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!