HISTORIC WALK HELPS WORTHY CAUSES

Devastating effects of The Great War

Devastating effects of The Great War

SPRING NEWSLETTER 2015 – ‘Robin Moore’s Pilgrimage of War and Words’ offers a message of history and peace for the good of charity raising £1125.

The cheque presentation held at The Angel Inn, Oundle represents fundraising from Robin Moore’s Pilgrimage of War and Words which commemorated WW1 in September/October 2014. The walk also marked a completion of his expeditions around Europe and the British Isles covering over 25,000 miles. He has walked in other continents too and around several countries exceeding in all 30,000 miles including Barmy Army Cricket Tours (he was a founding member at Adelaide in 1995 when England won the test match to keep the series alive for the last game at Perth). As well as his passion for cricket he enjoys the countryside and history and has always been an extreme athlete with a love for sport too.
It was an interest as a youngster in the 60’s to recognise the sacrifice of those who fell in the Great War and Robin knew many WW1 veterans (including his grandfather and great uncle) at his home at The Angel Inn Oundle where he grew up; he will soon be publishing a book about his amazing journey. ‘Although the quest goes on with many walks planned for the future we still need time to reflect on the past which has also seen the end of a personal era too. My Auntie Marjorie, who died recently at the age of 91, was one of my greatest supporters and friends also donated generously to the Cancer Charities after my Uncle Eric died of the disease in 2000.’ As well as helping Robin, she recently pledged £10,000 to Macmillans, £10,000 to her local charity; also £264 was raised at the funeral service for one of Robin’s fundraising charities from his recent walk, Sue Ryder Care. Other organisations that benefited from the expedition are Prostate Cancer UK; The Cornwall Hospices and Cancer Research UK. The WW1 Walk was set up originally for a local Cancer Appeal in Peterborough, PCTA which is largely fronted by friend Mark Folgate of Oundle who is the Fundraising Executive and major supporter of the charity. Robin’s expedition helped raise awareness for the charity and his book will be dedicated to the appeal.

Extracts of the book are printed below (historical content refers the first year of the Great War) For more about the wonderful life of Marjorie Jones please click on CANCER CHARITIES when you visit: http://www.robin-moore.co.uk

ROBIN MOORE’S PILGRIMAGE OF WAR AND WORDS
Geneva to Ypres – WW1 Walk – September 2014
PROLOGUE
‘The Early Shots’
August 1914 saw the Battle of Mons,
As Britain and Germany sent fourth their sons,
Soon to be cannon fodder and casualties of war,
Shedding blood on a scale never seen before.

Reeling through France came the British retreat,
Shielded by the cavalry who turn up the heat,
Those gallant equestrians, adrenalin-fed,
Push back the big guns till all are dead.

But the Kaiser’s war machine continues to roll,
Crushing forests and towns as the guns take their toll,
Gone are the romance and glamour of war,
Replaced by trenches, barbed wire and gore.

Gas, gas, gas a ‘Tommie’ cries,
As the Battle of Ypres takes on a new guise,
The Prussian Guard advance strong and steady,
Like a ceremonial parade, but with guns at the ready.

The British fix bayonets and the guard are speared,
Fighting hand-to-hand till the woods are cleared,
By dusk the guard lie dead in great knots, swathes and heaps,
For them the war is over in this first battle of Ypres.
Poem by Robin Moore.
Dedicated to those who fell in the first year of the Great War.
Commemorating WW1 a century on, Robin Moore sets off on a 1000km trek across Switzerland, France and Belgium which will complete a circuit of Europe and the British Isles. Read how his adventure unfolds each day and learn about the historical places of interest he encounters.
CHAPTER 1
Dominant Mountains That Preside Over Europe
Geneva to Hotel Bellevue, Gex
Starting my walk from Geneva city centre, I make my way to the great lake which borders France and Switzerland; then after running a video commentary near the ferry port and fountain, I continue beside the water. It is a perfect late September day; sunshine with a breeze from Lake Geneva allowing a pleasant initiation to this historic walk. Although the war did not affect this region I planned to start here so as to link this expedition with my previous one in March when I walked from Geneva to Arles. A century ago WW1 was well underway having commenced in August; The First German Army had already penetrated the borders at Belfort and Luxembourg; then spilling all across Belgium. By the end of September they had taken Liege, fought the BEF at Mons and the French on the Marne. These places I hoped to see a week or so from now but for the time being I am pondering all sorts of thoughts about weather, what I will see along the way and where I will stay each night. As the journey unfolds, I pass through several small parks, occasionally stopping to absorb the changing scenery and around noon I take a cycle route away from the lake towards the mountainous French Border. The road becomes busy though broken frequently by colourful towns and occasionally my gaze is drawn towards the sky where air traffic is in motion too. I am 5 km from the next village when a local walker joins me; he is astonished when I tell him I am walking to the Menin Gate! He shuffles off quietly on reaching his destination and after continuing to the end of the village I seek help from a hotelier who points me towards France. In the distance lie the Jura Mountains which I feel will test me over the coming week. Soon I cross the border, and with little to get excited about other than a sign post marked ‘France’, I continue uphill towards Gex. It is an arduous trek in the heat as I struggle with a 50lb load, and lack of sleep at the airport the previous evening also adds to the discomfort. Once I am confident of my route I start to feel much better and on my last ascent, which sees me only 27km from Morez, I decide to take refuge at Hotel Bellevue. it is a large building owned by an enthusiastic ex-marine commando whose father fought at Verdun during the Great War. He shows me his father’s picture and medals and later I begin writing my book with a beer on hand while the bar maid tells her local patrons of my endeavours.
Hotel Bellevue, Gex to Morbais
Starting in hot sunshine I continue my ascent across the Jura Mountains; there are no war monuments or battle fields here – just a slow grind through steepling countryside as the towns and villages of yesterday disappear behind a curtain of mist. Even traffic flows by at a leisurely pace and the lorries chug along cautiously as the journey evolves by way of the narrow pass. It is an laboured affair during the morning where at times the diverse terrain reminds me of New Zealand with its collaboration of forest and stern peaks. The afternoon brings respite with a cool descent beyond the St Claude Junction; by now I am hitting towns regularly and make use of the facilities available to enjoy a coffee break and the chance to pick up a few provisions.
At La Cure I rouse some curiosity as I deposit my backpack on a park bench outside the Tourist Office, change my socks and eat a sandwich. Soon I have an audience comprising of a touring party who had seen me walking earlier; after explaining the purpose of my journey I show them my WW1 passport and a publication about a recent expedition. After wishing me well they depart and their distant waves see me on the way to Les Rousses and later Morez where I purchase groceries for tonight’s supper. A further ascent along a busy road section completes my day at the campsite in Morbais. Although the amenities are now closed for this season the club owner allows me to stay the night and I am able to purchase a drink from the Bar Brasserie known as ‘Chez Nous’, where the locals are enjoying some lively banter amid the smoky atmosphere of a ‘barbie’. After completing the final day’s entry in my diary amid a background of contemporary disco music, I retire to a more peaceful location beside the campsite stream.

Bar Brasserie ‘Chez Nous’ Morbais to Veiux Chalet Champagnole
Rising to a dew-soaked morning I roll up the tent and take a shower at the wash room which is still unlocked despite the closure of the site. A cooler start makes walking bearable as the continuation of steep ascents set the tone for the day. The first few days of any walk always present a challenge but I am grateful to find this route is broken nicely by interspersing villages. As the road narrows the terrain becomes more demanding and yet diverse affording sheer drops of many hundreds of feet; it is awe-inspiring peering down onto treetops as they disappear into a bottomless chasm. Reaching the next summit I stop at a park to relax in the shade and study my map. Recommencing my walk I dodge more traffic by crossing the road at each bend and take in the changes of terrain as each new town approaches. Reaching Champagnole I collect groceries and beyond the town, not far from my next route, I stop at a public park and camp for the night; there is a terrace of houses on a suburban lane where I hear a party celebration in progress. Next to the park entrance is a shop where I buy a bottle of wine and ask the owner to uncork it. Sitting on a bench by my tent I eat a supper of cheese, olives and salad washed down with wine as dusk closes in across the mountains and all becomes quiet beneath the stars.

Veiux Chalet, Champagnole to Samson
Rising to bright sunshine I dismantle my tent, use the toilet facilities at the park entrance and then proceed along the main road to the Salin Junction. This section follows minor roads throughout the morning and with little else open on a Sunday, I take my first break at a restaurant in Salin-le-Bains. From here the heat is unbearable though the scenery, comprised largely of forest mountain landscape broken by a spectacular viaduct, and the audio presence of running water help serve as a delightful opiate. As the traffic dies down the sound of jingling bells from ascending cattle add a different tune to the journey. En route I meet another traveller who had passed me earlier in a car heading for Champagnole; he hails from Verdun and speaks good English. Intrigued by my quest he takes photos and a video which he posts on his Youtube/Facebook pages to give me a bit of support and hopefully some media coverage for our charities. Before departing he hands me some fruit and a bottle of water; then wishes me well for the remainder of my trip. As evening draws close, I meet a group who also supply me with water and an offer to camp by their recreation centre where their friends are playing bowls. Feeling that the day is incomplete, I thank them for their trouble and press on to the next village called Samson. On arrival I am fortunate to purchase cheese and wine from a grocer shop (Bulangerie Courtois) which is about to close, and a further 2km north of the village I camp at a field beside the road. I find a sheltered spot near the hedgerows which conceals me from the public eye. Feeling satisfied with my effort I relax
with my provisions and listen to the sounds of dusk as a new world comes to life.

Samson to Rioz
Disappearing off the radar at dusk is quite important when camping rough in order to rest and recuperate sufficiently to gain a few hours sleep.
A misty morning brings cooler air as I tackle the busy main road with caution. It is a tedious session and I am glad of a coffee break at Larnod around 11.30am. Sitting outside the cafe, I enjoy a few moments as a spectator. It is a pleasant interval watching the world go by as people greet each other with an embrace and friendly chat. I ponder over the reality that there would have been many young men recruited for WW1 from these rural parts of the continent. I wonder too what the bar conversation of that time would have entailed as these little meeting places have always been the soul of a community. Soon the road beckons and I prepare to return to the task. The next ascent exposes me to distant river scenes and before entering the urban sprawl of Beure I stop at a lay-by to rest from the speeding traffic. Sadly the second part of the day disintegrates as the road network becomes complex around the industrial realms of Besancon. After taking a wrong turn I receive directions from a lady at a nearby school and descend to the outer regions of town. Soon I am walking on the main road to Vesoul having failed to locate the byway I need to keep on course to Combeaufontaine. A sense of apathy creeps over me as I fear the momentum of today may be lost along this dangerous highway. Continuing in fear for my life and with motorway instructions imminent, I am relieved to reach Rioz by nightfall. After an extensive ‘reccy’ I realise there is nowhere to stay; so I put up a bivvy outside the campsite which is closed, and fetch a takeaway meal from the only place that is open in town.
CHAPTER 2
A Countryside Devoid Of Time
Rioz to Combeaufontaine
Sleeping through sheer exhaustion and uncertain what to do, I visit the police station for help. They are great! Once issued with a coffee they give me a route planner to cover the next 2 days which promises a rural journey along the quieter byways/cycle routes as far as Jussey. Then after receiving an official Brigade De Gendarmerie stamp on my WW1 passport, I set off in good stride, feeling grateful for their efforts to help me. The route takes me through the remainder of the town and passes under the motorway where it bears left by a country park to join the D33. As the day unfolds I begin to appreciate a pleasant scenic journey through rural France in contrast to the initiation along the steep mountain pass, and mad motorway of yesterday. This more refined route allows me passage through many small villages such as Fondremond with its old abbey and unique water features; later I visit Maizieres and Traves where I am happy to enjoy my coffee breaks amid a rural atmosphere. I even stumble across a Camino de Santiago route which interacts with some of the more ancient communities. There are lone bridges and wide river crossings; archaic buildings with eloquent gardens and festooned streets prompting me to make good use of my camera. On reaching the quaint little town of Combeaufontaine I pick up some groceries, and with the hotel closed for renovation, I set up camp 2 km north of the village in a paddock beside a forest.

Combeaufontaine to Lamarche
The early morning pattern of mist continues as I dismantle my tent and wander carefully along the road. The one problem I face today is obtaining enough water and provisions in these rural parts where it seems that the inhabitants live with a degree of self-sufficiency. Passing through numerous communities over the last week I notice allotments, small-holdings and farm shops which open only in the morning; though later today I manage to get adequate supplies at Jussey. After obtaining road information from the Tourist Office, I visit the cenotaph which is the most conspicuous so far, revealing the names of the war dead who had fought in great campaigns such as Verdun, Le Marne and the Somme; monuments such as this will be commonplace throughout the remainder of my journey. Resting at a bench near a road junction I eat a salad meal which I purchased from the local supermarket; at present the town is a lively scene of folk shopping and socialising in restaurants and cafes. Jussey is an unusual, yet welcome break in this quiet, rural section of my walk which gives more of an insight into farming traditions. With each road spurring off to a new destination I continue into the wilderness not seeing another shop or restaurant for the remainder of the day. There are moments too when I feel as though this countryside has transported me back to a former age – devoid of change or the passage of time. Only speeding motors and farm machinery betray the secrets of an environment where people enjoy their allotments and orchards which have kept them self-sufficient for generations. Nearing dusk a group of youngsters at a small village direct me to a tap by the church where I obtain fresh water. Later on course for the final 6km to Lamarche they track me down on bicycles to give me a king size water bottle for the night. It is as though they know I am facing a tough evening and I am quite taken back by the kindness – it is the highlight of the day – God bless them.
Lamarche, like all that preceded it since Jussey, is another dead place – rundown hotels which are closed – no sign of life any where, and on leaving the town I quickly find a quite spot near the woods to set up camp for the night.
Lamarche to Neufchateau
I am shattered having completed a week on the road at 12 hours per day with each night under canvas – I need a proper sleep! The dew fell heavy over night but as the mist clears the day heats up draining me as I struggle to obtain water. Eventually I manage to acquire a bottle at a farm where the owner also gives me some fruit for sustenance. I only have a 37km walk today but the heat and lack of food make it slow work. Reaching a village fountain I leap into the water to cool down and enjoy a good soak. The locals appear bemused though I try to explain it is more pleasurable to do this now than at 6am – though I did summon enough courage to attempt a shave in a water butt one chilly morning! Life on the road is full of innovations where good health and survival are the only way forward. Rejoining the road I stop to ask a local couple for water; they kindly invite me into their garden for a drink of freshly squeezed apple juice curtesy of their orchard while I explain my quest and what it has so far entailed. They are astonished to feel the weight of my pack – ‘Vingt kg?’ exclaims the lady! After bading farewell I make good progress along the industrial perimeter of Neufchateau, reaching the town centre by 5pm where I promptly book into the local hotel, Le Rialto – 52euros. The lady signs my WW1 passport but refuses to give any discounts – explaining that they were reserved for those with Camino de Santiago credentials. At least I enjoy a proper night’s rest with the promise of a breakfast in the morning.
Neufchateau to Vaucouleurs
After a night in a hotel I actually feel more tired than usual and after my breakfast I struggle in the heat. I make hard work of the morning session to Domremy but enjoy a good coffee which is a boost to morale. After the break I get into a steady rhythm and the afternoon drifts by amid the drone of harvest machinery as farmers toil to make good the land. Reaching Vaucouleurs I pass an old military hospital founded in 1916 for the soldiers of Verdun; a few metres on is a cenotaph and a brightly coloured mural decorating part of the church. It is early evening and I feel as though I can press on further, but wary of the previous times when short of provisions I opt to visit the supermarket first to get food and refreshment. From here I am content to walk a few km beyond town where I set up camp on the edge of a forest next to a road junction.
CHAPTER 3
Poignant Reminders Of The Great War
Vaucouleurs Region to Rouvrois Sur Meuse
Starting in heavy mist I concentrate hard for the first 10 km and cross a bridge into Void where all is still quiet on this Saturday morning. Not able to get coffee I press on to Commercy and enjoy a bustling market scene which to a ‘man of the road’ is a breath of fresh air. Feeling energised by the moment I walk through the slender streets to the beautiful town centre and its lofty architecture. Here I take coffee and marvel at the crowds thinking to myself that Commercy most definitely lives up to its name. Before pressing on to St Mihiel I visit a war cemetery harbouring those who fell in the battles of the Marne, Meuse and Verdun – here I get my first glimpse of the effects of WW1. Battles raged on around these parts throughout the Great War where the Germans came within 50 miles of Paris. So desperate was the plight of the French that commander-in-chief, General Joffre hired every cab in Paris to rush troops to the front line. This drastic action enabled him to successfully launch a counter-attack along the River Marne on 4th September 1914 which halted the German war machine. Sadly though, the great French dreams of a triumphant offensive to end the conflict did not come and the misery of trench warfare followed with pointless combat in ‘No mans land’ until the end of 1918. Beyond here are many places with war graves but few with shops though I manage another at coffee at a bar and later a cake at St Mihiel. Along the way there are more cenotaphs and memorials to the Great War; most significant is the Roman Camp at St Mihiel which was taken by the Bavarians despite brave fighting from the single unit left there to guard it; it was later freed by General Pershore during a Franco/American offensive. Beyond the town is another war cemetery and a tablet on a hill defining the battle at Troyan Village in September 1914. Six miles on I find the only hotel between St Mihiel and Verdun thanks to the help of a local lady. Merci beaucoup!
Auberge du Chaudron Fleuri to Verdun
I am glad of a good sleep at the hotel and keep some of my supper for this morning’s breakfast realising that there are so few facilities out in these rural parts. Today is also Sunday and a wet one at that as I walk all the way to Verdun ticking off the cemeteries en route and trying to imagine the scenes of battle along the Meuse. Over a hundred years ago tanks would have rolled through broken woods towards the river against the sound of cannon fire and machine guns. Today could not be more contrasting as the landscape presents a peaceful arable scene that bears the solitary murmur of a tractor. Only the weather identifies with history in that the day stays damp and miserable as it may well have been a century ago. Reaching the outskirts of town I begin to wonder when I will come across a place to enjoy a coffee! Joining the thoroughfare I find a solution to the problem at Macdonalds where I also tuck into a cooked meal – burger and chips and use the wifi system to upload my video diary– good old Uncle Ronnie!
Heading into town I pass the spectacular Hotel de Ville accentuated by its bold, sumptuous facade. Further on I find a grocer shop that is open and later visit the Tourist Office where the attendant stamps my passport and provides information about the town’s war history. Continuing across the river to the gated town entrance I watch a boat race reach its conclusion amid enthusiastic cheers along the river bank. Passing through the gated entrance I see a different section of the town which is largely commercial with modern shops, restaurants and a few dated buildings; most of these are residential interspersed by several reasonably priced hotels. On the whole this is an ideal base for war historians wishing to explore one of the most catastrophic theatres of war ever known.Tourism here is largely derived from the devastation of the Great War which has intrigued so many over the last century. Some are drawn here to find lost relatives who fought in the campaign; others visit to try to make sense of the huge loss of life which occurred during what was the most modern war of its age. The whole region conveys a poignant message and as the night continues I pass more cenotaphs and a vast war cemetery where the visual evidence of a desperate struggle is quite conclusive – those who fought here knew real hardship and suffering! As the white tablets fade in distance dusk approaches bringing more wet weather. Finding a field suitable for camping I descend to the woods where I stay dry and free from the noise of traffic. A mackerel salad accompanied by a drop of wine finally caps off the day helping me to drift into a deep slumber for the remaining hours of darkness.

Verdun Region to Inor
Waking after a night of rainfall I make the most of the clear visibility in the morning and later obtain a coffee at a bar near Charny around 10am. The bar which is next to a park attracts a few visitors, and the locals express curiosity at the sight of ‘a lumbering backpacker’ in pursuit of his quest. After exchanging greetings the patrons enjoy looking at my passport stamps while I take a wash and shave in the disabled toilet. As it turns out this is the one and only opportunity to have a coffee break as the trend of no facilities continues; during the last week I have come across many places closed for renovation, sale or simply brought to a standstill through lack of trade. Even at the town of Dun sur Meuse everything is either closed or under repair and the only place I can obtain water is the chemist! Eventually my efforts are rewarded at Stenay where I find a supermarket and buy all I need for tonight. A few miles on at Inor I finish at the campsite where a night under canvas costs only 4euros. I speak to another traveller from Germany who is also visiting the battlefields. I had seen my fill of cemeteries over the last few days including a German one which I located along the D964 earlier this morning. Unlike the white tablets that represent the Allied soldiers of the Western Front, this cemetery contains rows of black crosses. Inscribed on a plaque is the story of their demise and there is a memorial to them above the steps to the entrance. After a further chat with the proprietor I cross the road to the local pub and write up my diary on what turns out to be the most productive day on tour so far – realising over 50km.
Inor to Sedan
During the night torrential rain forces me to abandon tent and take refuge in the wash room. Packing a wringing wet tent and clothing is not the best start to the day and my initial steps along the road lack the normal enthusiasm that I need to meet this challenge. The nightmare continues as rain and traffic disrupt the journey, though I pass through some historic places which helps break up the monotony; Mouzon with its medieval archway entrance and wonderful church add a depth of history dating back 2000 years. Although a bit autumnal I enjoy my visit consuming raisin bread and milk beside the river; after I follow the bank back to my main road route via the D954. Occasionally I stray from my route and take a village trail; this is usually counter-productive yet often necessary to relieve myself from the stress of traffic. The last two days have seen many beautiful water scenes where tributaries form from waterfalls and canals spur off the river following the course of the road through more towns and villages. For a while I get a chance to walk close to the river bank; I stop at a lock gate to eat some chocolate and later watch fishermen casting from a bridge. A shoal of large chub in the shallow water catch my gaze and I shout across to the fishers to cast further out. Another place dominated by water (and once again from the sky too) is Sedan, my destination for today, where I am fortunate to find a municipal campsite. Although closed the care-taker does not object to me setting up camp under the games area where I can at least stay dry! He and his wife wish me well and give directions for tomorrow’s journey which will take in the busy region of Charleville Mezieres.

Sedan to Bourg Fidele
The pattern of wet continues and I promptly stop for coffee at a sports cafe on the edge of town where todays travels begin. I use the facilities for a wash and shave then from here I toil on through the suburban areas of Charleville Mezieres stopping three more times for coffee to take refuge from torrential rain. I pass through Flize which on a good day may have been a bit more inspiring instead of wet and grim like all else today. As my journey finds momentum I notice a burnt out house along the thoroughfare to Charleville but on reaching the town centre I am pleasantly surprised by the spectacular architecture which sets it apart from the rundown towns of previous days. I pause for a while to savour a moment before heading into many more miles of countryside and diminutive communities. In pouring rain I search for the exit from this busy city as teatime traffic nears its peak. The weather does not ameliorate as I march beside the puddled carriageway but by early evening I locate the correct junction and take the D22 to Renwez. It is a quieter affair along the country road where the only significant landmark is an old fortification at Erat. Finally I reach Renwez where to my horror the only hotel I have seen all day is closed! All too often nearing dusk I find myself in this predicament – particularly on this current expedition and with more wet weather imminent I face the prospect of camping in a muddy forest. This I do several miles on but eventually the storm that has stalked me all day finds its quarry and my tent fills with water soaking everything. Now in total darkness I am subjected to a cold, wet and sleepless night.
CHAPTER 4
The Last Charge
Bourg Fidele to Chimay
The nightmare continues and I can barely keep my eyes open as I decide which items of equipment are no longer serviceable. The tent is of no further use and was in any case just a glorified ‘bivvy’ used normally in summer months; I also scrap some of the more worn clothes that are too sodden to dry. Finding a bakery en route I purchase a ham roll and ponder over my predicament; at least I will be crossing the border into Belgium soon. On this note I press on to the next village where I am escorted to a sports cafe by 2 cows – probably an early milk delivery! Cafes in Europe are deemed social places where all visitors are made welcome! They peer through the door and soon gather an audience as we tolerate their company long enough to take photos. After my coffee I march them up the road as far as the square where they stop to investigate a new curiosity. Happy to leave them to their own devises, I continue my adventure in the direction of Rocroi. There are roadworks near the town entrance though thankfully the thoroughfare is more intriguing defined by numerous flags, elaborate features and eye-catching monuments to the left. After visiting the Tourist Office at Rocroi it rains again, so I retire to the Hotel de Commerce to write my diary with the aid of more caffeine. Rain eventually subsides and I move on from the town; the terrain remains typically rural and in the afternoon I pass Le Cafe de La Frontiere and cross the border into Belgium. The road is quiet with only a few broken communities and rundown hotels. Joining the main road I make steady progress to Chimay where I purchase groceries (still French-speaking) but have difficulty in finding anything that resembles an hotel; on making an inquiry at a local residence the family kindly offers to let me stay the night.
The lady is a nurse who works nightshift and her son who speaks good English is planning a walk with his girl friend in Spain. Later his father arrives and we chat and drink as I explain how far I have walked during the last 20 years. They are a very kind family who extend their hospitality to sharing their meal with me which I am very grateful for. Despite a rude awakening to the day, I sleep well tonight knowing that my faith in humanity has been well and truly restored.
Chimay to Mons
My hosts had dried my damp clothes overnight and this morning give me a good breakfast before setting off on an ambitious journey to Mons which revisits the early days of Britain’s WW1. To mark the occasion we take photographs at the house and then I visit the local market to video the activities as the day gets underway in good stride.
Well the task of reaching Mons which is 58km from here seems a little unrealistic yet I feel confident I can get close and should in any case find a hotel along the way by dusk. The morning goes well stopping at Beaumont (26km) at lunch; this vibrant town has many facilities and a good social forum, though it is far too early to stop. I do however rest at a cafe and contemplate the next part of the journey wondering what new experiences lay in wait. Excited about reaching Mons, I enjoy the following session ticking off all the villages thereafter. The Kaiser’s violation of Belgium’s Peace Treaty saw Britain’s enter WW1 and during that time my grandad and great uncles all joined up serving in Northampton Regiments. My grandad, Charles Thurlby was only 14 but like many others altered his age and fought his first battle a year later in Constantinople. My great uncle Ben who owned a scrap yard in Oundle was gassed during a France/Belgium offensive. Ben survived and lived in a caravan at his yard well into his seventies until being attacked and robbed by youths; he died shortly after. Charlie fought again in WW2 but died in the sixties through poor health – predictably the wars had taken their toll. Other family members were killed in the Great War and there were many people I knew from Oundle who fought in these campaigns. One man Billy Duke who lived in a hut beside a paddock used to help my parents at the pub and later lodged with our neighbours. Then there was ‘Nobby’ Smith from the ash cart lorry who lived well into his nineties. What ever future life evolved beyond the trenches these men could never hide the scars borne from this dreadful war; most would have found it too difficult to talk about. Inspired by their brave deeds I soldier on feeling grateful to be here and finding a fruitier by the roadside I purchase bananas and an orange. I am able to pick apples most days as the trees still bear fruit which provides a welcome treat along the way. As darkness approaches I struggle on expecting to find a hotel but realising that I had yet to find one that is open in Belgium! Before long I am entering Mons next to the cenotaph laid by the British and Canadians at the end of the war. Mons was the first battle fought in WW1 by the British who quite literally stumbled on the positions of The First German Army. Their infantry came on in great numbers but where gunned down by the fusiliers of the BEF who had been trained in rapid fire and use of machine guns. The success was short-lived and German artillery fire sent the BEF reeling back through France all the time screened by the cavalry whose bravery and altruism helped preserve the BEF as a fighting force in the field. Four years on in this bloody campaign the German war machine was finally halted and the assailants kicked out of Mons by the Canadians who made a valuable contribution throughout the Great War. Across the road I pass an Irish Cenotaph and continuing into the centre I see many epitaphs and personal reminders of the War. Around midnight I come across the only hotel in this part of the city – priced at 100euros – no thanks! Instead I find a park with a lovely dry spot under a conifer which shelters me from the dew and feeling grateful for comfort I drift into slumber.
Mons to Tournai
Having overslept I amble to a nearby cafe which is opened early to accommodate the Saturday market. This is the only commercial activity I come across as I begin to focus on the day ahead. In fact it transpires to be an even later start as the town is not open for business until after 10am; I need food and the tourist office before I depart from here! Eventually I purchase a breakfast at ‘Uncle Ronnie’s and obtain adequate directions for the last section of my walk from the Tourist Office. Leaving in torrential rain I pass through November 11th Street, onto Parc Road and then join the N50 to Tournai. Slow and arduous is how I describe it as the road transforms into a trickling stream though I am lucky to find a cycle path by the river which I use for part of the way. A huge barge passes by and I think to myself ‘Don’t see many of those frequenting the River Nene.’ The width of the vessel would almost certainly breach both banks of our little country river unlike the waterways here which compare to crossing an ocean. Water is certainly in vast quantity for all concerned along this present route, and when the sun finally appears at Bescecles around 4pm I still face a further 20km to Tournai. Stressful it becomes too! Feeling miserable, I remind myself why I am here and think of those who marched before me a hundred years ago. It is difficult to imagine the horrors of war and what they had to put up with, but soon my problems pale into insignificance. Eventually the rain abates and I manage to buy a fish supper 6km from Tournai. On arrival it is the same old story- no hotels/hostels and so I retire to yet another conifer tree in a park opposite a shopping centre; it is the best option given the circumstances. Surrounded by mud, the tree droppings at least provide a dry surface to lay on, while the density of the branches conceal me from main road traffic and late night party dwellers. Given these advantages and the ebbing flow of traffic I manage to steal a valuable ‘forty winks’ in the warmth of my sleeping bag.
Tournai to Roncq
Waking to the commotion of a Sunday Market at Tournai, I join in the fun at a nearby cafe which is presently a hive of activity and commerce. Feeling invigorated by the experience I make my way out of town filming some of the majestic architecture which gives the place its character. Having survived the Great War, ancient and modern blend well in these parts; all the old world cafes have embraced technology and I have no difficulty in constructing a facebook video diary along the way. The road is a less dramatic affair as I tick off the villages en route, find the necessary ‘pit stops’ for coffee and treat myself to a meal after crossing the border into France. I am now bound for Roubaix where I hope to reconnect my journey through Flanders via the Menin Road. Reaching the urban swirl I continue along the busy streets which are a mix of rundown flats and fast-food facilities in what appears to be a largely Muslim Community. I see a cloaked man walking barefoot in the road as he tries to avoid a raucous crowd – it is busy here with many intersections to cross. My journey slows down for a while but eventually I reach Tourcoing where the streets are a maze of captivating architecture. After finding a grocer shop and purchasing provisions, I feel as though the day is near its end. Unable to find a receptionist at a nearby hotel, I take on another section which at least ensures my route to Menin. I stumble down a hole in the embankment and damage my hamstring; continuing lamely I am fortunate in finding a budget Hotel-Premiere where I feel happy to retire for the day. It is only 40 euros including breakfast so at last I can relax, attend to my injury and enjoy the comfort of a bed having walked 150 km for the privilege of sleeping in it!
Roncq to Ypres
Leaving the Premiere Inn after a substantial buffet-style breakfast I walk the N8 to Warelgem which provides reasonable passage despite being under siege from commuter traffic. Bearing left at Warelgem, I cross the road bridge and I walk into Menin. Promptly finding a restaurant I enter for coffee and attempt to chat with a few of the locals; one of the guys, called Jules Coppelle, had spent time in Canada in the 60′s and still speaks good English. He buys me another coffee and takes a photograph to mark the occasion as we continue to chat. Leaving the cafe around noon my journey takes shape along Iuper Street which leads me out of Menin as I follow my course through Flanders Fields. There are now pavements to walk on and a few villages en route; eventually we encounter the Ypres Salient where I visit a cenotaph on the right. A bit further on is a museum containing Great War relics and archives; opposite is a cemetery harbouring many of those who fought in the last battles of 1914. The contestants of this battle front where the BEF who had regrouped at Zonnebeke and stiffened up with Commonwealth troops against the hand picked elite Prussian Guard who had pledged victory or death. It is said the guard came on magnificently – almost as if they were on a military parade; only mortality defied their courage as they fell in their ranks against the murderous machine gun fire of the British Fusiliers. This was a do or die battle to save the Channel Ports and it is impossible to imagine the carnage and consequences resultant from this desperate struggle which only served to widen the conflict. The chaos of backup troops arriving to the front line with the guard breaking through the forest; officers panicking as they try to lead counter-attacks to clear the woods. Hand to hand fighting continued with bayonet and pistol until finally dusk fell upon the victorious remnants of the BEF who had managed to hold their positions; before them lay the guard dead in great swathes and heaps. It should have been the end of the war but instead battles raged on until 1918; new weapons were employed; gas, high explosives laid by tunnellers and the discovery of the tank added to the misery of the ‘tommies’ life on the front line. Despite the innovations of a new age, tactics often remained dated as old generals steeped in Crimea and Boar War history blundered there way to the battle fields. The romance of war, deeds of gallantry and childhood dreams of adventure soon disappeared beneath the mud and barbed wire of Flanders Fields. Young men were wrenched from theirs families and propelled into a war that was fought in Hell. All along the Menin Road I saw poignant reminders of the Great War and a mile from Ypres, by a Commonwealth Inn I take an excursion to Hill 62 at Zillebeke where the Canadians fought battles between 1914-16. Passing Wood Cemetery I come to a museum which is also a restaurant; further on I find the cenotaph; from here Ypres sits only 2 miles from the field which would have been a sobering concept for the public to deal with throughout the conflict. Returning to the restaurant I chat to the maid about finding a hotel in town and spend a moment savouring the day with a coffee. There are many archives here, and on leaving I take photographs of the artillery outside; then head back towards Wood Cemetery and the Ypres Salient. Finally I conclude my pilgrimage at the Menin Gate where a great lion sits proud above the cenotaph reminding the world of the ultimate sacrifice made for peace. It is a stark paragon showing insight into the oddity of war and yet its true horrors and reality could only ever be known by those who stood in ‘No Man’s Land’. This is the most sacred place on Earth to a military man from the British Empire – an epitaph of epic proportions – one that would require a week to read every name inscribed. The soldiers names are all that remain of them though their souls live on in the heart of Ypres where locals and visitors commemorate their loss each night at the Last Post usually performed around 8pm.
We will remember them – God Bless them always!
EPILOGUE
‘The Apathy of War’
Remembering the mud at Passchendaele
In an Autumn offensive doomed to fail,
The loss of life that came to us all,
In another pointless battle which saw many fall,

My nostrils fill with the stench of death,
And gas too, as I struggle for breath,
Flooded are the trenches in the pouring rain,
To fight a battle here is totally insane,

Finally the guns fall silent offering a peaceful hand,
Now poppies grow tall in ‘No Man’s Land’,
Across the world bells toll with joy,
But whatever happened to our beloved boy,

Where are the young people that we all love,
Are they happy in heaven above,
Taken so young is our greatest pain,
How can our world be the same again,

The war to end all wars came at great cost,
Dynasties shattered and a generation lost,
Our boy will never age nor again march or roam,
For he lies with his pals in Flanders Fields and won’t be coming home.
Poem by By Robin Moore
Dedicated to the soldiers who never came home.

With the last post still ringing through my mind the train journey across Flanders and then Lille to Calais gave me much to reflect on having now completed a 35,000km circuit of the British Isles and Europe. To finish the last leg of this circuit along the WW1 battle fields one hundred years on makes my effort more significant and historically rewarding; I have seen poignant plaques and cenotaphs; learned of the brave deeds of our ancestors who were selfless and altruistic in the face of battle with an undying sense of duty. Even though I have met many of these brave men as a child I could never have envisaged their plight or the misery of the trenches, mud and barbwire. It should have been the ‘War to end all Wars’ but sadly it seems humanity has failed to learn this lesson; or is it simply that we are only capable of solving our problems through conflict. A hundred years on, we can only show deep respect and gratitude for the sacrifice of a generation and pray no such war will visit humanity again.
APPENDIX
Follow Robin Moore on Facebook, YouTube and websites.
For all information on Robin’s expeditions, charity work or to download EBOOKS visit:
http://www.robin-moore.co.uk
Robin Moore’s Walking for Charity on Face Book
NATIONAL PILGRIMAGES
http://www.oundlepilgrimage.org.uk
http://www.cornishpilgrimage.org.uk
1914 TIME LINE – the opening stages
28th June – Assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand – Austria-Hungary declares war on Serbia.
1st August – Germany declares war on Russia
3rd August – Germany declares war on France
4th August – Germany violates Belgium Neutrality – Great Britain is now at war
7th August – German forces march into Leige
16th August – BEF lands in France and sets up HQ at Amiens
21st August – BEF crosses into Belgium – Private John Parr, aged 16, is the first British casualty at Obourg
22nd August BEF take up positions at Mons – Cavalry Divisions are engaged in battle with the German Hussars
23rd August – The Battle of Mons Salient where the Germans attack on two flanks
Apparition of the ‘Angels of Mons’ follow the BEF in retreat through the Marmal Forest towards Le Cateau
Other Battles
September – Battle of the Marne
November – The First Battle of Ypres
Christmas Day Truce – British and German troops meet in ‘No Mans Land’ to celebrate Christmas.
Follow Robin’s walk from Ypres to Nantes (via Arras/Somme) in part 2 of A Pilgrimage of War and Words.

PERSONAL DEDICATION TO MARJORIE JONES
THE CADBURY’S ANGELS – Celebrating the life and times of Marjorie Jones.
One late day in July saw a new gift of life,
Born to this world that had seen much strife,
The Great War had gone parting families and friends,
But as an old era dies, a new one begins,

Now the winds of change blow quieter here,
Where the folk of Bournville are kind and sincere,
Like a song that celebrates a brand new face,
Comes free spirit and energy that make a good place,

With compassion and love they valued each day,
Forging friendships at work the Cadbury way,
It was a time of happiness, joy and great fun,
Especially for young Marjorie who loved every one,

The old widows of war had a family again,
Working with the young helped ease their pain,
Among chocolate and raisins life was such fun,
On the sports field too, playing cricket in the sun,

As time marched on this community grew strong,
Bolstering the friendships that remained life-long,
‘The Cadbury’s Angels’ they became to be known,
Iconic in a workplace that they viewed as their home,

But people move on just as the world will turn,
And as this song ends we look back and learn,
Not to forget, and treasure dearly those days,
With the Cadbury’s Angels and their fun-loving ways.

Written by Robin Moore as a Tribute to Marjorie’s wonderful life at Cadbury’s where she viewed her friends as an extended family. She will be sadly missed by all she knew – Marjorie we will always remember you. God Bless you.

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WINTER NEWSLETTER 2014

WINTER NEWSLETTER 2014

Nigel and Robin present a cheque to Sue Ryder Thorpe Hall for funds raised on their Oundle Pilgrimage Walk.

Nigel and Robin present a cheque to Sue Ryder Thorpe Hall for funds raised on their Oundle Pilgrimage Walk.


The Oundle Pilgrimage – supporting local charities
Pictured above are Robin Moore and Nigel Laxton presenting a cheque to Sue Ryder Thorpe Hall raised from their efforts walking the Oundle Pilgrimage.
Symbol of the Oundle Pilgrimage.

Symbol of the Oundle Pilgrimage.


Robin Moore developed the project in 2010 and the 46 mile walk/cycle route has since raised thousands for local charities with a weekend put aside each August for locals to do their bit for Thorpe Hall in Peterborough, Robin says’ The hospice has helped a local people here in Oundle so I decided it would be fitting to build a project in its honour. It has also been one of my own objectives to promote fitness, the environment we live in and tourism in Oundle – so I think its fair to say the pilgrimage caters for all of this’. Robin has walked 30,000 miles around the British Isles and Europe and other continents. Nigel has walked with Robin on a few of these occasions and between them have raised thousands for good causes. Last year’s pilgrimage, Nigel raised £2000 for HEARTSTART. Robin’s recent encounter with the WW1 Salients helped other charities and saw the finish line at the Menin Gate where he completed his circuit of Europe (still with more to do) and has given him an opportunity to write some verse and a book about the experience and his thoughts about the conflict which took place one hundred years ago.
A PILGRIMAGE OF WAR AND WORDS
Geneva to Ypres – WW1 Walk
PROLOGUE
August 1914 saw the Battle of Mons,
As Britain and Germany sent fourth their sons,
Soon to be cannon fodder and casualties of war,
Shedding blood on a scale never seen before.

Reeling through France came the British retreat,
Shielded by the cavalry who turn up the heat,
Those gallant equestrians, adrenalin-fed,
Push back the big guns till all are dead.

The Kaiser’s war machine continues to roll,
Crushing forests and towns as guns take their toll,
Gone are the chivalry and glamour of war,
Replaced by trenches, barbed wire and gore.

Gas, gas, gas a ‘Tommie’ cries,
As the Battle of Ypres takes on a new guise,
Advances the Prussian Guard, strong and steady,
Like a ceremonial parade but with guns at the ready.

The British fix bayonets and the guard are speared,
Fighting hand-to-hand till the woods are cleared,
By dusk the guard lie dead, in great knots, swathes and heaps,
For them the war is over, in this first battle of Ypres.
Poem by Robin Moore.
SAM_1430
Commemorating WW1 a century on, Robin Moore sets off on a 1000km trek across Switzerland, France and Belgium which will complete a circuit of Europe and the British Isles. Read how his adventure unfolds each day and learn about the historical places of interest he encounters.
CHAPTER 1
Dominant Mountains That Preside Over Europe
image
Geneva to Hotel Bellevue, Gex
Starting my walk from Geneva city centre, I make my way to the great lake which borders France and Switzerland; then after running a video commentary near the ferry port and fountain, I continue beside the lake. It is a perfect late September day; sunshine with a breeze from the water allowing a pleasant initiation to this historic walk. I pass through several small parks, occasionally stopping to absorb the scenery and around midday I take a cycle route away from the lake towards the mountainous French Border. The road becomes busy though broken frequently by colourful towns and occasionally my gaze is drawn towards the sky where air traffic is in motion too. I am 5 km from the next village when a local walker joins me; he is astonished when I tell him I am walking to the Menin Gate! He shuffles off quietly on reaching his destination and after continuing to the end of the village I seek help from a hotelier who points me towards France. In the distance lie the Jura Mountain Range which I feel will test me over the coming week. Soon I cross the border, and with little to get excited about other than a sign post marked ‘France’, I continue uphill towards Gex. It is an arduous trek in the heat as I struggle with a 50lb load, and lack of sleep at the airport the previous evening also adds to the discomfort. Once I am confident of my route I start to feel much better and on my last ascent, which sees me only 27km from Morez, I decide to take refuge at Hotel Bellevue at the town of Gex. it is a large building owned by an enthusiastic marine commando whose father fought at Verdun during the Great War. He shows me his father’s picture and medals and later I begin writing my book with a beer on hand while the bar maid tells her local patrons of my endeavours.
Hotel Bellevue, Gex to Morbais
Starting in hot sunshine I continue my ascent across the Jura Mountains; there are no war monuments or battle fields here – just a slow grind through steepling countryside as the towns and villages of yesterday disappear behind a curtain of mist. Even traffic flows by at a leisurely pace and the lorries chug along cautiously as the journey evolves by way of the narrow pass. It is an laboured affair during the morning where at times the diverse terrain reminds me of New Zealand with its collaboration of forest and stern peaks. The afternoon brings respite with a cool descent beyond St Claude Junction; by now I am hitting towns regularly and make use of any facilities available to enjoy a coffee break and the chance to pick up a few provisions.
At La Cur I rouse some curiosity as I deposit my backpack on a park bench outside the Tourist Office, change my socks and eat a sandwich. Soon I have an audience comprising of a touring party who had seen me walking earlier; after explaining the purpose of my journey I show them my pilgrim passport and a publication about a recent expedition. After wishing me well they depart and their distant waves see me on my way to Les Rousses and later Morez where I purchase groceries for tonight’s supper. A further ascent along a busy road section sees me to the campsite at Morbais. Although the campsite is now closed for this season the club owner allows me to stay the night and I am able to purchase a drink from the bar where the locals are enjoying their banter amid the smoky atmosphere of a ‘barbie’.
Morbais to Veiux Chalet Champagnole
Rising to a dew-soaked morning I wind up the tent and take a shower at the block which is still unlocked despite the closure of the site. A cooler start makes walking bearable as more steep ascents set the tone for the day. The first few days of any walk always present a challenge but I am grateful to find this route is broken nicely by interspersing villages. As the road narrows the terrain becomes more demanding and yet diverse affording sheer drops of many hundreds of feet; it is awe-inspiring peering down onto treetops as they disappear into a bottomless chasm. At Champagnole I collect groceries and beyond the town, not far from my next route, I stop at a park and camp for the night. Here I buy a bottle of wine from a shop nearby, and the owner kindly uncorks the screw. Sitting on a bench by the tent I enjoy my supper as dusk closes in across the mountains and all is quiet beneath the stars.
Veiux Chalet, Champagnole to Samson
Rising to bright sunshine I dismantle the tent, use the toilet facilities at the park entrance and then proceed along the main road to the Salin Junction. This section follows minor roads throughout the morning with my main coffee break at a restaurant at Salin-le-Bains. From here the heat is unbearable though the scenery, comprised largely of forest mountain landscape and the audio presence of running waster, served as a delightful opiate. En route I met another traveller who had passed me earlier in a car heading for Campagnole; he hails from Verdun and spoke good English. Intrigued by my quest he takes photos and a video which he posts on his Youtube/Facebook pages to give me a bit of support and hopefully some media coverage for our charities. Before departing he hands me some fruit and a bottle of water; then wishes me well for the remainder of my trip. As evening draws close, I meet a group who give me water and an offer to camp. Feeling that the day is incomplete, I press on to the next village where I purchase cheese and wine; a further km north of the village I camp at a field near the road which is at least encompassed by hedgerows.
Samson to Rioz
Disappearing of the radar at dusk is quite important when camping rough as I need to be concealed and feel relaxed to manage a few hours sleep.
A misty morning brings cooler air as I tackle the busy main road with caution, not able to obtain a coffee until reaching Landin around 11.30am. I enjoy a few moments as a spectator, watching the world go by; but soon the road beckons and it is time to return to the task. Sadly the second part of the day disintegrates as the road network becomes complex around industrial Besancon. After taking a wrong turn I receive directions from a lady at a nearby school and descend to the outer regions of town. Soon I am walking on the main road to Vesoul having failed to locate the byway I need to keep on course to Combeaufontaine. Continuing in fear for my life and with motorway instructions now imminent, I make it to Rioz by nightfall. After an extensive ‘reccy’ I realise there is nowhere to stay; so I put up a bivvy outside the campsite which is closed, and fetch a takeaway meal from the only place that is open here.
CHAPTER 2
A Countryside Devoid Of Time
Rioz to Combeaufontaine
Sleeping through sheer exhaustion and uncertain what to do, I visit the police station for help. They are great! Once issued with a coffee they give me a route planner to cover the next 2 days which promises a rural journey along the quieter byways/cycle routes as far as Jussey. Then after receiving an official Gendarme stamp on my WW1 passport, I set off in good stride, feeling grateful for their efforts to help me. The route takes me through the remainder of the town and passes under the motorway where it bears left by a country park. As the day unfolds I begin to appreciate a pleasant scenic journey through rural France in contrast to the initiation along the steep mountain pass, and mad motorway of yesterday. Passing many ancient villages such as Fondremand, Maizieres and Traves I feel consumed by a timeless rural atmosphere. I even stumble across a Camino de Santiago route which interacts with some of the more ancient communities. On reaching the quaint little town of Combeaufontaine I pick up some groceries, but with no accommodation available to tempt me to stay, I set up a camp 2 km north of the village.
Combeaufontaine to Lamarche
The early morning pattern of mist continues as I dismantle my tent and wander carefully along the road. The one problem I face today is obtaining enough water and provisions in these rural parts where it seems that the inhabitants live with a degree of self-sufficiency. Passing through numerous communities over the last week I notice allotments, small-holdings and farm shops which open only in the morning; though later today I manage to get adequate supplies at Jussey. After obtaining road information from the Tourist Office, I visit the cenotaph which is the most conspicuous so far, revealing the names of the war dead who had fought in great campaigns such as Verdun, Le Marne and the Somme; monuments such as this will be commonplace throughout the remainder of my journey. Continuing into the wilderness without seeing another shop or restaurant, I begin to feel as though this countryside is in a time of its own – devoid of change or the passage of time. Only speeding motors and farm machinery gives it away in an environment where people enjoy their allotments and orchards which have kept them self-sufficient for generations. Nearing dusk some youngsters help me obtain water from a tap by the church. Later on course for the final 6km to Lamarche they track me down on bicycles to give me a king size bottle for the night. It is as though they know I am facing a tough evening and I am quite taken back by the kindness-it is the highlight of the day- God bless them.
Lamarche, like all that precedes it since Jussey, is another dead place – rundown hotels which are closed – no sign of life any where and on leaving the town I quickly find a quite spot near the woods to set up camp for the night.
Lamarche to Neufchateau
I am shattered having completed a week on the road at 12 hours per day with each night under canvas – I need a proper sleep! As the mist clears the day heats up draining me as I struggle to obtain water. Eventually I manage to acquire a bottle at a farm where the owner also gives me some fruit for sustenance. I only had a 37km walk today but the heat and lack of food make it slow work. Reaching a village fountain I leap into the water to cool down and enjoy a good soak. The locals appear bemused though I try to explain it is more pleasurable now than at 6am – though I did summon enough courage to attempt a shave in a water butt one misty morning! Life on the road is full of innovations where good health and survival are the only way forward. Rejoining the road I stop to ask a local couple for water; they kindly invite me into their garden for a drink of freshly squeezed apple juice curtesy of their orchard while I explain my quest and what it has so far entailed. They are astonished to feel the weight of my pack – ‘Vingt killos?’ exclaims the lady! After bading farewell I make good progress reaching my destination of Neufchateau by 5pm and promptly book into the local hotel, Le Rialto – 52euros. The lady signs my WW1 passport but refuses to give any discounts – explaining that they were reserved for the pilgrims with Camino de Santiago credentials. At least I enjoy a proper night’s rest with the promise of a breakfast in the morning.
Neufchateau to Vaucouleurs
After a night in an hotel I actually feel more tired than usual and after my breakfast I toil in the heat. I make hard work of the morning session to Domremy but enjoy a good coffee which is a boost to morale. After the break I get into a steady rhythm as the afternoon drifts by amid the drone of traffic. Reaching Vaucouleurs in early evening I feel as though I can press on further, but wary of the previous times when short of provisions I opt to go to the supermarket, get food and after, I set up camp whilst still light a few km beyond town.
CHAPTER 3
Poignant Reminders Of The Great War
Vaucouleurs Region to Sur Meuse
Starting in heavy mist I concentrate hard for the few Km to Void where all is still quiet on this Saturday morning. Not able to get coffee I press on to Commercy and enjoy a bustling market scene which to a ‘man of the road’ is a breath of fresh air. Feeling energised by the moment I walk through the slender streets to the beautiful town centre and its lofty architecture. Here I take coffee and marvel at the crowds thinking to myself that Commercy most definately lives up to its name. Before pressing on to St Mihiel I visit a war cemetery harbouring those who fell in the battles of the Marne, Meuse and Verdun. War raged on around these parts throughout 1914-18 and at one stage the Germans came within 50 miles of Paris. So desperate was the plight of the French that commander-in-chief, General Joffre hired every cab in Paris to rush troops to the front line. This drastic action enabled him to successfully launch a counter-attack on the River Marne on 4th September 1914 which halted the German war machine. Sadly though, the great French dreams of a triumphant offensive to end the war did not come and the misery of trench warfare followed with pointless combat in ‘No mans land’ until the end of 1918. Beyond here are many places with war graves but few with shops though I manage another at coffee at a bar and later a cake at St Mihiel. Along the way there are more cenotaphs and memorials to the Great War; most significant is the Roman Camp at St Mihiel which was taken by the Bavarians despite brave fighting from the single unit left there to guard it. Beyond the town is another war cemetery and a further 6 km I find the only hotel between St Mihiel and Verdun thanks to the help of a local lady. Merci beaucoup!
Auberge du Chaudron, Fleuri sur Meuse to Verdun
I am glad of a good sleep at the hotel and keep some of supper for this morning’s breakfast realising that there are so few facilities out in these rural parts. Today is also Sunday and a wet one at that as I walk all the way to Verdun ticking off the cemeteries en route and trying to imagine the scenes of battle along the Meuse. A hundred years ago tanks would have rolled through broken woods towards the river against the sound of cannon fire and machine guns. Today the landscape presents a peaceful arable scene that bears the solitary murmur of a tractor. Only the weather denies history and the day stays damp and miserable as it may well have been a century ago. With 27km under my belt today I wonder when I will come across a place to enjoy a coffee! Entering the town of Verdun I find a solution to the problem at Macdonalds where I also enjoy a cooked meal – burger and chips and wifi for my video diary– good old Uncle Ronnie!
Heading further into town I find a grocer shop that is open and visit the Tourist Office where the attendant stamps my passport and gives me information about the town’s war history. Continuing across the river to the gated town entrance I watch a boat race reach its conclusion amid enthusiastic cheers along the river bank. Passing through the gated entrance I see a different section of Verdun which is largely commercial with modern shops, restaurants and a few dated buildings; most of these are residential interspersed by several reasonably priced hotels. On the whole this is an ideal base for war historians wishing to explore one of the most catastrophic theatres of war.Tourism here is largely derived from the devastation of the Great War which has intrigued so many over the last century. Some are drawn here to find lost relatives who fought in the campaign; others visit to try to make sense of the huge loss of life which occurred during what was the most modern war of its age. The whole region conveys a poignant message and as the night continues I pass more cenotaphs and a vast war cemetery where the visual evidence of a desperate struggle is quite conclusive – those who fought here knew real hardship and suffering! As the white tablets become more distant dusk approaches bringing more wet weather. I manage to find a field suitable for camping and descend to the woods; here I stay dry, and after a mackerel salad accompanied by a drop of wine, the traffic grows quiet allowing me to drift into slumber.
Verdun Region to Inur
Waking after a night of rainfall I make the most of a mist free session in the morning reaching Chamy around 10am. I visit a bar by a park where the locals gaze at my passport stamps while I take a wash and shave in the disabled toilet. As it turns out this is the one and only opportunity to have a coffee break as the trend of no facilities continues; during the last week I have come across many places closed for renovation, sale or simply brought to a standstill through lack of trade. Even at the town of Dun sur Meuse everything is either closed or under repair and the only place I can obtain water is the chemist! Eventually my efforts are rewarded at Stenay where I find a supermarket and buy all I need for tonight. A few miles on at Inur I finish at the campsite where a night under canvas costs only 4euros. I speak to another traveller from Germany who is also visiting the battlefields. Later I cross the road to the local pub and write up my diary on what turns out to be the most productive day on tour so far – realising over 50km.
Inur to Sedan

Historic town en route to Verdun

Historic town en route to Verdun


During the night torrential rain forces me to abandon tent and take refuge in the wash room; my tent is saturated and difficult to pack away; other items too are wet. The nightmare continues as rain and traffic disrupt the day though I pass through some historic places which breaks up the monotony; Mouzon with its medieval archway entrance and wonderful church add a depth of history dating back 2000 years. Although a bit autumnal I relax with some raison bread and milk beside the river; after I follow the bank back to my main road route via the D954. Occasionally I stray from my route and use a village trail; this is usually counter-productive yet often necessary to relieve myself from the stress of traffic. The last two days have seen many beautiful water scenes where tributaries form from waterfalls and canals spur off the river following the road through more towns and villages. For a while I get a chance to walk close to the river bank; stopping at a lock gate I eat some chocolate and later watch fishermen casting from a bridge. A shoal of large chub in the shallow water catch my gaze and I shout across to the fishers to cast further out. Another place dominated by water (and once again from the sky too) is Sedan, my destination for today, where I am fortunate to find a municipal campsite. Although closed the care-taker does not object to me setting up camp under the games area where I could at least stay dry! He and his wife wished me well and gave directions for tomorrow’s journey which will take in the busy region of Charleville Mezieres.
Sedan to Bough Fidele
The pattern of wet continues and I promptly stop for coffee at a sports cafe on the edge of town where todays travels begin. I use the facilities for a wash and shave then from here I toil on through the suburban areas of Charville Mervais stopping three more times for coffee to take refuge from torrential rain. The day does not ameliorate and on leaving the city I take the D22 to Renwez where to my horror the only hotel I have seen all day is closed! All too often nearing dusk I find myself in this predicament – particularly on this current expedition and with more wet weather imminent I face the prospect of camping in a muddy forest. This I do several miles on but eventually the storm that has stalked me all day finds its quarry and my tent fills with water soaking everything. I am subjected to a cold, wet and sleepless night.
CHAPTER 4
The Last Charge
Bourg Fidele to Chimay
My ordeal continues and I can barely keep my eyes open as I decide which items of equipment are no longer serviceable. The tent is of no further use and in any case, I had converted it to a bivvy, whilst in Spain earlier this year for the purpose of short journeys in summer months; I also scrap some of the more worn clothing that is sodden through. Finding a bakers en route I purchase a roll and ponder over my predicament; at least I will be crossing the border into Belgium soon. On this note I press on to the next village where I am escorted to a sports cafe by 2 cows – probably an early milk delivery! They peer through the door and soon gather an audience as we tolerate their company long enough to take photos. After coffee I march them up the road as far as the square where they stop to investigate something else of interest. Happy to leave them to their own devises, I continue my adventure in the direction of Rocroi. There are roadworks near the town though thankfully the thoroughfare is more intriguing accentuated by some elaborate features and eye-catching statues to the left. After visiting to Tourist Office at Rocroi it rains again so I retire to the Hotel de Commerce to write my diary with the aid of more caffeine. Rain eventually subsides and I move on from the town; the terrain remains rural and in the afternoon I cross the border into Belgium. The road is quiet with only a few broken communities and closed hotels. Joining the main road I make steady progress to Chimay where I purchase groceries (still French-speaking) but have difficulty in finding anything that resembles an hotel; on making an inquiry at a local residence the family kindly offered to let me stay the night; feeding me and making most welcome which I am very grateful for.
Chimay to Mons
My hosts spoke good English and were kind to me drying my damp clothes and making me a good breakfast before setting off on an ambitious journey to the early days of WW1
Well the task of reaching Mons-58km from here seems a little unrealistic yet I feel confident I can get close and should in any case find a hotel along the way before dusk. The day goes well stopping at Beaumont (26km) for lunch; this vibrant town has many good facilities though it is far too early to stop. I do however rest at a cafe and once rejuvenated power into the following session ticking off all the villages thereafter. I find a fruitier by the roadside and purchase bananas and an orange; I am able to pick apples most days as the trees still bear fruit; but as night fell I struggle on expecting to find a hotel – realising that I had yet to see one in Belgium! Before long I am entering Mons by the Cenotaph laid by the British and Canadians at the end of the war. Mons was the first battle fought in WW1 by the British who quite literally stumbled on the positions of The First German Army. Their infantry came on in great numbers but where gunned down by the fusiliers of the BEF who had been trained in rapid fire and use of machine guns. The success was short-lived and German artillery fire sent the BEF reeling back through France all the time shielded by the cavalry whose bravery and altruism helped preserve the BEF as a fighting force in the field. Four years on in this bloody campaign the German war machine was finally halted and the assailants kicked out of Mons by the Canadians who made a valuable contribution throughout the Great War. Across the road I pass an Irish Cenotaph and continuing into the centre I see many epitaphs and personal reminders of the War. Around midnight I come across the only hotel in this part of the city – priced at 100euros – no thanks! Instead I find a park with a lovely dry spot under a conifer which shelters me from the dew and feeling grateful for comfort I drift into slumber.
Mons to Tournai
Having overslept I stumble to a nearby cafe which is opened early to accommodate the Saturday market. This is the only commercial activity I come across as I begin to focus on the day ahead. In fact it transpires to be an even later start as the town is not open for business until after 10am; I need food and the tourist office before I depart from here! Eventually I purchase a breakfast at ‘Uncle Ronnie’s and obtain adequate directions for the last section of my walk from the Tourist Office. Leaving in torrential rain I pass through November 11th Street, onto Parc Road and then join the N50 to Tournai. Slow and arduous is how I describe it as the road floods through and I am lucky to find a cycle path by the river which I use for part of the way. A huge barge passes by and I think to myself ‘Don’t see too many of those on the River Nene!’ The width of the vessel would almost certainly breach both banks of our little country river unlike the waterways here which compare to crossing an ocean. Water is certainly in vast quantity here for all concerned and when the sun finally appears at Bescecles at 4pm I still face a further 20km to Tournai. Laboured it becomes too! However, the rain abates and I manage to buy a fish supper 6km from Tournai. On arrival it is the same old story- no hotels/hostels and so I retire to yet another conifer tree in a park opposite a shopping centre; it is the best option given the circumstances. Surrounded by mud, the tree droppings at least provide a dry surface to lay on, while the density of the branches conceal me from main road traffic and party dwellers. Given these advantages and the ebbing flow of traffic I manage a few valuable hours rest in the warmth of my sleeping bag.
Tournai to Roncq
Waking to the commotion of a Sunday Market at Tournai, I join in the fun at a nearby cafe which is presently a centre of activity and commerce. Feeling invigorated by the experience I make my way out of town filming some of the majestic architecture which gives the place it’s character. Having survived the Great War, ancient and modern blend well in these parts; all the old world cafes have embraced technology and I have no difficulty in constructing a facebook video diary along the way. The road is a less dramatic affair as I tick off the villages en route, find the necessary ‘pit stops’ for coffee and treat myself to a meal after crossing the border back into France. I am now bound for Roubaix where I hope to reconnect my journey through Flanders via the Menin Road. Reaching the urban swirl I continue along the busy streets which are a mix of rundown flats and fast-food facilities in what appears to be a largely Muslim Community. I see a cloaked man walking barefoot in the road as he tries to avoid a crowd – it is busy here with a lot of intersections to cross. My journey slows down for a while but eventually I reach Tourcoing and its captivating architecture. After finding a grocer shop and purchasing provisions, I feel as though the day is near its end. Unable to find a receptionist at a nearby hotel, I take on another section which at least ensures my route to Menin; Then I am fortunate in finding a budget Hotel-Premiere where I feel happy to retire for the day. It is only 40 euros including breakfast so at last I can relax and enjoy the comfort of a bed having walked 150 km for the privilege of sleeping in it!
Roncq to Ypres
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Leaving the Premiere Inn after a substantial buffet-style breakfast I walk the N8 to Warelgem which provides reasonable passage despite being under siege from commuter traffic. Bearing left at Warelgem, I cross the road bridge and I walk into Menin. Promptly finding a restaurant I enter for coffee and attempt to chat with a few of the locals; one of the guys had spent time in Canada in the 60′s and still speaks good English. He buys me another coffee and takes a photograph to mark the occasion in between the chat. Leaving the cafe around noon my journey continues along Iuper Street. There are pavements to walk on and a few villages en route; eventually we encounter the Ypres Salient where I visit a cenotaph on the right. A bit further on is a museum containing Great War relics and archives; opposite is a cemetery harbouring the soldiers who fought in those last battles of 1914 culminating in the First Battle of Ypres. The contestants in the field were the BEF who had retreated from Mons; then regrouped at Zonnebeke with re-enforcements from the Commonwealth. Here they prepared to defend against hand picked troops of the elite Prussian Guard who had pledged victory or death. It is said they came on magnificently – almost as if they were on a military parade; only mortality defied their courage as they fell in their ranks against the murderous machine gun fire of the British Fusiliers. This was a do or die battle to save the Channel Ports and it is impossible to imagine the carnage caused by this desperate struggle. The chaos of backup troops arriving to the front line with the guard breaking through the forest; officers panicking as they try to lead counter-attacks to clear the woods. Hand to hand fighting continued with bayonet and pistol until finally dusk fell upon the remnants of the BEF who had managed to hold their positions; before them lay the guard dead in great swathes piles and heaps. It should have been the end of the war but instead battles raged on until 1918; new weapons were employed; gas, high explosives laid by tunnellers and the discovery of the tank added to the misery of the ‘tommies’ life on the front line. All along the Menin Road I saw poignant reminders of the Great War and a mile from Ypres, by a Commonwealth Inn I take an excursion to Hill 62 where the Canadians fought battles between 1914-16. Passing Wood Cemetery I come to a museum which is also a restaurant; further on I find the cenotaph; from here Ypres sits only 2 miles from the field which would have been a sobering concept for the public to deal with throughout the conflict. Returning to the restaurant I chat to the maid about finding an hotel in town and spend a moment savouring the day with a coffee. There are many archives here, and on leaving I take photographs of the artillery outside; then head back towards Wood Cemetery and the Ypres Salient. Finally I conclude my pilgrimage at the Menin Gate where a great lion sits proud above the cenotaph reminding the world of the ultimate sacrifice made for peace. This is the most sacred place on Earth to a military man from the British Empire. The soldiers names are all that remain of them though their souls live on in the heart of Ypres where locals and visitors commemorate their loss each night at the last post – 8pm.
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We will remember them – God Bless them always!
EPILOGUE
With the last post still ringing through my mind the train journey across Flanders and then Lille to Calais gave me much to reflect on having now completed a 35,000km circuit of the British Isles and Europe. To finish the last leg of this circuit along the WW1 battle fields one hundred years on makes my effort more significant and historically rewarding; I have seen poignant plaques and cenotaphs; learned of the brave deeds of our ancestors who were selfless and altruistic in the face of battle with an undying sense of duty. Even though I have met many of these brave men as a child I could never have envisaged their plight or the misery of the trenches, mud and barbwire. We can only show deep respect and gratitude for their sacrifice and pray no such war will visit humanity again.
APPENDIX
Follow Robin Moore on Facebook, YouTube and websites.
For all information on Robin’s expeditions, charity work or to download EBOOKS visit:
http://www.robin-moore.co.uk
Robin Moore’s Walking for Charity on Face Book
NATIONAL PILGRIMAGES
http://www.oundlepilgrimage.org.uk
http://www.cornishpilgrimage.org.uk
1914 TIME LINE – the opening stages
28th June – Assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand – Austria-Hungary declares war on Serbia.
1st August – Germany declares war on Russia
3rd August – Germany declares war on France
4th August – Germany violates Belgium Neutrality – Great Britain is now at war
7th August – German forces march into Leige
16th August – BEF lands in France and sets up HQ at Amiens
21st August – BEF crosses into Belgium – Private John Parr, aged 16, is the first British casualty at Obourg
22nd August BEF take up positions at Mons – Cavalry Divisions are engaged in battle with the German Hussars
23rd August – The Battle of Mons Salient where the Germans attack on two flanks
Apparition of the ‘Angels of Mons’ follow the BEF in retreat through the Marmal Forest towards Le Cateau
Other Battles
September – Battle of the Marne
November – The First Battle of Ypres
Christmas Day Truce – British and German troops meet in ‘No Mans Land’ to celebrate Christmas.

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AUTUMN NEWSLETTER -Fundraising for PCTA and other local charities

AUTUMN NEWSLETTER
WW1 WALK ACROSS EUROPE
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– A Pilgrimage of War and Words
Commencing in September/October Robin Moore’s 1,000km walk across Europe will follow the 1914 allied frontline from Switzerland to Ypres and on completion will hopefully have raised funds for 4 UK charities. This Pilgrimage of ‘War and Words’ will be the third associated with Ypres in Flanders; we hope to document the expedition using video link via Face Book and then later publish as a book with some historic reference to the Great War. The journey will serve not only as a poignant reminder of the ultimate sacrifice made by soldiers on the Western Front but also convey a message of peace and hope as I endeavour to raise money for local charities which in turn will provide specialist care and treatment.
I am hoping to add to the 2.4 million raised from the Peterborough Cancer Treatment Appeal which is dedicated to fundraising for equipment used in the diagnosis and treatment of cancer at regional NHS hospices, Stamford and Peterborough.
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Another local charity we will be raising funds for is Action for Asperger’s at Lilford Lodge Farm, Barnwell. The charity provides counselling, emotional support, diagnostic and advocacy service for lives affected by Asperger’s Syndrome/Autism. Please contact Claire Crosby for information on how to make donations to this charity. claire.crosby@actionforaspergers.org
Tel: 01832272288.
Mobile: 07813975574.
For those wishing to support Cornwall Hospice Care please use the justgiving page at our website: cornishpilgrimage.org.uk
Another charity to benefit is Prostate Cancer UK (I have updated the justgiving page for this walk)and donations can be made at the Angel Inn, Oundle or at the Rose &Crown Islip; the MOVEMBER Campaign will be launched on completion of the walk for those wishing to ‘Grow a Mo’.
PCTA Sponsor forms and charity boxes will be available at some of our inns below and we are hoping to host a charity gig/open mic night early on in November.

DONATING ONLINE:
http://www.justgiving.com/Robin-Moorecp
http://www.justgiving.com/Robin-Moore
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ROUTE
Switzerland
Belfort
Verdun
Mons
Lille
Hill 62
Ypres

PLEASE HELP A WORTHY CAUSE
http://www.robin-moore.co.uk
Other websites:
http://www.oundlepilgrimage.org.uk
http://www.cornishpilgrimage.org.uk

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SUMMER NEWSLETTER 2014

SUMMER NEWSLETTER 2014
THE CORNISH PILGRIMAGE
Although this project is under construction it has been founded in honour of Cornwall Hospice Care and provides walkers/cyclists with an opportunity to discover this ancient and modern kingdom. The route contains 9 sections including a circular Gwennap Pilgrimage which we will be walking this year on August Bank Holiday Sunday from the Coppice Inn car park, at Lanner around 10am. The main Pilgrimage route spans Cornwall from Morwenstow Church on the north coast to St Michael’s Mount on the south; from here there are 3 extension routes to Land’s End. As well as introducing the idea as a ‘Journey of Discovery’, we are also inviting participants to raise awareness/funds for Cornwall Hospice Care; those taking part in the pilgrimage will have a passport to collect stamps along the way. I hope to be walking the route in the middle of August and expect to be in the Gwennap Region in order to complete the Bank Holiday Pilgrimage on my way to Michael’s Mount. Any one else wishing to support my walk and Cornwall Hospice Care can do so at our justgiving pages once they have become available. For details about our pilgrimage projects please check out our new websites:
http://www.cornishpilgrimage.org.uk
OUNDLE PILGRIMAGE
Our weekend pilgrimage on behalf of Sue Ryder Thorpe Hall begins on the 9th August at
St Peter’s Church; a collection will also be held at the Co-op in Oundle during the morning. Details about the Pilgrimage can be found at:
http://www.oundlepilgrimage.org.uk
EBOOKS
Books are now available to download from this section; these include expeditions and guides.
END OF SUMMER EVENT
FIRST WORLD WAR COMMERORATION WALK – 1000 Miles
Itinerary to be published in August which will cover a journey from Switzerland to Ypres in Belgium.
Robin Moore’s walk will benefit local charities:
Prostate Cancer UK
Cancer Research UK
Plus 2 others yet to be named.
We will publish justgiving pages for each charity and hold events to support the effort.
Click on CANCER CHARITIES to read more about the charities that benefit from Robin Moore’s expeditions and fundraising schemes.

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WALKING FROM GENEVA TO ARLES

Day 1 Geneva to Le Mont Sion (Neydens Region)

READY FOR ACTION!

READY FOR ACTION!


Mental start!! Several hours of walking round in circles – nobody has a clue where the French border is let alone a pedestrian route there! Thankfully a young lad stops and pulls out his mobile Sat/Nav. and thanks to his intervention all is well as I progress to the border via Carouge. At dusk I camp in a field which lies between the river and road – freezing cold and a few hours after settling I have a police visit. Thumbling in the dark for my passport amuses them and after commenting on my accent they leave me to shiver for another few hours.
Camping on wet mud gave little comfort and at dawn I continue my walk as far as an hotel where the proprieter offers me a free breakfast. We chat for awhile and in between serving her customers she sorts me out with a decent route in the form of ´The Famous Camino de Santiago´ – many of these paths I have walked before during my travels around the continent.
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Day 2 Charly to Frangy
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A 2-mile hike from the hotel leads to Charly where there is in fact a Gite dÉtape for pilgrims – a hostel for pilgrims providing a free bed and stamp for your passport. From here I set off up the steep, muddy lane which I´m glad to say is clearly marked. From a height of 760metres the pilgrim route – GR65 takes in La Motte, Charnouy and Contamine-Sarzin. Despite being very damp and muddy – similar to conditions you´d expect in the UK right now, it became warm once away from the cold wind that is prevalent in this stern mountainous region. By 3pm I come to a standstill at Frangy and book into a hotel for 35eu – at least I can enjoy a ´policeless´peaceful warm night´s sleep.
Day 3. Frangy to Chanaz
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The Swiss alps continue to dominate the landscape bringing the cold winds which dispel any thoughts of camping. The terrain remained muddy and a steep rural blast between Le Grand Pont and Syssel is enough to blow out the cobwebs of a good nights rest.
The afternoon session encounters the small places associated with Le Bourget du Lac, and at Pont de la Loi I am overtaken by an equestrian group. There were many cyclists too – largely following the National Cycle Route which at times interracts with the Camino de Santiago. There is a pleasant river section that leads to the village of Chanaz which seemed like a good point to break off for the day. At the Gite de Chanaz I pay 10eu to camp but in fact spent most of the night in the warm changing rooms where I am able to get a few hours sleep – frost suggests it is still too cold for camping!
Day 3 Chanaz to St Genex Region
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Leaving around 7am, I manage to purchase a coffee at the village and then I make my ascent away towards Yenne – 18km. Pausing momentarilly I capture the mountains poking through the mist evoking yet another scene of unvisited beauty. As the cold air disperses it becomes another glorious day but I have difficulty in obtaining food and water as shops are scarce in this region. As the afternoon drifts on I get tired and thirsty – often knocking on doors to obtain water from locals. The mountain route was desolate and at times unforgiving – winding throughout the forest where snow lay all around. Eventually I descend from Mount Tournier yet there is little that ressembled a community let alone a shop – only the churches remain prominent here. On my next ascent I stop at a solitary cottage which was in fact a guest house still closed for winter season.
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The lady, Annie stopped her painting chore to refill my water bottles and on hearing that I planned to camp suggested I stayed at the cottage – this was a far better option to camping and although not yet open and heated it was a great comfort to me and Annie was very kind ensuring I was well nourished after a gruelling day on the GR65.
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Day 5 Guiers-Cotenvert (Annie Latge) to Voiron
It would be another month before Annie can expect visitors walking the Camino most of whom hail from Austria and Germany, so she was happy to stamp my pilgrim passport and acknowledge me as the first walker of the ´season´- God Bless her.
After a lovely breakfast at Annie´s I made short work getting to Saint-Genex-Sur-Guiers and was soon walking up the river bank to Aoste where fishermen were enjoying a calm sunny morning. The Camino route proved difficult to follow at times and in the afternoon I found myself on the cycle route which led me on a massive excursion to Les Abrets which should have been just 5 km away and yet took nearly 4 hours to walk! Unhappy with this and not certain of the direction to Lake Paldeau I completed the evening section on road as far as Voiron where I camped rough on a farm track just beyond town.
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Day 6 Voiron to St . Hillaire-du-Rosier
Happy to continue by road today, I would endeavour to rejoin the camino either St Antoine-lÁbbaye or Valence where the path follows the Rhone for the remainder of its course.
After walking 13 hours yesterday I feel tired – not helped by another cold, sleepless night. It is quite hot today and I stop frequently for coffee and water, as the sun nears the top of the mountains I enjoy a tiny little knap at a picnic park between Teche and St Sauveux. Passing St Marcellin I take a wrong turn but thankfully realise and retreat and make good in the final hour. At St. Hillaire du Rosier I see a small hotel along the thoroughfare and am lucky to stay there for 30eu.
Day 7 St Hillaire to Valence
Continuing my journey along the remainder of the D1092 I enjoy a warm morning to Romans sur-Isere where I change route and now walk the cycle track beside the N532 dual carriageway. It is slow progress to St Marcel-les-Valence as I set off in search of another great city. As the road winds through the city I take time to explore and photo the prominent landmarks. After obtaining a geographical fix on my exit across the river to the opposite bank where I can join the Camino to Arles, I retire to the Lyon Hotel where I pay 38eu for a room.
Day 8 Valence to Cruas
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A bottle of vin rouge and a good night´s rest was all I needed to recupperate and once across the river I was soon stepping out on the camino route along the Rhone to Beauchastel. It remains warm with an added presence of equestrians and cyclists, who as locals probably frequent the route daily. There was a solitary boat along the river and after the morning stint I stopped for coffee at a club-style cafe where the jukebox played ´We´re all living in America´! After ´´feeling chilled´´ out by that experience I continue my journey to Le Pouzin which is shared by towpath and road.
Everything converges on this place and the session that follows takes me to nightfall and I am lucky to stay at the Cruas Campsite which lies on the Camino Route which is only a few metres from the river bank.
Day 9 Cruas to Bourg St Andeal
It was another night in the changing rooms I´m afraid as the evenings here are still cool, unlike the day which is always full of promise. The first part was a bit misty as I encounter the EDF Power Station. I get lost a few times trying to get beyond this point but once on course I put in a good stint to Le Teil. It was a less enjoyable affair to Viviers where at least I got some provisions for the evening.In the heat I try to focus on the chalk clifs which obscure the Rhone and as the chill of night draws in all was at peace once again. I saw freight trains pass by all day and walked through concrete towns -´literally´ – places that have evolved from the cement industry which now provide a strong economy (at least 3and 1) and good foundations too – I hope! On reaching Bourg I get a room at a local hotel and enjoy a meal of bread and cheese which I managed to buy at the last town.
Day 10 Bourg to Laudin
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Using the cycle route I walk on to St Just where I have coffee and Raisin bread for breakfast. At Pont-st -Esprit I sit on a bench and enjoy a picnic and then take photos of a statue which commemorates the local men who fought in the Great War. The nearby Abbey sees me on the way again with a few signposts for Arles to add momentum. At Bagnols I run into trouble trying to follow the Camino de Santiago to Laudin and I find myself on a circular cycle route which puts pay to the evening session. By dusk I find a lonesome hotel in the region of Laudin and call it a day. I was glad of the room but the wine I ordered cost me 20eu!!
Day 11 Laudin to Graveson
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A tough day now beckons in order to make up for the previous bad evening session and this time I will see it through along the road. I am able to use the hard shoulder and make light work of Avignon but walk round the town a couple of times so as to be sure I was on the correct route to Arles. Looked more like a motorway but was in fact a modern dual carriageway which eventually diminished into the usual bog-standard secondary route which at times can be a bit too narrow. After collecting provisions at Graveson I walk on to a peaceful location beside the canal and set up camp just before dusk – it was lovely – and warm for a change.
Day 12 Graveson to Arles
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Good sleep and a great start – no traffic until reaching the industrial outposts of the ´modern Arles´´. A kind lady treats me to breakfast at her hotel and later I spend time exploring ancient Arles. I was so captivated with its charm I spent the night there and got my coach to Spain on Monday instead where I immediately started a 5-day walk from Valencia to Alacant which would take me to completion of a continuous circle of walks around the country! Read more soon -will also be publishing on EBOOKS later in the year, walks on the continent will be available in this section.

WALKING IN SPAIN
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Day 1 Valencia to Cullera
Commencing a new adventure in Spain around 7am, I first had to find directions how to get out of Valencia. A road sweeper assists and soon I am walking the underpass which runs through the city gardens. When I run out of city and foot path a young maid points me in the right direction and soon I emerge at a narrow lane next to the motorway. I run into some gypsies who were less helpful but a local guy confirmed my route and I was soon on my way. It was basically a cycle trail weaving in and out of the smaller coastal places the first of which was Pelida where I stop for coffee. At the next stop the motorway becomes the CV500 which caters for allcomers making my journey into El Saler a straightforward one. Beyond here I have water to my right which is strange as I am walking the Mediterranean coast and it should be on the left! There are sluice gates ahead forming a dam, and I wonder whether it is a fish farm.
Later in the day I reach Cullera and get a taste of resort life which is the main attraction of this coastline. I sustain myself with oranges picked from the trees and decide to walk through the town.The idea paid off as I found both campsite and supermarket and spent a lovely peaceful evening there for just 7eu with only a family staying here at the top of the pitch.
Day 2 Cullera to Olivia Region.
I sleep well despite heavy festivities from a nearby saloon. The constant sound of explosions signal the advent of a bank holiday which the Spanish will celebrate passionately. The cool air was welcome as I eventually leave the town (there was tons of it!) and soon I joined the N332 coast road, my route for the remainder of the journey. By noon it is hot and there is a motorway section to encounter between Xeresa and Gandia. At Gandia I follow the coast road into Daimus and Olivia where the celebrations are at a peak. I had drunk youths driving motorcycles at me and then taking their hands of the steering bars, explosions going off all around and people barely able to walk because they had ´´over-celebrated.´´ It was great fun for most of us!
Leaving here the evening stretch became intense and inconclusive as I had lost a page in my map and unsure whether to take a detour into the next resort. I made the decision to camp rough behind some pine trees along the road rather than risk an unwanted excursion.
Day 3 Olivia to Culp
A sleepless night with dogs barking and traffic belting past followed by an early morning 12 km hike was not the tonic I needed to start the day. At Ondara I get in a mess with the motorway and have to start again to ensure I get on the right road as both are extremely busy at this point. The 2 roads cross at a toll gate and I am unhindered by the interraction heading off to an English Cafe where I stop for a chat and a coffee. From here the day drags on along winding roads- no Camino de Santiago here, though desolate sections remind me of the Otira Gorge in New Zealand which I walked last year.It is a change from the urban sprawl though still potentially a dangerous experience along the bends and the partially built bridges. By evening I enter the busy resort of Culp and am immediately overwhelmed by the spirit of tourism. Each road is a nightmare to cross and after purchasing groceries I escape to the scrubland beyond the town and pitch my tent beside some bushes. Although concealed a dog barks throughout the night!
Day 4.Culp to Benidorm Region
SAM_1855
I felt warm and slept well despite the barking hound which I saw on leaving the scrub. I wasn´t even on his land which made me cross and I shouted at him before disappearing into the traffic flow.Straight away I find a cafe and enter for breakfast, coffee and a shave. It was a good interval and after paying my bill I left in search of Benidorm – not that I was gripped with enthusiasm or anything mildly excitable about coming here! Soon the towering flats emerge and I pass inumerable hotels with unpronouncable names! The landscape is dominated by rows of flats and on rejoining the road it seems more like a motorway which at least gave me the hard shoulder. And like a true ´man of the road´I stop to eat my lunch on a concrete plimp next to the crash barrier. Eventually I find a roadside cafe where I chat to a couple who had taken notice of my progress reiterrating that they thought it was a remarkable quest. Continuing a little further I find a newbuild village with a supermarket and with night drawing in I head into the scrub for another night of camping rough.
Day 5 Benidorm Region to Alacant
A few spots of rain troubled me little and by 7.30am I was on the road. Stopping at the first cafe I came to the English owner arrives on cue and lets me in while he cleans up after a party. He goes on to explain that he came out here to look after his dad and decided to buy a pub. He now feels that England has been ruined and turned into a ´Nanny State´´ and in any case has no desire to go back.
SAM_1856
Does England have a future I ponder, but thank him for his kindness and from here I kick on to Compello where I have coffee and a muffin. I am now walking the boundaries of Alicante which takes up the rest of the morning. On reaching the city they had moved the Estacion de Autobus and so I had a longer excursion trying to find that, when I eventually found it – it was closed!! I return at night and manage to buy a ticket to Santander for 48eu and once there I can rest in my favourite hotel – Hotel Alisas who have looked after me since my travels began in Europe back in 2004. Anna has booked my ferry to Plymouth and so by Thursday I could be back in England – well Cornwall at least!

Spearheading MOVEMBER at the Coppice Inn.

Spearheading MOVEMBER at the Coppice Inn.


ALISAS HOTEL, SANTANDER, Tel:+34 942 222 750.
DON´T FORGET TO SPONSOR THIS EVENT!!!!
Please go to:
http://www.justgiving.com\Robin-Moore-cancercharities

HISTORICAL OVERVIEW
Catalunya – 1000km – Perpingnan to Santander (then Plymouth to Land´s End.
Basque Coast – 500km – Biarritz – Santander.
Camino de Santiago – 800km – St Jean to Santiago
Camino Portuguese – 300km – Porto to Santiago
Portugal (incl. Caminos de Fatima, Santiago and Atlantic coast) – 7000km
Med coast 1. – 1200km – Faro to Alicant
Med coast 2. – 1200km – Nice to Valencia
Med coast 3. – 200km – Valencia to Alicant

FRANCE-BELGIUM-SWITZALAND-HOLLAND
Belgium – 0700km-Ypres to Nantes
Holland – 250km – Eindoven to Ypres
France – 0700km – Nantes – Biarritz
Swiss – 0500km – Geneva – Arles

NEXT WALK
Geneva to Ypres – 1000km

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Fundraising for local charities – including latest walk from Geneva to South Coast of France

photo 1

Total amount raised from 2 Oundle pubs, Rose & Crown seen here  and the Angel Inn where Robin Moore was born.

Total amount raised from 2 Oundle pubs, Rose & Crown seen here and the Angel Inn where Robin Moore was born.

WINTER NEWSLETTER 2014

Welcome to a new year of walks, books and fundraising.
As well as focusing on local events such as the Oundle Pilgrimage and discovery walks in Cornwall this year will delve into the past with an historical walk from Switzerland to Ypres showing insight life on the western front during the First World War.
This year begins at Geneva in Switzerland where I will hope to walk to the Mediterranean coast to link up my tour of Europe in the South of France (last journey completed near the border of Italy).
Having raised a substantial amount for Prostate Cancer UK, we are hoping to support and promote Cancer Research UK and have posted a justgiving page on the website to help gain for financial help for the charity.
The walk supersedes the Australia expedition which has been postponed through lack of financial support in funding the journey. The walk was dedicated to MOVEMBER –Prostate Cancer charity and funds have already been raised for this effort.
The photos show our local pubs in Oundle presenting funds they have raised in support of Robin Moore’s efforts on behalf of the charity.
Wendy at the Angel was very keen to help out and the Rose & Crown have always backed Robin’s efforts and is best-known as HQ to the Oundle Pilgrimage Challenge which will take place this year on August 9th.
NEW WEBSITE
Paul Coles and I are currently working on a new website which will feature EBOOKS as a download facility enabling access to all my walks across the globe (28,000 miles); we will also put on some local guides and our pilgrimage booklets.
Archives blogs, maps of each walk and day-to-day diaries will be posted to give an insight into the life and times of a ‘serious man of the road’.

THE WALK
START: Geneva (Switz)
Via the following:
Charly
Chanaz
St Genex
Romans
Valence
Cruas
Pont-st-Esprit
Arles (South France Med Coast)

How to Sponsor the expedition:
http://www.justgiving.com/Robin-Moore-cancercharities
WALKING IN SPAIN
On completion of this journey it is hoped that I can return to Spain for a pilgrimage walk where I may also make a video of the many wonderful places I have visited here throughout many years of arduous trekking.
http://www.robin-moore.co.uk
‘Robin Moore’s Walking For Charity’ on Facebook.
Cancer Charities
Badger Books.

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OUNDLE PILGRIMAGE FUNDRAISING FOR LOCAL CHARITIES

THE OUNDLE PILGRIMAGE RAISING FUNDS FOR LOCAL CHARITIES

Robin Moore and Neil Barker celebrating a season of fundraising at the Rose & Crown, Oundle

Robin Moore and Neil Barker celebrating a season of fundraising at the Rose & Crown, Oundle


The Oundle Pilgrimage Project founded by Robin Moore has raised thousands of pounds for local charities. Robin seen here at The Rose & Crown, Oundle with Sue Ryder representative Neil Barker from Thorpe Hall, Peterborough; the above cheque represents the amount raised for hospice care and Heartstart in Cambridgeshire and Northamptonshire. The pilgrimage can be walked or cycled and part of it may even be circumnavigated using the waterways of the Nene (future project). It was founded for Sue Ryder Hospice at Thorpe Hall and a weekend pilgrimage is held in honour of the charity every August Farmer’s Market Weekend.

We also encourage people to participate at any time of the year, and if they wish, help other local charities in the area. Sue Ryder supporter, Nigel Laxton from Fotheringhay was one of the founding pilgrim walkers and like Robin walks the whole route each year completing the task in just one day! Having walked with Robin on expeditions around the country he is no stranger to the difficulties of an endurance event. This year he led a group ‘The Fotheringhay Six’ from his local pub, the Falcoln around the pilgrimage route raising over £1800 for ‘HEART START’. The money paid for an important piece of equipment held at the village for the local region in case of emergency life support. ‘This is an invaluable contribution to the community and we are fiercely proud of Nigel and his team’s efforts although he hopes that such a trauma does not arise whereby the device has to be used’.

Rather than sit back and bask in the glory of their efforts, these local heroes now endeavour to improve and modify the concept of the Pilgrimage.
There is a cycle guide, family route and the main guide available at Trek-Kits where you can obtain a sponsor form, purchase a Pilgrim Passport and any equipment you may require to undertake the task. Certificates are presented to all that raise money for our local charities.
Next year we will be launching a new website at http://www.robin-moore.co.uk
This will have new features; plus all information about the pilgrimage including maps, places to stay, campsites and the churches and inns that will help make the experience a pleasurable one. We are at present working on 5 circular walk guides of around 10 miles per one to encourage people join in the fun and contribute to worthy causes in the community. You can still in any case try the walks for pleasure and enjoy our beautiful Nene- dominated landscape interspersed by historic villages defined by bold architecture; where rural life is accentuated by medieval churches with ornated facades and the idyllic charm of olde worlde inns that have been the social fabric of village life since ancient times.

To access information about the Oundle Pilgrimage and all other information about Robin Moore’s community projects and expeditions visit:
http://www.robin-moore.co.uk
Click on PILGRIMAGE for an in-depth overview about this local project.

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