Splat Goes the Pilgrim

Looking out from Lausanne to Lake Geneva.

Lake Geneva, Lausanne to Vevey

Via Francigena #4 of 20

I hear an odd guttural sound come out of my mouth about the same time I feel my feet go into the water. Somehow the expensive camera is still In my hand but I hear it hit the cement. Only later does it dawn on me how lucky I was not to have my 20 pound back pack on.

My upper forearm feels about how an upper forearm should feel after breaking the free fall of 140 pounds of human flesh and bones slamming into concrete from the upright orientation of walking.

I hate surprises.

I’m now on a slimy incline and have to pull myself out of the water. I come to stand, take a few steps but feel the warning signs: a faint buzzing in my head as I veer toward shock and the desire to barf. Sensing a theme from yesterday’s train ride but with no peanut M&M’s available, I laid down on the cool cement and it works. As I try to hold my arm in a position that doesn’t hurt or drip blood on Sandy while he bandages me, I kept thinking:

“This is why you never walk alone.”

Quickly followed by:

“The goats will never let me live this one down.”

I’d fallen on flat terrain, taken out by slimy moss just off the horizontal path near the water. The panel of goats in my head that adjudicate and assign the Goat Ratings based on agility and dignity of foot, immediately dropped me to 0 from the coveted 5 spot.

I suspect I’m going to hurt tomorrow morning, and likely will have a very different start from today.

When the alarm went off this morning at 6:00am I found Sandy already wide awake. That’s what a three hour evening nap will do for you.

We had decided the night before it was necessary to watch a Romcom . . . to the end. I can’t stand Romcoms. However I took the bait and wanted to know how it was going to end. Like, is there ever any question how a Romcom is going to end? It was 1:00am when I switched off the lights.

5 hours later I stumbled around trying to get ready but can’t seem to remember what to do. I spent five weeks last summer walking the Camino de Santiago doing this everyday, and now I can’t remember? For instance, do I wear socks with my sandals? Fortunately I remembered my Söx ‘n Sàñdâls posts from last year, so that whole bit was good for something.

We walk around Lake Geneva, an urban, vacation part of the Via Francigena. The Olympic headquarters and Olympic Museum are here, as well as mothers with strollers, sun bathers and gangs of joggers with American accents. Not a single “Buon Comino!” was uttered, the standard Camino de Santiago greeting, mostly because there are almost no humans you can identify as pilgrims. Unlike the Camino de Santiago where a thriving industry has sprung up along the route, I’m not sure locals know of this trek. My guess is they have been doing just fine with the Olympic influence.

Still, the lake, mountains, and steeply terraced vineyard hillside have earned their reputation and no wonder people from around the world come to see its beauty. See below for photos and captions, including a shot from the scene of the crime.

©Theresa Elliott, All Rights Reserved

View of the steep hillside and the paved trail that runs high above the lake.

Two cool trees.

Splat goes the pilgrim. Guess where I fell?

Seems a shame to give a car a view like that.

Sample architecture.

One of the few rocky spots on the way.