is so self-evidently the way forward for the Universal [=global = Catholic] Church); to walk till it hurts and realise it is only lunchtime; to sing till your voice gives out, and realise there are five more decades to be sung; to turn over and over in your bed, and then be told (at 5.00 am) that it is time to get up; to be offered grace after grace...
This was the fourth time I have been and the fifth Ant has; we both agreed it gets ever-richer and we will be back!
You can see the photo album here.
Friday, 4 February 2011
New Chartres Pilgrimage Blog
The new Chartres Pilgrimage Blog can be found here.
For any who have not yet undertaken it, the Chartres Pilgrimage is a fantastic source of grace.
Even more so for those who have, of course...
Saturday, 5 June 2010
A great half term
Along with the rest of the country, I think, we had fabulous weather for the half term week - and we made the most of it, with some serious walks, a bit of rock climbing, messing about in boats on the lake, some gentle gardening, and some idling around not doing much; hardly spent a penny (except on a few ice creams) but had a truly memorable and highly enjoyable week.
The only exception was Bernie who spent most of the week revising for her remaining AS levels.
It's tough these days:- when I was at school the lower sixth was a very relaxed year: only studying subjects you had chosen to study and with no pressure. Not so nowadays...
The only exception was Bernie who spent most of the week revising for her remaining AS levels.
It's tough these days:- when I was at school the lower sixth was a very relaxed year: only studying subjects you had chosen to study and with no pressure. Not so nowadays...
Monday, 26 April 2010
A good weekend...
Another lovely spring weekend: Bernie and friends went wild camping for her 17th birthday party; Ant came home for a flying visit for a job interview for the summer: working at the local sailing school training people how to sail - an ideal summer job for her; Charlie, Dominique, Anna and I (and Goldie) got a few good walks in; Mass on Sunday morning at the Cathedral - extraordinary form with chant and wonderful organ music; and my first fritillaries, planted as bulbs last year, are just flowering.
Sunday, 11 April 2010
A good day...
Mass, breakfast with croissants (mmm!), Sunday Morning Religion with Charlie and Dominique (a chapter of Ronald Knox, followed by a crossword puzzle on the moral virtues), early lunch and dash to the station to drop of Ant who is going back to University, a sunny walk with Anna and Goldie, Benediction, Lawn Mowing and Gardening. Now to make the tea for Grandma and the little ones, as Anna and Bernie are out. A very satisfying day!
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
Family Walk
Dominique was at a friend's today, so we took the opportunity of doing a slightly more challenging walk than we might otherwise have done (at least, I took the opportunity: Anna and the kids foolishly let me choose the route).
Started at Midday or thereabouts, so belted out the Regina Caeli to get us going...
It ended up being 9 miles, and included 2000 feet of height gain, mainly at the start, but with quite a pull between miles 6 and 7, just when people were beginning to tire.
The weather was cool, but the wind was ferocious at times on the high exposed ground, and for the last mile or two there was driving rain, too.
Oh and we had a picnic at the end of the first ascent, sheltered (well that's over-stating it, perhaps) by a small hill.
This is what the holidays are for: a fabulous time was had by all - and some of them are still speaking to me...
Started at Midday or thereabouts, so belted out the Regina Caeli to get us going...
It ended up being 9 miles, and included 2000 feet of height gain, mainly at the start, but with quite a pull between miles 6 and 7, just when people were beginning to tire.
The weather was cool, but the wind was ferocious at times on the high exposed ground, and for the last mile or two there was driving rain, too.
Oh and we had a picnic at the end of the first ascent, sheltered (well that's over-stating it, perhaps) by a small hill.
This is what the holidays are for: a fabulous time was had by all - and some of them are still speaking to me...
Sunday, 4 April 2010
Easter Celebrations
We went to the Vigil Mass last night: the new fire kindled outside the Church and spread among the faithful candle by candle until the whole Church was filled with the light of the Risen Christ! Had to sing the Regina Caeli walking back to the car, as it had not been included in the Mass.
Then today, we had a cooked breakfast (a rare treat) with sausage and bacon (as well as eggs from a local farm) to celebrate the end of Lent and our vegetarian diet. The table was decorated,as ever on Easter day, with an Easter tree - photo to follow once the camera is charged!
After breakfast, the kids found all but two of the small eggs hidden in the garden in our traditional Easter Egg Hunt, while Anna made a Simnel Cake. the kids and I then played Ultimate Frisbee, under Ant's loving instruction: boys v. girls - Charlie and I beat Ant, Bernie and Dominique 5 - 0!
After a light lunch we took Goldie for a walk in the country (we had been planning a stately home garden visit with Grandma, but she didn't feel up to it in the event, so we will save that for another day).
After a fabulous tea (and wine!....), watched a Poirot DVD with grandma; then said bedtime prayers with the kids, sang the Regina Caeli and the Victimae Paschali, and am now sat wondering about doing the washing up...
Then today, we had a cooked breakfast (a rare treat) with sausage and bacon (as well as eggs from a local farm) to celebrate the end of Lent and our vegetarian diet. The table was decorated,as ever on Easter day, with an Easter tree - photo to follow once the camera is charged!
After breakfast, the kids found all but two of the small eggs hidden in the garden in our traditional Easter Egg Hunt, while Anna made a Simnel Cake. the kids and I then played Ultimate Frisbee, under Ant's loving instruction: boys v. girls - Charlie and I beat Ant, Bernie and Dominique 5 - 0!
After a light lunch we took Goldie for a walk in the country (we had been planning a stately home garden visit with Grandma, but she didn't feel up to it in the event, so we will save that for another day).
After a fabulous tea (and wine!....), watched a Poirot DVD with grandma; then said bedtime prayers with the kids, sang the Regina Caeli and the Victimae Paschali, and am now sat wondering about doing the washing up...
Monday, 31 August 2009
A great summer
The counter cultural family had a great summer. I took August off (not so hard as a freelance: nobody is using me then anyway!) so we had time for wild camping (and surfing, sea kayaking, sand castles and walking) in the Hebrides and a lot of fell walking in the Lake District. Ant and Bernie both got good results in their A Levels and GCSEs respectively so they are pleased: Ant off to University in the autumn and very excited about that. And I managed to keep slow, in accordance with my spring resolution - so very little internet etc. A much better pace of life...
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