May 14, 2011 Zubiri to Pamplona

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Last night Luke finally arrived at about 20:00 with Gal and Lila. They were unworried about a bed for the night, so it was just as well that Rocky had reserved at the Palo Avellano. They were appreciative and we threw our packs onto the beds and headed for the albergue dining room for a nice pilgrim dinner.

Monique, Roberto and Martin (plus another woman) from behind near Larrasoana.

Woke up at 06:00 after a good night’s sleep and had breakfast with several French folks. Good spirits all around. Discovered I had left my boots at another albergue we’d investigated and was very concerned until I saw them through the window of the other albergue. Waited for the albergue to open and grabbed my boots. Left Zubiri at 08:00ish in light rain.

Walked briskly to Larrasoaña, enjoying a brief conversation with Monique of Switzerland. Between Zubiri and Larrasoaña are many good gravel paths through woods. After Larrasoaña the paths have been “improved” into concrete sidewalks which now were very slippery due to rain.

I saw man with blowing parka on road ahead and helped him pin it down as I passed. Francisco was his name and we had a good, long conversation about literature — he loves to read American lit in Italian. His billowing parka is an example of how the apparent advantage of parkas turns into a disadvantage with the least bit of wind.

Left him at a rest stop where I met Renee, my clergy acquaintance, and her friend Carrie. Also there was Kat of UK from the Forum and her mother, Joanne. I left some time after Renee and passed her on muddy path above the rest stop. Continued on and met 3 Japanese men, one with a Mt. Rainier medallion. Then on to Pamplona.

Had made arrangements with Luke and Rocky to meet at Pamplona City Hall at 20:00 to share hotel reservation plans and meet for dinner. Got to Pamplona early (14:00) and walked around, trying to find Internet w/o luck. Heard whistle across Plaza de Castillo and saw Rocky and Luke — somehow they’d both beaten me here, though I’d never seen them pass me. I learned later that Rocky had taken a bus partway and Luke had hitchhiked from Larrasoaña due to his bad need.

Rocky had taken a bus to Pamplona and Luke had hitched a ride from Larrasoana after injuring his knee from walking. We started work on getting ibuprofen for Luke but all the drug stores were closed. We found one and got his drugs. Had 21:00 dinner with Luke and Gal and Lila at great vegetarian restaurant and saw Francisco there. Off to bed at a hotel Rocky had found. Ahhhh, rest. I slept very well.

May 13, 2011 Roncesvalles to Zubiri

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Albergue lights turn themselves on promptly at 07:00, so I guess it’s time to get up here at Roncesvalles. In reality I’m already awake after a largely sleepless night. In a “double room” (2 beds, 1/2 height walls) with Lila. Rocky and Luke in another double on one side, Doron and Yael on other side. Our group slowly started getting up, then the hospitalero announced everyone needed to be out by 08:00 for cleaning. We all eventually headed out the door to Cafe Sabina for desayuno. On the road again at about 09:00. Walked with Lila first, then by myself to Burguete. We all stopped at an alimentation for fruit, then I left the group and walked on ahead. This was the last I saw Luke for most of the day.

Church at Burguete

Church at Burguete

After a time I met Roberto of Mexico and walked with him and Kathy most of the rest of day. Arrived in Zubiri at 16:30 and had agreed with Rocky to rendezvous here, so I waited on the bridge for her to arrive — which she did two hours later at 18:30. She’d had two very long days for a first-time pilgrim and she was surprisingly cheerful, but also relieved the day’s walking was done.

Sat down to write impatiently in my journal while awaiting Luke. As bikers and walking pilgrims passed I kept asking, “have you seen a guy carrying a guitar with a few Israelis and a Canadian?” After a time I heard reports he was behind us with 2 girls, drinking coffee under the trees.

While waiting saw Rev. Renee from Nebraska whom I’d met on the Camino Forum. We had good conversation about the camino and spirituality. She is staying at the pension at the bridge. Once we heard Luke was behind us Rocky and I made reservations for 5 people at the albergue — after learning that 2 albergues and all hotels are complete.

This was a hard day. Little sleep last night means I was mentally tired. Legs are ok, but toenails are too long and sharp sides dug into two toes, meaning bloody sock liners and need for bandages later. Also, weather is warm — 70-75 degrees, so I needed lots of water. Partly, too, I was frustrated to be in a group whose members each had such a different pace, which meant a lot of waiting rather than walking or resting. Gonna have to find a way to make this work.

May 12, 2011 Over the Mountain

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A long and eventful day. We awoke at 07:00 and went to the pilgrim office (opens at 07:30, closed for lunch and dinner, closes at 22:00), then back to Maison Bernat for breakfast of bread, jam, orange nice, coffee. Back upstairs after playing with six month old Fiji (likes to teethe), then packed and headed out at a late 09:00. Stopped at boulangerie for chocolate croissants and bananas. On the road at 9:05.

Long climb to Orisson. Met Martin of Leeds. He speaks French and German well. Currently unemployed and thinking of TESL as next career.

At Hunta met three Israelis, one Quesbecoise. Names are: Gal, Yael, Doron of Israel. Lila of Quebec. Luke instantly bonded with Gal and Lila and pulled out his guitar and played for them at Hunto. Kept walking and met Roberto of Monterrey, Mexico and his cousin, Karen. Robert is a fluent English speaker and has business in Mexico City for package identification and ticketing. Met back up with Robert and Karen at Orisson and waited with Martin there for Luke and Rocky. Luke arrived with Israelis twenty minutes later, and Rocky arrived one hour later by herself. Had good, long conversation with Israelis as we rested from the climb. Clearly making good friends and am delighted to find these liberal Israelis ready and willing to talk geopolitics.

Before Orisson, fog had set in. Visibility was only about 20 meters. Left Orisson with Luke and Israelis, but quickly outdistanced them. Met Roberto of Mexico again, who had replaced his socks, and walked 1-2 hours with him until the emergency hut between Col Orisson and Col Lepoeder. Waited there for Luke and Rocky. Luke arrived with Israelis and his guitar case protected in a poncho. Is Luke bonding with Gal? She showed photo of him with guitar in poncho. At hut also met Roberto of Italy and 2 French (Philippe and Anna) with dog who began at Le Puy en Velay. They stayed overnight at hut that night, I learned later, and Roberto showed me beautiful photos of the bright blue sky when the fog had lifted). I waited with them there for Rocky and Luke. The fog was very thick, almost rain-like, and it was impossible not to get wet.

Daron and Yael arrived and wanted to take the easy way down, so I directed them to the path Roberto of Mexico had mentioned which turned out to be bad advice. Began walking to Roncesvalles with Roberto, but turned around after deciding to wait for Rocky, who was now quite delayed.

Rocky arrived after two Brazilianas and was all smiles for having completed this difficult stretch to the top of the pass. She was out of water and had begged a bottle off two Germans. I refilled her water bottle from my Camelbak. We set off together but she encouraged me to go ahead since she is slow on downhills. Walked by myself approx 2 hours to Roncesvalles.

Luke, Gal and Lila were already at the bright, new albergue at Roncesvalles. Luke had purchased tickets for third floor beds for him, Rocky and me. Beautiful, double rooms with half walls and comfy new beds.

Waited and waited for Doron and Yael. Finally went to the hospitalera and asked for her help to find them. After explaining the situation went to Cafe Sabina and called bomberos to go get them. Just after calling, Yael and Doron showed up in back of a red pickup. The path to which I had directed them was incorrect, dead-ending in a reservoir. The driver of the red truck had found them and brought them to Roncesvalles — thank heaven.

We all had a happy reunion, then we sent them to the albergue to get their beds. I stopped at 20:00 pilgrim mass in time to hear Gospel (John 6) and consecration of the elements. Went to dinner at Cafe Sabina and bought dinner for Doron and Jael as my way of apologizing. Had a long conversation with them about Israeli politics. They are both liberals and very enlightened about Israeli/Palestinian issues.

Back to albergue. Showered, did not wash clothes tonight. Lots of snorers. I’m back on the camino!

May 10-11, 2011 – Bye Bye Seattle, Hello France

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So glad to be heading back to Spain for another Camino Frances! This time I’m walking with my sister, Rocky (Roxanne) and my son, Luke. Rocky’s fluent in Spanish and Luke has walked the Camino Frances before (2009), so they each bring their gifts to this walk.

Short-feeling and easy flight on packed IcelandAir flight. Seats were small and hard, close together. Landed in Reykyavik. Very bleak landscape without trees or grass. Vast fields of volcanic terrain with tall mountains in the distance. Short layover on flight to Paris.

Landed in Paris. Long layover at CDG for EasyJet flight. Luke checked his backpack for 30E. No wonder EasyJet can charge so little for tickets!

Arrived at tiny airport in Biarritz. Van driver Caroline, owner of Express Bourricot van service, met us at airport and we had a long talk about her business as we drove an hour to St Jean Pied de Port. Arrived approx 21:15. Found Maison Bernat, our home for the night, and were shown to 3-person room by owner. Yellow labrador, “Fiji” was very friendly. Rocky went to bed to rest from the flight, Luke and I to a restaurant near city walls for nice dinner of fish and salad. Back to Maison Bernat for shower and to wash clothes. Then bed and slept well until 02:30 with thunderstorm outside.

July 26-27, 2010 Santiago de Compostela

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Adios, Santiago, mi amigo

July 26 — Slow day here in Galicia. Knowing I would miss Finisterre I hunted down the train station and bought my overnight ticket for 7/28 to Madrid. I then emailed my Spanish teacher back home to ask her about a Madrid museum she mentioned, then I booked a hotel near the train station and museums. My flight to SEA was set for very early Friday morning. I had a goodbye lunch in the afternoon with Artur and also Andre of Montreal following pilgrim mass. There was still a huge line for hugging the Santiago statue, so I decided to wait for that until tomorrow. I found a quiet corner in a square and sat and jotted down the completed itinerary of my camino and reviewed my emails so I wouldn’t forget details.

July 27 — Caught up on my sleep today. Slept until 07:30, then off to breakfast and a 1 hr wait to hug the apostle. Then back to the room to sleep until 11:30. Wake for lunch then visit to museum, then back by 15:30 to sleep until 20:30 an wake up in time for dinner.

The museum was definitely the highlight of thus sleepy day. As well as pilgrimage relics and cutaway models of the cathedral there was an incredible show of time-lapse photos of six camino routes, including my two. The photographer traveled the caminos over six years, taking a photo every 11 steps. Each photo is given about 0.5 secs so the result is like a movie of every foot of the caminos. They’re all 6 projected simultaneously by video projectors on large screens in a black room. The result is a presentation that gives an astounding sense of distance and time. I watched for over an hour

Tonight got ready and jumped on the train to Madrid. Farewell, Santiago, mi amigo. I shall return to see you again.

July 24-25, 2010 Santiago de Compostela Festival

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Wow, an incredible day and a half here in Santiago.

On Day Eleven (July 24) I had a nice breakfast with Artur then packed and (since both the Costa Vella and Altair were full) went to the hotel Gail so nicely reserved for me, saving me a ton of time searching for a room in this city that is now jammed to the gills with festival tourists and pilgrims. It was a nice suite in a hotel with a big atrium and only about 3/4 mile from central Santiago.

After checking in I wandered the streets, watching the various street characters, including giants, fire breathing dragons and grotesques. There also marching bands and many street musicians. I took a break in a cafe, plotted my week’s strategy over a late lunch, then headed to Plaza Obradoiro to wait for the Fuego (fireworks).

Lucky I did. I got there at about 19:00 for the 23:30 show, and at about 20:00 they closed the square. There were perhaps 10,000 people in the square and I lucked into a group from Seville sitting next to a Uruguayan mother-daughter pair who live in Vigo. The leader of the Sevillians is an Internist named Javier. The Uruguayan daughter just graduated med school. So we talked about Gail, my doctor-wife.

Then the fireworks started. I have never ever seen anything like these. The entire facade of the cathedral had been prepared with lasers and rockets and strobe lights. At times I worried for the cathedral building itself, which sometimes seemed to be exploding. My seat was spectacular– too close possibly– and we were showered many times by falling ash and debris. Truly an overwhelming experience.

After all 10,000 of us pushed our way through the narrow streets after the show I headed to the hotel for a few hours’ sleep in advance of an early assault on the pilgrims’ office for my compostele. I got to the office at 07:00 on Day Twelve (July 25, Santiago Day) to find 75 people already there. By the 09:00 opening I would estimate there were at least 500 pilgrims in a line stretching more than 3 blocks. Still, the cathedral was well organized, with many stations. I had my Holy Year/Holy Day compostele by 09:30.

I checked my festival schedule just then and realized that the grand procession to the solemn cathedral mass would begin at 10:00. I headed back to the plaza and stood in a group of thousands to enjoy a procession of soldiers, clergy, nobility, governmental leaders, and finally the King and Queen of Spain. People around me shouted “Vive el Rey!”

Knowing the cathedral was already packed (the line was even longer than for the pilgrim office) I pushed through the crowd once again, got breakfast, got my backpack, and headed to my home for the next three nights, the Altair.

People seemed to be enthralled by my iPhone film clips of the fireworks, so I put together a YouTube video and uploaded it right from my phone. Amazing new technology. Not the greatest video, but still….

On the way to the Altair I saw Kristina of Poland and the Italian from Modena who walked with Corrado and Pascal. He said they’ve both now gone home. Our thin stream of Via de la Plata pilgrims is quickly emptying into the ocean.

After that I laid low at the Altair and ventured out for dinner after the crowded streets emptied. Beautiful, clear day, slight breeze, probably 20c degrees. I’m glad I was here for the amazing fiesta, but my dallying among the celebrations has meant I won’t have time for Finisterre. Oh well. Some other year!

July 23, 2010 Ponte Ulla to Santiago de Compostela

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July 23, and here I am in Santiago de Compostela — two days ahead of plan. The weather is perfect, the streets are crowded with pilgrims and tourists, and my legs are tired and sore from walking 266 kms.

I overslept this morning and knocked on Artur’s door at 8:00 — an hour after our planned departure from Ponte Ulla. The nice restaurant owner made us toast, then we donned our mochilas and were off for a 22 km final stage to Santiago.

The day was perfectly uneventful. We dutifully followed the yellow arrows as they snaked us up and down farmland and forest hills, then finally through the suburbs of Santiago. The Via de la Plata brings pilgrims into Santiago from the south, and sure enough our first vista of the cathedral was its southern face. As we wound through the city, though, somehow we ended up approaching the cathedral from its northwest side.

Because he immediately wanted his compostela I showed Artur to the pilgrim office then left him there to check into my hotel, arranged at the last minute (since I wasn’t certain the day of my arrival) by our friends at the Altair. Once I realized my room had two twin beds I returned to the pilgrim office (after lunch) and waited for Artur so I could offer him to stay in my room.  Since he had no room arranged he was happy to accept, so we dumped his stuff in my room, headed to the pilgrim mass, then had a nice dinner at one of the restaurants I ate at with Gail in 2008. Afterward we walked the city and enjoyed taking photos of street minstrels and magicians who seem to be in most every plaza.

As always, the mass was emotional for me. I thought about and prayed for the many pilgrims I’d met and celebrated with gratitude and relief that I’d safely completed this long and challenging endeavor.

Some statistics:

  • Days walked: 10
  • Kilometers walked: 266
  • Avg kms per day: 26.6
  • Miles walked: 166.25
  • Avg miles per day: 16.6

At this point I’m still not sure about walking to Finisterre. I expect it will be very crowded, and I’ll know very few pilgrims. If I do I will leave most likely on Monday, but a Sunday start is also possible. I’ll think and plan more over the next days.

Meantime, tomorrow is festival day and the festival organizers have mounted a huge framework for lights, fireworks and lasers on the cathedral facade. If I can I’ll get a seat in the main plaza and witness what, according to the papers, will be an amazing fireworks show tomorrow night. If not, apparently there are also goods seats at a few nearby parks. Off to bed at the Costa Vella hotel where the room I’m sharing with Artur has a delightful westerly view.

July 22, 2010 A Laxe to Ponte Ulla

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After my super long day yesterday I was certain today would be a total drag. I woke up with the kids from the van saying “good morning” to me to practice their English. I thanked one of their leaders once again for helping make a place for me at the albergue and he told me, in Spanish, that he could tell I really needed one. I asked him how he could tell and he pointed to his eyes and drew his fingers down his cheeks then pointed at me. I hadn’t realized I’d looked so desperate, or that my tears (ahem, watery eyes) had been obvious. Yes, I’d shed some tears, mostly after my place at the albergue was assured. I’ve learned about myself that after 25-26 miles of walking I tend to get weepy. Oh well.

Soon Artur hunted me down and after some vending machine coffee we set out. We would walk together all 26 kms to our evening destination of Ponte Ulla.

The walk was through farmlands as well as one small city — Silleda. Not much to say about the walk except that we met about 40 Spanish kids who’re walking together, and Artur told me his battle story.

I learned a few day’s ago that if I could find the right question I could get Artur talking for hours as we walked and that I was always entertained by what he had to say. So we  talked about women priests, Americans, CS Lewis, great military campaigns, transubstantiation, etc. We marveled at an enormous bridge being built in cantilever fashion out over the river valley whose original bridge had given the tiny town its name. Before I knew it we were in Ponte Ulla, our goal for the night. We found a hotel with very inexpensive rooms and the owner agreed to do our laundry!

Here with us in a simple pensione were an English/ Turkish father and daughter and Kjell and Oddbjorg of Norway. We had a cervesa together then dinner separately. Then off to bed for the remaining 20 kms to Santiago. I will arrive 2 days ahead of schedule after a great Via de la Plata.

Can’t believe this camino is just about over. I’ll see how I feel Sunday before making a decision about walking to Finisterre. I’m already feeling a good sense of accomplishment and am  not sure I want to fight the inevitable crowds going to Finisterre. But we’ll see.

July 21, 2010 Cea to Oseira to A Laxe

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Had one of the toughest days yet. The day started at the delightful little town of Cea. I’d had dinner last night with Ramon and Magdalena, two funny Spaniards. Then an English speaking Spaniard wanted to have a beer. So I got back in to the albergue around 10:30 and settled down in my top bunk.

I slept fine, but as usual too short because of the mass exodus from the albergue at 05:30. I finally dragged myself out of bed at 06:30 and hit the road 1/2 hour later.

Sometime before Oseira I caught up with Kristina, an older Polish woman, and Francisco from Portugal. Although they don’t share a common language somehow they’re stuck together like glue. Francisco has what the Bible would call a “withered arm” which means that besides his arm being small and not useful he can’t carry a backpack. Instead he has a suitcase on wheels – which must be an enormous challenge in these very rough paths. I also soon met Pascal and two Italians. We arrived together at the incredible monastery of Oseira. I attended 10:30 prayer office with the monks and some of this gang. If I were a multimillionaire I would buy these monks a new pipe organ to replace their cheap electronic. Other than the odd sounds of their organ the service was very nice. it was held in the balcony of the beautiful monastery church. The service was a half hour in length and afterward BrotherThomas, who runs the gifts shop, gave me a tiny painting of the face of Jesus.

Kristina, Francisco and I soon took off for the day’s destination, Castro do Dozon, about 10 kms beyond the 9km we’d already walked. I soon left behind the two of them and got in my walking groove, with this stretch pretty deserted since it’s a longer option to go via the monastery from Cea.

After a bit I saw the two Germans ahead — the ones I’d seen at the albergue with their young child in a stroller. They were clearly struggling on the rough path with their baby, Jacob, and his stroller. I helped them through the worst of it but left thinking they’d made a huge mistake to try this with the baby.

Given the extra time for the monastery I arrived fairly late at the day’s goal, only to learn that the albergue at Castro Dozon was full. Next albergue: 19 kms away in A Laxe. So I set out at 15:00 to walk the extra miles for what I believed to be a total of 37kms.

As the distance dragged on I was clearly flirting with my endurance boundary. Every step was painful and the goal seemed only slowly to get closer. I stopped to rest every hour, then every half hour. As I approached the albergue a van full of kids pulled up – the same kids from Lasa with the small backpacks. I couldn’t believe it. They were going to beat me to the last bed at the albergue. Sure enough, I headed to the door and a sign was already posted, “Completo.” I was stunned. I asked the hospitalera if she had any beds at all. She said no, though there were beds another five kms away. I was desolate, and sat down in the lobby of the albergue with a look of profound sadness on my face (i.e. I was almost in tears). But as we were talking the kids and their leaders from the van were listening. They invited me to stay with them in a backroom with mats on the floor. I enthusiastically said yes and they showed me the room, laid out my mat, and put the sheet on one for me. Some of the kids tried out their English a little on me to be friendly. End result, they get Saint of the Day in my book. I had become something of a curiosity for them and perhaps also an opportunity to express their Christian charity.

Since it was already 8:30 and the doors lock at 22:00 I set down my stuff and walked the .5 km to the restaurant. As I was finishing, who should appear but Artur of Estonia who had arrived at the albergue some hours earlier and already had a bunk. We briefly chatted before I headed to the albergue for bed. The hospitalera insists that my mileage today was actually 42 kms, and I believe her. I think this ties for my longest camino day yet, and I now know my limit — about 40 km, thank you.

Tomorrow Artur and I will head out at a reasonable hour to Ponte Ulla, an 18 km walk. I’m two day’s ahead of plan so I need to cool my jets in order not to arrive too early in Santiago.

July 20, 2010 Ourense to Cea

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Day Seven began by asking directions at the hotel’s front desk about how to get out of Ourense. The answer was fairly easy — left, then right, then left until the Roman bridge — the follow through was much more difficult. After the tall, masonry bridge and the endless suburbs there was a steep vertical climb up a cobblestone drive for 1000 ft elevation gain. The uphill climb was very tough, mostly because whenever it seemed to be ending it was in reality just taking a break before another steep slope. The first 7.5 kms took over two hours, much slower than normal. Worse, the result was a feeling of exhaustion all day long.

The climb led to a long stretch of vacation chalets, each sitting, it seemed, on 5-10 acre parcels. These are large houses, built of 6’x18″x6″ slabs of rough hewn granite. While the materials should make these houses blend into their context of ancient stone buildings, just the opposite is true. Unlike the ancient homes, these stand out because they are nearly identical, symmetrical, but most of all, they are separated from their neighbors. All of the ancient houses are clustered together– sometimes walls touching while surrounded by miles of farms — for community and protection. Each of the homes has a barking German Shepherd tied in the yard for protection and a satellite dish attached to the house for community. The result was not an unpleasant feeling, just a disconnected one.

After a time the vacation chalets melted into the normal Galician pattern of scattered villages. At one of these villages I took a lunch of cheese omelette in a baguette. The TV was on and I found myself entranced by the Spanish-dubbed version of Minority Report with Tom Cruise. After days of tranquility I was easily lured into the fast pace of this American movie and I had a hard time dragging myself away.

Within a half hour the heavy lunch required a break from walking. So in a grassy spot with shade I laid down for 20 mins with my shoes off to rest. This gave me a chance to watch the trickle of pilgrims who were behind me. In 20 mins only three — a single Spanish woman was walking with the cigar-smoking older Spanish man. The solo Spaniard with the soccer flag still by himself. Each shared a buen camino as they passed.

After an hour I met Ramon from Madrid, a man who carries the party with him wherever he goes. His personality blends the jocular and the pushy. He was clearly frustrated with my Spanish, but clearly still wanted to communicate. At one point he asked me, “do you know what color was Santiago’s white horse?” I knew he was playing with me and I told him it was the same color as George Washington’s white horse. He also told me about some of the people he’d been walking with from A Gudina. A Polish woman who lives in Madrid. A Polish woman who is walking from Lourdes to Fatima to Santiago.

This was all with only 3 kms to go before the albergue in Cea. Once we arrived there after our 22km walk we found our beds in a spacious albergue seemingly created out of stone farm buildings on the outskirts of the village, took our showers, washed our clothes, and at Ramon’s suggestion headed straight to dinner — with Magdalena, the Polish pilgrim.

It was a lively and delicious dinner, with Ramon the life of the fiesta. Rumor told us that the town’s free pool was open. Several pilgrims planned to swim, and I considered joining them.

Otherwise it was a quiet day here on the Via de la Plata, unless you include the fact that there are now at least 5 times the number of pilgrims as before. The reason is that we are within the 100 kilometer minimum to receive a pilgrim compostela, the certificate of completion from the Santiago cathedral. I’m not too concerned to be in a crowd of pilgrims — I’d expected it. But I am secretly pleased that I’m the only American among this increasingly international band of pilgrims.