pocket-full-of-seaglass

-Geneva-

The first thing to note is that a Switzerland 35* and an Australian 35* are not the same thing even slightly. It had become a common thing for me to realise as I travelled to marvel at the difference in temperature – a Washington 17* is also worlds apart from an Australian 17*, further even still from a German 17*. Evidently, I still couldn’t believe some places were not in the tropics.

It was muggy, yes, but it felt like a 28* at most. All that true blue blood coursing through my veins was finally coming in handy – the heat would not cause me as many problems as I thought.

If you’re getting tired of my constant romanticising paired with a cocky and vaguely grating authorial voice don’t fret !! It calms down significantly about five minutes after I start walking <33

So there I was – standing next to the bus bay with no idea how to proceed. I had my pack on the ground and a little green bag full of Things I had deemed necessary to have on the bus (spoilers : they were not), so the natural first step was to repack. On the ground. In the middle of the bus station. For not really any reason at all other than it seemed practical and my hands needed a task.

By the time I had finished, I had a plan forming. I needed three things before I could begin;

1. A pilgrim passport (‘credential’),

2. Food for the rest of the night and tomorrow, as I’d be crossing into France and could not reliably guarantee anything would be open on a Monday, and,

3. Water. Pretty self explanatory.

I figured the Basilica (church) was only an eight minute walk – I could go for the passport first to make sure I was prepared, and then I could figure out where to shop. So I wandered for a little over five minutes before I found it and – it was shut. Fuck! Now, a better man who was more prepared would have probably invested in a good nights sleep and returned in the morning – but I was no such guy. I was impatient and anxious about money <33

So I walked a little further and found a co-op, bought myself some warm food and water and found a little nook in which I could wedge myself and reconfigure the contents of my bag which was already proving heavy. Sure, a piece of pizza, two litres of water, some milk and some Kinder chocolate cost me almost thirty dollars but when in Switzerland,,, (There was a reason I was trying to only stay for an afternoon)!

I managed to fit (almost) everything in, and carried the rest in my little green bag. From there, I walked back to the church, realised it was open (score!), went up to the entrance, clocked that it was because they were having mass (no!) and when someone looked like they were coming over to ask me something I did the intelligent thing and ran away.

And there began my Via Gebennensis – I spotted the first scallop shell during my daring escape from what was arguably the most important thing I needed. You win some, you lose some. I was already planning to spend tonight and the next night outside, so I might as well pick up the pass in whatever town next had it instead.

I was definitely having an awkward start – my pack felt lopsided and I was 90% sure my water bladder would leak and ruin everything. I would lose the shells every few turns, and would have to backtrack or pull out my phone. My green bag was too heavy and kept clanging against my sides, and somehow my shoes felt too big ? I was gross and sweaty and tired and confused : the perfect recipe for an adventure :]

After an hour or so, it started to make sense. I got rid of a few extra things, managed to secure my green bag to the side of my pack so all I had to carry was a water bottle, and bit by bit I started to ease into the walk. I was passing by beautiful architecture at nearly every corner, and people were singing in the streets – I was smiling more than anyone dripping in sweat should ever be.

-Carouge-

After two hours of wandering, I finally left the inner city behind. It was around 8.00pm, and the sun was setting when I made it into Carouge, roughly 3km from where I left off. Not exactly the pace I was hoping for but I was blaming it on the fact that I was learning ❤

The sunset was beautiful, lighting up the mountains and church spires from all around. I was once again incredibly happy – although by now I was starting to curse my shoes, wishing I could simply walk barefoot through the city without such strange looks. I vowed to take them off the minute I could – I would walk barefoot as much as possible.

Even with my visceral hatred for shoes, I made good time in Carouge. Within an hour I had made it another three kilometres, having only gotten lost twice. My reward was a walkable street absolutely covered in colourful flags. Old couples were laughing, eating ice cream and fanning one another in the heat, and a group of university students were sitting with their legs in the fountain.

It was all very cute and boosted my spirits immensely, and I was confident as I made my way to Saconnex :]

-Saconnex-

I should not have been. Here is where everything starts to go a little wrong, and I have my first Camino mishap. And – my first dog.

The first ten minutes of the Saconnex stage are simple; you follow a sweet gravel path between tall hedges until you come to a small stream, which you cross, then follow directly up. Here, you are greeted with a crossroads. Now, up until this point, signage has been clear and regular. Sometimes it’s the scallop shell, sometimes it’s a small green square on a yellow arrow and sometimes, it happens to be a little man with a walking stick pointing the way. At the crossroads, there are two signs. One is a small green square, and one is a little man who is walking incredibly confidently in the exact opposite direction. The green path is the only path leading up to this point – why the fuck are there two directions.

Regardless, I take the green square route, figuring su r e l y that must be the right way. I follow it for 450m and nothing. No more signs, no indication of direction, nothing. And so I second guess, backtrack. I walk back, follow the little man. And the little man ? L i e s to me.

The little man leads me to a roundabout that goes nowhere and then tells me the right way w a s the way I came, but not to worry because it’s only a full kilometre away now! And so I trudge back, only to find my next green square not 50m from where I gave up. Bah !!!

But it’s okay, because after that next green square, all signs disappear completely. I walk for ten minutes without seeing anything, consulting my guidebook as I go – which tells me to look out for a well ?? – and struggling. At this point it’s 9.30pm, pitch black, and I am exhausted. I’m wandering streets of a village that may or may not be Saconnex, and all I know is that there are no places to sleep near me at all, so I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.

Eventually the guidebook leads me to a gravel path that goes directly into the darkness through fields of shoulder-high grass. I make it maybe three minutes before turning around – over my cold dead body will I walk through that at night, and I knew I made the right call when I heard the barking and snarling start. Absolutely not a fucking chance thankyou!!!

At this point I was really doing it tough, and for the first time, I wanted to give up. This was all very overwhelming, and I couldn’t speak the language or read any signs, and it was n i g h t and I didn’t know why I was being so stubborn and I was spiralling Fast.

And then the second dog started growling and I snapped out of it instantaneously and just picked a direction and started walking. Turns out I would rather sleep in a ditch than be near a dog I can’t see. Eventually I started recognising waymarkers the guidebook had mentioned – tall stone crosses and large roundabouts – and knew I was on the right track. Even after double checking (I was), neither the green square or the little man reappeared.

-Compesières-

By the time I arrived in Compesières, I had walked 11km in four hours, and ended up only 8km away from where I started. I was shattered, and when I finally saw a bench next to the church cemetery, I almost melted.

I come at you live now, laying on said bench, looking over all the corpses I’ll bunk with tonight. It’s warm, and through a technicality I’m sleeping under the stars like I wanted – I can see them through the leaves whenever the wind moves them aside. Geneva glimmers in the distance, and the cars are starting to slow. Tomorrow, I will cross the border into France. Until then? I’ll rest :]

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Day 0 – 20th August

Geneva to Compesières

11.1km

~ 11.1km total

€13.60

~ €13.60 total