Monday, July 30, 2007
Murphy's Law Wins Again!
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 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.
Friday, July 27, 2007
We're Ready to Go!
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.
Monday, July 23, 2007
We're Doing it Again!
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.
Thursday, June 24, 2004
The Final Day!
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.
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.
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