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!

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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