Bonus

I thought I was staying in a small hotel, and when I was walking here yesterday, basking in the sunshine, I entertained visions of a nice glass of red wine at the bar. Maybe a little lunch (it was about 3:00 pm, so, yes, that's Spanish lunch hour).

Imagine my horror when I walk in -- JUST WALK IN THE FRONT DOOR -- and the family is sitting around the table, having THEIR lunch! Worse, after I retreat to my room, I hear them singing the Happy Birthday song!

There was no clue anywhere that this was a B&B.

And I had just walked 5 km from Astorga, where one might find the nearest open restaurant on a Sunday night in late November. I wasn't about to go back, in the dark, to wander around looking for some place open as early as 7:00 pm. So I ate some almonds I had in my bag and went to bed.

But not before I washed out my socks and undies. This also proved a challenge. Call it … I don't know what to call it. I pushed down the built-in drain stopper, filled the sink, dropped in my smalls, and took a shower. When I got out, I realized I couldn't figure out how to drain the sink. I really couldn't. My heart sinks.

There seemed to be a little stem behind the faucet. I got out a safety pin and threaded it through the hole in the stem. Pulled. Nothing. I begin to panic.

I crawled under the sink, looking for the mechanism that manages the sink stopped, thinking I could manipulate it from there. All I got was a whack on my head from the towel rack and the towel I was wearing wouldn't stay on. It was like that episode of Seinfeld: some things shouldn't be done naked.

I tossed the wet clothes in the shower. Found my pocket knife. Tried to pry up the drain stopper. Was unsuccessful with that, but did manage to slice my thumb.

Now things are getting desperate. I don't want to have to go downstairs and confess to the birthday family that I can't work the sink.

I'll have to start bailing it out.

There's a drinking glass provided. Real glass even. So I carefully scoop out the water and pour it into the shower. It takes a while. I'm almost done bailing when a thought occurs to me: I closed the drain by pushing down the stopper. Maybe … wait a minute…

I push down on the stopper and VOILA! It pops right up. Sink drains. Problem solved.

So much for enlightenment along the Camino.


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Location:Murias de Rechivaldo, Spain

Day 21: I Take a Leap

Yesterday, as I plodded through the rain into Sahagún, I decided I had had enough of the meseta and its accompanying head games. It had now been a week since I had the run in with the cyclist as I left Burgos. There were some gorgeous days -- some of the loveliest moments of the whole experience. Some of those had happened in the rain.

But then I saw a sign that said LEÓN 75 KM.

That was three more days. THREE MORE DAYS of flatflatflat and tiny villages with all their shutters down and no open cafes and endless deserted paths through plowed fields.

After two days of virtually no human contact -- not even much in the animal kingdom -- and what was starting to feel like endless uncontrolled crying, I decided I could make a change.

And the Camino provided. As I walked into town, I saw a train pull in. Ah ha! There was a RENFE station. And there it was -- on the other side of a gate -- that was open! Okay, so there was some climbing around and crossing of tracks in a manner not exactly condoned by the good people of RENFE. But it all led me to the ticket window where I asked the nice lady if there were any trains on Sunday to, oh, say, Astorga?

Why yes, there were. And she sold me a ticket. For 10€ I was going to get out of this mind numbing landscape and that much closer to the mountains again.

So at 12:52 I got on a train in dreary Sahagún, and at 14:06 I got off in sunny Astorga. The mountains loomed on the horizon. I saw cows and chickens and huge, fat rainbows unlike any I had ever seen before. The moon was there in an incredible blue sky. And it all felt exciting again like that first day out of St Jean Pied de Port.

Now, instead of arriving in León on Tuesday, weather permitting (and I think it will), I'll be at the La Cruz de Ferro, the highest point on the Camino Francés.

So much better.


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Location:Murias de Rechivaldo, Spain

Day 19: Solidly in Phase 2

I had read before I started this walking thing that there were three distinct phases to the Camino.

The first, from the French border to Burgos or so, is the physical part. And that was the case, indeed. This is the blisters and the oh-my-God-my-backpack-is-so-heavy and the Advil popping portion of our show.

I truly feel like I've turned the corner there. Yes, when the day stretches to more than 25 km, things start to hurt, I won't lie. But the past few days I've felt strong, my pace has picked up, and I don't notice the backpack at all any more. Really.

Because we're into Phase 2 now, friends. The mental part of the game. Yesterday I experienced what can only be described as a melt down.

The walking part was nice, if a bit dull (I'm still on the meseta, so the view hasn't changed much for a few days now -- think driving across Indiana if that helps you). The sun even came out for a bit. Or at least the rain held off until I was done walking. The town (Carrion de Los Condes) was cute. People in the center called out encouraging things to me.

But I got all weepy and began questioning everything. It didn't help matters that it was Thanksgiving. I haven't really celebrated Thanksgiving in years, since it's odd doing it on a normal Thursday, and by the weekend the urge has passed. Regardless, it usually does make me a tiny bit wistful. And when you are all by yourself, that can easily spin out of hand.

I was a real weepy mess. Just could not stop crying. The Home Team all had a difficult day, too, and although my presence at home would not have changed much about that, it's hard to feel you are being supportive from such a distance.

They encouraged me to make no rash decisions at the moment, and to sleep on it, which I did. Of course, everything is better in the morning. I still reserve the option to assess things when I arrive in León. I might hop a bus and cut out some stages. But I won't decide anything until I get there.

For one thing, the weather is forecast to improve on Sunday. Today is 7C/45F and drizzly. It's not really too, too bad, in fairness. For half of today's walk I didn't even wear a jacket (until the drizzle began). And it's not August. There would have been no shade today in mid-summer. It would be brutal, and I don't know how people do it.

I walked today along what was originally a Roman road (but unlike the bits of Roman road I've come across, this had nice, small gravel on it -- easy to walk on!). My notes say, "Probably very boring." It wasn't boring. But it was a very strange feeling.

I saw a few cars. A tractor. A couple of pilgrims heading the OTHER way (probably walking home from Santiago -- it happens, and more often than you think). I memorized part of the license plate of a car that passed me, and it became my mantra: 6-2-7-7, 6-2-7-7…

You know how some things can make you feel really small? Like a grand cathedral. Or the big streets in Moscow. I've never stood on the edge of the Grand Canyon, but I bet that's humbling.

That's how this felt. There was just flat farm land. And the Camino. If I stopped, which I did from time to time, I could hear the traffic on a highway I couldn't see. But not always. Mostly it was just the wind. Some birds, but not many.

It's a lot of head time, this sort of sameness.

Often, I can see my destination for a while before I arrive. Yesterday was like that: you reach a small crest and VOILA! There it is, and you feel like Dorothy running through the poppies towards the Emerald City.

Today my destination was elusive, hiding from me until the very last moment. So every time I thought, "Ah, maybe I'll be able to see it from here …" the answer was, "No. Not yet."

It was during this part of the walk that everything began to feel surreal and dreamlike. I started to wonder if I was really awake, actually doing this thing. And although there was a tiny bit of blue sky way off to my left, it was still grey and drizzly above me.

And that's when I started to experience the sensation of light around me. You're going to say, "Oh, boy! Now she's really lost the plot!" But I swear it felt like a spotlight was above me, making a circle of sunlight just around me. In long pulses. Warm, yellow light.

No, the Virgin did not appear. No one spoke. It was probably just the sky clearing. But it was nonetheless an odd sensation.

We are clearly in the Head Phase here, aren't we. The Third Phase is the spiritual part: that could get really wacky if today is any indication.

So now I'm in this weird bar/hostal place where the bartender/owner is missing some teeth, but not in a Deliverance sort of way. I can hear everything that happens in the bar/kitchen, but that also means the wifi is strong. I ate a salad (if I never see another Spanish tortilla with potatoes it will be too soon), and now I need to figure out how to move photos and video off my phone and onto the iPad as the phone is (again) out of memory. Someone has taken pity on me and turned on the heat (it's freezing in here). So life is good.

Thanks to everyone for all your encouragement. Lots of love from Spain!


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Location:Calzadilla de la Cueza, Spain

Thankful. So Thankful.

Today I left the loving arms of Carmen (I think that's her name), the owner of the little place where I sought refuge yesterday in Población de Campos. Her tiny hotel was just what I needed -- with a garden full of cats. She was so kind, hugging me every chance she got. When I left this morning, she told me, "When you get to Santiago, will you say a prayer for peace in the world?"

Yes. Yes, I will, Carmen.

My walk was completely solitary, other than a joyful cyclist (the best kind) who shouted "BUEN CAMINO!" to me as he passed.

I had a lot of time to think about Thanksgiving, which always makes me wistful anyhow, and about all I have. I have so much. I am so grateful.

My husband is healthy, handsome, and still knows how to make me laugh. I love him more every day. We have so much fun together: I am grateful for every moment we share.

My daughters are a gift. They are kind, smart, and gorgeous. I love spending time with them. I am grateful for their perspectives on life. They keep me young, they teach me more than I ever imagined, and I treasure every moment with them.

My family -- for every time I've groaned or rolled my eyes, you've given me your hearts and hands and more. You've made me who I am, instilled in me the values I carry. It's a precious thing, and I love you all.

My friends, you are my strength. Even when I'm not off on some crazy epic adventure, I rely on your encouragement and good humor. You are all so different, from so many different places and experiences, but that's what I appreciate: different views on the world to keep me balanced and open-minded. You share your lives with me -- it is such an honor to be included. You are bad-ass in the best possible way. Thank you for all you have given me.

Today, on Thanksgiving, I'm alone, but I'm not lonely because I feel the incredible love you all have for me and for each other. The world holds a boundless joy, and I wish only good things for all of you today, and every day.

Thank you. Thank you all. I love you so much.


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Location:Carrión de Los Condes, Spain

Day 17: Catching Up and Resting Up

It's Wednesday, and I've been at this for 17 days now, and for a few days I have debated taking a rest day, but worried I'd feel weird just sitting around for a day because I can't imagine walking around a touring a city on a rest day. Maybe you can.

But since lately my nights have been a thrash-fest of aching everything and multiple doses of Advil, I thought I'd try it.

That's not to say I haven't enjoyed the last two days. I have. I do think I've even turned a corner on the ability to tolerate the physical demands of this project.

Monday I felt especially good. It was a relatively short day (20.5 km) on a relatively flat route. I started in Hornillos Del Camino under cloudy/foggy skies with no one around me. Somewhere around kms 6-9, the path got really muddy and difficult to walk on. It was about this time I spotted another pilgrim ahead of me, but I couldn't tell who it was, and it took me a long time to catch up because it was such slow going (there's no going off piste because on either side of the path is plowed field -- even muddier).

The other pilgrim finally sat on a rock to rest, and I realized it was an older woman I hadn't seen before. I passed her, and continued on into a little town called Hontanas, where I found a bar filled with flies and cats, and ordered a real Coke and a sandwich filled with plain omelette. It was a huge sandwich (at least a foot long), and there was no way I could finish it, so I surreptitiously dropped bits of egg on the floor for a very handsome black and white cat.

Soon the other pilgrim walked in. Now we were practically family, so I sat there for a bit while she chatted with the owner (sometimes I can keep up in Spanish now, but sometimes I only get the topic, but not the speaker's position on the topic). Eventually I left them.

The second half of the day was easily the NICEST day I've had yet. The sun was out (but it wasn't hot), there weren't any climbs, and the countryside was really nice.

I will say, however, that a pilgrim on a bike overtook me -- I heard the bike and turned, and there was a guy who had a completely friendly vibe. He asked if my Camino was going well, that sort of thing, and continued on. But looking up a few minutes later I saw he had stopped (probably to pee, but if so, he was done and being discreet). He seemed to be adjusting a jacket, but all I could think was that I was not in the mood to deal with any unknown men, so I slowed way down until he was well on his way. He truly was harmless, but now I'm a bit defensive.

Anyhow, I continued on into Castrojeriz, which is the most charming town I've been in yet. Totally what you would expect when you think "Spanish village in the middle of nowhere." Castle ruins up on a hill. Cobble stone streets. Churches. All of it in good repair and with evidence of a decent tourist business (signs explaining things, bicycle routes marked, etc). Very romantic.

The next day (yesterday), as I walked out of Castrojeriz, I saw, for a switch, a line of pilgrims in front of me. Eventually, we all merged (there was a BIG climb, so we all ended up at the top taking pictures and trying to catch our breath). There was the woman from the day before (Rosa, I think), who greeted me with hugs and kisses. The was Ramon-my-Rescuer who I had walked with on Sunday. Plus another Ramon from Mallorca. Plus another Rosa, who speaks great English and is a tour guide from Barcelona. And Timothy, a feral-looking French boy of maybe 16 and his caseworker (sister?) whose name I haven't gotten. I ran into them days ago when I was walking with the Slovak girl and her boyfriend and the Swiss oboe player. I don't know what Timothy's story is, but he's definitely not quite right and seems to be undertaking the Camino as some sort of therapy (or jail avoidance?). The young woman responsible for him has boundless patience , although yesterday she mentioned she needed to take up meditation and maybe do more yoga.

It was Rescue Ramon's last day before he returns to his regular life, so often we took pictures of him, but also we often sent him ahead so he could have time alone. It was nice being with the group, but they tended to stop more often and longer than I would (the end result being my longest day walking -- but I knew I had a long distance).

We had my first torrential down pour. But my rain gear worked fine and everything stayed dry enough. It really only lasted about 15 minutes.

Going into Itero de la Vega, we found a guy handing out flyers for his bar. "It's clean!" he said. So we ended up stopping there for hot drinks, sandwiches, and toilet breaks. Rosa the Hugger stayed in the town because she was also ending her Camino (for now -- there's a 3-day weekend coming up next week, so she said she will do more then) and this was a convenient bus stop back to wherever she was going.

Then it was 8 km of open countryside. I walked most of it with Rosa Tour Guide. We stopped often and just stood there and listened because it was so incredibly quiet. I was thinking about how when we have a moment of silence, it's usually a ceremonial thing commemorating some sort of tragedy. But these moments of silence were more celebratory. We could hear the wings of birds as they flew over us, it was that quiet.

At Boadilla del Campo, I left the group. They stopped for a coffee because they were only planning to go as far as Fromista (another 6 km), but it was already 4:00, and I was headed to Población de Campos, 3.5 km beyond Fromista, and I wanted to get there before dark.

At one point the Camino goes along a canal -- like something you'd see near Bruges or in Amsterdam. It was very pleasant, but ahead I saw a lone man, sorta strolling aimlessly. He appeared to be holding flyers, so I thought maybe he was also doing a bit of advertising. But I didn't like being stuck out on a canal with any strange men. Of course, this was exactly what he was doing -- pushing a hotel in the town I was headed for. "I'm already sorted," I told him, "but there are 4-5 others a few minutes behind me … maybe they will be interested." And I left him. Again, he was harmless.

That last 3 km or so was hard -- not unlike Saturday when I dragged into Burgos. I kept thinking, "If you look to the left, you see … Spain," and humming "My Cherie Amour" to stay cheerful. But I was tired, and had decided I was going to take an extra day in Campos.

So imagine my surprise later when Ramon, Rosa, and Timothy's case manager walked into my little hotel lobby. They had rejected the only open albergue in Fromista because it had neither heat nor hot water, even though this meant Ramon had to walk back there to catch a 7:00 am bus this morning. They were at the albergue next door, but arranging to take showers and have breakfast where I'm staying because this albergue had no hot water either. The hotel owner poured them all glasses of wine, and we stood around and chatted for a bit.

Then I had some dinner while the hotel owner did a load of laundry for me. In a real washing machine! Not a sink or shower. Maybe my long-sleeved shirt will actually not stink now.

Anyhow, I still woke up at 5:00 am, but I'm looking forward to a day of reading and chasing the million cats who live in the garden. This is a teeny-tiny village with nothing to look at, but that suits me fine.

Tomorrow I have a short day (17 km), and on Friday, I think, this little project will be half over. I'm enjoying it, but can't wait to be done and back home with my family.

Lots of love to you all.


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Location:Población de Campos, Spain

Day 15: Burgos to Isar, 26.5 km

I can't believe I have been doing this for two whole weeks now. And I'm not half way done, but I should be by Thursday when I arrive at Terradillos de Los Templarios.

Yesterday morning I left Burgos. The guy at the hostal told me that a place on the corner "should be open by 8:00 for breakfast." Often, particularly in small towns, if I have to find my own breakfast, these little bars are depressingly empty, offering up only coffee, uninspiring croissants, and packaged magdalenas. So I was delighted to walk in to a place that was hopping, probably with folks who had been out all night (it was Sunday morning). There was an impressive display of little sandwiches, so I took three: two to eat and one for the road. With coffee it was under 5€.

And then I headed out of Burgos (a much nicer walk than the run into town) and out into the "mesta," or flat farmland that I tend to think of when I picture the Camino in my head.

I had been walking now and then for the past few days with an American named Derek. He was pleasant enough, but amazingly helpless (spoke not a word of Spanish) and out of shape. At first I felt like his slow pace kept me from overdoing, but eventually I got bored and fed up.

I had been dropping him on climbs, but then feeling I had to wait. So walking out of San Juan de Ortega he wasn't keeping up, and I just kept on walking. I looked back once or twice to see if he made a couple of turns. Yes. So I just kept going. There was a tricky, foggy climb then, and I knew he'd never catch up. It is not expected that you wait for people. You are supposed to do your own thing. I didn't miss him.

That said, yesterday I left Burgos and was chugging along, and then thought I saw him ahead of me. My heart sank (because I had forgotten ALL about him), and I was already thinking what I would say when I passed him (because I was going to pass him) and feeling bad about it.

Now I'm gonna tell you a story and I don't want you to get all freaked out. Because I just don't want to go over it again and again in comments, but at the same time it is part of my Camino.

By now, some nice looking Spanish guy on a bike coming toward me stopped and asked me the time. There were tons of guys on bikes out (it's like that every weekend, and it makes me miss my bike). I took out my phone and said, in Spanish, "It's almost 11:00."

He thanked me and rode off, but then a few minutes later rode up from behind me and grabbed my breast. I was mad, and said "WHAT THE HELL?!?" He stopped a bit in front of me and did a mea culpa gesture and gave me some crap in Spanish about how he couldn't help it, I was muy bonita.

I waved my walking stick threateningly and told him to go away and fuck off. He passed me and rode away.

I walked on, annoyed at what I didn't say. I came around a corner, and the guy I thought was Derek-the-American, but wasn't, was sitting under a bridge smoking a cigarette. I assumed he was an Anglo (he had red hair) and asked in Spanish if he was okay. He said yes, and I kept walking.

Not 15 minutes later, Spanish bike dude comes up from behind me and grabs me again and keeps going.

This time I yelled, "¿No tienes una madre? ¿No tienes hermanas? ¿No tienes hijas? Porque todos somos iguales!"

Now I was spooked, and the next time a bike came up behind me I must have jumped three feet. This poor guy was horrified, but I tried to explain, "Hay un hombre malo aquí hoy."

Soon I reached a little village and I sat on a bench in a fairly active area and ate my lunch. Before too long, Bridge Dude comes by, and I asked if he minded if I walked with him. He's from Barcelona, name's Ramon, does something involving glass for display cases or buildings, nice as can be. Agreed Bike Dude was mal educado, and let me tag along until I peeled off to go to my hotel.

So I was annoyed at feeling vulnerable. No, I wasn't hurt at all, and I doubt Bike Dude had any more serious plans. He was small and skinny (like a serious cyclist) and I probably could have hurt him had I the chance to get closer. I certainly could hurt his bike, and that's what I was planning to do -- put one of my sticks through a wheel and mess it up. Since he apparently views women's bodies as things he can have, just like a bike.

And while these were points on the path where I was alone, there really were plenty of other cyclists and a lot of guys in tractors working fields near me. I thought about stopping and talking to one of them, but I couldn't really identify the guy (white bike, black and white kit, nice looking).

Anyhow, the rest of the day was uneventful. You've seen the photos and video by now. It finally began to rain in earnest, and I was happy to have a hot shower and a couple of glasses of wine before a really nice dinner. I think I was asleep by 9:30.

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Location:Isar, Spain

Day 13: San Juan de Ortega to Burgos, 26 km

I began today at a truck stop. For a while I walked under clear skies. It's Saturday, and I was on the road to Agés, a tiny village, being passed by vehicles hauling trailers full of barking hunting dogs.

Just beyond Atapuerca, it became foggy again. I left the town, and began a climb that ran along a barbed wire fence with signs saying it was surrounding a military area. KEEP OUT! Between that and the fog and remembering the hunters, I was, for a time, concerned about the risk of being shot. I do have (and was wearing) a reflector band that I wrap around my arm. I also had on a lot of red, plus a bright orange strap that I use to carry a bottle of drinking water (unlike in Luxembourg, I don't need to have a whole day's worth with me because there are fountains with potable water, clearly marked on my maps, at regular intervals). Still I whistled tunelessly and sang to myself, just in case.

I could hear bells at times -- the sort one would find on livestock -- and there was a lot of evidence that sheep were recently where I was walking. No one would hunt in a sheep pasture, right?

And suddenly the fog cleared, and I could see Burgos, about 14 km ahead.

Things moved along uneventfully until I opted for a route my guide suggested "minimized asphalt." My feet were already taking a beating from the weight of the backpack and so much time on the road. What I didn't expect was to be slogging along muddy farmer tracks. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

And then I made a wrong turn and wandered off course for about half a km until a kind man walking his dog set me straight.

By now my feet were killing me, but there was nothing to do except plod on, and on, and on until I finally reached the city of Burgos and my little hostel.

The fellow working the reception desk gave me a map of the city and some recommendations for dinner. By the time I had washed my (very muddy) things and rested a bit, I was too late to go in the cathedral. But I found a pharmacy and weighed myself (now down a kilo from what I weighed in Luxembourg), gimped around a bit, had a glass of wine and a tapa, and found the place he recommended for dinner: a bustling little bar/restaurant. I got in just before the rush and sat at the bar where I could see all the action in the grill area. I ordered a sangria so big I couldn't finish it and a plate of fried eggs, potatoes, and what they call picadillo, but which wasn't at all like the Cuban version. Again, too big to finish, but by then I had finally warmed up, studied my map, and successfully navigated my way home.

Tomorrow is slightly shorter, at only 21 km. I took two Advil, and hope my feet recover in time for that walk. I tend to feel good for about the first ten km. I'm not seeing any great improvement in my physical capabilities, but I continue to hope. I can't imagine ever feeling spry enough to undertake a 30 km day. Not with the backpack anyhow.

Lots of love to all from Burgos!


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Location:Burgos, Spain

Day 12 (DAY 12!!)

I didn't post anything here yesterday (Santo Domingo de la Calzada to Belorado, 23 km) because I was tired, everything ached, the route was flat, foggy, and boring, and I was having another What-am-I-doing-here? moments.

Today (Belorado to San Juan de Ortega, 24 km) dawned drizzly and chilly and generally grey, but the profile of the walk made it interesting (up and more up) and there were trees not just plowed fields, so even without any views it was quiet and magical and I was renewed. I still miss my Home Team and friends desperately. But I also looked at the map and saw Burgos (I'll be there tomorrow) is a lot farther west than I realized.

I've completed 272.5 km (170 miles). It isn't getting easier, no not at all, but I see progress on the map.

Health-wise, my feet are fine. The blister is resolved. The arthritis (right foot) no longer seems to bump the side of my boot (something it decided to do on the train down from Luxembourg). The stress fracture (left foot) doesn't bother me.

What's new (as of last Sunday) is a weird ZING in my right calf. It's warm and not unpleasant, as if hot water were running down the outside of my calf. When I first noticed it (Sunday as I finished the hike), it was because I had a charley horse in my calf, but just for a moment. So I thought the weird feeling was, at first, the muscle saying, "Ouch!" after. For the early part of the week it only happened once or twice a day. Now it happens many times a day. Sometimes many times an hour. Googling only finds other people describing the same thing, but no one has an explanation. (Dr W, if you are reading this and think it's serious, message me and I'll get it looked at in Burgos tomorrow).

So that's the news from the Camino. Weather outlook continues to be pleasant (ie, no rain), and after today's hilly profile, I'm looking at a lot of F L A T for many days.

Much love to you all, especially the Home Team.

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Location:Arlanzón, Spain

Day 10: A Bit of Catching Up

The past two days have been rather uneventful, both in terms of terrain covered (16 km from Navarrete to Nájera yesterday and then 22 km from Nájera to Santo Domingo de la Calzada today) and scenery. The routes have been largely flat and unvaried, with fairly long stretches between civilization. The views are nice enough, but unchanging and don't translate that well into photos.

Entering the town tonight I passed a huge potato processing plant. It's that kind of thrilling here in suburban Santo Domingo (although the "old town" part has more charm). I couldn't help thinking about a young Eva Duarte trying to get the hell out of Junin.

Tomorrow promises to be more of the same, but on Friday I'll have three big climbs, topping out each time at around 1100 meters. Nothing quite like Day One, but I expect it will be work.

I ran into two pilgrims yesterday, a Spaniard and an American. Dropped the Spaniard, but ended up finishing the day with the American, and walked today with him again. That said, Derek is very slow, being out of shape and overweight, but I thought following his pace today might keep me from over doing as normally I push to walk as if I had no backpack. I expect he's not going to keep up much longer.

I went to visit the famous chickens in the town cathedral. They are difficult to photograph because of the way they are lit, but trust me-- they are there.

My blister toe gave me no trouble today. Otherwise I'm relatively injury/pain free, although on Sunday when I finished, I got a sort of charley horse in my right calf, and this feels odd from time to time, especially when I'm tired.

The weather has been ideal: cool, mostly sunny, and little if any wind.

I sought out a scale in a pharmacy tonight, and seems I weigh 300 grams less than when I started, although I may have weighed myself with fewer clothes and earlier in the day (ie, before breakfast) then. It's a bit of a trick to strip down to one's undies in the middle of a busy shop. I had to settle for setting down my little purse and taking off my Crocs. I'll probably be the only pilgrim ever to gain weight on the Camino.

I confess these two days have been a bit on the boring side, cathedral chickens not withstanding. And boring = a bit homesick. I'd like to beam into my own living room for the evening and sit with my Home Team and watch silly TV tonight. I promise I'll be ready to walk again tomorrow.


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Location:Santo Domingo de la Calzada, Spain

Day 8: Viana to Navarette, 22.7 km

Is it ever going to get easier? Am I ever going to be able to go 25 km comfortably? I'm always rather chipper for the first 10 km or so, but then my dogs start BARKING and every step is just this side of REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE.

I did have excellent weather today. Sunny and often breezy, but in a good way. Very autumnal. Didn't walk with anyone today. Didn't even see another real pilgrim until about 3-4 km from the end when I got passed by a Spaniard On a Mission. He was trucking along as if he'd just had a lot of Red Bull. Greeted me, and then blew on by.

I was greeted a lot today by the people of Logroño. Lots of "Buen Camino!" One guy pointed at a route marker on the ground and then pointed west. When I said, "Si!" I got a thumbs up from him. Two old guys in the park shouted at me, asking if I was from Iceland. "Aren't you cold?" they asked. When I explained where I was from originally, they decided the US is a big place and we Americans are certainly better prepared to deal with cold. They were cute.

I had a not so nice conversation earlier in the historic center of Logroño. Creepy, even, and for the first time I felt a bit vulnerable, which made me mad.

I had stopped in a tiny bar/cafe because it had a sign about sandwiches, etc. The guy did have a very nice selection of small sandwiches, so I ordered one to go, got a cafe con leche, and availed myself of the facilities. Walking back to my little table, I spied a guy with a big backpack standing outside by the open door to the cafe. "Buen Camino!" I say. The guy comes in, and begins telling me, in English, that he's German, he's been to Santiago and now is walking back to either Frankfurt or Berlin (I think his story changed), and, look, the ATM has broken his card in half (the long way), and the phone numbers on the card lead to nothing and all the German embassies in Spain have been shut now and the bus is 27€ (huh?) and he's spent the night in the bus station and he's now looking at me and my phone and my backpack like he's the fox and I'm the hen and that's when I got very interested in stirring my coffee. I finally said, "That's unfortunate," and gave him my sandwich and looked at him until he left.

I replaced the sandwich, waited a bit, and, rather shaken, headed out again. Turning the first corner, I spied him on a bench, but pretended I didn't see him.

Thankfully, I was suddenly in the middle of mid-morning Logroño with lots of traffic and lots of people. But I was still creeped out and stopped several times to look back and make sure I wasn't being followed. I don't carry a lot of cash because

1. There's nothing to buy and
2. I don't want to lose it.

I suppose even if he had bonked me on the head or knocked me down, my cash isn't exactly easily accessible. But I started imagining the worst.

He made me mad because I decided he was trying to con me and his bad energy upset me for a bit. Maybe he really was in trouble, but I doubt it. Whose ATM card breaks like that? Buddy, if the only person on the planet who can help you is me, you've got some issues. Seriously, no one at home could help? Later, I thought what I SHOULD have said was, "If you aren't comfortable in Spanish, let's go to the police station and I'll translate for you!" I had seen one not far from the cafe. I'm sure he would have had no interest in that.

I was happy when the route led me to a busy park full of walkers and joggers (and the old guys who thought I was Icelandic) and people were friendly and there were some great dogs and I felt the cool Camino vibe again. I didn't think about him after that.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Navarette, Spain

Day 7: Los Arcos to Viana, 18 km

It's raining tonight, but I didn't get rained on at all today. In fact, it was very sunny this morning, and even got warm enough for me to take off my fleece for a while.

The stage was relatively flat: a few climbs, mostly going into villages it seemed (I think they were built that way strategically), but nothing too difficult, even with the backpack.

Today I ran into some people carrying more than I am. First was Andrea from Switzerland. She's a professional oboist who raises chickens and bees! She went out her front door in mid-September to begin a four-month sabbatical from her musical life. She figured she needs three months to walk to Santiago and one month to get her oboe mojo back. She had more food in her backpack! Onions, lemons, hard boiled eggs. I realized that since the albergues lock up at 10:00 and it's tough now to find pilgrim menus served at a reasonable hour, those staying there end up provisioning and cooking for themselves when there's a kitchen.

Pedro (an osteopath from Spain) and his Slovak girlfriend, Martina, were carrying a camp stove and a tent. He was having terrible knee issues, so Andrea lent him her walking sticks, which helped. Along with two other funny Spaniards (Vincent and Ronaldo), they were gathering anything edible they could find along the way: thyme (we had tea made with this at our lunch), wild dill (which the Slovak confessed she never cared for), chicory root (as a coffee substitute), almonds, assorted low-hanging fruit … I think a lot of it was destined for the soup pot tonight.

They seemed concerned that my water bottle is so small, but unlike in Luxembourg, you can find fountains with potable water at pretty regular intervals. They are even marked on my maps. So I make it a point to drink my bottle (or finish it) every time I find a fountain and then fill it again.

I made a shorter day today in order to give my feet a break, but they went on an additional 10 km to Logrono. I'm going to walk through it tomorrow on my way to Navarette (22.7 km). Burgos looms in the not-too-distant distance with its higher altitudes and rumors of snow. I'm told there are routes there that may be closed to us if there's significant snow. So that could get exciting -- but I think it's a good 5-7 days away still. I haven't done the math.

Tomorrow marks the start of my second week. The landscape has changed a lot, my body has gotten more used to the daily abuse, and I go back and forth between really liking it and just wanting to go home. Thirty-three days is an awfully long time, and I miss my regular life and my little family. But I also really want to say I've done it. Not everyone starts in SJPdP, and I've garnered lots of respect for my haul over the mountains.

The weather looks like it will be good tomorrow, although, oddly, I can't find any weather apps with any functioning radar over Spain -- it's like they are completely off the grid. I miss having access to that information.

I hope everyone in Ohio digs out eventually -- your weather looks exciting. Lots of love and big hugs, especially to my Home Team.


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Location:Viana, Spain

Day Six: Estella to Los Arcos, 23.14 km

So I just added things up, and I've walked 143.46 km since Monday. That's over 89 miles. Do I feel it? Yes, I do. But I'm feeling better in general, and the walks have been getting flatter. The backpack doesn't hurt my back, waist, and shoulders much at all any more, and I've gotten better at packing it.

Today had, again, a climb I was worried about (Monjardín), but when it came to actually doing it, it wasn't bad. The first third, or so, of today was remarkably residential, which surprised me.

I walked out the door of my B&B around 9:00 am, and before I even crossed the river back to the Camino, I saw I was following a group of pilgrims. Uh, oh, I thought, as I had never gotten any sort of confirmation on my accommodations for tonight (not for lack of effort on my part), and here was a whole gaggle of folks I was afraid I might have to compete with.

I caught up to them in front of a sign about the Camino where they were taking a group shot. They were very cheerful. I offered to take their pictures, and they adopted me immediately, announcing, "You shall lunch with us!"

There were ten of them, and I figured out that they were all friends from elementary school. They were walking a stage of the Camino every Saturday (for about 33 weeks). As they were basically just day hikers, they had small backpacks (like what I use on a Ramble), and they walked fast!

They didn't especially worry about leaving their men behind either. If you had a shoe problem, they walked on. Stopped behind a tree for a nature break, they walked on. Took a picture, they walked on.

"No stopping!" I heard one woman say. "I don't stop!"

They did, however, stop for lunch.

But then we were off again.

Foolishly, perhaps, I kept pace with them (I finished in under five hours today, averaging 4.65 km/hour). Carrying what I hope is closer to 9 kg now (everyday I try to throw something out) makes for a lot more effort to keep my normal pace (on my last hike with my hiking group, I averaged 4.88 km/hour). By the end of the hike, my feet felt like I had walked 10 km more.

So I feel ever so slightly like I boinked today: can't quite get warm, content to lie flat under a blanket with my eyes closed. I'm happy to just hang out until dinner, which I'm told I can have at around 21:00 if I really must eat so early.

I never figured out the deal on "cat town." Saw a few Big Farm Dogs, no cats that I can recall.

And I can't see much to recommend in Los Arcos. It's a grim little village with lots of half-finished construction. Maybe they are actually in the midst of a building boom. I'll think positively about it.

Tomorrow I am taking a break and only doing 18.6 km. The weather looks okay (partly cloudy, not too cold). Since the walk is so much shorter, maybe I'll even sleep in a bit, although I'm sure I'll be awake by 5:00 anyhow.

Hope everyone had a nice Saturday, and, as always, thanks for all the love.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Arcos, Spain

Day Five, Already

Blame my brother, Primo, for distracting me from my blogging duties with silliness and making me laugh out loud to the point where I began to worry about waking the neighbors until I remember this is Spain, and they're all probably still at lunch.

Today was almost uneventful. I had a nice little breakfast at the hotel, and then headed out around 8:45 am. There was a torrential downpour in the night, and I was expecting a lot more rain today, but in the end there was only a little bit and then some more over the last 4-5 km, but the sun was shining by the time I arrived in Estella 24 km later.

There was a good climb at around 5 km, but it was early in the day and not too difficult, so even though I had the full backpack, I didn't mind much.

I had been looking forward to walking a stretch of 2,000 year old Roman road that begins just outside Cirauqui, but was disappointed to realize it was actually quite hard to walk on because it's so bumpy and uneven. My kids will get a chuckle out of that.

I told myself I'd follow Ramble protocol and take a break shortly after the halfway point, which came at 13 km in a village called Lorca. I was hoping for a repeat of yesterday's fantastic purchased sandwich, but when I got to what I thought was the end of Lorca, no sandwich opportunities had yet presented themselves (there's generally NOTHING open since it is no longer The Pilgrim Season). So I sat on a bench across the street from a hilarious herding-type dog who stared at me silently while I ate the remains of the cheese I purchased on Tuesday.

Of course, as soon as I retried my boots and turned the corner, there was a little grocery store and a small bunch of familiar pilgrim types. I asked the lady if she had sandwiches, and she said no, but if I bought some bread and meat, she'd assemble it for me. So I told her what I wanted, and she made it, and it cost me 1.30€. I went back outside to eat it in time for two cyclists to arrive. They were riding the Camino. One, a Brazilian, was doing the exact route we were walking, and while he was covering closer to 90 km/day, he said the hills (especially the descents) were hard. His colleague, a cheerful German from Cologne, was skipping the hills and sticking to the main roads. He was hoping to get some wine with his lunch.

When I left them, I took with me a retired Canadian guy who confessed he had only stayed once so far in an albergue and that, for all the reasons I had, found it was not to his liking. Like me, he's been staying in other accommodation, but, unlike me, he's been pulling into town without anything reserved. I'm too tired at the end of the day to wander around shopping for a bed, thank you.

Tonight I was forced to go out and forage for something to eat, but off season there's little for a tired pilgrim at 7:00 pm no matter what they tell you. I found the plaza lined with restaurants, but they were packed with Happy Hour folks, drinking beers and wine and coffees. So I wandered around for over an hour, clocking an additional 4.64 km in the process, until suddenly everything cleared out and I gathered the courage to actually go in a place and ask if it was too early for food.

It wasn't. And I even got a glass of wine. (Yes, you read that correctly. A glass. One. That makes a grand total of THREE glasses this week. My liver has no idea what to do with all its spare time now.)

Tomorrow I walk to Los Arcos. There's a pretty but nasty looking climb (Monjardin, 894 meters at about 9 km in), but before it gets steep there's a village called Azqueta, and I have written the words "cat town" next to it. I have no idea why.

Stay tuned for an explanation tomorrow, I guess.

Much love to everyone, but especially to my Home Team.



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Location:Estella, Spain

Day Four: Pamplona to Puente la Reina, What a Difference a Day Makes

I set off this morning earlier than usual, having had my leftover pizza for breakfast and leaving my backpack in the, as yet, unseen hands of the Jacotrans Dude. I still haven't seen him, but he did his magic, and my bag arrived intact!

I practically SKIPPED out of town. Yes, it was a Ramble-length day (23.36 km in 6 hours and 16 minutes), but with all of the features that makes a Ramble pleasant: a nice route, great views, a wonderful sandwich, and even a little chitchat with other pilgrims.

There is now developing a Cast of Characters, or at least familiar faces. Everyone seemed to appear at once at the summit of today's climb, the Alto de Perdón. There was much silliness and picture taking and general antics, which was fun.

The climb, which I had been dreading, was very easy. Lots of level moments, and not just slogging up like a Sherpa on Everest. Even the descent, which everyone warns you is treacherous, was not a white-knuckle ride like Zuberi was.

I don't know whether to credit Jacotrans or the sandwich I had around noon or what, but it all added up to a right pleasant day walking.

I went through my pack AGAIN looking for things to cull. Everyday I do it. But sometimes I think what I am throwing out can't weigh enough to make a difference. I've even started tearing the pages out of one of my guidebooks. This serves two purposes:

1. I can more easily have the map in a pocket and
2. Who needs a page after that stage is complete?

Tomorrow I walk to Estella. It's 22 km and after an early climb, mostly pretty level. My guide says that after a town called Cirauqui, I'll be walking on "a fine example of the original Roman road constructed 2000 years ago." So that will be cool.

As always, I can't tell you how much I get out of all your comments and support. But especially the big hugs I'm getting each day from my Home Team. I couldn't do this without you.


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Location:Puente la Reina, Spain

Day 3: Zuberi to Pamplona, I Get Cranky

In many ways I had a wonderful day. For starters, the sun was shining to the point that I eventually got down to shorts and a t-shirt. The Spaniards, at least in these parts, were all wearing coats. Someone I talked to in Pamplona this afternoon said, "Oh, you must be from the North if the heat bothers you." Yeah, aside from the constant rain, I love the temperatures in Luxembourg. If that means I'm intolerant of heat … well, okay.

I was worried about my little pension last night as I realized on the way there that my room was with "shared bathroom." Turns out I was the only guest, so I could have run naked up and down the stairs aside from the fact I was just too tired. The owners spent the night at their other house. I learned that the pension was originally "his" house, and now, after both losing their jobs, they live in "her" house and turned this into a business.

They were very sweet and let me eat breakfast in peace (toast with jam, coffee, orange juice) before chatting me up. He spoke a tiny bit of English (my deteriorated Spanish was better), but we got by, discussing the demise of the middle class in both Spain and the US. I can't say for certain that she didn't lay some blame on "los Judios," but in the interest of maintaining positive US/Iberian relations, I'm gonna assume I misunderstood something there.

And that's sort of how it's been going. Other than the overly-cheerful Korean guy I saw my first two nights, the only ONLY other pilgrims I've encountered (and today I ran across six) have been Spaniards. They are all in pairs (some friends, i.e. the pair who keep running away from me, and some couples). While I can understand them. If. They. Talk. Like. This. it is mentally exhausting for me to be immersed. I can see them revert to rapid-fire Spanish the moment I am no longer able to carry the ball. Don't get me wrong: I love Spanish. It is my favorite foreign language. But when I'm physically exhausted, I'd like to limit my participation to

1. Ordering my dinner and
2. Watching the local news on the ever-present TV in the restaurant.

Now veteran Camino-types will tell you that these people are your Camino family. But you know, if the DH and I were hiking together and some nice third hiker appeared, we'd be all, "Oh, hello there. Okay, bye." Just like these people are.

It is accepted Camino protocol that you are not expected to walk WITH every pilgrim you meet. Everyone walks at the pace that suits them. So you ebb and flow and cross paths, sometimes in the same day, sometimes over the course of the entire walk.

I came across the Spaniards again sitting in the sun right at the point I had promised myself I'd stop, eat, and maybe make a video. I didn't feel like recording anything when they were there, and later I was in a foul mood. I didn't want to grump and then have it preserved for posterity.

(What I DO wish I had was a video of me speaking Spanish because I want to

1. See my mistakes (yes, I really do) and
2. See how often I use French without realizing. Because I'm pretty sure I've been doing that a lot. )

So I'm sitting amongst them, basically in someone's driveway. Not that much farther along was a nice park full of picnic table. I knew it was coming. Don't these people look at maps? Okay, they invited me to join them, and I wanted to play along. So I sit down on the sloping driveway and take out my package of cheese and my apple. Only then I realize that I'm sitting on my phone. My phone is in my back pocket and now being crushed into the cement driveway. I reach to pull it out, and my apple escapes and rolls down the driveway, under the chain that's blocking the driveway, all the way to the feet of a very large and very surprised dog who is chained up at the other end of the driveway. But I couldn't see him from where I was sitting. I couldn't catch the apple precisely because I was sitting. And stiffening. I finally got to my feet and realized that my apple was gonna stay. Right where it was.

Don't feel too bad for me. As the Camino always provides, I came across another apple further on. It came from a guy who was kinda lurking on the path. Heading more or less west as we are, often the sun creates a bit of glare, making it hard to see things immediately. So he kinda pops out of the bushes, holding a ham and cheese sandwich, smelling slightly of drink, and starts talking to me about the "ratones." When I express confusion, he say, "Don't you speak Spanish?" I assure him that I do, but he's gotta slow down. So he tells me he's feeding bits of his sandwich to the little mice here on the side of the trail, and, oh, would I like some fruit or a juice because he's selling them because he's lost his job. I do buy an apple from him and reassure him that six others are not that far behind me and he shouldn't pack it in for the day just yet. But now that's three people today who have lost their jobs.

Speaking of the sun in my eyes, shortly before my unfortunate lunch break I had another such episode. The path at that point was rather narrow and mucky in places, so I was paying close attention because it wound along the side of a steep slope. Suddenly I see the corpse of a mountain bike, just lying there in the path. I've seen other bikers during the morning -- those sleek gazelles on road bikes on the proper roads (we ARE just down the road from Sr. Indurain), as well as dudes on mountain bikes riding around on the trail I'm on. "What the …" I'm thinking, when I realize that Mountain Bike Dude is RIGHT THERE, having what the pros would call a "Comfort Break." Now who among us hasn't peed in the woods lately? "Oh!" I say, averting my eyes. "Pardon! La, la, lala." And just kept on walking. As you do.

(I know one shouts "Allez! Allez!" in French. But what do you say to cyclists in Spanish.)

But the cranky? That came from second guessing myself between km 2 and 4 and adding to my day. Also, my pension is on the far side of town. Meaning, by the time I got through Pamplona, my feet hurt, my ankles hurt, my hips hurt where the backpack sits, my arms hurt where the backpack rests, and what was supposed to be my shortest day so far was actually the longest distance in the shortest amount of time. I had NO interest in looking at what I am SURE is a really cool town. I know what streets the bulls run down, but today? Don't care. I know where the bullring is. But I don't care. Hemingway? Who gives a shit? Not me. Not today, anyhow. The idea of walking ANYWHERE other than to dinner? Nope.

In the end, I went downstairs to a small restaurant that the owner pointed out. They have a cheap menu, but they don't serve until 8:30 pm. "A las nueve," the guy said upon reflection. So it was Dominos for me, and I'm damn grateful to have it.

Tomorrow's stage has a nasty climb. And another scary scree downhill. Oh, and it's gonna rain. So I called Jacotrans. They're gonna pick up my backpack in the morning and take it to my next stop. I can put my electronics in a little bag I have and wear them under my raincoat, so I won't fret about the only valuable things I have here wandering off. After tomorrow things flatten out considerably, and I'll be willing to hoist the backpack on again I'm sure.

P.S. I've now seen a memorial to a fallen pilgrim every day. Three for three. Without explanation. So it does happen. Rest assured I am very aware of the elements, how hard I'm working at any given time, and my intake of food and water. And I'm wearing my Road ID bracelet in case I can't talk. As you do. I intend to finish this walk.

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Location:Pamplona

Day Two: Roncesvalles to Zubiri

I slept VERY well last night -- out like a light around 9:00 pm. Woke up around 3:00 am (hey, that was six hours), read for a bit, and finally got up at 7:30.

Breakfast at the hotel: coffee, ham and cheese, a bit of Spanish tortilla, tomatoes, yogurt and honey, and a piece of toast with that wonderful Spanish tomato purée on it. I felt much better armed for the day.

Today's walk was 22.51 km in 6 hours and 33 minutes. It felt a lot more like the monthly Rambles I do in Luxembourg except for that ding-dang 10 kg backpack. But even that was more manageable today's as I was wearing my bulkier items: rain pants and my jacket. It rained all morning and finally stopped about halfway through. I didn't mind the rain at all. I have a cover for my backpack (plus inside all clothing is in dry packs) and it was fine. I made a rookie mistake by heading out the door with too many layers -- had to stop after 15 minutes to shed my fleece. But otherwise I was kitted out just fine.

Today had two climbs. Nothing at all like yesterday. In fact, if I came across these on one of my regular hikes, I doubt I would think too much about them except

1. They were in the middle and
2. That ding-dang backpack!

Often I find I can only take a few steps at a time before I have to pause, lean on my sticks, and take a moment. There is no moving along at a normal clip -- which actually makes me more grateful that I am alone. I would hold you back!

And descending -- argh! It wasn't the backpack so much as the terrain, both yesterday and today. Yesterday I realized after that I had taken the steeper/more treacherous descent into Roncesvalles. Today there was no avoiding the route. I knew about the final 3.6 km from my guides. At first it wasn't treacherous, just fiddly. Mincing steps over scree and gravelly terrain. Until the final kilometer. I edged down sideways, slowly, slowly, so as not to slip. At one point I had to hold on to a bush and sorta rappel down. The owner of my pension tonight told me that often guests arrive covered in mud from having fallen. Once he had a Japanese lady guest who took two hours to walk the final 3.6 km because she was inching down so cautiously. I was very grateful to have both my walking sticks, I tell ya. I did the last kilometer at a blistering 2.31 kph!

No real lunch today. I had a small piece of chocolate and an apple around midday before I bought some cheese in a tiny grocery store. I made (another) rookie mistake by walking by a cafe-type place that looked open because I had just seen a sign for a place 300 meters farther that sounded better. When I stuck my head in, it smelled good, but I didn't see a soul. And I wasn't about to backtrack.

Now I'm ensconced in a little pension. I heard one other guest clomping around. I have my own room, but we share the bathrooms (I got my shower in before she arrived). The owner will make us breakfast in the morning, and he told me where I can get dinner later, but then I think he goes to his own house. He DOES have a signed poster of Miguel Indurain (5-time winner of the Tour de France, among other "palmares") in the "living room." I had forgotten that he's from Villava, which I will walk through tomorrow on my way to Pamplona. Ooh! Cycling and hiking!

Speaking of which, it is profoundly exciting to me when I manage to pull together a decent sentence in Spanish, and endlessly frustrating when I can't. The people I'm dealing with don't speak anything but Spanish. And I saw no one else walking today. Of course, there are other pilgrims: I saw about eight in the little restaurant last night. But with my leisurely 9:00 am departures, I'm not seeing them during the day.

But I don't see any reason to start out before 9:00 am. It's still dark at 8:00 am. And what else do I have to do other than walk? Of course, I want to be settled somewhere before it gets dark, but as long as I'm where I want to be by around 4:00 pm, that's fine.

That's all I can think of about today. Much love to everyone, especially my Home Team!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Calle de Gerestegi, Zubiri, Spain

Day One: Wow. Just Wow!

Note: I'm having trouble getting this to upload. Apparently the photos are an issue. Frustrated, I put them on Facebook and removed them from this post

As I suspected, that was incredibly hard. Incredibly. Hard. 24 km at a blistering pace (3.24 km/hour) for 7 hours and 45 minutes (I paused, but I didn't really sit down much because I was afraid I'd never get up again).

I have seen other pilgrims. There was a Korean guy and a pretty blonde girl on the bus from Bayonne. Today I came across two Spaniards who ran away from me every time I caught up to them and a Cute Dutch Boy who was expecting colder weather, but walked too fast for me.

Today was not cold (although it got windy and I had to put on my hat and gloves for a while). It was perfect.

The final 3.6 km was endless. And treacherous. At least it was dry. And mercifully, my knees weren't screaming.

As for food, I didn't/couldn't eat much. I wanted to start this stage before 8:00 because I was worried about how long it would take. But the hotel didn't start serving until 8:00. So I inhaled some yogurt with honey, a slice each of cheese and ham, lots of water, and a few sips of coffee. I had to get going.

During the walk I ate an apple, a granola bar, and a few small pieces of a chocolate bar. I just didn't want food, stopping scared me (afraid I'd never get going again), and when I did eat or drink, I felt nauseated.

I'm happy to report that I'm hungry now, but have to wait until 19:00 to go to a restaurant across the street (only thing open).

Tomorrow is 21.5 km to Zubiri, but should be an easier walk, I hope. But rain forecast, so we shall see.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone. Expect typos.

Location:Calle de Nuestra Señora de Roncesvalles,Roncesvalles,Spain

So It Begins

After a tearful farewell, the Home Team delivered me to the Lux Gare this morning for my 11:30 departure.

Now, almost 11 hours later, I'm in my little hotel room having successfully navigated a four-part journey from Lux to Lorraine to Bordeaux-Saint Jean to Bayonne (where I ALMOST missed my train, catching it with a spectacular sprint with the backpack) and finally arriving in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port (SJPdP).

Tomorrow is a daunting 27 km climb over the Pyrenees. I expect it will take about eight hours. But last time I checked, the weather promised to be clear and sunny.

The local pilgrim office opens at 7:30, I believe, so I will go there to pick up my credentials which allow me to stay in the very modestly priced albergues (that is, where they are open -- this is not a busy season and many are closed). But the office will have a current list of what is open. I am also armed with Booking.com for the times no albergues exist.

I think tomorrow will be the hardest day of the whole trek. I think it will be one of the hardest things I will ever do. It's a little like childbirth -- I've set into motion something I very much want, but now it's going to get difficult. And I know I'm going to wonder why I was so sure I wanted to do this.

Thanks so much for all the kind wishes. Big hugs to you all, but especially to my Home Team.


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Location:Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port

Am I Starting to Think This Is a Dumb Idea?

Yes. Yes, I am.

What if I don't like it? What if I don't like the other people? What if I don't run across any other people? What if I bring too much stuff? What if I don't bring the right stuff? What if it makes me sad I can't share a lovely view with my DH? What if I miss my darling daughters too much?

As my youngest so sagely put it, "Then just come home!"

Sunday morning is coming so quickly.


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Location:Luxembourg