Why I have had to abandon my attempts to complete the Via Francigena pilgrimage - Bill Carmichael

I then planned to overwinter in the UK, before travelling back to Switzerland next spring to take up where I left off, and to cross the Alps before descending into Italy, across the Po valley, through Tuscany, and finally into Lazio and the city of Rome.

But as Scotland’s national poet, Robert Burns, wrote over 200 years ago: “The best laid schemes of Mice and Men gang aft agley.”

Those words are very appropriate for my experience over the last few weeks, but the following line of the poem is even more apt: “And leave us nought but grief and pain, for promised joy!”

All went splendidly at the beginning as I strode from Canterbury through the Kent countryside to Dover, and then from Calais westwards along the Cote d’Opale, before swinging south east across northern France.

The weather was incredibly kind, even quite warm on some days, and I made good progress, and managed, despite my limited French, to find decent food and lodging at the end of each day.

I consider myself reasonably fit, and often spend my Saturdays on long hikes in the Yorkshire Dales. But one thing I quickly learned is that walking 15 to 20 miles once a week is very different to walking 15 to 20 miles every day, with little time for recovery and rest.

So there were mornings when I felt weary as I laced up my boots, and hoisted my rucksack onto my back, but I managed to keep going and to enjoy being out all day in the fresh air.

And after a couple of weeks walking I could feel my body adapting to the tough daily routine.

One big challenge was loneliness. In almost a month I met a total of four other people doing the walk, and most of the time I was spending eight hours a day trekking on my own.

And that is where this pilgrim route, known as the Via Francigena, differs markedly from some other pilgrim routes, such as the Camino de Santiago de Compostela in northern Spain.

I have never walked those, but I am told that on the Camino you are likely to meet up with half a dozen walking companions each day, and socialise at the end of the day in communal refuges.

The Via Francigena, at least the northern part I walked, is not like that, and is in the main a solitary experience.

I am generally happy with my own company, but some days I yearned for someone to share the day’s experiences with.

One thing I realised is that you can choose solitude, but loneliness chooses you, whether you like it or not.

Not all of the walk was through attractive countryside. For example the route goes through the old coal mining district of France, with massive slag heaps dotting the countryside in a landscape that put me in mind of parts of South Yorkshire.

A little further south and you are amid the battlefields of the First World War, with place names that will be familiar to anyone who has studied that terrible conflict - Bapaume, Albert, Peronne, Thiepval and Vimy Ridge.

It was here that the weather took a turn for the worst, with heavy rain, high winds, and even hail and sleet, which slowed my progress considerably.

I took some comfort from the thought that I was being held up by the mud of the Somme - just like my two grandfathers!

It was here that I came a cropper that eventually put an end to my walk. I was struggling up a deeply rutted, stony track, when I slipped on a large wet rock and slid backwards about half a yard, banging my left foot on another rock.

I managed to press on to the lovely hilltop city of Laon, but that night my foot swelled up so much I couldn’t get my boots on the following morning.

I rested for a couple of days and then pressed on, eventually reaching the cathedral city of Reims, but by now my foot was so painful it was clear I couldn’t press on to Switzerland this year, and I decided to come home via Paris.

So, it was a disappointing end, but it was a terrific adventure and I don’t regret it for a minute. And poorly foot allowing, I might try again in 2025.