The Way of Saint James via Camino Francè

We left our treasured air conditioned sleeping capsules in Pamplona before 8 AM.  It was supposed to be cooler today so we left in good spirits.

We followed stainless steel markers in the pavement to find our way out of this beautiful city.  Maybe I haven’t described the Camino shell logo though I don’t know the whole story. I know that pilgrims are identified by a particular seashell that they carry. The lines on the shell radiate out from a single point. The lines are the many routes one can follow to that point representing Santiago de Compostela. Pilgrims started carrying these shells 1,200 years ago. Nancy attached ours to the upper back of our packs before we left home having purchased them from Ivar Revke’s Camino Forum and online shop in Santiago de Compostela.

Having A/C rejuvenated us some. We began the days hike with no destination in mind. Just see how far our bodies could take us. We didn’t know then that we would be testing our limits to the full as the Camino has much to say about where you end up.

We headed west, always west, through urban Pamplona and into the outlaying countryside. There the markers are usually concrete posts with a shell tile imbedded placed at one kilometer intervals. Nancy of course is the one who noticed the intervals.  Otherwise yellow arrows are spray painted onto pavement, trees, bridges, boulders, building corners, and so on, guiding the pilgrim in the right direction. Sometimes we have to look around a bit to spy an arrow and set off once again. It’s hardly like following all the other pilgrims. We normally see no one unless being passed (typical) or when a vista opens up and spy a few far ahead.

It was cooler having rained and hailed in the night. Not sure what kind of roof was over our space capsules but for 15 minutes it sounded like a 747 was crashing all around us. So, with cooler temperatures we made good time on paths that rolled up and down with the changing scenery and inspite of recalcitrant knees and leg muscles. The paths led higher and higher and upslopes were easier on the knees so we weren’t concerned. We passed through sweeping fields of wheat or oats, corn, sunflowers ready for harvest, and newly plowed ground. Everywhere on the horizons and hilltops were faraway spires of churches and old castles. Often as we passed through small villages we recognized these structures seen from far away.

We stopped at a little cafe at an unknown village and refreshed with large quantities of orange Fanta, and a breakfast pie they make in this region we’ve become addicted to. Eggs, taters, cheese, and other stuff, moist and hot and delicious. We visited with other pilgrims with the same idea. Then off again.

We could see a high ridge in the west and knew from our guidebooks that it would be steep going up. Then steep going back down.  Ugh!  An albergue was only a couple of miles away if we wanted to avoid this climb on this day and decided to see how our bodies were doing when we got there. We were there in an hour or so and still felt we could press on and get that horrible climb behind us. So we did. Should have refilled our water bladders first.

After quite some difficulty we did crest that immense hill. All along the top of that high ridge were a long line of wind powered generators similar to the ones near Ellsworth back in Kansas.  At the top was a shrine of some sort we were too exhausted to examine, but also a large life size row of metal sillouettes depicting pilgrims on the quest throughout the ages. And the view like from the top of Pikes Peak in Colorado.  Windswept.

A Spanish Senora had driven a concession to the top. Probably her main income. I downed two superbly cold canned Fanta. Nancy had a can of Sprite-like ice cold liquid. Nancy chatted with a Spanish woman wearing rosaries and crucifixes that I think was a nun on religious fulfillment. She gave Nancy a beautiful Decade Rosary from Santiago with Mary depicted within the Camino shell and each bead a complete shell. Wow. Nancy also made friends with a woman we would walk the rest of the way to Urtega with.

Urtega was some miles away and we knew from the guides that it would be knee destroyingly steep. It was but also the climate turned sharply hotter and drier. That side of the ridge marked an arid region in Navarre that extends a hundred miles or more. We three descended into a blast furnace and my water bladder was dry. We could see a long way at first and could see nothing of the next albergue. So we trudged on.

Now trudging on for me has become something a little comical when the trudging is a steep downslope. I call it Crabbing. I invented it maybe so I get to name it.  I can only get down sideways or my tortured knees and stiff legs won’t bear my weight. Nancy is not so badly afflicted and only Crabs on super steep loose rock. We had a good cell signal and GPS, such as it is on a cellphone, says we are 2 1/2 miles (4 km) from the albergue in Utrega. This after at least a couple of hours on this hot, dry, descent.  The woman with us, about 40 or so, was struggling like us. We would lead and rest then she would lead and rest. It was the hottest part of the day around 4:30 PM and she called friends who might be worried waiting for her,  who had gotten to Urtega by One.

On we pressed like movies of one lost in the desert tossing away everything to make another step. Well, we spent a lot of money on all this gear so threw away nothing but that’s how we felt.  We are out of water.  Yellow arrows on boulders.  No movement of wildlife until Nancy spotted large birds high overhead.  Eagles, she asked? After studying their flight paths for a bit I said, no, buzzards. Circling. Right over US! We will become three bleached skeletons on this place. Our bones arranged into an arrow shape and painted yellow.

We did reach Urtega. Alive. About 300 meters outside this welcome village was a beautiful shady spot with a large statue of the Holy Mother. We stopped and on a bench prayed and thanked her for getting us here. I forgot to ask her to shoot the buzzards.

The albergue was very nice. We got a room like a hotel room because I was convinced me may have to lay up here for a couple of days to heal and recouperate. Such a beautiful large room. With a FAN! I wanted to pray to the FAN but decided I may not be able to take confession for awhile.

Quick cold showers and icy Fanta, then two of the largest steins of ale I have ever seen! Nectar of the gods. Dang it! Confession again.

Nancy recoups more quickly than I. My right leg was off color and swollen from the knee down. My left knee was doing its best to imitate a cantaloupe in size. Yup, maybe two days here. We didn’t want supper so didn’t. Just rest and Liquids.

We slept, well, very very well. Up with the birds and Nancy’s cheeks were rosy and my swollen knees and leg were mostly normal, so off we go towards Puente de la Riena.

View more photos from week 1

I discovered that I am not as invincible as I thought I was. Probably no surprise to anyone who knows me. But I really thought I could hike a dozen or more miles and still post a bunch of witticisms backed up by photos at the end of each day all while sipping local wines  at the nearest bistro and chatting in multiple languages with other perigrinos.

Well, here’s the truth. We aren’t the last to drag into an albergue at the end of a days hike. But others all claim to have walked twice as far. We know this is probably true because we are passed constantly while on the paths. Nancy just showed me a chart from her Camino guide book. It showed the speed in km/ hr of Fast walkers (5), Average walkers(4), and Leisurely walkers(3). I said “what do they call us at (2)?” She said “we didn’t make the chart.”

Obviously we still have learning to do.  But for now we’ll settle for a lot of healing. We completed 42  1/4 miles today or 68 kilometers. We are carrying full packs. Nancy’s started out at 16 pounds and mine at 21. We add to that the weight of two liters of water to each of our CamelBak hydration bladders. Plus a couple of apples, maybe a log of bread, a pound of trail mix, or a couple of cookies. Just the standard essentials but our bodies are still getting used to the weight. So speed while walking and distances per day depend mostly on two key things.

Here’s number one. More than half of the walkers, the really fast ones, have their backpacks sent ahead to their next albergue. They walk with mini backpacks that hold a couple bottles of water and an apple or two.  It only costs €5 each day to do that and we’ve thought about it but so far haven’t.

Number two is health and Injuries on the paths.  Bruised knees from long downhills are really slowing us down.  Nancy is showing signs of bruising in her left knee so we stopped today for a brace. My right knee swelled up about double with an icky purplish cast to it so for the last two days I’ve worn the one brace we took with us. Helps a lot and I hope the Spanish one we bought at the Farmacia works as well for Nancy.  I destroyed my best knee on a very long steep downhill into Zubiri, thus the brace. Nancy’s knees were damaged too though not as severely at that point. But some nasty paths since then have taken their toll. We’ve seen other old ducks walking with braces on both knees.

So, where have we hiked these last three days while incommunicado? Well the last post I think indicated that we would try to make Zubiri from the Abbey at Roncevalles. We did make it there after a long day of really tough trails. The path meandered up and down, up and down, with the ups tough and the downs steep. Rain had washed out most of the leveling gravel used to build the trails. That left extremely rugged bare rock that was striated at an angle to the trail leaving rows upon rows of rock teeth 4 to 6 inches tall about every two to three feet. This required every footstep to be assessed in advance. So here we are with our walking sticks carefully plying our way through the jaws of hell when we’re overtaken by three college age girls chattering up a storm in Spanish just pertly flitting along with barely a glance at the ground.  “Nancy, did you see that?” She said, “Knew you wouldn’t miss those bikini’s” To which I said, “No, I mean yes, but I meant they just flew by and here we are .  .  . never mind.” We stayed at a Pension in Zubiri that night. Meaning a private room with its own bath I guess because that’s what it was. Very nice and welcome after two days of albergue’s.

My knee was useless after the trail to Zubiri so I put the brace on and next morning we headed in the direction of Pamplona. We made it as far as Larrasoaña that day, only about five kilometers. It was toaster hot and my knee did better but going down hill was painful. We checked in at St Nicole albergue to cool off and recuperate some. This was just five km from Roncevalles. Now, Spanish people don’t seem to know that air conditioning was invented back there in the latter Bronze Age or something. We have yet to see A/C advertised. We even tried to buy a fan in St Jean Pied de Port without success.  So our cool off and recoup plan was foiled by the design of the albergue. A hot clay tile roof just below our south facing room radiated oven like temps straight into our room. That was enhanced by a concrete patio just below that that had heatwaves dancing on it like forest sprites. Nancy went to wash clothes. Mine smelled like tossing them in the trash was a better option but they came out fine. Well while Nancy was busy I put my frazzled body in the lower bunk and in spite of the heat slept for three solid hours. Nancy came back with the laundry looking like she had been rotisseried for that same length of time.

We went across the street to a bar/grocery store/swap meet. The Senor there knew English just enough to be effective. He dazzled us with freshly nuked TV dinners that were surprisingly very good. Then a bottle of local wine that must have been 50 proof because I swear Nancy grew two more eyes after the second glass. Nancy wasn’t rotisseried anymore. Just stewed. Senor brought out a tomato from his neighbors garden and wanted to know if we wanted to try it, organically grown and all. Must have been good organics because it was the size of a football. He sliced it and cubed it put olive oil, salt and pepper, and some kind of spice on it. And Oh My God it was good. So we had more wine and found ourselves earnestly discussing the philosophy of female hikers. We found our room across the street. No easy task at that point and napped.

Then it was communal supper time and we all tried to chat in four different languages.  I was very happy I had learned English somewhere because almost everyone knows a little of that. I tried talking to two young men from Germany because I had two semesters of German in high school. However the three words I remeber from it didn’t carry the day so I listened into Nancy and the Swedish women on the other end of the table. I discovered I couldn’t understand Nancy either so  I just stuck to the wonderful 4 course gourmet dinner, done family style.

It did turn cool. I know because when our alarm went off at six it was cool.

We re-packed our backpacks and continued on to Pamplona. Yup, the home of ‘run with the bulls’ and Bull Fighting. We were warned that it would be even hotter today. Nancy said maybe let’s just go get a bottle of wine and move in with Senor!  Ahh well, we didn’t and the hike was long, and hot, and exhausting but here we are in Pamplona. The photo at the top of this post is Nancy trying to stave off heatstroke at a fountain near Catedral de Santa Maria which is within an ancient walled city called Mirador Caballo Blanco with working draw bridge and all. That’s where we are now. In, get this, air conditioned comfort.

We had walked in 35 degree centigrade heat for many many miles and were close to collapse when we saw the sign advertising A/C. Then we saw it was an albergue and knew we had found a roost. We checked in and to our delight they had sleeping capsules instead of bunk beds, providing privacy, storage, and comfort. Hard to describe so won’t but Nancy said it feels like being on a Mars spaceship.

Not sure where the Camino will take us tomorrow.

View more photos from week 1

We made it up to Orisson by 1 PM which was cut off time to get lodging even if you have reservations, which we did.  Very foggy up here.  Such stunningly beautiful country. Unlike any part of the earth we’ve ever seen. I’ll try to get photos into the gallery so you can get a little idea what I mean by that.

It started out nicely cloudy to keep the heat down but very humid. Nancy soldiered on but I watched over her as best I could to make sure she her pharyngitis wasn’t developing into something worse. So far she has no fever or other symptoms. Here voice is getting some better though.

Oh my! That trail was steep. Worse than expected. Endless incline up up up. Almost never a flat level area to recover on. Most of the eight kilometers was like walking up Todd and Janet’s driveway. But so beautiful! Stunning, unreal scenery such as we’ve never seen. Ireland like green but with everywhere sharp peaked steep sided hills with cattle and sheep clinging to them grazing.  Quiet. Just the bells on sheep ringing through the still air. Occasionally a Basque sheep herder would rattle by slowly on the one car narrow winding asphalt road. Usually trying to ignore us walkers, of which we were part of many, with their best sour puss look on their faces. Evidently walkers have caused problems in the past if nothing more than invading these Hobbit Shire like idyllic expanses. I can’t blame them. It would be like having your favorite fishing spot discovered by army ants.

We are up in the clouds here at the Orisson Albergue. Foggy. Lifted enough after supper so that we could see all the way back down to St Jean Pied de Port. Glad that climb is over.

Todays climb will be just as tough or worse and many here including us wonder if it’s even possible. Yesterday’s climb was challenging. But we are only one third of the way to the next albergue in Roncevalles. We either make it fourteen kilometers more of up and then two kilometers of steeply back down or sleep with the cows and sheep on cold windy nighttime heights.

View more photos from week 1