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From the Sacra of San Michele to Mount (in Italian)

From Monte Sant'Angelo to Mont-Saint-Michel

Between Caen and Le Mont

Tours - Vire - Le Mont

From Paris to Rome via Monte Sant Angelo
Author's website

From Monte Sant'Angelo to Mont-Saint-Michel
via L'Aquila, Foligno, Florence, Lucca, Genoa, Turin, the Sacra di san Michele, Susa, Chambéry, Paray-le-Monial, Moulins, Bourges, Blois, Le Mans and Avranches

From Munich to Mont-Saint-Michel

It was a long journey that took this German pilgrim couple from Munich to Mont-Saint-Michel, via Worms, Trier, Aachen, Lièges and Nivelles in Belgium, before they rejoined the Rouen route, signposted as the way to Mont-Saint-Michel. Made in several stages, this route can help you if you want to set off from Germany or Belgium!
Discover their journey and their advice on their website

450 km on foot to Mont-Saint-Michel, a blog and a new adventure

Discover the adventure of a Miquelote family, from Paris to Mont-Saint-Michel... From 21 May to 30 June 2011, Pauline, François-Xavier and their children, Faustine (2 and a half) and Martin (7 months), travelled to Mont-Saint-Michel, accompanied by a donkey.

You can relive their adventure on their blog and on Facebook : "On foot to Mont
Saint-Michel.

With a video made a year and a half after their return, an assessment of their adventure
https://videotheque.cfrt.tv/video/pelerinage-en-famille-au-mont-saint-michel/

450 km of paths

The journey of one of our miquelots

This is the story of a cycling trip from Mont Saint Michel to Rome and then on to Santiago de Compostela via Sicily and Sardinia. Pierre-Marie Werlen, a long-standing Miquelot friend, invites you to follow his journey on his blog. He'll be stopping off at some of the highest places dedicated to Saint Michael, and meeting some wonderful people along the way!

Discover the three pilgrimages blog

An extraordinary adventure in medieval equipment

It's the one run by the Artémis association in 2008: the reconstruction of a medieval pilgrimage in costume!

From Cherbourg to Mont-Saint-Michel: a 200km walk, 7 pilgrims, 9 days like the miquelots of the 15th century, a slightly crazy but emotionally-charged journey that they share with us on their blog: http://artemispelerinage2008.over-blog.com/

From Angers to Mont in June 2020 in 12 stages
https://www.notos.co/albums/w5azWeeidr?locale=fr

Arrival at Mont "roots and wings"  (January 2021)

From Houdan to Mont-Saint-Michel

Find Marie-Aude's blog at this address: http://voyageaus.over-blog.com/

2 May/Day 1: Ouistreham / Caen-Vaucelles (18km)
We set off from the church, warmly dressed, although the weather was kind to us. We took the time to get properly equipped, so as not to forget anything, and to get our booklets stamped at the nearby town hall.
We set off for a 4-hour walk through the streets of Ouistreham and then along the canal. We stopped off at Le Petit Lourdes in Hérouville for a bite to eat before heading up to the Abbaye aux Dames to visit the tourist office, the church of St Pierre and St Jean and, to finish this first stage, the church of Vaucelles.
The nuns at the presbytery gave us a warm welcome, put a special pilgrimage stamp in our notebooks and wished us a safe journey.

3 May / Day 2: Caen-Vaucelles / Esquay Notre Dame (18 km)
We left the banks of the Orne for the banks of the Odon at Bretteville, and the group swelled just before entering the Baron woods, where we had a packed lunch.
Further on, around the church, we come to Cote 112, the battlefield of Normandy, before plunging down towards the village of Esquay Notre Dame.
This second stage took us along the water's edge, through the woods and shady paths (which are as welcoming as they are riddled with traps if we're not a little careful), and across the plains where our eyes catch the horizon. The sun embellishes the colourful landscape at this time of year, with the yellow of the sunflowers highlighting the blue of the flax and the green of the meadows, creating a picture that is unique in these parts.

4 May / Day 3: Esquay Notre Dame (La Caine (19 km)
Here we are, still in good spirits, heading for Hamars via Evrecy, where we received a warm welcome at the town hall. The route, which is always very well signposted, takes us across wide, panoramic plateaux, past pleasant villages and hamlets far from any noise pollution, nestling in a lush, flower-filled landscape.
However, it wasn't "the road to paradise", with long stretches of tarmac that put our feet to the test. This 3rd stage seemed long, not to say interminable, but it didn't dampen our spirits.

5 May / Day 4: La Caine / near Roucan (19 km)
The sun is beaming generously down on Normandy, and after a restorative night, we're off to a good start. The landscape of the Caen plain has given way to the first escarpments of the Suisse Normande, and Mont Pinçon will be on our horizon during this 4th stage. The forest paths are numerous and the signposting is always excellent, a haven of peace to be explored without moderation. Lots to discover, lots to enjoy.
There's a very grassy part of the route where it's hard to know where you're putting your feet, so watch out for sprains and also vipers. We came across one basking in the sun in one of the few open spots, and we had to tickle it gently with our stick to get it to let us pass!

6 May / Day 5: Près de Roucan / D 290 ( 20 km )
The sky is blue and our spirits are high as we set off towards Danvou La Ferrière and beyond. We'll make a substantial stopover in Hamars Le Hom before tackling part of the dreaded stage 5 (on the original route), which we reconnoitred in February on muddy paths and in wet weather. Our two occasional walkers joined us to finish the stage, the route was unrecognisable, we had kept no memory of our last visit, the paths were magnificent, with few tarmac sections, refreshing undergrowth, nothing but happiness... the last interminable straight line with no mileage markers (there is no intermediate distance on this form). Happy to be finished but confident, we'll be setting off again tomorrow with the same team.
7 May / Day 6: D 290 / D 109 (12km)
The group of five walkers, after a good muscular recovery, set off on this stage, which we wanted to be shorter in order to rest our bodies, which had been a little battered the day before. We are not yet at the end of our journey.
We walk along the edge of the meadows, with donkeys, horses and cows watching the "Miquelots" train go by. We arrive in Bény-Bocage under an overcast and threatening sky, stop at the bistro for the daily stamp and, having swallowed our coffee, get back on the road in the first downpour of the trip: it won't be severe, just to wet the dust!
We arrived safely in port, but tomorrow we've planned a break to stroll around and take our time. On the agenda is just a stroll along the banks of Lake Dathée with the whole family - it's so refreshing.

9 May / Day 7: D109 / Railway bridge near La Rorie (18km)
Another day with a lot of tarmac, and combined with the heat of the day, maximum aggression for the soles of the feet. Fortunately, we decided to get up earlier and won't regret it. More breathtaking scenery for us to immortalise with cameras and mobile phones.
On arrival, we discussed the value of a day's rest for this pilgrimage: we unanimously agreed that it was more disruptive than recuperative.

10 May / Day 8: Près de La Rorie / St Maur des Bois (19km)
We're coping well with the excessive heat on the granite road, thanks to the cool breeze and the shade of the undergrowth. The forest glistens in the intense sunshine. We stopped off in St Sever for a coffee and to get our logbooks stamped at the town hall. A very warm welcome, thank you!
On this stage, we'll be following the old Rouen-Avranches road, guided by its very distinctive signs, which are sometimes buried in the greenery. This was a long and testing stage, where reading the itinerary wasn't always top-notch, and the signposters were in no way to blame!

11 May / day 9: St Maur des Bois / Le Tanu (20km)
We're very close to Villedieu les Poêles, so we'll be having coffee in the Place de la Mairie after picking up the proof of passage from the Tourist Office.
Along the way, we observed lush vegetation, both wild and man-made. An original ford crossing, a surprising sign at the entrance to a residence "Attention, grand-Père exentrique" and here we are under the viaduct, in the Airou valley.
All that remains is to take a shady but steep path to the village of Tanu, where there is a car park near the church. Tomorrow, we'll be glad we lengthened the stage today!

12 May / Day 10: Le Tanu / Sartilly (14km)
Another day of spectacular scenery: giant rhododendrons reflected in the pond of a private estate: a motorcyclist called out to us to make sure we didn't miss out on this marvel, but other places of interest were the target of our cameras!
It is worth noting that the presence of the calvary is still a landmark today.
This stage is synonymous with a gentle end, and that suits us just fine!

13 May / day 11: Sartilly / Genêts (11km)
The last stage awaited us on this sunny day. We set off before the Town Hall opened and 20 minutes later we found ourselves back at the starting point: a path that had been removed recently because it was on private land led us astray. The Town Hall secretary and our personal GPS put us back on the right path.
Quickly gone, quickly lost... and to think it was all supposed to be just a formality!
We'll see the Mont just three kilometres from our goal, and it'll be a thrill, even if we know we'll have to cross the bay to "touch" the famous rock.

14 May / Day 12: Crossing the bay from the bec d'Andaine
This long-awaited project has finally come to an end: at the start, everything is fine, the sand is shaping our feet with Mont Saint Michel and Tombelaine in our sights, still with the sun shining. Attentive to the guide's words, we soon found ourselves on muddy, slippery ground that required a considerable physical effort to keep our balance. This will be our "playground" for at least 50% of the journey: testing but so beautiful!
We won't be testing the quicksand, but we'll be immortalising the visual spectacle of walking through this famous bay at low tide... and always with a guide, who will not only ensure our safety but also enhance our knowledge of the area.

Sensations
The "miquelots" that we have become know that the conditions for success were optimal: excellent weather, a well-marked route, a follower who was always ready to drop us off and pick us up, comfortable accommodation to recuperate in and plenty of encouragement (many thanks).
No major deviations from the route were noted, and a few inconsequential hesitations confirmed that such an adventure requires preparation and vigilance. Our trio of 207 year-olds will have indelible memories of this first fortnight in May 2022. Our only regret is that we didn't meet any other hikers, with the exception of a couple who got a bit "lost" at the end of the 2nd stage.

Thank you to all the volunteers from the Association des Chemins du Mont Saint Michel for the signposting and the invaluable documents they were able to provide.
Solange.

The year 2020 was to be marked by my departure for Santiago de Compostela in the spring, leaving home for a planned 2 and a half months on the Tours route, but a virus decided otherwise...
As soon as I got out of confinement, my wife, seeing me a little idle, suggested I take a shorter trip to try out my equipment (most of which I had received as gifts at Christmas) and test my walking skills, honed throughout the bad season by intensive preparation.
One of his work colleagues had made the Rouen-Le Mont-Saint-Michel pilgrimage a few years earlier, and had come back enchanted. He was able to lend me the guidebook published for the occasion.
A few days later, I decided to do the route at the end of June, beginning of July.
Departure: On Monday 29 June at 8am, I set off from home in pleasant sunshine, with a 12kg rucksack on my back (tent, sleeping bag, inflatable mattress, cooking set and stove... autonomy is a must) and crossed the Seine twice by ferry to stop off in the evening at Bourg Achard, where I pitched my tent at the campsite and fell asleep like a newborn baby, exhausted and with sore shoulders at 9pm.
This first stage is a 'home-made' stage, which allows me to bypass the Rouen conurbation to the south, avoiding the need to return to the centre of Rouen, pass through Canteleu, cross the Roumare forest and end up at the La Bouille ferry, as suggested in the guide.
Arrival on Sunday 12 July at 4pm in Genets, where pilgrims in the Middle Ages would cross the bay to reach the Mont, having completed the last two stages in one. The next day I crossed the bay with a guide and collected my Miquelot Diploma from the Tourist Office.
What can I say about this wonderful adventure?
Normandy weather with rain, wind and sun... deciduous and coniferous forests, valleys and hills, hedged farmland, rivers and streams, half-timbered and granite houses, beautiful churches, small Romanesque chapels, monasteries, abbeys and castles including that of William the Conqueror in Falaise, villages and hamlets marked by history: From the draft-dodging priests and the Chouannerie during the French Revolution to the liberation of the region after the Normandy landings on 4 June 44, but also the gastronomy (Camembert cheese, apples, cider and calva) and the wonderful encounters with people and animals (4 roe deer, 6 squirrels, 6 rabbits and a shy hare that strayed into the forest), oak caterpillars that made me tear my skin off for a whole night, more painful than the stinging nettles) and the arrival in the bay with Mont-Saint-Michel, in all its majesty, standing out and growing on the horizon as you walk along the last stage.
My well-adjusted rucksack seems lighter every day, and my legs carry me at a steady pace, allowing me to swallow the thirty or so kilometres and, after a few days, demand their daily dose of walking every morning, like an addiction. (Route + mistakes, visits + provisions and meals in the centre of the villages)
A well-marked route (light blue logo and markings and a good description on the stage cards, good point for this easy-to-use presentation of the day's stage on cards).
The only moments when I got lost were due to inattention on my part rather than a lack of precision on the route.
A ritual that takes hold: 6am - 6.30am, wake up at dawn without an alarm, dismantle the tent and put away the equipment (everything having found its place), breakfast then set off between 8am and 8.30am. 16 to 18 km covered in the morning, arriving at the stage between 3 and 5.30 pm. Bedtime around 9:30 for a good night's sleep.
Accommodation was no problem, apart from the fact that I had to fall back on bed and breakfast and hotel accommodation at the last minute on two or three occasions due to the fact that campsites and gîtes were closed because of the health crisis.
From a €2.50 communal campsite to a €70 hotel night, from a tin of cassoulet heated on the stove to a gourmet meal in Vimoutiers, world capital of Camembert, from boarding school accommodation for 40 students in Orbec, where I was on my own, to a 3 épis bed and breakfast with shower and massage jet, from friendly welcomes and pantagruelian breakfasts with homemade jams to more spartan accommodation and picnics on the run.
Each day follows a similar rhythm, but each one is so different.
It was a beautiful journey of 350 km in 14 days (450 all-in), varied, rich and pleasant (despite those cursed caterpillars that made me doubt for a whole night whether I could go on). This solo adventure was good training and a good sample of what awaits me for a journey 5 times longer next year.
This route also allowed me to take stock of the equipment I needed to take with me, adjust my rucksack (it took me 5 or 6 days to find all the settings) and my physical capabilities.
It's a great adventure that I recommend and hope to repeat next spring, on an XXL scale, on the Way of Saint James.
Jean-Marie Marchand

An account of the "pilgrimage" of Gay Lee Tischbirek, a Franco-American walker returning from this new itinerary:
" It was a great experience on the route from Caen to Mont-Saint-Michel

In the beginning, there were two of us, Bettina and me. One of us was American and had come to France from Arkansas especially for this journey, and the other was Franco-American and lived in Paris. One of us is a secular Jew and the other a practising Protestant. We are both 71 years old. We've been friends for exactly 50 years, and met in the music rooms in the basement of the University of California, Los Angeles. One comes from a family where speaking French is a family tradition, the other from a family that only knew English. We'd already walked the Camino de Compostela together: once, from Puy-en-Velay to Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, then another time on the Camino d'Arles, from Montpellier to Pau. I continued to make pilgrimages on my own along these same routes, reaching Santiago twice, and Finisterre on one of the two occasions.

We left Caen for Mont-Saint-Michel on 4 June 2019. On our third stopover, Josette joined us. She is French, lives in Toulon, is an occasional practising Catholic and is also 71 years old. Bettina and I met her in 2012, shortly after we left Le Puy en Velay on the Camino de Compostela. We kept in touch and she joined us on the way to Arles.
One might be curious to know why a secular Jew, a practising Protestant or a Catholic who doesn't practise much would want to go on pilgrimages, which have always been the domain of devout, practising Catholics. Today, people of all religions, and even confirmed atheists, are on these pilgrimage routes. But you might ask: can an atheist be a pilgrim? Not everyone would agree, but I think so. When asked why they are there, the same person may have several reasons, especially if they have already made a pilgrimage. But generally, pilgrims only give partial answers because their deepest reasons are private... and perhaps even unknown to those closest to them. A pilgrim might reply: "I like exercise, breathing fresh air, meeting new people, getting out of the house, practising another language, seeing beautiful landscapes, smelling flowers, carrying everything I need on my back, not cooking three meals a day, appreciating the historical and cultural heritage, accompanying a loved one who is a pilgrim himself, trying to give up smoking for once, just taking care of myself, ...".

But it's also true that this person can also be there to reflect on a possible career change, to overcome a separation or divorce, to recover from redundancy, to prepare for retirement, to mourn the loss of a loved one, to find the answer to a nagging question, to find someone to talk to who can really listen...

And that same person may also be there to fulfil a vow, to ask or show gratitude for a healing, to experience unity with other Christians by participating in a Christian tradition established long before the Reformation, or to hope that by walking they will revive their faith in themselves, in others, or in God... Many people are simply there to pray, but they will rarely tell you so.

But there are people who claim loud and clear that they are only on the Way for sport or to lose weight. They say they are not pilgrims but walkers, and they choose to go on the Camino rather than other paths because they prefer the friendly atmosphere. As for the women, they say they feel safer on the Camino than on the GR trails, especially if they are alone. But are they just "hikers"? Or is this answer just a way of evading prying questions?

Some observers are wondering whether a large number of "path aficionados" are not people returning to their childhood. In this scenario, the path would be one big free-range holiday camp, yippee li, yippee là. I imagine it exists and if it does, I hope they're having a good time.

On the other hand, there are paths that are frequented because they have become a fashion phenomenon - you have to have "done" them, you have to be able to tick the box. As many pilgrims like to say: "To each his own!

In my experience, you can identify real "walkers" by the depth of their own questions. They'll ask: "Where did you start?", "How fast do you walk and how many kilometres do you average a day?", "Where are the best gîtes and how much do they cost?", "Which guide do you have?", "What kind of equipment do you have?", "What other routes have you 'done'? "When will you be back? " .

Pilgrims, on the other hand, might end up asking these same questions, but in general they're more interested in finding out who you are. They're more concerned about your well-being, about the real cost of the journey: do you need help? What's more, pilgrims rarely feel comfortable talking about "doing" this or that route, because they know that the opposite is true: it's the route that "makes" the pilgrim. In any case, whatever their spiritual orientation (or not), together with the tiredness that you can easily read in their eyes, you will also see joy in pilgrims.

After weeks of walking, many "hikers" become "pilgrims". This is a fact, because the terrain between the "hikers' path" and the "pilgrims' path" is extremely slippery. And it works both ways. A "pilgrim" can also, along the way, discover that his faith was merely a family tradition. Then, with a clear conscience, they continue along the path, but as an "atheist hiker". However (and it's still a good idea to say this), before leaving the path, they may also have a true conversion and finish the journey as a "real" pilgrim. So it's impossible to know who's who... and does it really matter?

Due to lack of time (and this applies especially to those who are still working) many people divide their pilgrimages into one- or two-week segments, returning year after year to complete the route. But our approach is to do much longer segments - and even complete routes - in a single outing. Sometimes we're away for months at a time. Why is that?

As someone who's not a sportswoman during the year (and perhaps the fact that I'm 71 counts too), I've discovered that it takes me at least three weeks to 'get into the swing of things'. Which means that it takes a long time for my mind and body to adapt to new conditions: staying outside all day in all weathers, walking 6 to 8 hours a day carrying more than 7 kilos on my back, sleeping in a different place every night, constantly thinking about where to find provisions and water for the next day, eating different food than usual - and sometimes just a tin of tuna or sardines, washing my muddy clothes by hand every night and wondering if they'll be dry the next day because there's no other laundry, worrying about a loved one who's at home... During this adjustment period, I'm physically and mentally exhausted, and I often wonder if I want to (or can) carry on. But after three weeks, there's always a sudden change, everything changes. My body is finally ready, my mind is free, and I feel like I can walk forever. It's a relief, and slowly I begin my inner journey.

The pilgrimage from Caen to Mont-Saint-Michel was chosen mainly because I wanted my friend from Toulon to "experience Mont-Saint-Michel" while discovering Normandy for the first time. My American friend had already been to Mont-Saint-Michel when she was a student and I'd been there several times, but always by car. Today, the Camino de Caen starts with two stages in England and then the route continues on to Ouistreham, all the way to Caen. Starting in Caen, the pilgrimage traditionally comprises nine stages, a short walk of around 165 km, which, starting on 4 June, took us to Le Mont on 12 June (after Le Mont, we continued on to Compostela on the Plantagenet Way and on 27 June, we left the route at Doué-la-Fontaine).

Although we started walking on 4 June, the day after we arrived in Caen by train from Paris, the pilgrimage had really begun nine months earlier when we decided to set off together. This was followed by long months of deciding when to leave, which route to take and then where to stay. There were no tedious deliberations about what to pack in our bags, as we already had the experience of previous years, our equipment had already been used, and we only needed to make minor changes to the contents.

But when the planning began, I soon discovered that on the Camino de Caen, even in the best of circumstances, there are relatively few places to sleep that meet pilgrims' budgets. It's often said that you have to be rich to be a pilgrim...

Half-stops would also be welcome for pilgrims who would like to have time to visit sites off the route - often they have to give up because there's nowhere to sleep, so to improvise a half-stop you could consider "wild camping", but few pilgrims have the strength to carry heavy camping equipment on top of the 7 kilos already on their backs. And, it has to be said, after a long day's walking, pitching a tent is the last thing most pilgrims want to (or can) do.

Unfortunately, although some of the faithful along the route have expressed an interest in accommodating pilgrims in exchange for a donation (a free contribution to costs known as a "donativo"), none have come forward to do so. Bed and breakfasts/hotels are available but can be prohibitively expensive.

For our supplies, there are few grocery shops along the way and almost no cafés. Restaurants do exist in the towns, but if you arrive on a Sunday evening or bank holiday, you'll often find the doors closed. None of this is encouraging for a pilgrim, so you have to really want to do the Camino de Caen. Careful planning is imperative.

To make matters worse, I had underestimated the impact that the 75th anniversary celebrations of D-Day would have on accommodation. I had thought that only the beaches and surrounding areas would be affected; it turned out that the whole of Calvados and La Manche were involved. So even though I'd started the planning process months in advance, potential hosts were telling me that everything was already booked and that I should have started at least a year in advance.

Despite this, I was finally able to book around the following traditional stages: Évrecy, Hamars, Saint-Jean-le-Blanc, Le Bény-Bocage, Saint-Sever-Calvados, Villedieu-les-Poêles, La Haye-Pesnel, Genêts, Le Mont-Saint-Michel. Some of the accommodation was very far from the road, and certainly not at reasonable prices.

For pilgrims used to the Compostela routes in Spain, where every village has an inexpensive gîte - and in the towns sometimes even two or three - where they never take bookings (they operate on a "first come, first served" basis), and where there are cafés, grocery shops and restaurants along the route, the conditions found on The Way to Caen may come as a nasty surprise.

But what about the route itself? Because at the beginning of this text, I said that it was a magnificent experience. Having a second home in Calvados near Caen, I had thought I knew the terrain well enough already. I was prepared for a nice 'déjà vu' experience, with no surprises, and certainly no amazement. Of course, I'd simply forgotten that all my visits to Calvados had been by car and not on foot, so I was often as much 'in the discovery' as my friend from Toulon.

I wasn't expecting it... and I saw immediately that, apart from our accommodation, I hadn't "prepared the way" properly because I was too sure of my knowledge of Calvados, convinced that I could get there by whistling. And the surprises started on the first stage, in Caen, a town I thought I knew well. Everything changes when you're on foot - of course, the perspective and the views, but you also notice details for the first time, hundreds, even thousands of details, and suddenly you feel like you've never visited the city. Astonishing.

The countryside? It was beautiful, calm and serene. I thought I'd see a lot of the Caen Plain, but we entered the covered roads almost immediately. And I'd forgotten that La Suisse Normande is close to the path, so it's more hilly than I expected. Surprise: sometimes the path was poorly marked and unmaintained, requiring constant concentration. Forests, plains, bucolic scenes, pastures. Cows, lots of good, friendly Normandy cows that came up to say hello and followed us as far as the fences would let them. But the horses too. Graceful, slender, elegant, curious but more reserved.

It was June, so there were beautiful flowers, wild and cultivated, absolutely everywhere. In particular, the roses, which came in all colours and were often very fragrant, caught our eye. But the dominant colour was green: green trees, green grass, green shrubs. Green everywhere. Wonderful! And of course, much to the dismay of my friend who is used to the sunshine of Toulon, the green was due to the rain. Yes, rain! We had to use our ponchos every day - and despite all our care, more than once we were completely soaked. At one point, we were even in the middle of a major storm, and for days on end we had to climb trees and shrubs that had fallen across the path. Invigorating!

But alongside all this beauty (and adventure!), there were also some major disappointments: the churches were systematically closed and we didn't pass a single pilgrim on the way to or from the Mont. We were completely alone. Where were the other pilgrims? Discouraged by the lack of facilities and accommodation on the Camino de Caen? It was a "chicken and egg" situation: there were no pilgrims because there were no local resources? Or are there no local resources because there are no pilgrims? Or perhaps they simply don't know that the Camino de Caen exists?

On 12 June, we crossed the bay of Mont-Saint-Michel early in the morning, barefoot and knee-deep in water. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and we saw for ourselves that the bay's famous quicksand is no legend. When we arrived at Le Mont (again, soaked to the skin), we went to the Tourist Office to pick up our route certificates. After checking our "miquelot" books (the "pilgrim's passport" signed by each host along the way) to make sure that we had indeed completed the required stages, we were able to set off with our "trophy" in hand.

To celebrate our arrival at Le Mont, did we eat the famous Mère Poulard omelette? No, at €38 for three eggs, we kept our pennies in our pockets. And despite the fact that Mont-Saint-Michel has been known for pilgrimages for centuries, we didn't see a single 'pilgrim menu' on the Mont to welcome us.

I'd managed to book three of the six places available in the pilgrims' hut run by the parish near the abbey, at the very top of the Mont. The price, although affordable, is above the norm for pilgrim hostels. But the long-awaited delight was there: when the tourists left at the end of the day, it was magical. On the ramparts overlooking the bay, the magnificent calm was all you could hope for. It's up to each of us to appreciate it in our own way.

Although we had no contact with other pilgrims, our hosts along the way were kind and helpful in many ways, large and small. People went out of their way to help us.

Here are some examples: After the first stage, when we were already settled in at the local gîte, later that evening the person in charge phoned to tell us that there would be a presentation by Vincent Juhel on the Camino de Caen that evening in the local church. We went along, and after the vin de l'amitié, I was interviewed by the presenter, and the interview was then broadcast on the radio.

One host took us to a grocery shop a long way down the road because it was the only one open for miles. Another offered us snacks for the next day, as there was nowhere to buy food. Yet another who found my wallet that I had inadvertently forgotten and drove 20 km to our next accommodation to return it to me. At one point, one stage was far too long (28 km), so the host moved us on as there was no way to do a half-stage.

In Coulonces on a Saturday, we found the Mayor, Mr Gilles Maloisel, on duty. He gave us a very warm welcome and invited us into his office to stamp our miquelot booklets. He talked to us at length about Coulonces, the history of the route in his region, his work and himself. Before leaving, Monsieur le Maire took a photo of us for his archives, and then showed us how to find the way out of his town.

Some hosts kindly did our washing in their machines, allowing us to rest after a long day's walking. All these gestures - large and small - were very welcome and much appreciated.

Nowhere did we encounter the famous 'French reserve', where you have to have known someone for ages before you can have a substantive conversation with them. Eating our evening meal with our hosts allowed us to learn more about them, their families, their lives and the history of their towns. I think they were also curious about us: it's not every day that the people of Calvados find Americans and people from the south of France at their table. It was a friendly, rich exchange, and sometimes a lot of fun for everyone.

So would I recommend the Camino de Caen to others? Absolutely, but on condition that people book well in advance and don't start walking around 6 June! I would also recommend that pilgrims contact the town halls along their route well in advance and ask if it would be possible to have the churches opened when they pass through. It's a shame and a pity to stand in front of sanctuaries and find that the doors are always locked.

Since our pilgrimage, the guide to this route has been published - I hope it will help to overcome some of the obstacles mentioned here.

As for the rainy weather in Normandy: a pilgrimage is neither a holiday nor a hike, so perfect weather is not necessary for it to be a success. It's important to remember, though, that while it rains in Normandy, it's also blazing sunny in Spain. On a pilgrimage, you take what comes your way (all the inconveniences, obstacles and complications mentioned above are included, and then some!) because you're there for other reasons... your own.

More than once, some pilgrims have observed that a large part of their experience consists of seeing how they manage the daily challenges of all kinds (physical, relational, psychological...); minor and major, that they face. At times, they are pleasantly surprised by themselves... at other times, they are very disappointed. In the end, the journey helped him to get to know himself better.

The three of us are already thinking about making another pilgrimage next year. But before that, thanks to Normandy for the Camino de Caen and a big thank you to all our Norman hosts. We had a remarkable experience: we faced many difficulties and learned a lot about ourselves, about our companions on the Way, about the nature of our friendship, but also a lot about our hosts. And we reflected on our personal (and secret) questions, the fundamental reason behind our departure on the Way.
I hope that in future more pilgrims will be on the Camino de Caen - it's a shame so few people take advantage of it. I also hope that the faithful of all religions, as well as the humanists who live along the route, will welcome them. Not only by welcoming them into their countryside, villages and towns, but also into their homes. Gites are fine, but being invited into a home to spend time and chat with another devotee, another pilgrim, or another humanist is the best. It's good for everyone.
So, what was my favourite part of the Camino de Caen? No doubt about it: Vespers and Lauds at Mont-Saint-Michel Abbey - not bad for a practising Protestant, eh? And for my two friends Bettina and Josette? I have no idea... you'll have to ask them, but I think you'll only get a very, very partial answer.

1000 kilometres on the Angel trail

As I approached 45, I had to negotiate a decisive turning point in my life. I didn't feel happy on any level, having lost confidence in myself, in people and in society. I deeply needed to find myself again - on my own - to find out who I was and what I could create for the second stage of my journey on this earth... I needed to get moving!

The little seed of the walk hatched and grew from the depths of my heart, where it had been slumbering for 4 years. The idea had been sown, unknowingly, by Philippe Ouzounian, a lover of the Loire who gave readings in its honour by following it on foot from its source to its mouth. This wonderful project triggered something in me: "one day, I too will walk the length of the river like him". The hiking boots I bought straight away were only used for the occasional Sunday stroll. No idea of a route, including the famous Camino de Compostela, aroused my enthusiasm until that famous night in May 2006.

In the middle of the night, I woke up and in a half-sleep - a magical moment favourable to the most accurate intuitions - the obvious suddenly lit up my mind. For the great hike I'd been dreaming of, I had to walk towards... myself, towards Michel! I immediately understood my destination: Mont-Saint-Michel. And in the instant that followed, the chapel of St Michel in Le Puy-en-Velay imposed itself on me as the starting point for the journey. In a matter of seconds, the clear, logical route appeared to me. My steps were to link the summit of this volcanic dick in the heart of the land to this mountain planted between sky and sea, two rocks dedicated for centuries to the Archangel. At this prospect, I immediately felt drawn, as if sucked in.

From that night on, everything went very fast. I had to earn money, buy my equipment, do a bit of training and look for information. I knew nothing about long-distance walking. I didn't know the exact distance to cover or how long it would take me. Only my objective was clear: to reach Mont-Saint-Michel on foot by 29 September.

On 1 July, a month and a half after this "dream", I took the first steps of my walk. Starting at the source of the Ardèche river, the department where I lived, I went on to Mont-Gerbier de Jonc, the source of the Loire, an important river in my life, and then climbed back up towards Le Puy-en-Velay. After this 'warm-up', I was finally ready to put my intuition into practice.

"By following this route, you are reviving a very old pilgrimage from Monte Sant'Angelo in Italy to Mont-Saint-Michel, which undoubtedly passed through Le Puy-en-Velay", Father Martin, who is in charge of the Saint Michel chapel, told me to my great surprise, "and you are walking on the path of the angels!

This last sentence stayed with me throughout my eight-week journey. Although I'm rather reticent about religion, my walk gradually turned into a real pilgrimage, supported by prayers to Saint Michael and the nine choirs of angels, and with the almost permanent feeling of being guided in my steps, helped by multiple intuitions, supported in my efforts.

Physically, the ordeal was tough. Without any initial preparation, I often moved forward like a paralysed turtle... sweating profusely. In moments of discouragement, I kept telling myself that each step would bring me closer to my goal. I made a lot of progress on the spur of the moment, with no set route and most of the time no accommodation planned. I slept in my hammock in forests, on farms and sometimes in guesthouses.

I was reconciled with human beings, those who offered me a drink on hot days, welcomed me at their table or even put me up in their homes. An abundance of beautiful human encounters. I also gradually reconciled with myself, regaining confidence in my abilities and my perseverance. Last but not least, I reconnected with my intuition and my faithful guardian angel.

A few thousand kilometres later, at the bend in a curtain of trees, I finally caught sight of Mont-Saint-Michel and fell into tears on the banks of the Couesnon. I'd done it! It was 7 September and, unexpectedly, I'd arrived two days before my birthday.

On my 45th birthday, as I was attending Mass in the Abbey, the Archangel whispered a surprise proposal for the rest of my life. I felt then that my pilgrimage was over. All I had to do now was take on board all the lessons of this magnificent experience and put them into practice.

Saint Michael listened very carefully to my initial request. I wanted my life to change. The celestial warrior drew his sword, cut me down and everything changed in one fell swoop! The second part of my life was well and truly launched...
Michel Mabit

29th September. I hadn't calculated the day or the time. When I arrived at Monte Sant'Angelo at the end of a day's walk through stony fields against the backdrop of the calm blue Adriatic, the streets of the village clinging to the mountainside were packed with people. With my rucksack on my back, I struggled to make my way towards the Church of the Archangel. People were hurrying, waiting, jostling each other, calling out to each other and apologising, tiptoeing to get a glimpse, and envying the lucky ones who were leaning over the balconies. Suddenly, a shudder runs through the multitude:

- Here it comes!

"He" is Saint Michael, or at least his statue, announced by a long procession of costumed brotherhoods, led by banner-bearers.

- The archangel only leaves the church twice a year, confirms a mamma to the person next to him, as he beats out his rosary.

After the confraternities, priests in gaudy vestments, thurifers and abbots in surplices, a Monsignore who carries a sparkling, naked sword on a garnet-coloured cushion. Two steps away from me, a little boy with blond curls is watching, perched on his father's shoulders and dressed as an archangel, with two golden wings on his back.

- Mira Papa! Take a look. San Michele...

Crowned in gold, as handsome as Apollo and as vengeful as the god Mars, the prince of the heavenly armies, leader of the angels faithful to God when Lucifer betrayed him, rises brandishing his sword and crushing with his foot a devil barely visible through the profusion of lilies. Four proud men carry the stretchers on their shoulders, flanked by an equal number of carabinieri in ceremonial dress, with white gloves and red-feathered bicorns. Behind them come the civil and military authorities, the mayor with his tricoloured sash across his chest, then the trumpets, clarinets and helicons of the municipal band, and finally the marching people, into which I slip, following the patron saint.

Siamo pel-le-gri-i-ni

Siamo tuoi de-vo-o-ti

San Michele', arc-angelo,

Pre-gha per no-o-i.

From far and wide, megaphones relay hymns and prayers. I follow the three-hour procession through the winding, sloping streets lined with white houses, alternately at the front where people pray and at the back of the pack where people chat behind the brass band that harmonises and blares. Walking and praying, for once I'm doing what everyone else is doing, and I feel happy and in my place. I strike up a conversation with a group of Santiago pilgrims, recognisable by their cloaks adorned with shells.

- We left Rome on foot three weeks ago," one of them tells me proudly.

And I hesitate to admit to them that I've come from further afield, because they're nice people and I wouldn't want to spoil their pride. Spectators crowd the sides of the procession and the squares. From time to time, I scan the crowd, vaguely hoping to make out the shepherd from the Campo Imperatore. In vain. How could I find Beppino in such a crowd of thousands? On the balconies and doorsteps, people knelt down as the archangel passed by, old and young alike signing. There are curious onlookers and tourists too, and you get the feeling that if they weren't there, you'd miss them. There are no onlookers and processionists, just a single crowd swept up in a popular movement.

At nightfall, after the fireworks, the procession heads back to the basilica for a mass of thanksgiving. Reflecting the accumulation of centuries of devotion, the church resembles a labyrinth on several levels. Slabs with the patina of millions of footsteps, walls sanctified by the caress of pilgrims, a bizarre and venerable tangle not unlike that of the Basilica of the Nativity in Bethlehem, with its monasteries, churches, chapels and grottoes all intertwined in a single place where every stone has its place and every stone has a meaning. Despite my rucksack, I managed to sneak in. I had to elbow and shoulder my way down a wide staircase with several landings, then pass through a bronze door forged a thousand years ago in Constantinople before entering the sanctuary of the Archangel.

In the background, the proud men have just placed the statue of Saint Michael in front of the altar, beneath the huge irregular rocky vault carved into the limestone of the mountain, where tradition records the archangel's appearances in the 5th and 17th centuries. A crib-like grotto, on which traditional songs bounce and resonate as they are sung at the top of their lungs. Sitting, standing, kneeling, the crowd throngs in the warm promiscuity of the great evenings, as in the heyday of medieval pilgrimages. A restless, fervent crowd in the joy of a feast day and the warmth of candles. Time no longer matters. Lombards, Franks, Germans, Saxons and Scandinavians came here. They were kings, emperors, popes or anonymous pilgrims, saints and sinners, sometimes both at the same time. Peasants who would return an hour later to plough their ungrateful land and travellers about to embark for Jerusalem.

In this evocative and moving setting, the service takes on the air of a midnight mass. You can feel that there are regular Christians here, as well as the occasional ones who only go to church for solemn celebrations, the sceptics who want to please their grandmother and those who have come for the picturesque: all the people of God in all their diversity who have come to share the joy of a unanimous gathering.

At San Giovanni Rotondo, I admired the life of Padre Pio, I loved the architecture of the new church, and now I realise that it was only an intellectual and superficial understanding. In Switzerland, Einsiedeln was too recent an attachment to really touch me, even though I had made it one of the milestones of my journey. But here, in the heavenly basilica, I can feel the air still suffused with the fervour of my imaginary companions from centuries past, who came to pray to the Archangel on their way to the holy places of Palestine. I feel supported, swept along by this crowd of pilgrims from the past and the present. I feel like I'm in the Holy Land.
Extract from "Pèlerin d'Occident - À pied jusqu'à Rome", Éd. Transboréal

My daughter and I set off from Bernay (where she lives) to take the route from Rouen to Mont-Saint-Michel on Friday morning, 21 October 2016. All along the way, we marvelled at the varied beauty of Normandy, the many sunken lanes and the gentle landscape of the bocage.
Your information sheets with maps and comments were a great help, as were the lists of accommodation (including the Miquelot welcome centres).

Thank you for the well-maintained and well-marked paths, even if some buttons were missing at crossroads... It was a pleasure to look! This autumn pilgrimage was cool and wet, but so beautiful. It was a journey of solitude, where the inner workings of the soul were able to flourish, culminating in the arrival at Mont-Saint-Michel!
Associations like yours are vital to keeping our history, landscape and faith alive!
We wanted to share this unforgettable experience with you.

Fraternally

Christine and Lucile

Hello to all miquelots and those who want to become one,

My journey began in Versailles, near the statue of St Michael. Having set off alone, the Way gave me the opportunity to get to know myself better. I passed through Chartres, where I had an experience in the Cathedral that left a lasting impression on the modest pilgrim that I am. They say that solitude allows you to connect with what's essential. This was one of the many experiences I had. Each day has given me the opportunity to live in the essential. For me, the Way is a wonderful way of getting to know yourself and others, and of understanding Life in its most natural way: patience - respect - listening - observation - adaptation - humility - self-confidence and, for my part, "self-esteem". Because for the first time in my life, in its most beautiful expression, I felt pride.

I hope that everyone who walks or will walk to Mont Saint-Michel will meet a wonderful person there - you!

Jean-Louis, pilgrim of life