Walking Days 8 & 9

In the morning, I awake early and find Juan Manuel has already put out breakfast. There is coffee, hot water for tea or cocoa. Slices of bread, various cookies and crackers, jam and butter and a large bowl of fruit are also on the table. It is 5:30 and people are already packed up and ready to start the day´s walk. I open the front door to see that it is still dark outside and Tom is sitting all wrapped up in our fleece sleeping bags. He gets up and says, "remind me to never sleep outside again!" When I ask why, he says it got really cold in the night and our gear is not made for the lower temperatures. He goes inside and promptly curls up on one of the mattresses and goes back to sleep. We all eat breakfast and people start saying their goodbyes as they head out of the door. One of the things you find as you walk the camino is how quickly people can form bonds with total strangers you might not ever see again. In a very small span of time, someone can make a profound impact on you. One such young man is named Martin. We have passed him several times in the last few days. The impression he makes on first glance is a fierce one and first impressions are quite judgmental. His head is shaved and his body is covered in tattoos. Unlike most tattoos, these are not pictures or designs but rather numbers. Because it is hot, he is walking without a shirt and you can see numbers tattooed across his chest. They also run down his arms and legs and across his back. As we pass him, we wonder what the numbers represent. Maite suggests they might be his phone number in case he collapses on the camino. We laugh but really we have no idea. The previous evening, I had asked Martin about his tattoos. His quiet demeanor and soft voice are in sharp contrast to the image he projects. He pointed to his thigh and explained that the tattoo starts there and it represents the number pi: 3.1415. The rest of the numbers continue out the placement and are found around his body. He explains that he has tattooed the number pi because it tries to be a perfect measurement but that it is not. His tattoos are a constant and visual reminder that although we may strive for perfection, it is not attainable because we are human and imperfect beings. Although we met only briefly, I don´t think that I can forget Martin and his tattoos.

As we start our day´s walk, it is still dark outside. Tom is none too pleased about being awoken as he is tired from his uncomfortable sleep al fresco. But we get going and there are still stars in the sky. However, as the sun rises over the horizon, the stars quickly fade and the midnight blue sky starts to turn a brilliant blue. It is also starting to heat up. As we walk, we realize that today will be another short day since the stage goal is the city of Logroño, which is nearly 40 kilometers away. We check our maps for a stopping point and choose Torres del Rio, which makes today´s distance about an 18 kilometer walk. The day´s walk is mostly on a path but there is little shade and water. Once again, we slip into a rhythm of walking with Tom, Denise and Roger ahead and Jose, Maite and me behind. During our walk, we spot a young woman Maite has nicknamed "Peter Pan." She is walking the camino in a pair of bright green boots and we have seen various times along the way. She is sitting on a hay bale and we stop to ask her about her unique walking shoes. She laughs and explains she is Australian and she wanted to wear something that had her country´s name on it. But she also explains she would never wear the boots when she returns to Australia as they are a bit over the top. We tell her our nickname and she laughs again. We discover her name is Bianca and she is doing the camino with her mother and a friend. She and her mother had done part of the camino before but now wanted to complete the entire journey. We wish her a "Buen Camino" and continue walking.

The day is very hot and so we are glad we decided to make it a short walk. As we enter town, we find Tom, Denise and Roger having a cool drink at the bar. We laugh as that seems to be their favorite stopping point. However, we head into town to look for an albergue. The town is small and we are concerned about finding a place to stay. We find a privately run albergue called Casa Mari and quickly check in. We head off to let the others know where we are and search for some food. There is only one little store and it is closed for siesta. The practice of siesta is still very much alive in Spain and with good reason. The heat in the afternoon makes doing just about anything unbearable. As such, when we arrive at our resting places, they usually look abandoned. You see very few people outside and most windows are closed, usually with a metal shade. It is not until the heat of the day starts to cool off that villages and towns come alive and fill up as people head back outside to socialize and do errands or jobs not finished from earlier in the day. While we finish up our day´s chores, Roger goes out to look for food. I check our schedule and determine that if we continue our pace and break up stages into smaller chunks, we will not arrive in Santiago as we had planned. Tom and I are already two days behind schedule and we are in danger of foregoing our plans to visit my aunt and the beach for a few days before we head home. I discuss this with Maite and Jose. Tom and I have completely enjoyed our travels together but we need to pick up our pace. Maite and Jose explain while they don´t have a time constraint, they do have a monetary one and they too would like to pick up the pace. We decide to talk to Roger and Denise about this during dinner and see how they feel about going faster. Roger returns from foraging for food and lets us know the tiny shop has very little available to make dinner and much less for breakfast. He is craving bacon and eggs. Maite, Jose and I head out to see what we can find. We arrive at the store and at first glance, the supplies of foodstuff are rather sparse. There are a few containers with some vegetables and fruits. A cooler has some sausages, cold drinks and yogurts but there doesn´t appear to be much else. There is a split-level door and behind we can see what looks like a giant pantry stuffed with a variety of cans and assorted dry goods. We talk it over and decide we can make a tuna pasta for dinner with what is available. Off hand, we ask if he has any eggs or bacon and discover that most of the refrigerated food items are in another room. We quickly stock up with items to make lunch for tomorrow and Roger´s prized bacon and eggs. We head back to the albergue to prepare our meal. While Jose and I cook, Maite gives Denise a back massage. Denise is starting to have sciatic pain from all the walking. Following dinner, I bring up our concerns about our pace. Roger and Denise tell us they have concerns about the heat. They are not sure they can take a faster pace if it requires walking during the heat of the day. Denise is also concerned that a faster pace would injure her back further.Since they do not have any time constraints, they can continue to play things by ear and see when they want to stop. I can see Tom is upset. He is thoroughly enjoying his walks with Roger and Denise. For the first time, since our "herd" got together, we are all a little subdued as we head off to bed.
Morning comes all to quickly and with it a rather large misunderstanding between Jose and Roger. When Roger mentioned he wanted bacon and eggs, Jose thought it was to make for lunch in the morning. Roger, on the other hand, wanted to make them for breakfast. Jose and Maite are both taken aback by this. They couldn´t possible eat such a heavy breakfast before heading off to walk or at any other time, actually. Roger cannot understand this as hearty breakfast is a pre-requisite for him and Denise before they start any kind of trek. I have to explain that breakfast in Spain is rather simple: a cafe´con leche and some kind of toasted bread with either butter and jam or tomato and olive oil. Large breakfasts common to England and the United States are virtually unheard of in Spain. Eggs are also an item eaten at lunch or dinner. It is Roger´s turn to be taken aback. In the end, he decides not to cook the items. Not wanting to leave the eggs behind, Jose cooks them up and makes an omelet with the sausage and the bacon bought the day before. This he puts in the baguettes and wraps them for lunch. The tension over the morning´s misunderstanding and the discussion about picking up the pace of our journey is very palpable. I think everyone can sense the discomfort. As we walk, I try to tell Tom why it might be necessary to break up our group. Although he says he understands, he is still upset by the thought. He has formed a rather close attachment to our British friends. We walk today with a heavy but unseen weight on our shoulders.
Our day´s destination is Logroño, a walk of about 23 kilometers. We have gotten off to a quick start and hope to beat the heat as well as the large number of walkers we know are behind us. Our shorter journey gives us a little advantage as the camino fills up and albergue space is at a premium. We arrive in Viana and plan to stop for breakfast. As we enter town, we discover that Viana is celebrating a fiesta. There are banners flying over head and we pass several gentlemen cooking a giant stew outdoors. They tell us they are making Callos, which is a specialty in Spain. It´s main ingredient is tripe and today they are lucky because there is an "encierro", a bullfight, for the fiesta and the stew will be extra special with ears and tail of the bull added.

We wish them a happy feast day and head off in search of coffee and toast. We catch up with Tom, Denise and Roger. Tom wants to stay in Viana for the night and experience the fiesta and bullfight. But, I have to remind him that a delay will cost us our trip to the beach and he relents grudgingly.
After our breakfast, we head off to Logroño. We walk today through gorgeous green vineyards announcing that we will soon be leaving the province of Navarre and entering the region of La Rioja, known world-wide for its wines. Our late morning walk starts to slow down as the heat of the day rises. We have been walking now for nine days and covered nearly 150 kilometers. We are tired and sore but we keep moving forward. When we reach the albergue in Logroño, there is already a line of pilgrims waiting for the doors to open. We put our backpacks at the end of the line and sit in the shade waiting for the albergue to open. There are many people we recognize from previous stages and soon we are all comparing injuries and stories from our walk across Spain. There is a lot of laughing and joking around while we wait. You can hear a multitude of languages: German, Italian, French, Spanish and many others I don´t recognize. It´s a real tower of Babel. The albergue opens at 1:30 and so everyone jumps up to take their place in line. We slowly move forward and as we enter we are warmly greeted and given a small bottle of wine and small roll in the shape of a scallop shell, the symbol of the Camino. Having lost track of what day it is, we quickly realize that today is July 25th and it is the feast of St. James, patron saint of the Camino. We are informed that there will be a mass followed by a celebration with food and drink. We are told the doors of the albergue will be closed at 10:00 and to be careful as dinner is served late in town. I translate this to Roger and Denise and we go upstairs to find our beds. There is some grumbling by Roger and Denise. As we settle ourselves down, they inform us that they are going to find a hotel for the night. They don´t feel the albergue is particulary safe if there is a fire and they might want to stay out later than the house rules allow. We are saddened knowing that our journey together is at an end. We tell them we will try to find them in the plaza later. No goodbyes are said, instead it is, see you later. Jose, Maite and I go off on our usual hunt for an open grocery store and a bank machine. Most of the stores, bars and albergues we visit in the small villages are on a cash-only basis so when you find a machine you´d best make use of it. When we return to the albergue, mass is underway in the small patio outside. There is a large crowd in attendance, most of whom don´t appear to be pilgrims but rather guests. We maneuver our way through the crowd with our grocery bags feeling a little sheepish that groceries took priority over mass. As we put our items in the refrigerator, we are informed that the kitchen will be closed during the fiesta as it is needed by the caterer. We head back out of albergue in search of something to eat and a drink. At the plaza, we run into Roger and Denise. They are sitting with a fellow Brit, whom they just recently met. They tell us they have found a nearby hotel for the night and are enjoying the luxury of a private bathroom and no bunk beds. We wish them well and tell them that we hope to see them tomorrow on the camino. Back at the albergue, the party is on. There are tables laden with appetizers and wine and soda are flowing. Everyone is in a cheerful mood. We make the most of the food as we won´t be able to make dinner with a closed kitchen. Before long, exhaustion kicks in and we leave the party for the guests who won´t be getting up at the crack of dawn. We are in bed by 9:30 and the party at the albergue winds down by 10:00. However, it spills out into the street and we fall asleep with celebrations going on outside our window.

Walking Day 7 - Estella to Monjardin

Morning arrives and with it more hilarity. Although we are exhausted by our day´s walk, the night´s heat does not let up and our room was uncomfortable. In an effort to find a cool spot to sleep, I had removed my mattress from the top bunk and placed it on the floor by the window where there was somewhat of a breeze. I did not realize my efforts would cause such a misunderstanding that would have us howling with laughter all morning. It seems the noise emitted by the plastic-encased mattress as I dropped it to the floor and then lay down on was loud enough to cause Roger to sit up briefly and look around. Maite, also heard and woke up to see Roger. He lay down but his movements caused Maite to think that Roger had emitted some nocturnal air. Jose woke up from the top bunk and poked his head down to chastise Maite for letting loose. Maite was giggling so hard at this point she couldn´t do anything but shake her head at Jose, who still thought she was the guilty party. Things quieted down for awhile until there was another loud noise outside our window. This caused Denise to wake up rather concerned as Roger´s boots were airing out in the window sill, placed there by Jose and Maite. Denise thought the boots had fallen off to the roof top below. When they realized Denise´s concerns, it provokes another round of nocturnal giggles. As morning breaks and we start packing up to leave, the night´s stories start unfolding. When all the translating back and forth is done, I realize that I am the guilty party that started all the misunderstanding when I moved my mattress.

These morning conversations are a wonderful way to wake up and start the day. We are getting up awfully early to beat the heat and so laughing helps to energize us for another day of walking. After our hilarity from the night wears off, today´s joking starts afresh with Jose poking fun at Roger. We will be passing by the Irache Monastery, which is a former home to a Benedictine community of monks. Serving pilgrims since the 10th century, the monastery was closed in 1985. It now houses a museum. But, of special interest to us is the bodega right next door. Bodegas Irache has also been serving pilgrims in its own way. There is a fountain located right next to the pilgrim´s path. The fountain offers much needed water but it also offers wine. Because of this, Jose begins teasing that we best be careful or we will be leaving Roger behind at the fountain of wine. Jose mugs and imitates Roger drinking from the fountain and Roger imitates Jose imitating him and soon, we are all laughing hysterically.

We continue this way until we reach the bodega. Outside the fountain area, we encounter some young pilgrims looking as if they were waiting for a Grateful Dead concert. They were making music on a bongo while sitting on their backpacks. A dread-headed young man explained they were waiting for the wine fountain to open, currently there was no wine. We set off to explore this for ourselves. The sign on the wall welcomes all pilgrims to come and fortify their spirits for the journey ahead. Even though it is only a little after eight in the morning, we do not hesitate. We eagerly go to the fountain but like the other pilgrims, we find the wine is not flowing. We are disappointed, but we take pictures and wave at the webcam and then head off after determining the wine is not going to flow. Paul had hoped to see us at the webcam, but it is the middle of the night at home and I have no way to let him know of our arrival. We wish our fellow travelers a hearty goodbye and good luck as they wait for the fountain to flow and we head off towards our next destination.


The suggested stage would have us ending our day in Los Arcos, a day´s walk of 21 kilometers. But we have been walking for a week and we are tired. We opt instead to end our day in Monjardin, a tiny little hamlet at the half-point of the stage. When we arrive, it is early and the parroquial albergue is not open yet. Jose goes in to enquire and we are told that we can stay, but that our hospitalero (a volunteer host) needs to go to town and we may enter when he returns. We sit at the table outside the albergue and buy some cold drinks from the machine outside and enjoy the fact that we are done walking for the day. Our host walks out and introduces himself. He is a sprite of a man, wiry and tan. He informs us his name Juan Manuel. He graciously welcomes us and as we introduce ourselves, he claps his hands together and smiles broadly. He explains that just that morning, he had lost his volunteer who had been staying with him for the past week. The volunteer spoke English and Juan Manuel did not. He says that he prayed for help and was going to ask the first person who spoke English if they would consider staying for the night to help him welcome other pilgrims. I started laughing and told him that he asked for help and he received. Not only was there one person who spoke English but four of us. He is extremely pleased and points to the heavens with a broad smile. He says he will return quickly and we may drop off our backpacks inside while we wait. There is no food at the albergue or store but we may go up to the bar, where the owner serves meals. We take advantage of his advice --- who are we to refuse a meal and a beer after a day´s walk. Once sated, we head back to the albergue to wait for our host, who arrives shortly. He gives us a tour of the albergue, which is two rooms, each with a single platform to hold mattresses, about 15 in each room. A pile of blankets are located in each corner of the room. There are two showers and two bathrooms and a small kitchen with no stove but a microwave. This is one of the most spartan of albergues at which we have stayed. Juan Manuel registers us into his book. Just as he finishes, several pilgrims walk in to see if there is room and he warmly welcomes them. They speak no Spanish, but they do speak English so I jump in to help translate. Maite sits at the table to help log them in and Jose gives them a tour. Juan Manual is very pleased with our help. This routine continues throughout the afternoon as weary pilgrims arrive. The albergue is soon filled with pilgrims who are doing the same day´s end routine: shower, hand wash of clothes and hang on the line to dry and then set out to look for food. The town is rather sparse with the bar being really the only place to find food.

We set off to explore what little there is of the tiny town. Monjardin sits above the surrounding countryside. Above you can see the ruins of St. Stephen´s Castle. Completing our tour takes about five minutes so we head back to the bar. There is a covered sitting area so we take advantage of the shade and have another round of beers. Nothing tastes so good as an ice cold beer after a hot day´s walk. We spend the late afternoon chatting with other pilgrims and trying to decide what to do about dinner. Although we are traveling by foot and staying in albergues, it is easy to spend a majority of your day´s allowance on food. Most places offer a pilgrim´s menu, which is usually two courses, wine or water, bread and dessert for anywhere between 8 to 11 euros. With six of us traveling together, it does not take long to figure out we can make dinner for a lot less. But without a store, we are without anything to make the evening´s meal. Roger and Denise, however, come to the rescue. Tiny towns like Monjardin are frequently serviced by traveling grocery stores selling either fruits and vegetables, frozen meats and fish, knife-sharpening or other services required by residents. They herald their arrival into town by either holding down their van horns or playing music from a loud speaker for an interminable amount of time giving people time to make their way to their location. One such van rolled into Monjardin and Roger and Denise take advantage and buy several large pork tenderloins and some eggs. With his pocket rocket and Jose cooking skills, we are soon served up a tasty and filling dinner. We buy two bottles of wine and bread from the bar. We all pitch in fruit that we all carry in our backpacks and sit down to another wonderful and delicious communal meal outside the albergue. As our evening winds down to an end, Jose and Juan Manual have offered to massage the feet or leg muscles of anyone who needs some pain relief brought about by the constant walking. Quite a few pilgrims take up their offer, myself included. My knee tendinitis has now moved from one knee to the other and the arches of my feet are getting extremely sore and tender. Without the massaging, the next day´s walk might end prematurely due to injury. At this point, leg and back pain has become a standard part of the journey. Standing first thing in morning makes you cringe and cry out a little. It takes about 5 kilometers of walking slowly before your muscles warm up and the pain seems to dissipate. Nobody turns down an offer of a massage. In fact, it is part of the communal evening ritual after dinner. The menthol smell of Reflex or Vick´s Vapor Rub wafts through the air as people tend to sore and aching legs and feet.
This night, I help Juan Manual translate questions to a young woman from Slovakia. She entered the albergue limping and Juan Manuel asks her if she wants a leg massage. She quickly agrees. She tells us her name is Nina. Juan Manuel turns to me and asks me to ask her if he can ask her some questions while he massages her leg. When I translate, Nina gives us both a concerned look and Juan Manuel is quick to dispel any concern she has that he is going to inappropriate with her. Nina quickly relaxes and points to her knee and the arch of her foot when she is asked where she is experiencing pain. Juan Manuel starts with her foot and through me asks Nina if she is 24 years old. Nina looks surprised and then answers yes. He tells me to tell Nina that when she arrived she seemed bright and sunny but when Juan Manuel greeted her personally she seemed to withdraw her open disposition. Nina shakes her head in disagreement but then quickly changes her mind and says that is true. He then asks if this is normal and Nina says that she does seem to withdraw a bit from other people. Juan Manuel questions whether Nina brought her traveling companion with her on the camino or did her friend invite her. Nina says it is she who brought her friend along. At this point, Juan Manuel tells her that she will not find the answers she is looking for but rather, she will find more questions. Nina again looks surprised. They continue this back and forth with me as interpreter. Through his questions which are eerily accurate, we discover Nina has just finished her degree as a sports therapist, she used to be a tomboy and has a lot of injuries to her legs because she always plays and still plays soccer with boys and men. Then, Juan Manuel tells Nina that she believes she walks in her friend´s shadow, but he assures her that the reverse is actually true. Nina ponders this quietly but says nothing. Through this question and answer session, it is clear that Nina is on a journey that will take her in a different direction than she had originally thought when she started and she is intrigued. When Juan Manuel is done, Nina thanks Juan Manuel for both the massage and conversation and quietly goes off to join her friend. Later that evening, Maite and I are talking about the exchange between the two. She has overheard and comments on how intuitive Juan Manuel questions were and how Nina was guarded at first but became open to different possibilites facing her along her journey. Maite comments that she thought that Nina would rush to talk to her friend about the discussion, but instead Nina quietly lay down on her mattress and said nothing keeping the conversation to herself. For me, it is a very interesting and touching experience to be part of their interaction which is part mystical and part therapy and somewhat emotional for Nina. I am curious to know how her journey turns out and as we part in the morning, we agree to keep in touch via Facebook.

Roger, Denise and Tom decide to sleep outside on the lawn behind the church. Juan Manuel calls it the Albergue of a Million Stars. He is not too far off the point. The sky is brilliant and shimmering with the glow of stars. As I go to sleep, I drift off thinking that simplest of albergues is so far the one which I like and has touched me the most.

Walking Day Six - Puente La Reina to Estella Part Two

We continue along the camino enjoying our morning walk. Pretty soon, our group stretches out as each of us continues to find our own comfortable pace. Tom walks with Roger and Denise and I find my pace with Jose and Maite. This changes as the day progresses. It is quite an enjoyable way to walk. We stop for periodic rests as the sun is starting to heat up. As we head into Estella, the temperatures have risen quite a bit. Having grown up in California, the heat does not bother me as much as it does Roger and Denise and Jose and Maite. They start to fall behind. We soon arrive in Estella and I head to the albergue and leave Tom seated behind to wait for the rest of our group. When I ask for six places at the albergue, I am told they are full. The gentleman behind the desk is not very helpful when I ask him where the other albergues are. I am hot, tired and his lack of concern at my state makes me rather irritible. A little compassion would have made me feel a little better but I got none. I waited at the bridge for Tom and the rest of the group to arrive so that we could find someplace to sleep that night. After asking several people, we were told the parroquial albergue was up the street and around the corner. The last hour of a long day seems the longest, especially when all you want is to put down your heavy backpack and take off your shoes. We slowly trudge up the hill and go up around the corner. At that time of day any small incline might as well be Mount Everest. We finally get to the albergue only to be told that it is also full and the next albergue is 2 kilometers up the road. Without meaning too, my eyes well up with tears as I ask whether there isn´t anything closer. This gentleman has much more compassion for our state and tells us to wait a few minutes. There might be beds but he is waiting to hear from the parish priest who is off buying supplies for the influx of pilgrims. The priest told him that there are seven beds in the parish hall, but we need to wait for confirmation. There are no showers there. We will have to shower at the albergue and then walk over about a block to where the hall is. Maite and Jose agree and they go inside to shower while they wait for permission to stay at the parish hall. Denise and Roger and I are not too keen about having to shower at one place and then stay someplace else. Denise wants to look for a hotel and I agree to go look with her. At the last minute, however, I agree to stay where we are. A bed in the hand is better than nothing at all and there is no guarantee about hotel availability. The town is small and there is a small fiesta that night. I tell Denise that I will help her since her Spanish is virtually non-existent. We leave the group and go on our search for a hotel. The first hotel right off the plaza tells us they are full. We are dejected. We continue on to a pension recommended by the gentleman at the albergue. We ring the bell quite a few times but no one answers. I am glad I had kept our name on the list back at the albergue. I did not want to walk ahead two kilometers. However, I also realize that in my quest to find a hotel room, I am walking quite a bit and might have used that energy towards going forward instead of circles in town. We do not find anything and Denise is now worried that their spots might have been given to someone else who arrived later. We return the albergue and she is relieved to find that they are still on the list. He was waiting to see the outcome of our search before giving up the spots. He has also heard from the parish priest who indeed confirms that we are more than welcome to stay in the hall. In fact, there are more spots available as he has been buying mattresses for people to sleep on the floor if need be. We are shown to our room which is actually a classroom on the second floor of the hall. There is a large flat screen TV and our windows overlook the town. We are pleased as we are alone in the room. There is a bed for one more and we don´t know if anyone will be joining us. We start our day-end routine and then get ready for finding some food.

Along the camino, there are some interesting dynamics that emerge. While we walk carrying our enormously laden backpacks, we are often passed by people carrying little or nothing at all on their backs. We have taken to call these people faux or vacation pilgrims. They often send their laden backpacks ahead by taxis that cater specifically to carrying ahead heavy luggage. The issue for us "true" pilgrims is that we often arrive at the albergues only to find they are full of the faux pilgrims who can walk briskly since they are not carrying any weight. It is frustrating and yet makes you feel bad for judging them since the same option is available to all. And yet, we still puff out our chests with pride and say we are doing the camino the "right" way. I guess we should say the hard way and no where is it written that the path on the Camino must only contain hardship and suffering....but I´m just saying sometimes it just doesn´t feel right. Especially, when I am waiting for a shower and it is filled with women carrying heavy bags laden with cosmetics, creams and all sorts of luxuries while I hold my towel the size of a cloth napkin and my tiny bottles of travel shampoo and conditioner. They primp and preen in front of the mirror talking about what a long day it was, but they arrived two hours before me and an hour after their luggage. I´m just saying, it might be okay, but it doesn´t feel right.

Anyway, back at the parish hall after showering, we turn on the big screen to watch the Tour de France. We are all interested as the race mirrors our nationalities and we have a great time ribbing each other. We try to decide what to do for dinner. Denise, Roger, Tom and I decide to have dinner out. Jose and Maite pick up some food to eat at the hall. As we are waiting for our dinner, we are entertained by a marching band of youth garbed in medieval costumes. We enjoy our show and our dinner and are soon joined by Jose who is just in time for a beer. We wind up our day and head back to the hall for a good night´s rest.

Walking Day Six - Puente La Reina to Estella

Morning is cool and brisk. I wake up and find Tom shivering in our dorm room. He slept outside with Roger and Denise but he doesn´t quite have the gear and early morning is cool no matter what the day temperature ends up being. Roger has once again prepared coffee for us on his "pocket rocket". We drink up, nibble on some bread and jam and prepare once more to hit the trail. Today´s destination is Estella, 21 kilometers away. It is still dark as we start walking. Roger and Denise and Jose and Maite are prepared for early morning walks. They are wearing headlamps which light the way and Tom and I are grateful to follow. The rising sun doesn´t take long in making its appearance and soon starts heating up the morning.

The camino is now winding its way through gorgeous green vineyards with laden with baby grapes. Olive trees are also now starting to dot the vista. We continue with our jovial conversations about noises in the night. Although, today there are fewer jokes since Tom and Roger two of the major contributors were outside during the night. Nonetheless, we find endless humor and silliness to be major topics of conversation. All the translating, however, is begin to make my head spin. Jose will ask me a question in Spanish for Roger and I turn to him and ask him in Spanish instead of English or vice-a-versa. Everyone thinks this is hilarious.

We make our usual morning stop at the first open bar for coffee and breakfast and to buy a bocadillo (spanish sandwich) for the road. Aside from walking, our other activity seems to center around food: either finding some or eating some. At this point in our journey, it is quite the necessity. Our bodies are burning up quite a bit of fuel. I have had to remove a strap from my backpack to fashion a belt. My shorts were falling off and flashing my underpants, something I was always bugging the boys to stop doing. I still don´t get how it´s fashionable to walk with your pants falling down your backside. To me it is just really uncomfortable (although right now I take great pleasure in the fact that I´ve lost enough weight for it to happen.)

(to be continued later)

Cizur Menor to Puente La Reina Part Two

Our climb down the mountain is uneventful except that the temperature is rising. Thankfully, we are going down rather than up but even so we are starting to slow our pace down. Unlike biking, where gravity propels you down the hill and your legs get a chance to rest, walking downhill is actually more taxing on your legs. With laden backs, your knees start to ache and soon you are walking more gingerly. You also need to be more careful as to where you place your foot as much of the Camino is loose gravel and a miss-placement can mean a twisted ankle or knee and the end of your journey. We are starting to get thirsty for something other than water, so as we enter the small towns along the way, we start looking for a place to get something. Unfortunately, we are not successful. A few kilometers down the road, we plant ourselves under a tree for shade. Jose and I go on a search and finally find a restaurant where we can get some cans of soda to go. We head back to our parched herd where we quench our thirst under the tree and then start our final trek off to Puente La Reina.

Puente La Reina is a small town at the crossroads where two of the camino routes intersect. We are walking the French Camino and we join up with the Aragonese route which starts in Somport, France. The town´s name translates to "Bridge of the Queen". The bridge in question owes its existence to Queen Doña Mayor who in the eleventh century urged that it be built to assist pilgrims who wished to cross the Arga river on their way to Santiago. We pass an albergue on the way into town, but decide not to stay there as we have been told there is one on the way out of town which is new and has a pool. We also pass the municipal albergue. We stop to enquire but are told they are "completa" or full. We enter the tiny medieval town and head towards the bridge to cross over the Arga River on the way to the albergue. What our kind advisor neglected to mention that you needed to climb a rather large and steep hill to reach said wonderfull albergue. After a long hot day of climbing and descending, it felt rather cruel. We trudge up the hill. I am feeling particularly guilty as I was the one who urged our group to this particular albergue. We need to return to town for food and I do not relish the idea of walking back up the hill carrying groceries, so I offer to foot the bill for a cab. No one argues with me.
We check in and we are delighted with our accommodations. As we enter, we are greated with an ice-cool glass of water, which is very welcome. The dormitories are divided into rooms with bunk beds for eight or ten people. There are areas to wash clothes, nice and clean showers. The pool also looks incredible. We hurry up and pick out our beds, shower and wash and hang clothes to dry and then head out to the pool for a nice refreshing dip. Although the sun is warm, the pool is not heated and icy cold. After a shock, the body quickly relaxes. The cool water is great for the tired and worn out muscles. We spend some time in the pool and then dry off on the sun-warmed tiles.

Roger and I decide to head down to town for groceries to make dinner. Although there is no kitchen, we decide to see what we can scrounge up that does not require cooking. We are really tired so we ask at reception if they have a number for a cab. They call for us and we are told that the cab is in the shop. Roger and I decide to walk into town and figure we can call another cab company to take us back up the hill. We look for a grocery store and quickly start making our selection. We decide that a nice big salad would be terrific, so while I start picking ingredients, Roger peruses the little store to see if he can add to our dinner. In Spain, you do not get to choose your own vegetables. You let them know what you want and it is up to the produce person to pick out the item, weigh it and put it in a bag for you. When you have selected all your items and she has weighed them, she punches a button and an itemized receipt comes out, which she staples to the bag filled with items and staples the bag shut. You don´t get to squeeze or check for freshness. It´s a very different way of doing things, but such is life in Spain. I join Roger and soon we are in the frozen food section. We are trying to figure out what to get meat-wise that doesn´t require cooking. We finally find some cooked turkey breast slices which we figure we can chop and put in the salad. We also discover a rather large bag of frozen prawns. We figure we can thaw them and have them for appetizers or even put them in the salad. Pretty soon, we have a pretty good assortment of food for the evening´s meal and breakfast and even lunch. We have figured out that it is a lot more cost effective to pool some money for food, rather than each of us spending 9 to 11 euros for a pilgrim´s dinner. Those mostly consist of a first and second course, wine or water, dessert or coffee. With 9 euros a piece, we can make quite a few dinners ourselves.

Roger and I head out of the store and head out to the bar down the street, where we can call for a cab. The young woman behind the bar is beautiful with honey brown skin and gorgeous green eyes. We spend some time talking to her and discover she is Brazilian and working in Spain for a while before she goes back home. We ask her to help us find a cab. We get a number from someone in the bar and then begin calling. No one is answering our call. Roger and I are starting to get worried. We have about 7 or 8 laden bags plus two bottles of wine we have purchased in the bar for our dinner. The thought of having to climb up the hill again is causing us major discomfort. We ponder our dilemna over an ice cold beer when we are faced with another problem: it has started raining! Well, this requires another beer! As we drink, Roger and I figure that the others are probably wondering where we are with the food. We have been gone for quite a while and imagine that they are hungry. We are told that there is a taxi stand a couple of streets away so when I am done with my beer, I head off in search of the taxi. I leave Roger to have another drink. The rain has subsided and I walk in the direction of the taxi stand. When I get there, I am directed to the bar behind the stand. I go in and ask to call the taxi. I am given a number which I recognize as the same one that was called at the albergue before we started this foraging for food. I am not successful in locating a cab, so I head back to give Roger the bad news. I am feeling really bad at this point. We are very tired, with a few beers under our belt and our arms laden with groceries and not looking forward to the steep climb back up the hill to the albergue. As I enter the bar, Roger is talking to someone. He lets us know that most likely, the cab companies thought we wanted a ride back to Pamplona. As if! People in Spain do not take a cab to go a few blocks, even if it is up hill. When he understands that we are very tired, very weary and very hungry pilgrims, he does not hesitate to offer us a ride in his car. We are dumbfounded by his generousity to two strangers but we quickly accept his offer. We set off back to the albergue where our very hungry walking partners are sitting outside at a picnic table waiting for us. When they see us, they jump up to help us with the groceries. We explain our story and of course, all they hear is that we have been sitting in a bar! Pretty soon, everyone is teasing us and the laughter starts all over again. We ask for something to use to put the salad together and pretty soon, we have a feast: a giant salad with fresh tomatoes, peas, artichoke hearts, peppers, olives, croutons made from left over baguettes, prawns and canned potatoes and the cooked turkey. As we passed holding our giant platter of salad, other pilgrims enviously eyed our dinner. Filled, we head inside to rest and relax before starting our walk all over again the next day. Destination: Estella - Distance: 22 kilometers.

Cizur Menor to Puente La Reina

We leave Cizur Menor with great memories. The owner of the albergue spent time teaching us how to take care of our blisters on our feet. She also showed us a trick for keeping our feet dry, which helps prevent blisters. The secret: panty liners! The purple for men, orange for women´s larger feet and blue or pink for smaller feet. She has a complete arsenal of supplies, including sterilized (new in package so there are no worries!) syringes which she uses to take out the fluid from the blister. She re-sterilizes it and gives it to you to take with you for blister control along with the color-coded panty liners in your shoes.

Feet good as new and refreshed after our most joyous and raucous evening the night before, we set off for Puente La Reina. But not until we have coffee made on Roger and Denise´s "pocket rocket", an outdoor camping burner. We continue our walk, which today will be 21 kilometers. Roger and Denise are amazing. They take off at a quick clip while Jose, Maite, Tom and I struggle to keep up so early in the morning. Soon, the sun is up and we are walking through gorgeous fields of sunflowers and wildflowers strewn like tiny jewels on a carpet of green silk. While the morning is gorgeous, our humor becomes more coarse and pedestrian, mostly about bodily functions in the night. There is a symphony of snoring very reminiscent of Larry, Curly and Moe going on and Maite has us all in tears as she imitates the noises of the night. Now that we are outside and not constrained by worries of waking up our sleeping hostess, we are soon all howling with laughter. This is very helpful as we are beginning another ascentn up what can only be a goat path. It is very narrow and I can´t help thinking of "Sound of Music" so of course I burst into "Climb Every Mountain." Roger asks me if I can whistle. When I respond in the affirmative, he says good because you can´t sing. After translating to Spanish, we are once again laughing up the mountain.
Our day´s journey is taking us over the "Alto de Perdon". Legend has it that close to the top, the devil offered a very thirsty and tired pilgrim all the water he wanted if he rejected his faith. The pilgrim turned down the offer at which point James the Apostle appeared. He shows the pilgrim the source of fresh water and gives the pilgrim a scallop shell so that the he can drink until he is filled. Thus, the symbol of the scallop shell has become associated with the Camino de Santiago.
When we reach the top, we are graced with the most spectacular 360 degree view. The Pyrenees, Pamplona and Navarra lies behind us and to the front the rolling hills of the wine region of Rioja. The day is absolutely breath-taking. Not a cloud in the cerulean sky. Our other blessing after the morning´s climb comes from a most welcome entreprenuer selling ice cold drinks and food out his van. We pause to enjoy the vista and quench our thirst. There used to exist a hospital for pilgrims and a hermitage that was dedicated to the Virgin of the Pardon where we are enjoying our refreshments. However, there currently is an incredible monument dedicated to pilgrims there instead. It was installed by the Association of Friends of the Way of Navarre. The monument is composed of steel or iron cutouts of pilgrims walking, above them stars showing them the way to Santiago de Compostela. We sit and admire the view, but of course, it isn´t long before our silliness explodes. We put ourselves amidst the steel cutouts and have other pilgrims take pictures of us. Again, you would think we were a bunch of goofy school kids on a field trip taking advantage of not having a teacher in sight. Our rest complete, we lift up our backpacks and start our trek down the mountain to head off to Puente la Reina.

(to be continued later...)

Update

The last post I did was for Monday the 20th of July. Today is Friday the 24th of July. We are spending the night in Torres del Rio. We calculate that we have walked over 100 kilometers. Only 690 or so more to go.

More details about the past few days will be filled in as I find the time to write.

Pamplona to Cizur Menor Part Three

As you arrive at an albergue, you present your pilgrim´s passport and identification. After everyone in your group checks in, you are given the house rules. At Maribel´s albergue, as we checked in, we were telling jokes and it wasn´t long before she was chastising us to pay attention to the rules. We should have heeded her but more about that later. She told us that she had been born in the house where we were staying. The house rules are pretty much the same at every albergue: directions to your beds, showers, kitchen and laundry area. Doors close at 10:00 and do not open until 6:00 in the morning. Be respectful of the quiet time so that other pilgrims can sleep. Leave the place as you found it. We started in our chores, which was to shower and do laundry by hand, hang to dry, check your backpack and then, of course head out to buy food and have an ice cold beer.

We returned with our groceries, some wine, chocolate and even some cogñac and Maite and Jose prepared the most incredible meal of spaghetti with a tuna sauce, that sounded at first, not so appetizing. But once we tasted it, our mouths stopped with the jokes and there was silence while we devoured our dinner. Actually, it was a late afternoon lunch. We headed for the garden for some relaxation. As the afternoon passed away into the evening, we could not believe we were actually hungry. We decided to go out for another beer and some food. (Are you starting to get the drift of our bonding?) We headed out and found a restaurant-bar a block or so away. I though we were only having a small tapa and a beer but we ended up in the restaurant. Maite and I just had a small snack, the other´s a pilgrims meal. Once again, we found ourselves consumed with laughter and camaraderie. All of sudden, we realized it was a little after 10:00 pm. We quickly asked for the bill but we all thought that a few minutes couldn´t possibly matter. How wrong we were. When we arrived at the albergue, the large wooden door was shut and locked. We dissolved into a fit of the giggles. There was a large brass bell hanging next to the door and we started pointing at each other to see who would earn Maribel´s wrath by arriving past curfew. Jose took the challenge and rang the bell. After a few minutes, we realized there was no wrath because Maribel wasn´t going to answer the door. We stopped laughing, looked at the 7-foot tall ivy-covered wall and immediately dissolved into another fit of the giggles. However, pretty soon we realized we might be sleeping between a rock and a hard place.
Tom suggested that we might be able to climb over the back wall around the corner, which wasn´t quite as high as the front one. He and Jose took off, while Maite, Denise and I continued giggling like naughty school children. Roger started to take umbrage at the fact that he was 65 and should be treated the way he was being treated. Denise replied he wasn´t being treated in any particular way, other than the way one is when one breaks house rules and quit taking it so personally. After translating for Maite, we dissolved into another fit of giggles. Suddenly the door opened and there was Jose standing there with a big grin on his face. We quickly rushed in, shut the door behind us and ran quickly to our rooms, certain that Maribel was going to be standing in front of our room to kick us out. It didn´t happen but the thought of it was enough to send us all into another round of laughter. A great way to end the day.

Pamplona to Cizur Menor Part Two

Outside the albergue in Pamplona, Tom and I decided to join our Spanish traveling friends Jose Luis and Maite. They introduced us to Roger and Denise from England. Both couples were happy to meet us, primarily because Jose Luis and Maite did not speak English and Roger and Denise did not speak Spanish. I quickly became translator between the two couples and as I soon discovered, it was mostly translating jokes. Jose Luis and Roger were already doing a good job at pantomine a la Charley Chaplin but now, with me along, I could add dialogue. It was not long before my stomach muscles were hurting as bad as my legs. These two loved to have a traveling dialogue of humor and slapstick. Denise and Maite loved to chime in. As we left together, I joked we were like the herd in "Ice Age". That got everyone laughing and trying to figure out who was which character.

We all knew we carried too much weight in our backpacks. So, I told them we wanted the post office because we were going to send our not-needed and heavy items to my aunt in Southern Spain. Both couples thought that was a great idea. Roger and Denise were going to send things home to England, but I let them know that was too expensive. They could send them ahead to Santiago in care of general delivery and their things would be waiting for them. Jose and Maite sent their extra weight home to Valencia. We sat outside the Post Office waiting for it to open, pulling items out of our backpacks that we felt we no longer needed. Both Jose, Maite and I were astonished at what Denise and Roger had been carrying. They were geared up for camping so they had a tent, pots, pans, and assorted heavy items that boggled the mind. Jose said he tried to pick up Roger´s backpack the night before and nearly pulled his arm out of its socket. Denise´s bag was equally as heavy. They love the outdoors. Denise had just completed a 200 kilometer walk across Scotland this past May. Roger explained she had done it with a broken toe that was not discovered until she had returned home. Roger was to have walked with Denise but he had been hospitalized with a nosebleed that would not stop and required a transfusion of nearly 10 pints and surgery to fix the problem. Here he was walking the Camino. I felt I had no right to complain about my sore knee.

Anyway, as we sorted our things outside the post office, we got to know each other and felt we all hit it off very well and made quite an interesting "herd". By the time we were done at the post office, Tom and I had divested ourselves of over 5 kilos, Jose and Maite - 4 kilos and Roger and Denise, more than 8 kilos. That was quite a bit of extra weight we were carrying.

We did a quick tour of Pamplona and then headed out of town to the next albergue 5 kilometers away. While we took a quick stop at the bus station, where Tom and I had been just a few days earlier, Jose went in to buy a Spanish guide of the Camino. Outside the station, an older Spanish gentleman told us he had completed the Camino some 20 times. He directed us to an albergue in Cizur Menor run by a woman named Maribel. He said to make sure not to stop at the first albergue but rather the second one. We said our goodbyes, thanked him for his advice and headed off for Cizur Menor.

Our walk was rather quick and we arrived at Cizur Menor for a long-needed day of rest.

Filling in the Blanks

From Roncesvalles to Zubiri

After leaving our extremely challenging walk over the Pyrenees, the next day was much better. We got off to a late start, around 8:00 am and spent a morning getting coffee and a coke before heading off to the next little town. The path winds its way past a sign saying 780 or so kilometers to Roncesvalles. It´s a beautiful walk through a grove of trees. We stop in the next town, Burguete, to pick up food for the day: a baguette, some meat and cheese, olives and a chocolate bar. We head off feeling sure that the day will be better than the previous one. It is. Other than some tendinitis that is starting to bother my knee, it is a beautiful day of walking. We are almost alone as most of the other pilgrims left hours before we did. The camino winds its way through farms and fields with gorgeous vistas off in the distance.

Our goal is to finish the stage in Larrasoaña 27 kilometers away. It´s a mostly downhill walk along a very narrow uneven dirt path. Trying to keep one´s balance while carrying a heavy load on the back really starts to affect the legs. Although the walk is relatively easy compared to the day before, the exertion begins to bother my knee. While we are walking along, we are passed by quite a few pilgrims, but we notice they are well-dressed and not carrying very much on their backs. One of them stops us to inquire about my leg since I am limping noticiably. I tell him that I think I have tendinitis. He explains that he is a chiropractor and masseuse and that I need to stop and rest my leg, put ice on it for 20 minutes or so and then take a rest day. He also offers to exchange backpacks with me. His, he says, weighs only 2 kilos and mine is very heavy. I thank him but do not feel comfortable letting him carry my load. He urges me to rest my leg so that I can finish the camino. He explains he is part of a group who is doing the camino but their gear is being carried by a bus and they are staying in hotels along the way. That sounds very tempting at this point but Tom and I came to have an authentic pilgrimage and his way sounds like a short-cut. But I also realize everyone´s journey is different and this is how I chose to do mine.

Because my leg is bothering me, we decide to stop for the day in Zubiri,about 5 kilometers short of our goal. The first albergue we reach is filled. We are directed to the municipal albergue a few blocks away. When we get there we are told that their beds are also full, but if we don´t mind, they have a gym with mattresses available. As I am not in the mood for walking any further and I don´t have to sleep directly on the hard floor, I am happy and greatful. We pay 4 Euros each. Our accomodations include communal showers, a place to wash and hang our clothes. As we set up our beds, we find we are joined by one of the couples we spent the night with in Roncesvalles. We say our hellos and then Tom and I head off for some food before turning in. All in all a good day.

Zubiri to Pamplona

Today´s destination is Pamplona. Once again the walk looks like a good one, mostly downhill and we head off. This time my knee is really complaining about the weight on my back and the uneven steps I am taking. However, I really want to reach Pamplona so we push on. During the day´s journey, we once again run into the chiropractor from the day before. He gently chastises me about taking care of my knee. I agree to put ice on it when we stop for lunch. Since we run into him and the group he is traveling with, he holds me to my word. After Tom drinks his soda, I take the ice out and wrap in my bandana and ice my knee. It does help and we are able to push on to Pamplona. We can feel the heat start to rise as we make our descent from the mountains. By the time we reach Pamplona, I am very hot and tired and I just want to get my backpack off and rest my legs. We search for the albergue and run into a young woman from Holland who directs us to the albergue personally. She is starting her camino tomorrow and has just arrived after a forced layover in Biarritz. Her bags were lost and she had to wait three days there for them to be found. She was anxious to get started on her journey. We checked into to a beautiful, newly refurbished albergue where we were directed to our bunk beds. Once again, we performed the evening routine of showering, washing and hanging clothes to dry and checking the feet for blisters before heading off to dinner. It was still early by Spanish standards for a meal and Tom was starving. We found a bar that had some wonderful tapas in the window. A thirst-quenching Sangria for me and a coke and Spanish hamburger (it´s topped with an egg and bacon) for Tom. Filled, we headed back to the albergue for our night´s rest.

Pamplona to Cizur Menor

Tom and I awake somewhat refreshed. Since I have never lived in a dorm, it takes some getting used to. There is a lot of noise in the night: snoring, people getting up to use the restroom, nightmares, talking etc. Thankfully, I have my Ipod Touch and I plug in my earbuds and listen to white noise all night blocking out most of the noise. People start to rise at 5:30 to start their day´s journey. Tom and I are moving a little more slowly. As a people watcher, I enjoy watching the couple next to us try to move on. I think they are Italian, but I am not sure. They are in there early 20´s and clearly not married. As she lays in the top bunk, he is loading up their backpacks. He gently and quietly urges her to rise and shine as they must get on their way. In a sweet and honey dripping voice, I can hear her high-pitched tone saying something along the lines of "I´m so tired, I can´t, I don´t want to." Again, he gently urges her to try while gently rubbing her feet. This dance of no-yes, no-yes goes on for the next 20 minutes while Tom and I are trying to pack in between the two bunk beds. Finally, the loudspeaker announces that everyone is getting kicked out in 10 minutes and his patience runs out. He barks at her to get up and in a little girl voice, she convinces him to help lift her out of the top bunk. Clearly, he is smitten enough to give in and help her. They hug and kiss and then finish packing. I do not understand what language they are speaking, but it is not necessary to understand the courting ritual that is being danced. It makes me chuckle! They are so young.

As we leave the albergue, we run into the Spanish couple we have been seeing since our first night´s arrival in Roncesvalles. They are standing next to an older couple. We say hello and ask where they are headed that day. The Spaniard, whom I find out later is named Jose Luis, explains that they met up with the English couple and they have decided to take a short day so that they can explore Pamplona and then rest their legs a little. Tom and I decide that is a good idea and ask if we can join them. They think this is a great idea since they speak no English and the other couple speaks no Spanish. Thus, an alliance is born.

From Estella to Villamayor de Monjardin

After settling down in the church in Estella, Roger and Denise and Tom and I set out to get some dinner and a very cold beer! Nothing tastes as a good as a cool beer to get rid of day´s dust in your throat. We found a lovely outdoor tavern and parked ourselves down for a bit. The city was having a fiesta (we never did determine why other than it had a medieval theme). While we were having our drinks, a marching band made up of local youngsters stopped near us, dressed in costume and began playing. It seemed a fit way to end our day. Our meal was excellent and we headed out to buy provisions for tomorrow´s walk. Unfortunately, due to celebrations, everything closed before we could doing any buying. We didn´t count on Jose Luis though. He had already set out and bought fruit, bread and meat and joined us for a quick beer before we headed up to get a well-deserved night´s sleep. However, the heat of the day permeated our room and it was very hard to get comfortable. While we were happy to have beds, our night was anything but restful. In addition to the heat, our parish room overlooked a plaza where young children had gathered to play in the evening´s cooler air. Evening in Spain means early morning so it wasn´t until about 3:oo am that things quieted down.

My alarm went off at 6:00 but there was no hurry to leave. After yesterday´s very hot walk, we decided to do a much shorter walk today. Our goal was Monjardin, some 9 kilometers away. Although the day was cloudy and cool when we awoke, it didn´t take long for the sun to start heating things up. We headed over to the albergue for coffee and toast before heading out at 8:00 for our walk. We found out that once again we were the last ones too leave. It didn´t take long for our bodies to loosen up and we started making a good pace.
Well-wishers from the village would urge us to have a ¨buen camino.¨ We arrived at our
destination at 11:00. It was great to have our walk over, but the albergue was not open yet. The gentleman in charge was still cleaning up from the night before and was heading back into Estalla to pick up provisions for the day. He would be ready to open at 2:00 but he allowed us to leave our heavy backpacks inside while we waited, where else, at the village bar! We are having a bite to eat before turning in early tomorrow. We hope to start at 5:00 tomorrow morning to beat the heat and to get to our destination some 23 kilometers away.

Update

(An update) Have not been able to blog...long days, very hot and very limited computer time. At some point will fill in with details, but here is a short update about today. difficult day...no room, no phone, hot day in Estella. We left at 5:55 am to start our 23 kilometer walk to Estella. I had a lot of knee tendinitis for the first 10K but after aspirin, a cold compress and stretches, the pain faded away. First 17 kilometers went fast...next ones nearly killed us in the heat. Tom also developed knee tendinitis...a very common problem on the camino. We stopped to buy knee braces which helped alot. Did not get into Estella until 2:40 and everything full, including hotels, hostals, pensions etc. We waited at the parish albergue to see whether there was literally room at the inn. Six of us for 7 beds inside the church but needed to wait for approval from the parish priest who was off in Pamplona trying to buy mattresses to accommodate all the pilgrims flooding the Camino this year. Finally got it. Had to shower at albergue and then walk over to parish offices for beds. Went to dinner and then tried tried to find internet, but everything shut down before we could find internet due to a medievel festival. We found computers at the parish office and then had to figure out passwords. Anyway, long story short, no skype and very old computers. Tomorrow will be a short day. Hope to find room at Monjardin, about 15 kilometers away and then we will try to stay off stages to avoid all the pilgrims. The "we" I keep referring to are our traveling companions: a thirty-something couple, Jose Luis and his wife, Maite from Valencia (Maite is actually Venezuelan) and Roger and Denise Wiltshire, a 60-something couple from Leicester (sp) in England. We started traveling together in Pamplona. I have joked that we are traveling like a mixed up herd, from the movie "Ice Age". It describes us perfectly. Jose Luis and Maite speak almost no English and Roger and Denise speak no Spanish so it has been up to me to be translator. Although much goes without because it is a lot of silly, slapstick humor. We have been laughing our way along the camino and having a great time. They told us about 400 left Roncesvalles the day we left and the day after as well. The Guardia Civil actually came in to try to deal with all the pilgrims. Hence it is crowded on the camino. Most are young and pass by like hell on wheels to get to the next albergue. The albergues in Estella closed before 12:30. We can´t keep up as fast with all the heat, even if we leave before 6:00 am. Despite all the hardships, we are having a great time. Tom is doing fantastic and having a great time with Roger, who´s humor resembles Benny Hill at times. Jose Luis is also a jokester which helps make the difficult climbs less so. We often joke that we are a traveling United Nations or that we are only imitating the leaders of the Tour de France: Contador - a Spaniard, Armstrong - an American and Wiggins - a Brit! Blisters have been at a minimum so, so far, so good! When I can find wifi, I hope to load the blog I have been keeping on my Itouch with more details about our walk and experiences. Cris www.stutler.blogspot.com

Day One

Walking Day One from St. Jean Pied de Port to Roncesvalles OMG as they say.  What a day!  What a nightmare!  I knew our climb would be difficult.  I watch the Tour de France.  I see them ride their bikes over the Pyrenees over the Col de Loepoder.  However nothing on tv gives you even an inkling as to how difficult it is to climb 20 kilometers over a mountain. We spent the evening before in the French town of St. Jean Pied de Port after traveling by plane, train, taxi and van from Madrid.  Our hostel was an absolutely wonderful place run by pilgrims, for pilgrims.  Tom and I enjoyed a communal meal prepared by our volunteer hosts.  We broke bread with people from around the world:  two young women from Taiwan, a gentleman from Australia, several from Germany, the Netherlands and one from Norway.  Everyone spent the evening getting to know each other and their personal stories.  Their reasons for doing the Camino were as varied as each person.  Richard, from Melbourne, was actually walking in reverse from Finnesterre, which means the end of the earth, to the Mediterranean.  He was very delightful and told some wonderful stories about his experience on the Camino going backwards. Everyone was anxious to get started early the next day as the first day is a daunting walk, 26 kilometers, 20 of which are uphill.  Tom and I left in high spirits, although a little nervous.  There is really no where around the Twin Cities to prepare for such a climb.  Our first difficulty turned out to be acclimating to the altitude.  The climb started right out of town and we were carrying fully loaded packs.  The first kilometer, Tom and I were huffing and puffing something serious.  We almost called an audible to change our plans and cab it back over the hill. But we were already an hour into our walk and we both didn´t want to retrace our steps.  If we knew how the day would end, we would have without a doubt.  After we got accustomed to the thinner air, we were able to pick up our pace.  Our self-assuredness returned and we actually felt a little smug.  Big mistake.  We were quickly disillusioned and soon disheartened.  As we climbed higher, a mist settled over the mountain.  I told Tom it would blow by and we would soon be fine.  I was wrong.  Ptretty soon, we were drenched by a downpour.  We hurried to find some shelter under a tree to cover our backpacks and ourselved.  At this point, I discovered I left my fleece jacket at the hostal.  I needed it.  The wind started picking up and with our weight on our backs, we had a difficult time walking.  I was soon drenched and cold.  There was no place to find shelter and we knew we had to keep going.  We still had some 15 kilometers to go to finish our day and there was no shelter ahead until the end.  We did not want to go back.  As we reached the top of the mountain and the border between France and Spain, the rain subsided to a drizzle but the winds still threatened to knock us off our feet.  All we could do was lower and heads and keep going.  Some school kids from a local camp were also climbing the mountain but they only had small personal backpacks and they kept passing us like little mountain goats, singing and laughing.  I was not pleased.  We kept trudging along the top of the ridge and we did take time to enjoy the most spectacular of views.  The valleys below us were emerald green dotted with pockets of white where the villages were located.  We thought that the downhill would be easier and we would make it to Roncesvalles in no time.  It was a great day for being wrong.  The rains had made the uneven trail very muddy and made footing very treacherous.  After walking that far, we did not want to risk slipping and falling.  It would have been a long way to get help if there was a serious injury.  All told, it took us 11 hours to go over the mountain and finally reach Roncesvalles at nearly 7:00 that evening.  I was wet, cold and hungry.  Our provisions for the day were long gone.  We checked in at the official office of pilgrims, only to be told the albergue (hostal) was full.  However, as they for days like the one we experienced, they had a room set aside for stragglers.  We were two of ten people that came off the mountain at that late hour.    We quickly showered to warm up and hung our wet things off to dry and then headed to the nearby bar.  They had a pilgrim´s dinner available, so we ate, drank some wine and shared stories with some of the people we had met the day before.  We then headed back to the albergue for some well deserved rest before our walk the next day. In our small room of ten, it was great to be with people, who although were strangers that morning, now had something in common that would unite them in a bond.  No one can really know how difficult our experience was except for those on the mountain that day.  Those that left early and were able to walk fast missed most of the storm.  But they were all in the other hostal, all 112 of them!   I must stress that Tom was an absolute trooper.  When I kept doubting the wisdom of my folly...he urged me on.  When he doubted the wisdom of my folly, he accepted without hesitation that at some point the day would end and tomorrow could only be better. (please excuse typos and grammar errors, I have limited computer time to type!) Cris www.stutler.blogspot.com

D-Day - Departure Day!

After all the planning and packing, the day of arrival is here. Tom and I are headed to the airport with bags in tow and a little bit of nerves along for the trip. It should take us about 24 hours of travel from our door to our arrival in Madrid. We'll rest there overnight, before heading off to Pamplona by train, taking a bus to Roncesvalles on the Spanish border and then a cabbing over the Pyrenees to St. Jean Pied du Port. If all goes according to plan, we will start our journey on Friday. As wi-fi permits, I will keep this blog updated!

Getting Ready

Just a little under a month before Tom and I leave for our Trip to Spain. We are both excited and looking forward to the challenge ahead. I look forward to keeping this on-line blog of our journey.
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Sent from a PDA - please excuse any typos.