Catching Trains
One of the reasons I selected my hotel in London is because it was no more than 50 yards from the entry way for St. Pancras International Station and the trains through the Chunnel into France. The train was scheduled to leave around 8 a.m. and they encouraged people to arrive at least an hour early. The day before I received an email suggesting I arrived at 6:40. Apparently everyone else received the same information because when I arrived at the station the line wrapped around the building. They weren't admitting anybody to the train station at that time, but once they opened for business the line moved pretty rapidly.
There was no issue scanning my ticket and moving into security, but there was a small issue at the security line. When I go on these walks I always carry a foldable knife. It's not a weapon, it's a tool, if I need one out in the middle of nowhere. On my flights it goes into checked baggage so it's never an issue. I really didn't invest too much in the idea that I'd have to go through security to get on the train. Well, for this one, I did.
As soon as my bag was pushed to the side I knew exactly what the problem was, so I told the security worker in which pocket to find the knife and he removed it. As he threw it in a disposal, he told me that it would be melted down by the police department. I need to research what they do with that melted metal. I don't know that there's room for any more statues in London.
My train for Paris left on schedule, and since I had upgraded to first class they served a very light breakfast. As we rode along, I checked performance information about the train. It cruises at about 180 mph but slows to 100 when it's in the tunnel.
There wasn't much to see from my window and I was curious as to what it would be like when we hit the Chunnel. Would I feel the compression of air on my ears, or was there any lighting in there? I never found out. I guess I took a quick nap, because when I woke up I saw the traffic was driving on the right side of the road. Clearly, I was already in France.
Upon arriving in Paris, I was about to encounter my second challenge of the day. Months ago when I booked this train ticket on the Trainline app it was easy and seemed seamless. One train from London to Paris, then one from Paris to St. Etienne (about 90 minutes later), and finally a local train from there, making 10 stops in an hour before arriving at Le Puy-en-Val.
When we arrived at Paris Gare du Nord, I casually checked the departure board for my next train. It wasn't there. I went up to one of the information assistants and tried to communicate in mediocre French. I received a quick reply with pointing fingers that made no sense to me, but speaking to a second person in a red vest, it became obvious that there was a different train station I needed to find. Now I was down to little over an hour before the next train would leave the power station called Gare de Lyon.
More broken French and more fingerpointing. I went to the kiosk to purchase a Metro ticket. It wasn't that difficult, but every minute that transpired was one minute less that I'd have to make my connection. Finally I went through the turnstile and down to the platform, as directed by yet another red vest. I looked at the board and my station was nowhere on it. I was on the wrong platform and needed to be going in the other direction. Up one escalator and down another, and fortunately as I got to the platform the train arrived. That was the end of the drama.
I arrived with more than 35 minutes to spare before the next train. At Gare de Lyon people crowded under the departure board to see what track was assigned to their trains. Mine was not posted just yet. It seemed like they only notified the passengers about 20 minutes before departure time.
While really pleased that I had made the connection, I also felt like I should give myself a palm slap to the forehead. I could have used my phone’s translate app to get specific instructions from anyone at the first terminal. It would have avoided all kinds of confusion and saved me time and stress. But this is how we learn.
There was only one stop on this segment before arriving in St. Etienne. We passed the old terminal as we arrived, and as we approached the final stop, I noticed several of the passengers were a little agitated. It turns out we would arrive with less than five minutes to make the connection to the next train. The good news was that it was just on the other side of the platform. The not-so-good news was that it was running 40 minutes late. So in 90-degree weather we all stood out on the platform and waited for the local train to arrive.
This train was shorter in length, and as we left the station it was packed. The air conditioning unit struggled to keep up and the inside of the train was uncomfortable. The heat seemed to impact a number of teenagers traveling together. About half their group passed out and slept peacefully as the train made local stops.
We arrived in Le Puy-en-Val about 45 minutes behind schedule. As far as things went, if a train had to be delayed, I considered myself fortunate it was during the last leg of the journey, and not something that would have impacted connections. I consulted my maps and started heading to the hotel with my rollerboard bag dragging behind. The streets were cobbled and steep as the hill rose up to where the church was situated at the apex. It turns out my hotel was 100 meters away from there. It became so arduous to drag the bag uphill that I finally folded the handle and lifted all 40 plus pounds of it, marching up the sidewalks and stairways. I was intent on getting to my room and climbing in the shower after a long sticky day.
I guess my heavy breathing and the clatter of my feet on the cobblestones alerted the hotel proprietor, who met me at the door. Lionel was kind enough to drag my bag up the circular stairway to the second floor and place it in my room, which was small but adequate. No conditioning, no TV, and the window faced west so it had baked in the heat all day. I opened the windows to let some cool air in and walked out in search of dinner. The plan was to let the room cool down before I got back and took a shower so I could slide into the sheets without sticking to them.
When I returned to my room I was a little disappointed that the temperature had not substantially dropped. But after a hot shower and a cool rinse, I was so exhausted that I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. One of the funny things about being in a community where there are no air conditioners and all the windows are wide open at night is that it is incredibly quiet. There was not a lot of traffic in this town at the top of the hill, and without compressors turning on and off all night you could hear some of the night birds calling. Unfortunately, it was also easy to hear groups of revelers walking down the street. At 2 a.m. it sounded like a bunch of them had congregated directly beneath my window. Once they were gone I drifted off to sleep without much delay. By this time the room was much more comfortable.
I always add an extra day at the beginning of my walks so I can arrive at the jumping-off point in a timely manner, even if there's some glitch in transit. I now had a day off in Le Puy-en-Val. What would I do with it?
