Cristina's Most Excellent Spanish Adventures!

Re:I think you should change something in your life!

2011-08-18T15:57:00.001-05:00

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Walking Days 8 & 9

2009-08-19T04:17:00.005-05:00

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

2009-08-16T01:51:00.008-05:00

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

2009-08-03T13:53:00.004-05:00

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

2009-08-02T14:07:00.003-05:00

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

2009-07-30T09:52:00.002-05:00

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

2009-07-27T14:11:00.002-05:00

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

2009-07-24T13:29:00.002-05:00

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

2009-07-24T12:52:00.004-05:00

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

2009-07-24T12:34:00.003-05:00

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

2009-07-23T09:45:00.005-05:00

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

2009-07-23T06:19:00.003-05:00

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

2009-07-22T15:00:00.002-05:00

(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

2009-07-19T13:03:00.000-05:00

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!

2009-07-14T11:32:00.003-05:00

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

2009-06-18T20:52:00.001-05:00

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.

Almost Done!

2007-08-16T13:18:00.000-05:00

When we awoke just outside Sarria, we realized our trip was almost over. We went to breakfast to figure out our route for the day, since our search for a hotel took us out of our way. At the table next to us, we met a gentleman from Barcelona who was also biking to Santiago, but while we hoped to finish in two more days, he would be arriving that evening. He would be biking 150 kilometers to achieve that goal. He told us we could follow an alternate route so we would not have to double back to Sarria and avoid some climbs. We looked at our maps and decided to follow his advice. We should have followed him. We turned onto what we thought was the suggested turnoff. We encountered a climb but felt assured it wouldn't be a long one. It would be the last thing we would be sure of for most of the morning. As we continued to climb and then eventually push our way, we realized we were going over a mountain. How big we did not know. We were too far committed to turn around so we kept on going up. The good news was that there was absolutely no traffic and the scenery was just beautiful. Along the way, Paul and I had a lively discussion about whether the Spanish gentleman decided to pull one over on two Americans or whether we took a wrong turn. Wanting to believe the best, we chose that we just turned onto an unmarked road. At one point into our several hour sojourn up the mountain, we were able to ride. It was a good thing because as we were passing a field of sheep, we encountered a large pack of very protective barking and growling sheep dogs in a variety of sizes and degrees of ferocity. It was the little ones trying to nip at my feet that made me the most nervous. We pedaled faster trying to outrun them while we heard a male voice shouting from behind a brick wall. We weren't doing so good at getting away when suddenly out of the field came our rescuer in the form of a petite wizened old woman brandishing a long staff. She began waving the stick furiously and yelling loudly at the dogs. The dogs quickly backed down. Paul and I got out there fast but later we wished we had gotten a picture of the old woman. She looked like something out of National Geographic. She had no teeth, she was wearing her
apron over her work clothes and her hair under a scarf. I was amazed by how fast she ran out of the field to call the dogs off because she was so tiny and looked emaciated. On our way again, we went back to climbing. Eventually, we reached the summit. We knew this because it's where the communication tower stood and all the trees were gone. All told, I think we climbed for about ten kilometers over several hours. And we still weren't sure where we were since it was clear we were on an unmarked road. Once at the summit, we started heading down. We thought we could see our destination off in the distance. St every fork in the road we headed towards what we thought was our goal. After descending somewhat blindly, what should we see but two peregrinos walking toward us and our shining beacon, the yellow arrow on the side of a building which also had a Grateful Dead Graffiti on it. Boy, were we relieved. We followed the camino down and after having spent a rather quiet morning disturbed only by the howling dogs, it was a little disconcerting all of a sudden to be caught up in a traffic jam of walking pilgrims, bikers and especially cows! At one point, we passed a group of pilgrims, but were caught with about a dozen other bike riders behind a herd of cattle being driven down the road by their mistress, who just kind of shrugged her shoulders as if to say, who knows when you'll get to pass. One of the bike groups was a little more aggressive and managed to spook the cows into letting us pass. We eventually arrived at our pre-destined lunch spot where we took a long-anticipated break. We sat and ordered lunch and then flew into panic mode...Paul could not find his BlackBerry. Now, this is a big deal. Aside from being our lifeline back home, it was also allowing us to communicate within Spain. We frantically called the hotel we left hours before only to be told by the hardest working man in Spain that we didn't leave it there. We immediately set to pulling everything out of our panniers to see if it got mixed in with our clothes. We still didn't find it. After resigning ourselves to its loss, we checked Paul's bike trunk bag one more time and low and behold, we found it hiding in a pocket where we had been certain it could not have been. Paul says we had a hard climb out of our stop, Portomarin, but to be honest, all the climbs are beginning to blur. My recollection is that the rest of the day was uneventful as we pedalled to our evening destination, Palas de Rei. After our debacle of the previous day, we had called ahead to make a reservation for the night. Only when we arrived at our hotel, they had no reservation and no room. I was very upset. I showed them Paul's phone and the log which proved I had called them the day before. When the man looked at the number, he indicated although I had called a hotel with their name, it was not their number. I called the number only to be told the hotel we wanted was a few blocks away. Problem solved and we were done for the night,

The Big Climb!

2007-08-12T06:36:00.000-05:00

Paul and I awoke with great anticipation for the big climb up to O Cebriero. It's a straight climb of about 10 kilometers. On our last trip, I remember it being a brutal day of pushing my bike uphill for four or five hours. It was very cool and the mountain was covered in mist. Paul waited for quite a while at the top while I slowly made my way up the mountain. On this trip, either I was in better shape (again, I like to think the ten extra pounds I am carrying are all muscle) or the angels and my dad were pushing me up the mountain. The day was not nearly as hard as I expected and I arrived at the top about 45 minutes after Paul. I only had to push my bike twice and for only short periods. I was astounded as was Paul. Perhaps I had trained better than I thought. We took in the sights at the top and celebrated with those we met as we climbed up together. It is something joyous to celebrate a shared effort with complete strangers who become instant friends as you climb together. What Paul and I had forgotten is that the arrival at O Cebriero is not the end. It marks the beginning of Galicia, which is a region of lots of ups and downs. The area is very hilly so there is no real respite from a hard day's ride. Following another set of climbs, we finally began our descent into Galicia. Paul took the downhill carefully as he was nervous about the performance of his bike. The back wheel was rattling something awful and he had to loosen his brakes to make the climb. Our goal for the night was Samos, a small town with an impressive monastery and a 900 year old church that is quite a sight to see. It's a good thing we saw it on our last trip because there was not a room to be found in Samos. After our long day of climbing, we were forced to continue onto the next town. We felt reasonably assured we would find something there since it was a larger city. We couldn't have been more wrong. Like Mary and Joseph, we went on a hunt for a room, only to be told time and again, there was no room. We were very nervous at this point. It was getting late and we were tired. After getting a list of numbers to call, we finally found a place 5 kilometers out the city. With trepidation, we had no choice but bike on. As we pedaled on, first downhill and then up, we started wondering whether five really meant ten kilometers and if we were ever going to arrive. We did and quickly settled in for the night. Our clerk who checked us in, became our candidate for the hardest working man in Spain. After we cleaned up, we headed down to the bar for a drink. It turns out he was also on bartending duty. As the restaurant filled up with the dinner crowd, it became clear that he was also the waiter. In between orders at the bar and in the dining room, he also answered the phone and continued to check in arriving guests. When he took our dinner order, I jokingly asked if he was also cooking. With a bemused smile, he said sometimes. When we went down to breakfast the next morning, there he was again.

The Shortest Day

2007-08-11T01:38:00.000-05:00

We left Ponferrada for what would be our shortest ride yet. Our next destination was only 26 kilometers away. However, it was a beautiful day. We are in the heart of the Bierrzo wine valley. It is lush and filled with gorgeous rolling hills filled with vines. We followed the camino trail through the vineyards soaking in the green hills and blue skies. As we made our entrance into Villafranca, Paul started noticing a problem with his bike. His gears seemed to be slipping, especially on climbs. It was in this same city four years ago that Paul had to have his bike repaired. After we checked into a our hotel de jour, we took his bike to the local bike shop. We explained the problem and the owner said he would take a look at it but to come back later as he was leaving for lunch. We did the same and then we set off to explore the tiny town. Villafranca sits nestled at the base of the mountains which separate the provinces of Leon and Galicia. Those mountains were our goal for tomorrow. For tonight. We just wanted a good meal. Unfortunately, that was not to be the case. We thought we had chosen well and the evening started off well. Sitting next to us were the first Americans we have met on the camino. Chris and Nora were a young couple from New York who were walking the Camino for the second time. They had done the first half last year and were finishing up this year. They were a delightful couple to chat with while
Waiting for service which was slow even for Spanish standards. We finally received our meals which frankly we both thought was the worst of our trip so far. We had ordered steaks with a sauce, which had been our standard dinner on the trip.Our's were covered in such a thick sauce which I think was meant to disguise how undercooked the meat was. I don't mind rare, but this was a 1/2 inch slab that was raw. When I complained, our snooty young heroin-addicted looking waiter, informed me that it was prepared as it should be. I was too tired to argue with him. But Paul and I were not happy. We paid our bill grudgingly and headed off to get some rest. Tomorrow, the big climb of the Camino beckoned.

A Relatively Easy Day

2007-08-09T06:34:00.000-05:00

The weather was once again cool when we left Astorga in the morning. We had turned in early, no late evening for us on this day. We had toured the Bishop's
Palace, the Cathedral and the Museum of Chocolate. In the morning we felt well-rested and ready to take on our first major climb, a 6 kilometer climb that I remember as being quite daunting on our last trip. Whether it was the extra rest or perhaps better preparation, the long-anticipated climb did not turn out to be as difficult as expected. I made the climb on my own power. I would pedal for awhile and then take a break by the side of the road, taking in the stunning scenery. As we climbed, the area became very arid with lots of vibrant purple heather, sage and other scrub brush dominating the landscape. I made my way up the mountain slowly but I made it nonetheless. I met Paul at the Cruz de Hierro (The Iron Cross). It has become somewhat of a Mount Everest. Pilgrims leave all kinds of momentos at the base of the cross which soars some 20 feet high. Stones carried by pilgrims signifying sins or memories of loved ones are left as are other items such as worn shoes, flags, pictures and notes of importance and personal meaning. We climbed up to the very top and then began the most exhilirating ride down the mountain. The two-lane hairpin road led us down a hair-raising descent of nearly 45 kilometers an hour. Fear of death kept me pumping my brakes all the way down. Paul said the experience was like a great downhill ski run. We were rewarded for our morning efforts with a stop at Molinaseca, a quaint little town at the bottom of the mountain. You cross over a stone bridge. Underneath is a small pool where pilgrims can clean off after a long climb down. Since the wind did it for us, we chose to get a beer and bite instead. However, after watching and listening to the continual splashing of the pilgrims, we walked over to dip our toes in the pool. Pretty soon, Paul decided to take his shirt off and jump in. The water was pretty brisk but refreshing. His gusto convinced a young Italian girl who had been on the fence to ahead and jump in. Her screams let everyone know how cold the water was.
We headed off to our destination of the day: Ponferrada. A Templar castle indicated our arrival. We walked our bikes into the antigua casco (the old town) and began a search for a hotel as we did not have any reservations. The first two places were full but the third had an available room. We cleaned up quickly as there was an exhibit that we wanted to see. The cathedral was hosting an exhibit called "Yo Camino". Art collections from around Spain have been put together to explain the religious significance that is the Camino de Santiago. The exhibit was amazing. We listened to a guided tour that described the art through the centuries depicting the history of the Church and the Camino de Santiago and how that art was used to teach. The curators of the exhibit did an amazing job. We did our usual routine of drinks and dinner in the plaza and then headed off to bed.

Another Day, Another Plaza

2007-08-07T11:39:00.000-05:00

The end of today's ride is the town of Astorga. It should have been a 45 kilometer ride, but it turned out to be more like 60.
After breakfast at the hotel, our first stop before leaving Leon was the post office. We of course had to mail ahead to Santiago Paul's four new pairs of shoes which weighed would have added 5 pounds of weight just as we are reaching our point of true climbing. With the shoes off, we left Leon. It is always a tricky endeavor leaving big cities by bike. The streets are very narrow, cars going to fast for safety. The sidewalks are on option but you are usually confronted by people who stop dead in their tracks to greet that long lost friend they haven't seen since the night before. It makes for a wild ride of dodge-em.Once out of the confines of the city, riding gets easier. However, I have been starting my morning rides with a belly full of butterflies. As I start my riding, I feel much like a student who has passed a test but has to take it again and not sure if they've prepared enough (I haven't). Once I get going I start to feel better. That is until the first incline. As I put my legs into pedaling my bike up the hill, it is almost meditative. However, the words I say over and over again have absolutely nothing to do with prayer. There is a cleansing effect that happens as I emit toxins from my body and my spirit so I guess I am achieving the intent of a true pilgrim.
We went a little out of our way today following a recommended route taken by previous bike riders of the Camino.However, it did not add much in the way of enjoyment and just made our day longer than expected. The day's weather is much cooler than expected making it downright chilly in the evening as we sit having a beer outside the Cathedral and the Bishop's Palace designed by Antonio Gaudi (origin of the word gaudy). As I write, Paul is being thoroughly entertained by several older gentlemen talking with other. Every time the church bells chime, they all check their watches. We plan to head to our room to warm up as it feels more like a late fall evening than the middle of August and we shipped ahead most of heavier clothing. Tomorrow we have our first really big climb which. Will take us into Galicia.

Rest Day Comes To An End

2007-08-06T13:58:00.000-05:00

Paul and I sit at an outdoor bar enjoying a glass of tinto under a decidedly cooler Spanish evening. While people are out strolling, it is not the crowds we experienced last night. Outdoor tables were at a premium. People circled like vultures waiting to pounce as soon as a table even looked as if it were going to be free. With a cool chill in the night air, outdoor tables are an open selection.
Today's rest day included a lot of shopping. But if you assume that it was I partaking, you would be incredibly mistaken. As what can only be described as Paul doing his best Carrie Bradshaw imitation, we hit up shoe store after shoe store, where after the spree was over, Paul had four new pairs to add to the ones he purchased in Logrono. On sale no less! Said shoes are .Paul's favorite comfort wear. They are worn by just about all the older Spanish gentleman who look forward to comfort over fashion. They are lightweight and and definitely more comfortable than the heavy leather shoes worn in business. Paul now has enough to last him should we not return to Spain for the next several years. (He did get them in several colors too!)
Today was not all about shopping. We also took a tour of the Cathedral, which is absolutely magnificent. The amazing height of the ceiling which soars straight to heaven is matched only by the stunning stained glass windows which are made of such glorious vivid design and color as to be absolutely breathe-taking. We ended our evening as always: with a fabulous dinner and wonderful bottle of wine. We strolled past the Cathedral, lit up most magnificently. We decided an ice cream was in order and then we called it a night to our well-deserved rest day.

2007-08-06T07:58:00.000-05:00

The Longest Day!

2007-08-05T14:22:00.000-05:00

Today was our longest day of biking yet. Paul and I rode nearly one hundred kilometers (98 to be exact). The good news is that the day was much cooler than yesterday. The bad news: the reason for a break in the weather was the wind blowing directly in our face and bringing possible thunderstorms. For the most part the wind was not too bad and the road relatively flat. That enabled us to make our longest ride to date. We arrived in Leon where we are going to enjoy a well-earned rest day.
We continue to enjoy great meals and fine wines at dinner.
Some general impressions of our trip so far: we have met a lot of friendly people on this trip. A few spaniards are making the camino. But the majority of people we have met so far are Italian. It seems as if the whole of Italy is in Spain, especially those from Milan. Nearly everyone we chat with us from Italy.
We'll have to take a trip there sometime to meet some of the wonderful people we have met on our trip.
Other impressions about this trip: the change in technology. This blog is being written on Paul's blackberry. Last time I had to hunt for a ciber cafe to make posts. Now I do them while we are waiting for drinks or dinner. Another marvel is my Ipod. Aside from listening to music which gets me pedalling faster, we are using the Ipod to download the photos from our digital cameras. What a great inovation. On our last trip, we had to hunt down local photo stores to download the pictures and then burn a CD that we could mail home. It was a time-consuming process. What hasn't changed is that the trip to Santiago is hard, always has been, always will.

Well Done and Extra Crispy!

2007-08-05T05:19:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was the hardest by far. It was our longest ride to date and the hottest as well. Temperatures soared to over 45 degrees centigrade, which by Paul´s calculation was over 115 degrees. We felt each and every one. We couldn´t drink enough water. Thankfully, each village has a public fountain where we could fill up our bottles. We needed every drop.
Impressions of the day included fields of wheat as far as the eye could see, surprising fields of lavendar, which made the day aromatic and storks every where. After baking in the hot Spanish sun, I hit an emotional and physical wall about three mile from our final destination, Carrion de Los Condes. When faced with one more little climb, my legs and head said, "no mas!" With Paul up ahead, I found a tiny space of shade behind one of the camino markers and just sat down until I could cool off and gather enough strength to make it up what I prayed would be the last climb of the day. (At the beginning of day or if were not so hot, that climb was just a tiny blip in the road, but given the day´s heat and length, it was enough to stop me in my tracks.) I finally got up and pushed up the hill to see Paul and our final destination just down the road. What a relief!

Day Four Successful!

2007-08-04T02:22:00.000-05:00

The day's ride was another beautiful one. We spent most of the morning on the Camino. Overall, the riding is pretty good. However, it can be a little challenging at times. The gravel Camino is often filled with large stones, making it rather bumpy. Going downhill can be particularly intense as you don't want to hit a stone that's going to throw you over. We only had one large climb on the day. It was three kilometers up a 6 percent grade. The shoulder was very narrow which made it a little nervewracking with all the traffic.This time Paul and I had a plan in case we got separated so we would not be waiting for each other in the wrong places.
We arrived Burgos where it was a happening Friday night. The town plaza was jammed with families and couples walking arm and arm.
During the day's ride, we met some wonderful people. Katarina was an older German woman who was walking the camino. We we also met an older Spanish gentleman from Pamplona who was biking.

Vines, vines and more vines!

2007-08-02T14:00:00.000-05:00

We finished our third day of biking a lot easier than yesterday. However, the morning was hard, due to the news from home. We awoke to hear of the horrifying bridge collapse in Minneapolis. Although it was 12:30 in the morning, I called Leigh (I knew she would be awake) just to make sure everyone was home safe. They were, but it did not lessen my heartache. What a tragedy.
So it was with an emotional weight that I began the day's ride. We headed off for Logrono, where we hoped to lessen some more physical weight. Paul wanted to find some lightweight casual shoes to replace his heavier leather ones. With that task accomplished we headed off to the post office where we shipped ahead another 15 pounds of we consider now excess stuff. (Besides patience and you are not in control, today's lesson from the Camino-you don't need as much stuff as you think!). I was very cocky that I was travelling as light as possible until I had to haul my stuff up hill, I am down to one biking short, three tops, one set of underwear, a toothbrush, camera and Ipod, plus cords. Paul similarly lightened his load.
After the post office, we headed out of town. Leaving is not an easy task as it was rush hour and drivers are not looking for bikes when they are in a hurry. One such driver made a left hand turn right into me. We both swerved hard and very narrowly avoided an early end to my trip. I was very shaken, Paul was mad. He yelled at the driver for not being more careful and wanting him to apologize for nearly running me over. When he wouldn't, Paul yelled at him and then took off after me. Never one to usually back down from a confrontation, I was too upset to deal with the idiot.
We finally got out of town and resumed our riding. The rest of the day was uneventful, if not downright beautiful. Our day was spent in the heart of the Rioja valley, filled with miles of vines as far as the eye could see...vines, vines and more vines. There were also fields of glorious sunflowers dancing in the breeze. We arrived at our evening destination hungry and tired.

What a hard day!

2007-08-01T13:40:00.000-05:00

I knew today would be hard. My memory has not gotten that bad yet. But I was not prepared for how hard it would be. First of all, it´s always hard to get back into the saddle after your first day of riding. It´s worse when you start the day off with a climb. The cool morning air faded fast as we heated up with our efforts to go up a little hill. We opted to go for the road route instead of the pilgrim path, which we heard was very difficult for bikers. We made a good choice.
I was helped in my efforts by my Ipod. Biking along with Aretha Franklin belting out "Respect" gets those rubbery legs going. I made it up the first climb albeit a little slowly but feeling pretty good. That would be the last time.
We stopped for lunch and as we did, the temperature started climbing. Just outside of Estella is a bodega where there is a fountain which offers wine and water for pilgrims. (If you got their website (www.irache.com), you can see pilgrims at their live webcam. We arrived at 1:00 pm (6:00 am back home.) We woke our children and had them go to the computer so we could wave to them! Although we couldn´t see them, it was nice to know they could see us.

By this point, the sweltering Spanish sun was heating up the air like a convection oven. It was hot and there was no respite. Paul and I pushed on, but by this point, my age and lack of conditioning made any climbing impossible. My legs felt like jello and my head feltl like it was going to explode. It was hot. Paul would wait for me at the top of every climb, but all I could do was push my bike. We would take breaks when we could find shade and then push on. But all in all, it was a long day.

Paul made good use of his waits for me by talking to other pilgrims as they passed by, most of them walking. He met a young German gal whose knee was all bandaged. He asked her what had happened and she said she blew it out on her second day of walking. When asked if she had gone to the doctor, she said no. A chinese gentleman, also a pilgrim, applied some needles to her knee. Paul was amazed and asked if that had helped and she thought about it, then said, yes it had!

We ended our day in Viana, a small walled town, after biking 61 kilometers. Viana is famous for being the birthplace of the infamous Cesar Borgia. They are celebrating the 500th anniversary of said birth. There is a museum and such, but our goal was to get our day´s laundry done and head out for a well-deserved glass of beer, wine and dinner. Tomorrow we are going to the post office again and getting rid of more weight. Hopefully, things will improve on the route.

New Notes on Puente La Reina

2007-07-31T15:25:00.001-05:00

I had to add this post because Paul and I had the most incredible meal at our hotel. The food is one of the things we love about our trips to the Iberian peninsula. Spain is just becoming known for its gastronomie. El Bulli near Barcelona is world renowned for its cuisine. While not quite at that level, tonight's dinner was a marvel, especially after today's truck stop working man's lunch.
Tonight, we had a gazpacho that was a perfect blend of flavors. Not too sharp and not too bland. I had a salad of bacalao which is salted cod with balsamic vinaigrette and Paul had solomillo which is a steak. However, it was incredibly tender served with a small slice of fois gras on top and a balsamic reduction and something that was like an apple sauce, but we think was pear and dried fruits (cherries, raisins and dates). As odd as that may sound, everything was delicious. More so were the desserts. Paul chose a dessert which was three scoops of ice cream: banana, chocolate and strawberry with a drizzle of chocolate on the plate. Mine was a tarta de queso, something like a cheesecake, but it was the most incredibly light, not overly sweet or eggy cheesecake I have ever had. It was absolutely heaven. It was topped with a fresh raspberry sauce and fresh raspberries on the side.

Anyway, the reason why I rave so much about the food as we feel that we earn every single morsel and calorie after our hard day of biking. The contrast to the day´s earlier truck stop lunch also plays into my going on and on about our dinner.

The other part of the trip that Paul and I are enjoying is the wine we are being served. Even at the truck stop lunch stop, the table wine we order is absolutely heads above what we have been getting in the States, unless we fork over more than $25.oo a bottle. And even then, the quality is lacking. Anyway enough on the food. Tomorrow is another day.

Some Random Notes from our First Day

2007-07-31T12:57:00.000-05:00

On our first day, when we had all our bike troubles, there were several memorable moments.

The first had to do with our trip back to Pamplona to repair Paul´s bike. As we headed down the valley with our two young rescuers, we were pulled over and quickly waved on our way at a police roadblock. A search was underway for several Basque terrorists thought to be in the area. During the Tour de France, part of it entered into Spain not ten kilometers from where we were staying. The Basque separatist group ETA exploded a bomb on the route. One of their members was recently arrested, but several others were thought to still be in the area, hence the police roadblock. Taking a quick look in the back seat, the police waved us on our way.
Paul finally got his picture of Roland´s monument, something he has wanted to since our last trip. The monument commemorating where Roland sounded his horn for the ignominous retreat of Charlemagne´s army is about two kilometers above Roncesvalles. Since it required uphill biking, I remained in the little square having a cafe con leche while Paul went up the hill to take his pictures. He just made it before the evening fog covered the hillside making nearly impossible to take any photos. Paul said it reminded him of Brigadoon (impressing me with his reference to a Broadway musical-not usually his strong point!)
Other memorable items are the sounds and smells of the camino. The clanking of the old church bells calling the pilgrims to Mass. The church chimes are also quite necessary due to the aforementioned fog. Last year, Paul said that two hikers got lost up in the mountains when the fog rolled in. The bells are used to guide people back to safety, however, they were unable to and one poor hiker died on the mountain. As to smells, well, we are in the country and there is nothing like the strong aroma of cow manure to greet you as you bike along your way!

For more information on the origin of the Camino de Santiago, Wikipedia has a great entry. You can find it at www.wikipedia.org/wiki/camino_de_santiago.

We´re Biking Now!

2007-07-31T12:32:00.000-05:00

Paul and I are finally on the road. We left this morning from Burguette and headed off to our first end point: Puente La Reina.
We could not ask for better weather. The morning was crisp with beautiful blue skies. We started our morning following the actual camino, which is a path that winds through the countryside. Man calls it a path, nature says not so fast. The way was very rough. The trail was barely two feet wide, rutted with shale rocks jutting out and many a tree root. Paul and I humbly walked a good portion of the way, but we were in good company. Many fellow bike riders were having to do the same. Walking pilgrims smugly passed us with a nod of the head and what I considered a smirk escaping their lips. We went about 3 miles in an hour and quickly decided to go to the road instead.
We left the camino at this point, due to recommendations by previous biking pilgrims. We returned to a road we took on our previous journey which went through a magnificent tree-lined valley along the Erro River. While the river itself was small, you could see how it´s efforts over the millenia carved out the valley, slowly but surely. The ride was gorgeous. Along the way, we were passed by quite a few older gentlemen out for their morning exercise, decked out in their finest riding regalia. In this land of Alberto Contador, current winner of the Tour de France, biking is a passion and we saw the backside of quite a few enthusiasts.
Leaving the valley, we wound our way through the countryside which was start to bake under the hot sun. It felt as if someone left the oven door open. Going downhill, besides providing rest for legs after climbing, also provided a cool breeze.
We stopped for a bite to eat at what could only be described as a Spanish truck stop with a homey touch. All the tables were covered in a green checkered table cloth and filled with loud, boisterous working class men taking a break from their outdoor jobs. Spanish meals usually have one price for two courses, bread, a bottle of wine and water and your choice of dessert or coffee. As this was a country-side establishment, the menu consisted of a lot of game or river fish that was a little bit to heavy for the heat. However, Paul and I didn´t want to order just a side salad or something smaller since the place was so busy, so we went for the whole meal. Trying to ride our bikes after such a heavy meal was not the best, especially in the heat. We vowed to go lighter next time.
We stopped quite a few times along the road to take pictures of the many breathtaking scenes we encountered: the vast field of sunflowers, the golden ochre expanse of the recently shorn hay. Nature in all its glory. We couldn´t have asked for a better day to ride after our delay of yesterday.
We arrived to our day´s destination around 4:00 in the afternoon after 7 hours or so of biking. We checked into our hotel, a lovely restored building filled with antiques, stone walls and lots of charm. Of course, we are on the third floor and did not realize there was an elevator until after we hauled our bags up the three flights.
Our first goal was to wash off the road´s dust and get our clothes washed as well. It´s quite a picture to see us handwashing the day´s clothing in the sink (Paul´s choice) or the tub (mine). Once done, they decorate our lovely window looking out on the tiny main street of Puente La Reina. After our chores, we promptly collapsed for a well-earned nap.
Evening finds the air cooling off. We´ve headed down for a beer or two and some dinner, before we turn in for the night.

To Learn More About the Camino De Santiago

2007-07-30T13:52:00.000-05:00

www.en.wikipedia.org/wiki/camino_de_santiago

Murphy's Law Wins Again!

2007-07-30T12:40:00.000-05:00

As much as we tried, all did not go as we had so carefully planned, starting with our flight out of Minneapolis. We were delayed leaving by 2 hours which put our connection to Madrid in jeopardy. We would be cutting it close and even if we did make it, we were not sure our bikes would. When we finally took off, we arrived with a half hour to spare. Several people on our flight were not so lucky and they missed their connecting flights. Once we boarded, we could see our bikes outside getting ready to board as well. However, our joy over making our connection with bikes was tempered by the fact that we were on a flight with dozens of joyful and loud Spanish teenagers returning home after visiting the United States. Any thoughts of sleeping on the plane were gone.
We arrived bleary-eyed in Madrid. After clearing customs, we waited for our bike boxes. And we waited. After a very nervous wait as everyone claimed their bags, our boxes finally arrived. However, there was nary a luggage cart to be had in the terminal and we had to drag our boxes and carry-on bags, not an easy task. Especially since we had to navigate through hordes of loving and large families awaiting the above joyful and loud teenagers. The doors leaving the international terminal were jammed packed and nobody seemed in any particular hurry to finish hugging and greeting said teenagers.
We then had to collect our rental car, so still unable to find a luggage cart (I think they were all in the hands of loving family members collecting the luggage of their joyful teenagers), we continued dragging our bike boxes across the street to the rental car lot. Once we got their, we were told we had to check in back inside the crowded terminal. I waited with the boxes and bags and Paul went in to get the car keys.
Once he returned, we quickly loaded our stuff and headed north to Pamplona, where we would grab a cab and head onto to our starting point and hotel in Burguette. However, once again we waited in Pamplona as said cab never arrived. We kept calling and explaining that we needed a large van to hold our bike boxes and bags, but all we kept seeing were the nice and small taxis. After an hour wait, our cab finally arrived. Our driver was extremely friendly and very chatty. We had a great time talking with him on our way to Burguette, about a 45 minute drive from Pamplona.
Our delays caused us to miss the beginning of the Pilgrim´s Mass, but we did receive our blessing, which we felt would get us off to a great start. We were wrong.
Because we were tired after our long and noisy flight and delays getting to our starting destination, Paul and I had a wonderful dinner and called it a night. We planned to get up early and put our bikes together in the morning and then start our trip. We awoke at 7:00 as planned to collect our bikes, only to discover hotel personnel don´t arrive until 8:00 and they had the key to the garage where our bike boxes were stored. We decided to roll with the punches and go have breakfast first and then get our boxes when they opened. We had coffee at a tiny bakery and met a young man from Tudela who was also biking the camino. We chatted with him for a while and then wished him well on his journey and hoped we might see him on the road.
The office finally opened and we got our bike boxes out and started assembling bikes. Everything was fine until we tried putting on Paul´s chain. Somehow, there was a kink in the chain and try as we could, we could not get it undone. It should have been a simple problem, according to Paul, but it was not coming out. After a frustrating hour of playing with chain, I asked the hotel clerk if there was someone in town who worked on bikes. She pointed me in the direction of local car garage. When arrived after pushing the bike there, the garage was not open. An elderly gentleman told me he was also waiting for the mechanic for his car and he was told it should have opened at 9:00.
While I waited, I played around with the chain, hoping something magical might happen and the knot would come undone, but it didn´t. I then flagged down to biking pilgrim´s and asked if they would take a look. They tried for about 15 minutes but said they couldn´t see a way and had never seen anything like it. I thanked them and wished them well on their journey. After another 15 minute wait, a young man walking by stopped and asked if we were waiting for the mechanic. When we said yes, he informed us that the mechanic was on vacation! I headed back to the hotel to tell Paul the bad news. We asked at the hotel if there were other mechanics in towns nearby and she gave us some names but she didn´t have the phone numbers so we could call to see if they were open. While pondering how to solve our mechanical difficulties, a car pulled in across the street with two bikes on top. I hurried over to ask to see if they might be able to help us. The young man came over and tried but again had no success. They were headed up to the start of the camino in Roncesvalles to drop off their bikes to their friends. The couple offered us a ride to a mechanic if we still needed it by the time they passed by again. They were driving to Vittoria to drop off the car and they offered to take us to Pamplona to find a bike shop where we could repair the bike.
On the ride to Pamplona, this lovely young couple told us they were from Milan and they were doing the camino with another couple. Along the way they would be joined by some friends who would pick up their car. There generosity is one thing we have learned is the norm on the camino and not the exception. We offered to buy them a beer if we saw them back in Roncesvalles when we returned.
We then went in search of a bike shop and found one not too far from where they dropped us off. When the gentleman at the repair shop looked at the bike, he couldn´t figure it out and told us to leave the bike and return after his lunch break in an hour and half. We took advantage of that time to find a post office where we could unload some weight. We shipped some items that we wouldn´t need until we arrived in Santiago, about 20 pounds of stuff that we didn´t need to haul over the mountains. We decided to go back to the beginning at Roncesvalles instead of starting our trip in Pamplona. Paul was on a mission to photograph a monument outside the town which commemorated the death of Roland, as in the Song of Roland. He missed it on our last trip and this time wanted to make sure he was able to photograph it.
We picked up the bike and it was fixed. Hurray! Then, we went off to do some sightseeing in the old part of Pamlona before heading off to the bus station to catch the 6:00 bus back to Roncesvalles. There are alot of pilgrims doing the camino both by foot and by bike. Two buses were needed to get everyone to Roncesvalles. At the bus terminal, we met up again with our young Italian couple who would not let us thank them with a beer or two. They were very gracious about the extraordinary help they gave us. Paul was able to get his pictures of Roland´s monument. After a pilgrim´s meal tonight, Paul and I plan to turn in early and start our trip once more! Next stop, hopefully is Puente La Reina.

We're Ready to Go!

2007-07-27T23:05:00.000-05:00

We've trained hard. Our bikes are boxed and ready to go. We each have one carry on bag and we're ready to head off. If all goes according to plan, we leave Saturday and arrive in Madrid on Sunday morning. From there we will rent a car and drive to the border of France and Spain where we will start our journey. We are staying at the same hotel that we did on our last trip. The place is cozy and has a nice restaurant. We will put our bikes together and then return the rental car to Pamplona and cab it back to our hotel. Hopefully, we accomplish this before the pilgrim's Mass in Roncesvalles. It is a wonderful way to start our trip. We'll keep our fingers crossed that all goes according to plan.

We're Doing it Again!

2007-07-23T16:13:00.000-05:00

Paul and I had such a wonderful time on our Spanish adventure that we are doing it once again. Saturday, July 28th we head off again for Madrid with our bikes. We will be using this blog to keep you posted on our journey.

The Final Day!

2004-06-24T06:31:00.000-05:00

Paul´s dinner in Melide with our four Spanish friends must have been quite an event. I am told, because by this point, I was sound asleep. They went to a local restaurant know for its pulpo...octopus. Apparently, a 70-something year old woman smashes the octopus with a mallet. There appears to be some technique that goes along with this procedure that this woman possesses. Mash it too hard and it´s ruined, not hard enough and it doesn´t taste very good. According to Paul, dinner was actually quite good. And as usual, there was quite a lot of drinking involved. Since I was not there, I became the object of a lot of toasts by our friends. Paul says they bent their elbows quite a bit toasting me. I think any excuse would have sufficed.

The next morning started much like it ended. It had rained all night and showed no sign of letting up. We went downstairs for breakfast. Our friends Fernando, Jose, Jose Maria and Francisco were already eating and trying to decide what to do. They were on a tight schedule. They had to a 7:30 flight that evening out of Santiago back to Barcelona. Jose had a flat tire so they quickly changed it, hoping the rain would let up. It didn´t. With 50 kilometers left to Santiago, they decided to take a bus in, rather than risk their flight. They asked us to join them, but Paul and I begged off. After riding so far on our own power, we did not want to make the last leg of our journey by bus.

We wished our new friends well and said we hoped to see them once again, perhaps in Barcelona. As they took off, Paul and I nursed our coffees while we decided what to do. The night´s rest had done me a world of good. My legs definitely felt better. But I did not relish riding my bike in the pouring rain. We talked over our options. We could spend the day in Melide and hope the weather cleared the next day. However that came with no guarentee. We could just go and try to push ahead. I did not like that option. As we sat without making a decision, the rain started to slow down. We waited another half an hour. The rain appeared to be letting up, so we decided to try to reach Arzua, about 15 kilometers away. We would make a final call there. Once we passed Arzua, there would be no stopping without turning back and neither of us wanted to go backwards.

We packed up our bikes in the drizzle and started walking through town. We stopped at a small store and bought some rain ponchos. I also had a garbage bag with me, so I crafted a rain coat out of it and put it under my jacket and put the rain poncho over my jacket. It did not feel as cool as the day before, so Paul and I pushed off towards Arzua.

The biking did not feel too bad. My legs seemed to be holding out okay. The only problem was on the downhills. When you were moving slowly, the rain felt like a drizzle. When you picked up speed on the downhill, the rain felt like a driving storm. It made it hard to see. Because of the rain, we opted to stay on the road, which I hated. The traffic flew by at un-godly speeds and everywhere were the reminders of those drivers that didn´t quite make the turns. Littered next to the road were the smashed and broken remains of the markers that were supposed to show where the edge of the road lay. I definitely did not feel safe riding along side the road with the occasional hubcap and shattered glass also decorating the journey.

When we reached Arzua, the rain subsided. Paul and I made the call to push on ahead to Santiago. We looked at our map and decided to try some of the camino a little further up the road. We left our point of no return and headed off for the final stretch.

We wound our way through some of the camino path. Although it had rained, the ground was not too soft, so even though it was a little slower going than on the road, I felt a lot safer. I was also starting to have some brake trouble. My back ones were not holding to well and my front one kept popping out. Before every downhill, I had to check to make sure the front brake was attached.

As we rode on, the day actually became rather pleasant. The rain stopped and the sun attempted to break through the clouds. As we peddled on the camino, we passed various pilgrims along the way and wished them a ¨buen camino.¨ The path was surrounded with eucalyptus groves, ferns and ivies everywhere. It was beautiful riding.

We decided to stop for lunch at a little bar by the side of the road, where the camino crossed over. While eating, we met a lovely American woman who was one day away from completing her camino. She had been walking for 29 days and the next day would be in Santiago. We enjoyed chatting with her and hearing of her plans. After the camino and a vacation, she would be spending the next 7 months or so traveling through Asia and other foreign locales. We wished her well and told her we might see her in Santiago and would enjoy a celebratory drink should we see her again.

It seemed as if we only had about another 10 kilometers to go. But it seemed to take us forever. We arrived at the Monte de Gozo, where every pilgrim first sets eyes on the city of Santiago. After more than 10 days on the road, peddling more than 700 kilometers, it definitely was a welcome sight. We spent some time exploring. There was a giant monument commemorating John Paul II and his trip to Santiago in 1993. We also savored the fact that our evening would end with no more biking!

We headed off down the hill. Paul quickly reached the bottom and I gingerly followed as the hill was steep. We turned the corner and reached another downhill. Again, I stopped to check my front brakes and continued on down. However, even though I had connected the brakes, the first time I pulled on them, they popped out! Now at this point, I continued to pick up speed downhill. I had a death grip on the back brakes to no avail. The bike was not slowing down. At the bottom of the hill was a house. To the right was a drop off and to the left, a patch of grass with trees. My only thought was to get the bike to slow down. I dropped my right foot and started trying to drag it to slow down, but my biking sandal kept jumping off the road. I started to turn towards the grass in the hopes that if I had to crash it would cushion the blow. All I kept thinking was how ridiculous to come so far just to crash before I actually arrived in Santiago. I jammed my foot down again and managed to keep it down on the ground. The bike started slowing down. I finally came to a stop. I must say that I have never been so scared in my whole life. That free-falling, out of control feeling was absolutely terrifying. Trying to figure out a way to crash was not something I hope to ever experience again.

I got off my bike and started walking down the hill. Paul was waiting for down some steps. I told him what happened and said I preferred to walk the rest of the way into town.

Our arrival into Santiago was a bit of a let down. The entry into the city was absolutely torn up. The roads, the side walks...everything was one big mess. We were both amazed at how unpleasant the city appeared. With this being a Jubilee year and a record number of pilgrims expected, we couldn´t believe that this would be a year they would decide to do major renovations. We wound our way through the chaos.

We kept looking for the yellow arrows which would land us at our ultimate destination...the Cathedral of Santiago. We finally found the directions for the old quarters of town and made our way through the winding tiny streets. This area started to redeem the image of the city. The old streets were beautiful. We finally wended our way down a large set of stairs under a bridge. We passed a young man playing a bagpipe. As we learned on our journey, Galicia has a very strong celtic background and it is reflected in its music and design.

The bottom of the stairs opened up into a large plaza and as we turned in, we found ourselves in front of the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. We had arrived at our destination.

Samos and On....or not!

2004-06-21T05:10:00.000-05:00

Our arrival in Samos was extremely welcome. We wanted nothing more than a very hot shower and a drink to warm the spirit. On the advice of some biking Spaniards who we had been seeing along our journey, they recommended a lovely casa rural for our night´s stay. These casas are very similar to our bed and breakfast and this one in particular was quite lovely.

We went exploring through the tiny town, whose main focus is a beautiful monastery located in the center of town. As we were walking around, there seemed to be quite a bit of local traffic. The people were dressed to the nines and we quickly surmised there was a wedding at the church next to the monastery.

We continued our explorations and found a tiny chapel. A guide inside explained that it dated back to the 9th century! She filled us in on many of the details of the chapel which was quite simple in its design.

Paul and I decided to go to dinner, but in the meantime, I found an internet local to post and so he had a couple of beers while I wrote my tome of the day. As I was crossing the street to join him, I ran into the four Spanish gentlemen and they asked where we were dining. I pointed to the little bar, which was very working class, and they absolutely insisted we dine where they were headed. It seems the four belong to a bicycle club, of which they are the only four members. They had biked part of the camino 11 years ago and were now completing the last leg of the journey.

We had an extremely enjoyable dinner. There was a lot of food, a lot of laughs and a lot of drinks. As Jose said, Spaniards live to eat! Again, after dinner, there was an argument as they would not allow us to pay for dinner. They insisted. Upon comparing notes, we were headed to the same end destination the next day and Paul insisted he was taking them out to dinner. The evening was late and it was time to turn in.

The morning was cloudy when we left, which made for good biking weather. We followed the road out of town for a while and then decided to follow the camino. It was absolutely spectacular scenery that wound through tiny little farm hamlets. Galicia is very green and also wet. Part of the day was spent in a fine mist but it was not too bad. Although the riding was enjoyable, it was also hard work. Some of the trails appeared to be nothing more than paths for the heavy rain. They were heavily filled with large stones so it was a lot of walking and pushing again. Our morning took a lot longer than expected and we were falling behind schedule. To top it off, Paul had a slow leak in his tire. We kept stopping to pump it up until we could find a cafe or bar for lunch. We finally found one and Paul changed the tire.

Because the trip had been enjoyable but very slow, we found the road and headed into Portomarin. We made a few wrong turns. A yellow arrow usually marks the path of Santiago, but a lot of times it´s like playing "Where´s Waldo" and trying to find that darned yellow arrow. We finally coasted in Portomarin but decided to push on so as to make up some time.

The morning´s ride, however, took its toll on my legs. Rather, I guess the two previous day´s rides had done me in. The ride out of Portomarin was straight up hill and my legs could no longer peddle. I had to push my bike up even the slightest hill. To top it off it soon started raining. With my legs screaming to quit and the rain drenching us, we continued to push on very slowly. Paul would ride ahead and wait at the top of the climb and then gravity would take us down hill. In order to get to our next stop, we still had a long way to go. On those climbs up the hill, my mind kept screaming for us to stop and yet we continued. We finally arrived in Melide, drenched, cold and exhausted. My only thought was a hot bath and bed. Paul went to meet our Spanish friends for dinner. I begged off and after a good hot soak and a muscle relaxant and pain reliever, I promptly went to sleep.

Paul came in later and told me they had a wonderful time at dinner. More later about this later as we are trying to make it to Santiago in a timely manner.

Some miscellaneous notes!

2004-06-19T13:02:00.000-05:00

Paul has been reading these posts after the fact. As such, he wants me to put a disclaimer that if he had been posting, some of the entries would have a decidely different tone, especially those regarding him. My reply...to the blogger goes the history.
I feel there is so much I am leaving out, I hope to add later memorable moments that due to time I haven´t included.
For instance, one image that I will remember always....we were riding into an extremely small village. There was a rather overgrown park with a children´s slide. On a bench in this park was a tiny, older Spanish couple. He was dressed in what looked like his best wool jacket and vest and she had on her dress. At her feet, lay a dog. As they sat on the bench, she was lovingly combing her husband´s hair. How long had they been married? How many times had that same scene played itself out? I´ll never know the details, but I really didn´t need to.
Again, I hope to add many more of these plus, I´m sure many that Paul has as well.
Until later,
Cristina and Paul

What a Hard Day!!!

2004-06-19T12:34:00.000-05:00

Last night, after we arrived for our night´s stop, Paul immediately headed to the bike shop. He had been having trouble again. At the shop, they had to replace nearly all the spokes on his back tire. No wonder he struggled yesterday. The repairs were crucial as we faced our biggest challenge the next day.
Today was probably our hardest day of biking...or rather I should say walking. We climbed over the mountain into Galicia, the last province we will be crossing before we arrive in Santiago de Compostela.
The day started overcast and slightly windy, but we were encouraged that our ride, although climbing, seemed easy. We knew that would change. As we wound our way through the various villages, we passed many pilgrims who were also starting out to the top of the mountain. As we looked up, the tops of the mountains were cloud-covered.
We enjoyed the first part of the day´s ride and stopped to take quite a few pictures. This was fortuitous. As Paul was taking one photo, a few pilgrims were walking by. I like to ask where people are from. One woman answered she was from Barcelona. The next woman looked at me and said she did not understand spanish, so I asked in English and she became very excited! She said she had heard very little English on her journey. When I asked her where she was from, she said Michigan. I told her Paul and I lived in Michigan for a number of years and asked where in Michigan. As one of those small world moments go, it turns out she hailed from Ann Arbor as did we for many years. We spent quite a while talking to her and marveling that we passed her home on a daily basis and many time while riding bikes with the kids downtown. We probably attended the same church and yet here we were next to a field in the middle of Spain and just now meeting. Quite an incredible experience. We wished her well on her journey, she expected to take another couple of weeks to her journey´s end, we hoped to finish in a couple of more days.
As we headed up the hill, the climb started to get harder. I told Paul I would meet him at the top and off he rode. It became apparent that I would be walking up and pushing my bike. The grade was too steep and I could walk faster than I could bike. At some point, the walkers took a different path. I continued on the road and soon found myself alone with my thoughts. Since I´d been listening to myself for quite a bit on this trip already, I decided to pull out my cd player and listen to some music. I brought along some Led Zepplin to help on the expected arduous climbs. Unfortunately, my batteries were dead. Back to my own thoughts.
I took my time pushing up the hill. At one point, I was passed by a couple peddling up the hill. They waved, wished me a "Buen Camino" and promptly disappeared up the road. There were many memorable images as I climbed....passing a cow by the side of the road. She willingly posed for a picture next to my bike. Looking back and watching the valley disappear gave me some hope the top was just around the corner. Several kilometers later and I was still pushing.
As I climbed, the temperature was dropping decidely. It was an interesting constrast. I was extremely hot and sweaty and yet it was getting colder and colder. I finally reached a point where the road was starting to disappear into the mist of the clouds. Probably a low moment for me because at that point, I didn´t know how much higher I had to push. At one section, I could not see the road any further than twenty feet in front of my bike. I felt like I was in Brigadoon and when I came out through the mist on the other side, my bike would turn into a donkey and I would be in medieval times doing the Camino. (Perhaps you can surmise now why I would rather listen to Led Zepplin than listen to my own thoughts.)
Anyway, the climb eventually ended. The cold did not. It was a bone-chilling mist. At the top of the mountain is a very old village that must be quite beautiful in good weather. I found Paul in a nice warm bar and he told me he had to walk up as well. We stopped for a short while and then wanted down the mountain as quickly as possible to some warmer weather. That is a double-edged wish. To get down the mountain quickly is to experience frigid wind-chill. It was horribly cold.
We have arrived at Samos, our destination for the night. While it was probably one of our more shorter journeys, it was also our most challenging. It is time for dinner and then off for a good night´s and well deserved rest.

Cristina and Paul

We are Passed the Half Way Point!!!

2004-06-16T12:44:00.000-05:00

It is absolutely incredible. We have reached the halfway point of our journey. Paul and I are enjoying two much needed days of rest in the city of Leon. We are staying within the old quarters, which is filled with tiny streets, lots of outdoor cafes and bars. The large Gothic Cathedral sits on top of the hill of this section of town and just fills the sky. It is huge.

The above graph was written while we were enjoying a two day rest in Leon. I then spent another hour writing down a lot of descriptions of our trip. As I went to post, it vanished into the ether. Since the locutorio was closing and it was time for dinner, the post was lost until today. I shall try to recreate our impressions, but it is so difficult to remember the many images and impressions of this glorious trip. Suffice to say that it has been one of the most amazing experience we have both shared.

I just re-read what I had posted previously, so to update...last time I posted, we were in Santo Domingo de la Calzado splurging at the Parador. It was a beautiful state run 4-star hotel that used to be a pilgrim hospital and way station that was just spectacular. It is reported that St. Francis of Assisi passed and stayed there on one of his many journeys. My strongest image is of sitting on the bidet in the beautiful marble bathroom handwashing clothes in the tub.
In all these small villages, Paul and I enjoy arriving, washing off all the dust from the day´s journey and heading to the plaza for a cool drink. I think it is our favorite time of day. Paul says any future vacation, doing the same thing will pale in comparison after this trip because we won´t feel like we earned that drink! We definitely find it to be so enjoyable and relaxing after a hard day´s ride.
At this point in our journey, we started traveling on the camino itself, often a dusty backroad filled with stones and rocks. It makes the traveling more challenging, but we have also started seeing more and more peregrinos (pilgrims). Most of them are walking, but we have also started meeting others who are biking like we were. As Paul is in better shape, he tends to ride on up ahead and it´s nice to travel where there are others. This is helpful especially when I´ve had trouble with my bike. Leaving Santo Domingo, I stopped because I had dropped my ring. Of course, my bike fell over. After I picked it up, something was wrong and I couldn´t get it moving. As I was fiddling with it, two young men stopped and asked to help. They determined that the brake lines were all messed up and had frozen the brake on the wheel. The problem was quickly fixed. It turns out they were Brazilian and also biking the Camino. They rode up ahead and told Paul and I soon caught up.
There are many nationalities along the camino. We have met people from Holland, Scotland, Australia, Germany, Japan as well as many French and Spaniards. It is fun to stop and try to chat with people, most of whom speak very little English or Spanish. Most of the time, it becomes a wave of the hand and a "Buen Camino".
During this part of the journey, Paul and I had a miscommunication that caused us to get separated....he kept on going up the hill, I thought he was waiting for me in the next village. As I waited down below, he was waiting at the top. I finally started pushing my bike up the hill...it was a steep grade with very little shoulder and lots of fast moving trucks. At the start of the climb, there had been an accident earlier in the day...a truck lost control and plowed over the guardrail, spilling its entire load of fruit into a ravine. Needless to say, I was not thrilled about walking 3 kilometers up hill, but the camino path was even more arduous, so up I pushed and I figured Paul and I would connect somewhere. At the top of the hill, the camino path was just off the road so I quickly rode to join the path where I knew I would see people. As I was taking a small break, two Spaniards rode by and stopped to ask if I was okay. I explained I had lost my husband somewhere. One of them looked at me and shrugged and said, ¨that might be a bad thing or it might be a good thing!" That gave me a good chuckle. We started riding down the trail, which was just spectacular. They soon outdistanced me and I traveled down the path alone. As I was passing a walker, he turned and asked in halting English if I was Cristina. He then explained that Paul was up ahead on the trail and would meet me at the next stop. As I rode along several people did the same thing. Paul and I met up at a tiny little way station with a bar. He determined that while I was waiting for an hour at the bottom of the hill, he was waiting at the top. In any case, all ended well with a quick beer.
Our journey´s end for the day was in Burgos, a wonderful city that we had visited before. On our way into the city, we met up with the Brazilians again and traveled together. They liked to chat with us, which Paul and I found funny because we told them we didn´t understand Portuguese. That didn´t faze them in the least. They kept right on talking...in Portuquese. Somehow, we found our way to the center of town. Paul wanted to by them a beer but they were going further on. Perhaps we´ll see them in route to Santiago.
After our miserable second day, traveling could not have been any better. The winds were at our backs, it was terrific cycling weather...cool enough but not too cold. As we left Burgos, the scenery started changing. The verdant wheat fields waving as the wind whispered on them started turning amber and honey-colored, the ground ochre and rust-colored. The hills started to vanish and everything flattened out. Because the riding was so good, we changed our plans. Instead of taking three days to reach Leon, we did it in two. We spent two days covering more than 200 kilometers.
Our midpoint to Leon was a tiny little town called Carrion de los Condes. There were ran into another couple we had been passing on the road, Juana and Antonio. They were a lovely spanish couple who was doing the camino for the second time. The first time, they did the route called the Via de Plata (or the Silver Route) which comes up from the south. They started their journey some 500 kilometers before Paul and I did and were mountain biking the entire camino. That night in Carrion, we shared a wonderful dinner of local specialties and great bottle of wine. After dinner there was a small argument because they insisted on paying for dinner. Paul and I argued to no avail. We asked them to join us in Leon for dinner, our treat. Juana said we should not feel obligated to return the favor. I explained it was their obligation to allow us to entertain them. Unfortunately, we did not see them once we got to Leon, but we hope to somewhere along the road to Santiago.

In Leon, we spent a much needed day of rest. It was nice to be able to sleep in and not have to jump on a bike. On our first night, we shared dinner with two American couples we also spent time with in Burgos. Paul had been sharing emails with Charles regarding our journey and we found we would be along the path at the same time. Charles was traveling with his companion, Anna, and friends Dwayne and Mina, who were on their honeymoon! The next night, Paul and I had the most wonderful dinner in a little plaza in the old gothic quarter of Leon. As hard as we try, we never seem to be able to start our dinner before 9:00 at night. Rested up, we left Leon with the realization that we were starting our most challenging part of the journey.
As we left Leon, the amber fields started to change to back to rolling hills that were untilled. The wind was not so favorable and the heat was starting to rise. The day´s journey was shorter than previous days but definitely starting to get more challenging as the road started to climb. Many of the people we started our day with finished in Astorga, but Paul and I pushed on to Rabanal del Camino, a very tiny village at the base of our first long climb into Galicia.
We continue to be amazed that people actually live in some of these villages. Many of the houses look abandoned or on the verge of collapse and right next to them, you will find a home that looks lovingly cared for with a new door and flowing flower pots on the balcony.
Rabanal del Camino is a very tiny village with not much more than two hotels and a hostel for Pilgrims. It is very easy to see how it is a way station along the way for pilgrims. The first set of mountains looms over the village. Our hotel was quite striking, but it seemed almost cruel that after a long day of climbing, our room was on the third floor, with no elevator. Once we got to our room, we discovered that it right under the roof and we had to watch our heads or we would bump them into the sloping ceiling.
This morning, we started our first challenging climb up the mountain. The tilled fields are no more and instead, there is lots of scrub brush and wizened trees covered with lichen. I gave Paul permission to head to the top, I would get there when I could. Off he went with a group of other cyclists to the top of the mountain. I, in turn, took my time up the road. There were many pilgrims who left from Rabanal that morning and I passed them on the road. I stopped to walk with an older German woman we met the day before. This was her second time walking the camino. She said the experience was much different this time because her chakras were in orange and red and that meant she was much more grounded. I just found it amazing that she would walk it twice!
The ascent was gradual so I was able to ride up almost the entire way, which surprised me. Paul discovered once again that he had bike trouble. For the second time, he had broken a spoke and his brake had been rubbing the wheel the entire time up. Because we were headed down, he didn´t want to fiddle with the brake, but definitely needed to have it fixed before our really big climb tomorrow.
At the top, we spent time enjoying the view and a rather post with an iron cross at the top. Tradition has it that you leave rocks at the base of the cross with your names or wishes for good luck. Paul and I left four sandstones with Jack, Leigh, Tom and Peter´s names etched into them. After a few pictures, we heade down the mountain. Many people urged caution as the descent was steep and winding.
After the hard climb, it was exhilirating to fly down the mountain. We stopped along the way to take lots of pictures, the scenery was just breath-taking. We passed through some more beautiful villages, stopped for a beer and a snack and finally ended our trip in Villafrance del Bierzo. It´s a beautiful village at the base of our next climb. It reminds me almost of a swiss village. Many of the houses look like chalets. Right on schedule we arrived in time to shower and head down to the plaza for some cool refreshments. Tomorrow could be a challenge, it´s an 11 kilometer climb. Hopefully, at the end of the day´s journey, I´ll find a ciber-cafe so I can post again. Until then,

Cristina and Paul

Day Six - Brief Update

2004-06-15T06:40:00.000-05:00

If you are waiting for updates...Paul and I are fine. It´s hard to find Ciber-Cafes as they are called here, so this is brief just to say that all goes well. We hope to reach Leon tonight for a two-day rest and will post more on this incredible journey. The fact that I am still pedalling is a miracle in itself. But more on our trip later.

Paul and Cristina

Days Two and Three on the Road

2004-06-12T12:14:00.000-05:00

As we settle in our evening in Santo Domingo del Calzada at the end of our third day of biking, Paul and I are both amazed that we have come this far. Yesterday, we started our second day of biking in Puente La Reina, both feeling a little optimistic that the journey would be not too difficult. That thought was quickly dispelled. Before leaving for the day, we went to the Post Office to forward about 18 pounds of weight. It´s amazing what you think is absolutely necessary when you start the journey, but as you start hauling it the hills, the thought quickly becomes dump it all! We got on the road around 10:00 in the morning as the post office did not open until 9:00. Thinking we should do better with less weight, we crossed the bridge out of town to face a huge climb. Turns out, it was harder than either one of us could manage so we ended up pushing our bikes for several kilometers up the hill. People driving by would shout words of encouragement.
As in Minnesota, this is road construction time and there was a lot of truck traffic. They are building a new highway. At one point, a worker told me to expect a loud noise but to not get scared. What an understatement. They were blasting the hill with dynomite! It´s hard not to jump when you hear the explosion. Every turn, I kept hoping would lead to a flat section or better yet a downhill. As we trudged up the hill, Paul further ahead of me, the sun was already blazing and we were both dripping wet. It was pretty discouraging when this tiny, little and old Spaniard passed me by riding his bicycle up the hill. However, he urged me on and just ahead, he stopped to tell me the end was in sight and the downhill was just around the corner.
The downhills are exhilarating! It´s a great time to rest your legs. The sun was starting to take it´s toll and I quickly finished my first litre of water. We took a small break at the Bodega of Irache which is next to a Monestery. The Bodega has kindly put a fountain for the pilgrims. One side has water and the other side has wine. They allow you to drink your fill but not to take any for the road! At the monestary, we met two young French girls who were also biking. Our conversation was in broken English, French and Spanish. After our break we headed off down the road.
We saw very few pilgrims as we were taking the main roads rather than the trails. At the bottom of the downhill ride, we pulled into a village and stopped for a beer. We met two Finnish couples who were walking the Camino for the second time. They were done for the day, we had to push on. We bought more water and then headed once again straight up hill. For the second time in the day we found ourselves pushing our bikes up the hill. At this point the sun was straight up in the sky and brutally hot. I finished my second liter of water by this point. As we trudged into Sansol, Paul was hurting from dehydration. We found some shade and tried to cool off and get some water down. We eventually pushed off, but once again found the climb too difficult to ride so we once again started walking. Then, just to keep things interesting, it all of a sudden started raining. At first, it was sprinkles but pretty soon it was a downpour.
From the blaring sun to pouring rain, with thunder no less, I think we both were wondering what the h*** we were doing.
Once we got to the top, it was a terrific run downhill, but I was nervous about slipping on the wet pavement, so caution was required. We eventually made it to our stopping point in Logrono. As we pulled into the city, I clumsily hit a curb and took a tumble off my bike. No real damage other than a few more bruises to add to my collection, plus the great embarrasment of falling in front of a large group of tourists.
We walked into the old quarters of town and stopped at the Albergue, the hostal for the pilgrims. There we collected our stamp on our passport to show we are making the pilgrimage. We then headed off to our hotel. As we entered the main plaza by the cathedral, a large festival was under way. It had a medieval theme and was just packed. There were jugglers and all sorts of entertainment and food. Apparently, we had the good fortune of arriving in town during a rather special day. The only problem was Paul and I were so exhausted we just wanted to get to the hotel and head in for the night. We did manage to head out for another beer. We grabbed something to eat at the festival, had an ice cream and then called it a night.
Paul had a suspicion something was wrong with his bike, because he exerted alot of energy biking and on the downhills, his bike would slow down considerably. This morning, we went in search of a bike repair shop. We found one open and the owner told us we were very lucky he was in because everyone was on vacation. He spent a good half hour tweaking our bikes. Turns out Paul´s front tire was rubbing on the brake. No wonder it was hard for him to bike. When we asked how much the charge was Chema told us no charge. We were rather embarrassed he would not take payment for his services, but he told us any hand labor was a gift from God and he could not charge pilgrims for the service. He asked us to send him a postcard when we arrived safely in Santiago, which of course we will do. He showed us a folder filled with postcards from all over the world from people he helped.
Today, due to the bike repairs, we got off to a later start than we wanted to but today´s trip was shorter than the previous one. Today, we opted to try traveling on some of the walking trails. It turns out they were not too bad and in fact, the scenery was absolutely beautiful. The trails cut through spacious fields of grape vines, wheat, beans etc. We finally started running into some pilgrims. One was a young girl from Germany. We also met a Spaniard from Madrid. He was walking until he got to Burgos, our next stop, and then he was taking a break to go back to work. He planned to continue his journey in October.
It was nice today not to hear the roar of traffic in our ears. It was peaceful and what we pictured our journey would be. Today was also a much easier journey. There were only a few spots where we had to walk as the hills were too much for us. Once again, I took a tumble off my bike. I think my legs get too tired to release from the clipless pedals. Anyway, over I went and this time I gave myself a huge bruise on my calf. I think people are starting to stare at all my bruises. First, at me and then at Paul. Some of the older Spanish women shake their heads and purse their lips.
Tonight, we ended our trip in a small village called Santo Domingo del Calzada. It´s a quaint town and we´ve splurged and are staying at a Parador, a rather luxurious hotel. We are off to dinner and then rest up for our trip tomorrow, which is a longer trip than today.

Hasta luego,
Adelante and Ultreya,
Cristina and Paul

Our Spanish Adventure....We're so Cutting Edge!!!

2004-06-03T01:26:00.000-05:00

Paul, Leigh and I went to see Shrek 2 this past weekend and Paul and I got a good chuckle about the suave Spanish Puss in Boots, voiced by that handsome Spaniard Antonio Banderas, commenting that he was the best cat burglar in all Santiago de Compostela...which is our final destination on our Spanish biking trip.

Then, in the wee hours of this morning as I surf the web, I see this picture on the Drudge Report with the following caption....

Wed Jun 2,12:55 PM ET

President Bush (news - web sites)'s daughter, Jenna, right, walks with unidentified friends on a pilgrimage to the holy city of Santiago de Compostela, northwestern Spain, Wednesday June 2, 2004. Jenna and her friends started the estimated 112 mile (180 kilometer) pilgrimage last Saturday and are expected to arrive in Santiago Thursday after completing 19 miles (30 kilometers) a day. (AP Photo/EFE, Lavandeira jr)

Are Paul and I on the cutting edge of popular culture or what!

Paul and Cristina's Marvelous Spanish Adventure!

2004-06-03T01:00:00.000-05:00

Well, it's less than one week before Paul and I head off to Madrid with bikes in tow to start our 400-mile bike ride across Spain.
I have created this blog page so I can share our experiences with our family and friends. We are both so incredibly excited about this amazing journey. I am still dumbfounded that I even agreed to do this, considering my exercise routine has consisted of only a morning two mile walk.
For those of you we haven't talked to in awhile, our trip follows the Pilgrim Path called the Camino de Santiago or The Way of Saint James in the northern part of Spain. As we love visiting the country, we felt this would be a unique way to experience some old and new places.

The following description of the Camino de Santiago is taken from this website:

http://www.jrnet.com/travel/articles/santiago.html

"Santiago (St. James), the patron saint of Spain and the first Christian martyr, is buried in Santiago de Compostella at the northwest tip of the Iberian peninsula. The Apostle James was beheaded in Jerusalem in 42 AD, and legend has it that the remains were transported by his disciples to be buried here. Stories of the discovery of the Apostle's tomb in the 9th Century brought pilgrims from around Europe, and the "Camino de Santiago" - Road/Path/Way to Santiago - soon became the most important Christian pilgrimage of the Middle Ages.
While there are many paths to Santiago, four major routes developed starting from Tours, Vèlezay, Le Puy, and Arles in France, to cross the Pyrenees at the Somport or Roncesvalles passes, joining together at Puente la Reina in Navarra (near Pamplona) to form a single path across northern Spain to the saint's shrine at the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostella. The Spanish part of El Camino de Santiago (which is the route we are taking)runs some 800 km (500 miles) from the Roncesvalles pass through Puente la Reina, La Rioja, Burgos, Leon and finally crossing Galicia to Santiago. The Road to Santiago is a fantastic tourist venue for hikers, bikers and walkers. The Road crosses some of the country's most spectacular landscapes, and is dotted with beautiful Romanesque and Plateresque churches, chapels, and monasteries.
A proper pilgrimage must be made on foot, bicycle or horseback - the pilgrim has the use of free hostels along the route (We of course are staying in hotels,since we are on vacation after all!), and gets his pilgrim's passport stamped along the way and certified at the Cathedral in Santiago. Whether you plan to do a proper pilgrimage or not, the Road (or just about any a part of it) is a great way to see Spain, and enjoy the Camino's period architecture, shrines, villages, countryside, and hospitality."

Paul and I have been doing some training rides around the Twin Cities...literally around the Twin Cities to get ready for this trip. We've been doing a 48-mile loop, around both downtown Minneapolis and downtown St. Paul, which is longer than any one leg of our trip. Of course our success will depend heavily on being able to do this for 12 consecutive days!!!
We have planned this on our own and will be carrying all our supplies and clothing on our bikes. For those of you who know me or have travelled with me, you would be mighty impressed to know that my entire wardrobe fits in two gallon-sized zip-loc bags with room to spare. With a few assorted odds and ends, that's all this clotheshorse is taking to Spain. (I am thinking of treating myself to a little shopping spree in Madrid when we finish, as of course, I hope to be fit and toned after this workout.)
I also figured out doing this blog and writing my entries in a cyber-cafe while drinking a glass of Rioja or Sangria would lighten my load since I wouldn't have to carry a journal! Every ounce is gonna count as I peddle my a** across Spain. Check in often, if you'd like. I hope to post daily and add pictures of our journey so you can follow along vicariously!

Adelante and Ultreya!!!

Cristina and Paul