Chris and Chris Break Free

From Najara to Granon (32 km ….by bus)

At 6:00 am I am awakened to the sounds of the French group getting ready. I can´t believe I have slept through the entire night and I wasn´t even wearing my earplugs. I remember waking up during the night when the guy on the bunk above me dropped his pillow and I saw him leap, yes leap off the bed, pick up his pillow and then leap back onto the top bunk. Why use a ladder when you can leap like a frog. I thought the whole bed was going to collapse on top of me. But I went back to sleep right away after that.

I lie in bed listening to everybody getting ready. I am in no rush as I have decided not to walk today. Instead I will take the bus to Granon. I have struggled to make this decision but my feet are no better today and I know I must stop walking to let them heal. Pauline had mentioned Granon was a lovely location to take a rest and that is why I am heading there today.

The French group leaves at 6:30, followed shortly thereafter by ¨Leap Frog¨. Now there is only me and the young man in the bunk next to me. I can tell he is awake but he is not getting up. I am waiting for him to leave so I can have the place to myself, but now I realize he might be doing the same of me. Almost at the same time, we both get up and start to get ready. I haven´t spoken to him before, but I know he is Spanish speaking. I don´t feel like being social, still coming to terms with taking the bus.

I notice he is sitting on the edge of the bed, massaging his ankle….and then I hear it….sniffles. Oh no, not again. I just don´t want to deal with anybody today. I try to pretend I don´t hear him and continue to get ready. I don´t look at him again, but soon I can´t ignore the sniffles. I turn to him and ask him kindly if he is ok. I am hoping he will say yes. But no, he says he is not ok. He has sprained his ankle and cannot walk. He does not know what to do. We must be out of the room by 8:00 and there doesn´t seem to be any medical facilities close by. I tell him my feet are very bad today and I am taking a bus to Santo Domingo at 9:00, hopefully from there to Granon. His face brightens: There is a bus to Santo Domingo? And you know where to get it? Ah, yes, I just spent my afternoon yesterday at the damn bus station, so yes, I know where it is.

Well, he´s happy now that he has a solution, and suggests we have breakfast first before we hobble to the bus station. I have a new friend, Alexandro who I learn is from Catalina. Turns out he speaks not a word of English andbut someone we manage to communicate with my pitiful Spanish. At the bus station, we run into another injured pilgrim, an older Italian man (Valentino) who has a bandaged knee. I invite him to join us as we are the injured pilgrims taking the bus to Santo Domingo. It must be true that misery loves company because all of a sudden this has turned into a little party and we are all smiling again.

Injured pilgrims waiting for the bus – all smiles now that we’re not alone.

In Santo Domingo, I discover the bus will let me off at Granon so I stay on, but Valentino and Alexandro are heading to the church and then to seek medical help. We wish each other a Buen Camino.

The bus drops me off on the side of the road next to a sign that points to Granon in 1 km. I hobble into town and head to the church where they run a ¨hospital for pilgrims¨ where they tend to the physical and spiritual needs of pilgrims in equal measure. It is run by volunteers on a rotating shift of two volunteers for two weeks at a time. The bedrooms are spread out over three floors at the back of the church. Each room is large and contains floor mats lined up along the walls, butt up to each other. No bunk beds, but no personal space either. There will be a communal dinner at 8:00 tonight and mass at 7:00 but this is optional.

I do my laundry from the day before and then head to the little restaurant for a bite to eat. I just sit down when who do I see strolling up the street in her bright red t-shirt and bouncy gait, it´s Pauline. She spots me and once she has settled in and found her mat she joins me for a drink and some food. We get caught up again. She tells me about how beautiful the walk was to Azofra, in fact, it was the best part of the Camino for her. I am happy for her, and glad that she had her solitude in which to enjoy it fully. Turns out Chris was there last night and he had dinner with Pauline and Ronnie and Noel. I hear he is doing much better, walking quite strongly. Lucky him!

Laundry facilities in the rafters of the church.  
The washing machine was off limits to pilgrims.

Unusual sleeping arrangement.  I was happy to have my
sleeping mat for some extra cushioning and my cosy down sleeping bag.

I am surprised to find Eleanor and Sinead (the Irish nurses who had helped me a few days ago with my feet) have turned up at the church today, and they are sleeping on the mats next to me! They are in bad shape today, but it is self inflicted pain I soon find out. They tell me the tale of the previous night when they hit the town in Santo Domingo, celebrating a party of a fellow pilgrim. They finally staggered back to the convent at 3:30 am, long past curfew (yes, they were staying at the convent while having their shananigans). Sinead insisted on removing the crucifix above her bed as she couldn´t bear looking up at Jesus in her state only to find him looking down at her, tut tutting her with reproach. These girls tell a great story and they had me laughing my head off.

From left to right: Eleanor, Sinead, myself and Pauline

Sinead is recovering nicely with her steady supply of water just like a drip.

Eleanor and Sinead stay hydrated while the rest of us are drinking beer.

I have a nap later in the afternoon and I am surprised I can sleep in spite of all the noise and commotion. I think my body needs the rest and I´m certain the two large beers from earlier had nothing to do with it.

Before dinner, everyone who wants to can help in the preparations although most of the heavy lifting had already been done. I cut olives for the salad, my big contribution to the meal. Dinner is simple but delicious – salad, boiled eggs, tuna, omelette, stewed vegetables, bread and wine. Before we eat, the volunteers lead the way in a rhythmic tapping of the table and clapping for a few minutes – it´s kinda strange but joyful at the same time. Then we all dig in.

Nela, the Polish volunteer, taking care of the last minutes details before serving.

There was a surprise after dinner. It was one of the volunteer´s birthday (Nela) and a cake has been prepared for her. Everyone is asked to sing Happy Birthday in the language of their country so as each country is called out, the song is sung, over and over again in different languages: German, Dutch, Italian, Spanish, Danish, Finnish, Korean, Japanese, French, English and many more. Nela was moved to tears. Earlier in the day, she had told me her Camino story and it was a sad tale. Her son had died three years earlier at the young age of 28. My son, Andrew will be 28 this summer and I couldn´t imagine life without him not now, not ever. My heart went out to her. She said her faith in God was tested by this as she believed everything had a reason, there was a purpose to all things that happen to us. So she went on the Camino last year, starting in this village of Granon. And now she was back volunteering. After dinner, she told me that she had not celebrated her birthday since her son´s death, so tonight was very special for her. It was very moving.

After dinner there is a prayer service open to one and all. I don´t know why but I decide to attend. It is held in the church choir which is lit by candles that are placed on the arm rests of the choir chairs. Everyone is given a pamphlet in their language. The service begins with a few minutes of silence for reflection and then a pilgrim with a guitar plays a haunting song that echoes through the church. Next, we are all asked to read a passage from the pamphlet.

At this point, my heart is racing and I don´t know why. I am even trembling inside. I try to breathe deeply to regain some control but instead I almost start to hyperventilate. When it is my turn to read, my eyes are watery and my voice quivers.

Next they light a red candle, the Pilgrim´s candle, and turn off all the lights. As the candle is passed to each pilgrim, we are encouraged to express ourselves in any way we wish: silence, words, music. When it is my turn, I am a wreck. I know what I want to say, but the words don´t come out. I can barely breathe. I have no voice. I say my words silently: I lost my faith many years ago, and tonight I am feeling that loss acutely. I pass the candle on.

At the end, we all stand and hold hands and then they recite a prayer, I think it is the Lord´s Prayer, everyone saying it in their own language. I remain silent. We are then encouraged to hug our neighbour and wish them a Buen Camino. I am choking with emotion and leave the church as soon as I can. I walk around the town which is quite deserted. I don´t know what has happened in that service and it has rattled me.

I am reminded again of being a Jehovah´s Witness and of the trauma of leaving that religion. In choosing to leave that religion, I lost my entire social network, it seemed like my entire life was taken away from me. I have not spoken to any of these former associates, including family members in over fifteen years. When I left that religion, a thick wall formed around my heart, impenetrable with regards to religion and faith and God. I lost my faith in God and even came to the conclusion that there is no god.

To this day I envy people who have faith because I know how comforting your faith can be especially when going through difficulties. I also know how much strength can be drawn from your faith. But I have lost my faith.

I don´t know what to make of this evening so I will just accept that it has happened, that it is yet another experience on the Camino. Who knows what else the Camino has in store for me……

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From Navarrete to Najara (16.2 km)

I wake up feeling so refreshed after the best sleep so far on the Camino.  I slept solidly until 7:00 am and now I lounge in bed for another half an hour, not quite ready to give up the luxury of this bed and this room.  But, not everything is going my way: my feet are killing me, worse today.  I decide to wear my socks and hiking boots, I am desperate for some relief.

I have a late start, it´s after 9:00 before I get walking.  Pauline and I walk together for the morning.  Every step hurts.  It feels like a nail is piercing the ball of my left foot every time my foot strikes the ground.  I am going slow and I know I am holding Pauline back but she insists on walking with me.

This morning, I meet the French nurses who I met on the way
to Los Arcos a few days ago.  They are surprised
and sympathetic to see that my feet are still a mess.  

I pass acres upon acres of vineyards.

When we reach Najara, I simply cannot walk any further.  We stop to assess the situation.  As I am sipping on my large, icy cold beer (there is actually ice floating on top), I notice a bus station across the street.  I decide I will take the bus the 6 km to Azofra and Pauline will continue on alone.  We will meet in Azofra and share another private room.

I spend two hours at the bus station, asking every bus that stops if it goes to Azofra.  Seems like the buses to Azofra run in the early morning and early afternoon only.  There are no more today.  I am also next to the taxi stand but not a single taxi shows up all afternoon.  I am so frustrated.  It is only 6 km away and I cannot get there.  I really don´t want to stay in Najara as it is a fairly large, busy and noisy town.  Finally, I accept my fate.  I must stay here tonight.  I feel I have let Pauline down, imagining her waiting for me in Azofra.  And wondering if I will have a chance to explain to her what happened.

I end up in what I consider to be an awful Albergue. It is really no more than two rooms, 4 bunks in each with a shared bathroom.  It is right on the noisy road.  I feel so discouraged, but my feet are too sore for me to consider any other options.  I think I have hit an all time low on the Camino today.

After a shower (but no laundry as there are no facilities) I head out for food of which there is no shortage of options.  Restaurants are offering the pilgrim´s menu for 8-10 euros.  I decide to eat dinner alone, my first time really alone on the Camino.  I just want to be by myself and sulk a little.  There is a French group staying in my hostel and they invite me to join them but I decline.

The first plate of a typical Pilgrim’s Menu.

The second plate from a typical pilgrim’s menu.
Dessert is also included – a choice of pudding, fruit
yogurt or ice cream. I usually opt for the ice cream. 

I am happy to find an internet cafe where I spend the rest of the evening until the shop below closes around 9:30.  I am buoyed by the comments on the blog and the emails of encouragement that I am receiving. I like reading Chris´entries as well to see how he is doing.  I don´t feel so alone anymore.  But my enthusiasm for the Camino is at a low.  Just when I was starting to believe in the magic of the Camino, that things happen for a reason on the Camino, I can´t understand why I am stuck in this place all by myself. It makes no sense to me.

When I get back to my room, I am surprised to find the other 6 pilgrims fast asleep, and it isn´t even 10:00 pm.  I slip into bed quietly and fall asleep.  It has been the toughest day so far on the Camino.

I couldn’t help but notice and appreciate these beautiful, fragrant
roses today.  Roses grow abundantly in every imaginable color
along the Camino. 

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From Torres del Rio to Navarrette (33.1 km)

Weather is my friend on the Camino today, at least in the morning.  I get a really early start this morning, on the road at 6:00 am.  It is overcast, cool and breezy.  Perfect walking conditions.  My feet are a mess again and the Compedes and bandaids keep falling off.  I don´t know what to do.  I slowly get into my rhythm and I get used to the pain, it becomes part of my day.  Still, I am in good spirits today, feeling strong and with high energy to burn.

My feet are a mess and the bandaids keep falling off.

I run into Laila early on and walk with her for a while but for the most part I spend the morning walking alone.  I reach Viana at 8:30 and stop for a much needed coffee and I rebandage my feet.  I decide to wait until the shops open at 9:30 to see if I can find a poncho.  It looks like rain today and I would feel better if I had a poncho, just a cheap plastic one that I can throw away later.  I am lucky and I find exactly what I need in a store that reminds me of a dollar store back home – lots of cheap stuff from China.  I also find a little pair of scissors that will come in handy for cutting up bandages.

Typical place to stop for breakfast.  
I bought my poncho just down the street from here.

These pebble paths torture my blistered feet.

Approaching Logrono: a small city, in the distance.

I reach the suburbs of Logrono around 11:00.  It is another 4 km to reach the centre of town.  As I enter the city, I hear lovely female voices coming up behind me.  I turn to see three young girls singing happily in harmony.  They look like they have been friends for a long time, perhaps school chums.  Or maybe they just met this morning on the Camino.  Who knows?

As they pass me, I get choked up with emotion…again, out of nowhere.  I am thinking about friendships, especially female friendships, and how much I miss them.  I think of my two days with Pauline and realize it has been a long time since I have talked with a woman like that.  I think back to the time when I did have close female friends.  Back when I was a Jehovah´s Witness.  I lost these friends when I chose to leave that religion and I realize how this has been missing in my life since then.

I´m a little teary eyed when I hear a voice call out behind me:  Look at those fancy walking sticks!  I turn around to see Pauline coming up behind me.  We walk together into Logrono and I tell her about how I was feeling.  I express my appreciation to her for her friendship.  In the centre of town, we decide to take a rest and have lunch together.  Pauline treats me, she insists.  She has come from Viana today and tells me about her encounter with Javier, the boy who I walked with yesterday.  She was able to offer him some ideas of how to move forward, concrete ideas like European programs offered to young people to help them learn a language and to get some job experience.  She was also moved by how lost he seemed.

Logrono is a bustling city.

Of course there is a marker in the sidewalk to show
the way through the city. 

I decide to continue on to Navarrette with Pauline, another 10 km, even though my feet are very sore.  They feel the same as the morning so I d on´t think I am making them worse.  The sun comes out shortly after we set out and we are roasting on the long, hot walk to Navarrette.  Pauline entertains me with stories.  She is a great story teller, bringing the characters and situations alive with humour and vivid descriptions.  I am dragging myself for the last 2 km and she pulls me along patiently.

A beautiful park on the other side of Logrono,
with an interesting Camino marker to show the way. 

Leaving Logrono, I passed by some ugly industrial areas.
The free standing (unsupported) vineyard
in the foreground intrigued me. 

Although she has a reservation already for a private room in an Albergue, we decide to share a private room with two beds.  The offer of privacy, quiet and space is well worth the extra five euros each.

At dinner, I am so surprised to see Chris show up.  He joins our table and eats his meal with us.  Another Irish couple shares our table, Noel and Ronnie.  Noel is a few years older than me and he has recently gone back to school to study Archaeology, his passion.  He talks about doing his Masters afterwards.  I am inspired as I listen to his story: a sadly all too familiar story of someone who has dedicated his life, 38 years, to his employer only to be named redundant when he should be looking forward to retirement.  He has turned that misfortune into a blessing as he now pursues his passion, with the support of his wife, which I think is amazing.

Chris and I catch up with each other´s stories.  I hear about Chris´shoes and I tell him about the people I am meeting.  I must admit I have somewhat mixed feelings running into Chris today.  I am happy to see he is doing well, but I am also feeling greedy to guard my precious solitude.  I know that I lack warmth in my greeting to Chris and he must feel it.  This chance encounter stirs a lot of feelings within me and I am surprised.

But now it is late, and time to get some sleep.  Plenty of time to think about things on the Camino tomorrow.  Now I want to enjoy our lovely room (which by the way Pauline generously offered to give to Chris, but I insisted we keep things as they were – sorry Chris!) and hopefully have a good night´s sleep.

A nice change from dormitories and bunk beds.

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From Los Arcos to Torres del Rio (7.6 km)

I am a mother on the Camino today.

I sleep in until 6:30.  Me feet are feeling better but they are still tender.  I think today should be a rest day and enquire to see if I can stay for another day.  Yes, but I must leave for the morning when they clean the Albergue. Well, it has been raining all night, thunder storms in fact, and it is still raining this morning.  It is Sunday and nothing is open so what would I do and where would I go for the morning?  Even the church is closed until 3:00.

So I decide to walk to the next village, only 7.6 km away, nice and easy.  I take my time this morning.  The Albergue offers breakfast for an extra three euro – all the coffee you can drink and delicious home made ryebread, just like my mother makes, with butter and jam.  Ahhh, a taste from home.  I enjoy three cups of coffee, leisurely.  I visit for a few minutes with the Irish girls but they are heading out early, 7:00, undaunted by the rain.  Alex is going slow today too so we start to chat over our coffee.  We end up having a rather interesting conversation about yoga and meditation and energies, just what I needed.  She is only 23 years old, but is very grounded and seems much wiser than her years.

Breakfast with Eleanor (left) and Sinead (middle),
the Irish nurses and Alex (right) from the US.

As I start to pack up my stuff, I notice Javier, the young lad who gave me the lower bunk, is still hanging around.  I´m surprised as it is usually the young people who are first out the door.  He seems sad to me and I ask him a couple of times if he is ok.  Then he asks if I am walking and if he can walk with me.  I´m quite surprised.  Why does this young lad want to walk with an old woman like me?  As we pack up our gear, he offers me his Compeeds which are a necessity for bad blisters.  He says his feet are perfect so he doesn´t need them.  He refuses to accept money for them, even though I know they are expensive.

Javier and I are the last ones to leave this morning.

And so we set off together.  He is so sweet and offers to switch packs with me because my pack is heavier.  Of course I refuse the offer.  He speaks about as much English as I speak Spanish so I think we´re going to have a pretty quiet walk.  In short order, we take a wrong turn and a Spanish lady directs us back to the pack.  I must pay more attention!

As we continue to walk, I notice he is teary eyed.  I ask him is he is ok, and he replies he has allergies.  When I offer him some medicine, he admits it isn´t allergies but he is really sad.  I tell him that if he needs to cry, just go ahead and cry.  I don´t mind.  And so he cries.  And cries.  After he tells me what is bothering him.  What I get from his story is that he is estranged from his mother, he is unemployed even though he has a university education (PhysEd teacher), and he is still hurting from his parent´s recent separation.  There is a lot weighing on this lad.  I can´t offer any words of wisdom because I simply don´t have the language skills.  All I can offer is empathy, sympathy and a shoulder to cry on.  I think it is what he needs.

And then we get lost, again.  This time, we have no idea which way to go and nobody is around.  Luckily a tourist drives by, sees our confusion, drives a little further and then turns around to come back to us.  ¨I saw pilgrims in the village that way,¨ he tells us, even offers to drive us.  I am tempted but it is only a couple of kilometres away.  He has done his good deed for the day.

Detour from the Camino – this way to the town with pilgrims.

As we approach the town, I suggest we get a cool drink.  It is then that Javier discloses he is broke.  He had started the Camino with a girlfriend who has since left him to party and she had the money.  He has 50 cents to get to Logrono where his uncle lives.  I buy him a drink and give him all the food I have in my pack.  I´m stopping soon and don´t need it today.  He is moved to tears with gratitude.  This boy is such a lost soul, my heart really goes out to him.

At the restaurant, I run  into Agnes and Schushan,
the Hungarian girls.

A few kilometres later, I reach my destination and we say our good byes. He kisses both of my cheeks and thanks me for being a mother to him today.  I slip him 5 euros (my kids will laugh when they read this  – this is something my mother would have done 🙂 and wish him well.

I check myself into an Albergue – it´s big and seems to be attracting all the young people.  Little do I know that all the old people have gone to the one down the road….well, no one sent me the memo, how was I to know?  After settling in, I decide to walk around the little village to see what it has to offer. It is Sunday and everything is closed.  But pilgrims are coming through in hordes and I look to see if I recognize anybody.  First I see Daniel, the young lad from England who had joined our dinner party a few days ago.  And then, lo and behold, Pauline shows up.  She stops to have a coffee with me so we can catch up on the past few days.  She has lots to share as she has been up to some ¨shenanigans¨ as she puts it. She has me laughing my head off with her stories.

Home for the night. These beds were pretty rickety
and creaked every time someone moved. 

View from the bedroom window. Later, this road
was busy as pilgrims passed through the town. 

She has given me permission to share her funniest story.  I hope I do it justice.  When she was in Pamplona she decided she was going to skip curfew and stay out all night, along with two other Pilgrims, a couple of 40 something year old guys from Belgium and Austria.  The plan was to stay out all night and then go back to the Albergue when it opened up at 6:00.  Well after a night of drinking and dancing they all got tired in the wee hours of the morning and decided to try to get back into the Albergue which of course was locked up tight.  But there was an open window which one of the guys hoisted Pauline up to.  As Pauline pointed out, they were completely pissed but had the wherewithall to empty their pockets of change so as not to disturb their fellow pilgrims….but they couldn´t remember where they put the change.  Anyways, Pauline got in through the window and rummaged her way through the house to the front door: it was padlocked and there was no way to let someone in (how´s that for a fire hazard!).  Anyways, the other guys had to hoist themselves up through the window too.  In the morning, Pauline overheard another Pilgrim tell the story of a vivid dream he had where he swore he saw someone come in through the window and stand over him….It was all Pauline could do not to laugh.

After coffee, Pauline heads off to Viana, 10 km away.  And then I see Laila, my other friend on the Camino.  Later, I go for a big lunch and end up eating it with an older man named Roger, also from Ireland.  It was a quiet, thoughtful lunch, which I really enjoyed.

I spend the afternoon lying on my bed, writing in my journal, just resting my feet as my nurses had ordered.  I am anxious to get on the computer to let everyone know how I´m doing, especially Chris who I haven´t talked to since day 2.  That computer has a voracious appetite for euros….I spend 7 euros and only post two days.

I hang out with the other pilgrims who are all young people full of fun. They don´t seem to mind having an old lady hanging out with them and I notice how much I am enjoying myself in their company.

My dinner is a simple affair as I´m not very hungry after that big lunch.  I buy a half dozen eggs and boil them.  I eat two for dinner along with a piece of bread and some of my salami which seems to be lasting forever.  Delicious!

My dinner tonight.

I buy some fruit, an orange and an apple for just 80 cents in the Albergue store.  Now, along with my remaining boiled eggs, I have food to get me started in the morning.

I am feeling great.  My feet are healing nicely and I feel rested and ready for a good day on the Camino tomorrow.

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From Cerauqui to Los Arcos (35.6 km)

Sore feet are my companions on the Camino today.  I get up around 6:00 which seems to be the norm now and I make two crucial errors before I even begin to walk.  First, I toss one of my water bottles into the garbage.  So far I haven´t used it because water is plentiful along the Camino.  Why carry the extra weight? Second, I decide to wear my wool socks with my sandals to give my feet some extra cushioning….what was I thinking?

At this point I have problems with both feet: a blister that is just festering on the bottom of my right toe on the right foot and pressure spots on the inside of each foot, on the bone just below the big toe.  Each step hurts but after awhile it just becomes part of the walk.  I am deluded into thinking my feet are not as bad as I had originally thought.

The scenery is beautiful today as I pass through vineyards, gentle hills, fields of wild flowers.  The terrain is easier too thank goodness.  But it is stinking hot and humid.  By 8:00 the heat is almost unbearable.

Elizabeth, the Swiss women I met last night, is ahead of me.
She is a fast walker and I can’t catch up.  I give her a nickname today:
she carries a large umbrella on the back of her pack
and she sings as she walks.  She reminds me of Mary Poppins
and I’m sure she’s going to just fly away at any moment. 

I am not in a very good mood today.  There aren´t many pilgrims around so I am stuck with my own miserable company, no one to distract me from myself. Of the few pilgrims I meet, no one seems to want to talk.  Maybe I´m not the only one in a bad mood today.

I love these markers on the ground as I pass through towns.
Each is so original like this one with the cyclist on the side. 

I walked behind this group of nuns all though a small town.
They were carrying palm leaves in their hands. 

When I reach Estella, I find a large grocery store where I buy a sports drink similar to  Gatorade and I down 500 ml on the spot.  I know I am dehyrdated and almost immediately start to feel better, even my mood starts to improve.  But I don´t think I´m really thinking straight because I´m looking for a plastic poncho and ask at the grocery store which doesn´t have one.  As I´m filling my water bottles with the sports drink, I see a camping store across the street and think that would be a good place to buy camping supplies.  Doesn´t even occur to me to go there to find my poncho.

I then pass a commercial winery that has kindly provided a water tap for Pilgrims to refill their water bottles, AND a wine tap.  Yes, a tap that dispenses wine.  Well, I fill up my water bottles with water as I know I will need it for the walk ahead, but fortuitously, I have just finished drinking a coke and have an extra bottle on hand.  So I fill some wine into the bottle and drink it slowly.  Not bad.   I only have a few sips because I still have a long way to go.

Enjoying just a taste of wine in my coke bottle at the wine fountain.

The first 13 km have gone by very quickly today, but as the sun gets higher in the sky, I go slower and slower.  I am plodding along like an old work horse and keep saying: slow and steady wins the race even though I know this isn´t a race.

Just past the wine fountain, I find this old church that
offers an escape from the searing heat.

Inside the church, I find I am alone.  I set down my pack,
take off my shoes and rest for a while. 

This is what I´m thinking about today:  I am noticing that with all the people I am coming in contact with, some attract me and some repel me.  I actually feel an energy emanating from some people – both positive and negative.  Now, I´ve heard about the concepts of energy and chakra and such things and honestly have been rather a skeptic about it all.  But now I´m actually feeling the energy of people.  It´s really weird and hard to explain.  I´ll give you a couple of examples.  A couple of nights ago, when I was in Cizur Minor, I had to pick a bunk out of about 25.  There was a handful of people already occupying beds and I was instinctively drawn towards a bed next to a woman called Layla (yes, this is the Layla from Denmark who was part of our dinner party later that night).  I felt a peacefulness about her and a soothing energy from her.  I immediately took the bed next to her and we have become good Camino companions ever since.

Here´s another example.  Last night after dinner, I returned to my room and when I entered the room I immediately felt a negativity in the room.  I was shocked because the room had felt so peaceful earlier.  And then I saw three new women had arrived and were creating a bit of commotion as they were settling in.  They spoke a language I did not understand, and they were talking loudly and harshly.  Their presence had altered the energy in the room. And I felt it strongly!  I have no idea what to make of all of this and I hope I find someone to talk about it because this is so foreign to me.

Ok, let me get back to the day at hand.  I arrive in Villamayor de Menjardin at 1:00 pm feeling in very good spirits (maybe that wine and the sports drink helped a little).  My feet are feeling bearable but maybe I´m just used to the pain by now.  Regardless, my body feels strong and I am not tired in the least.  I must decide: do I stay or do I continue on to the next town 12.3 km away?  I estimated it would take me just over 3 hours and I figured I could do it so off I went.

I am surprised to see Elizabeth is ahead of me
just outside Villameyor.

I could have stopped here and saved myself a lot of grief.

When I reach a sign that said 9 km to go, my confidence waivers.  My feet are starting to hurt in new places and the sun and heat are relentless.  There is no shade on this stretch of the Camino and it feels unbearable (later I find out it is 38C not including humidity).  One kilometre later, I must sit down and find the courage to take off my socks and assess my feet.  I don´t want to do this.  I am afraid of what I might find.  Sure enough, my baby toe is a bloody mess and new blisters have formed on both feet.  I look around at my beautiful, serene surroundings and can see up and down the Camino for miles – not a soul in sight for many kilomtres.  I am alone, alone with my messy feet, and 8 km to go.

It’s a long, lonely road with no shade, no pilgrims, just me and my blisters.

After feeling sorry for myself for a few minutes, I snap out of it and get to work with my medical kit, bandaging things up as best I can.  At this point two pilgrims show up, seemingly out of nowhere, two French ladies, a little older than me.  They stop and show real concern.  They only speak French. One is a nurse, how lucky I am.  She looks at my feet and what I am doing and says I will be ok, just go slowly.  There is nothing really she can do to help me.   But they do tell me where they are staying, they say it is really nice, and offer to phone ahead to make a reservation for me.  They are concerned that I will arrive so late that there will be no bed for me in town.  I actually decline their offer, maybe a little too rigid for my own good, as I am quite adamant that I want this Camino of mine to just happen, without any planning.

At this point, I decide to put my hiking shoes on, don´t ask me why because I don´t know what I was thinking.  Maybe I just wasn´t thinking straight at this point.  Anyways, I have to empty out my entire pack to get my hiking shoes from the bottom and I put my sandals in the bottom and refill my pack.  Within a few steps I know I have made yet another mistake but I just don´t have the energy to empty my pack again…I just want to keep walking and be done with all of this.

It is now about 4:00 in the afternoon and I am suffering under the blistering sun (haha but it really wasn´t funny).  As I hobble along in pain I wonder why I pushed myself, why couldn´t I just be content and stop at the last town.  Why do I always need to do more?

By now it has been several kilometres since the last water tap and I am starting to run low on water. Why, oh why did I get rid of that extra water bottle in the morning?  Now I need to ration my water so I devise a system to figure out how far I am going before I take a drink: 100 steps equals 10 meters.  I am trying to do math to figure out how much water to drink ever half kilometre.  Why do I resort to doing math when things get really tough, aren´t I suffering enough already?

I am relieved when I finally see Los Arcos in the distance.  I am out of water
and food.  My last snack was an hour earlier when I remembered I still had
the chocolate bar from Italy (remember, Chris gave it to me in St. Jean Pied
de Port).  It was completely melted and I ate it with my spoon – chocolate soup. 

Finally I reached the town at about 5:45 pm.  I had been on the road for 11 hours.  I must have been delirious at this point because I don´t stop at the first Albergue.  No, I decide to search out the ¨nice¨ Albergue the French ladies are staying at which happens to be at the other end of town.  When I get there, they have one bed left.  Normally, I accept the bed sight unseen, but something didn´t feel right in this place and I asked to see the room first.  Maybe it was the lady who grabbed my walking sticks covetously and kept saying how nice they were.  She showed me the room (without relinquishing my walking sticks) and it was awful – small, stuffy, full of people and their stuff.  I say no thanks.  She hangs onto my sticks as we walk back to the office and then she shows the sticks to her husband and then her elderly mother who proceeds to get up and walk around the room with them, admiring them tremendously.  I am convinced if I stay herethat would be the end of my walking sticks.

Next I go to the Municipal Albergue where I find they have plenty of beds in the dormitory which holds 30 bunk beds spaced six inches apart.  No thanks.  What is wrong with me?  Can beggars really be choosers at this point in time?  So I walk back into town (haven´t I walked enough today) and check on of the last two hostels.  The first is completely full, not even a corner on the floor to spare for me.  I then drag myself back to the first Albergue at the entrance to the town (I´ve probaly walked an extra 2 km at this point) and now I´m certain they will be full too.  I am encouraged when I walk in and find two girls in front of me getting beds.  Sure enough they had beds.

When I walk into my bedroom, there are six bunk beds and all the bottom bunks are spoken for.  As I check out my options, a young lad in front of me asks me in Spanish if I prefer the lower bunk.  Of course, I reply.  Before I know it, he has moved his stuff to the top bunk and I have the lower bunk.  I am moved by his kindness.  Turns out the two ladies who came in before me and are also in my room, are from Ireland, AND they are both nurses. After showers and laundry, they help me patch up my feet and give me strict orders: no more than 20 km tomorrow.  And then they invite me to join them for dinner.

Dinner was a hoot.  The Irish girls (Eleanor and Sinead) are so much fun! We are also joined by Alex from the States who I immediately like.  We wolf down our Pilgrim´s dinner and even eat extra ice cream.  We are so hungry.

Back at the hostel, we hang around the common area for a while, enjoying good conversation.  We finally hit the sack close to 11:00.  Another good day on the Camino!

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From Cizur Menor to Cirauqui (24.4 km)

Solitude is my companion on the Camino today.  I begin my day again at 6:45, seems to be a pattern now.  I start out alone and after walking for half an hour I pause to take a brief video to introduce my day – something I am doing each morning.  I am feeling really good today physically.  My feet are healing nicely and my hip has no pain.  But as I introduce my day on video, I get all choked up with emotion, out of nowhere.  I am so surprised. Before I know it, I am sobbing and I cannot stop and I don´t know why I am crying.  I cry for a good half hour as I continue to walk, thankful I have the path to myself just when I need my privacy the most.  I realize this emotion stems from a feeling of intense gratitude that I am on the Camino alone. For the first time in my life since childhood, I have no one to take care of but myself.  No husband, no children, nobody.  And even more, now others, like Pablo at the Albergue yesterday are reaching out and extending kindnesses to me, which I accept humbly and with gratitude. Receiving and accepting care from others is foreign to me – I am usually the caregiver. Being on the receiving end has touched me profoundly.  What power a simple act of kindess can have!

After such a good, cleansing cry I feel myself in a rather contrite mood, and ready for a confession.  I will not beat around the bush but will get right to the point.  On day 1 of the Camino, I stole a knife from the Albergue in Orisson.  At the time I rationalized my act.  First, I needed a knife to cut my cheese for the day and did not think there would be a place to buy one.  It was a necessity for me.  Second, it was a cheap knife, one of many, it would not be missed.  Third, I felt the Albergue was overcharging and therefore taking advantage of the pilgrims.  Two euro for a small 400 ml bottle of water!  That is thievery!  Regardless, I stole the knife.  I am now a Pilgrim and a thief.  And I didn´t even feel bad about it.  Even when I confessed my sin to Pauline the next day, I felt no remorse.  But today, all of a sudden, I feel regret.  I wish I had not done it.  I do not feel guilt, just regret like I have a blemish on me that I would like to remove, but I cannot.  Nothing can be done about it now.  And so begins another stream of philosophical thinking for the day which I will share with you.  The idea of being a good person which I like to think I am.  In fact, my personal motto in life is ¨do good for goodness sake alone¨.  Yes I know, this is a far cry from my thieving ways on day 1.  Still I think I am a good person.  Doesn´t everybody want to think of themselves as a good person?  But aren´t we all equally capable to doing bad things?  All of a sudden the whole notion of being a good person seems ridiculous.  Are we not all simply human, struggling each day to do good but sometimes we end up doing bad things too.  Perhaps this is the definition of being human.  Anyways, that´s as far as I got on that thinking.  But at least I got that off my chest. I hope you don´t hold it against me.

I saw lots of windmills today perched in elegant rows
on top of the hills.

I think windmills are beautiful in their simple,
streamlined design.  I love what they represent too:
creating energy from a renewable resource. 

During this time of deep thought, I was aware of the changing landscape.  The Pyrennees (I don´t know how to spell this correctly and it is bugging me!) foothills are giving way to gentler hills and the grazing livestock are being replaced by cultivated fields.  Fields of poppies remind me of Tuscany.  A windmill farm graces the distant horizon. I see an autoroute in the distance and I hear the sound of traffic, something new on the Camino. I observe how the people on the autoroute may be going to the same place as me but they are missing out on so much along the way – the smells, the sounds, the landscape.  Time even moves more slowly on the Camino.  I keep saying in my life:  time keeps marching on and I want it to stop or just slow down for a while.  Perhaps I have stumbled upon the secret to receive my wish.  Should I pattern my life after the Camino, to slow down, give myself more time to think, more time to socially interact with others, to be more in tune with myself?  Maybe then time will slow down to a more acceptable pace.  I don´t know but this is what I am thinking on the Camino this morning.

Fields of poppies rival the Tuscan countryside!

Taking a break along the way.

Another Camino marker embedded in the sidewalk
in a town so we don’t lose our way. 

On the way to Puente la Reina; there is a church in every town.

It’s hard to get lost if you pay attention.
Can you see which way I should go?

By lunch time, I arrive in Puente la Reine feeling really good.  No pain in my hips today and my legs feel really strong.  My feet are still a little tender but nothing I can´t ignore. I rest inside an empty church to escape the searing midday heat and sun.  It´s so stinking hot outside, it is almost unbearable.  A little old lady comes into the church and says her prayers.  She gets up to leave as I am heading to the door.  She insists on opening the door for me and as I pass her, she grabs my arm with purpose and wishes me a ´Buen Camino´.  I am touched.

Making my way through Puente la Reina towards the church.

I seek refuge from the heat in the cool, peaceful church and
meet the old lady on my way out. 

I love the neat and tidy gardens along the way.

This is the first time I have seen artichoke growing in a garden
I see a lot more throughout the day.

Leaving Puente la Reina.  After I took this photo, I realize
I have left my walking sticks at the fountain on
the other side of the bridge.  I run back and am relieved
they are still there. 

The Camino is desserted as I continue to walk in the afternoon.  I guess everyone has stopped early because of the heat.  But I am feeling good and think I can keep going. There is no one in sight ahead of me or behind me for many kilometres.  I am completely alone.  I hope to reach Lorca today but it is a long way off.  There is no shade, no wind, no relief.  But I continue, my spirits high.  I am enjoying my solitude today.

And then I reach a hill that just about does me in.  I call it the killer hill.  It seems to go on forever and ever.  It is so steep in places.  I am feeling light headed and I don´t think I can take another step.  But I have no choice but to put one foot in front of the other.  I feel desperate.  I start to count my steps and allow myself a rest after 100 steps.  I stop, lean my head on my walking sticks and catch my breath.  Then I begin again, 1, 2, 3, 4 and so on.  Out of nowhere, three people approach and then they pass me.  How can this be?  I am ready to pass out and they are walking by like this is nothing to them.  I realize I must be dehydrated but there is still nothing I can do but put one foot in front of the other.  At the top of the hill, there is a large flat stone under a single tree offering some shade and a little breeze too.  I drop my pack to the ground and collapse on the rock, and lie there for quite some time.  Finally I get up and continue on to the next village, now just a kilometre or so away, but I do not know this.  When I arrive in Cirauqui, I must climb up a hill to the middle of the village to find the only Albergue in town.  Thankfully, they have a bed for me.

Just after the killer hill, I see this town in the distance.
I zoom in for a closer look….. 

…bit the town is still a long way off.  I decide this is where I will stay tonight.
Why is the Albergue at the top of the hill in the middle of town?

After a shower, and doing my laundry by hand (the usual routine now), I actually lie down to rest.  I even fall asleep for awhile. Later I get some groceries to replenish my provisions and then eat the Pilgrim´s menu at the Albergue.  I share my table with an Irish couple and a woman from Switzerland.  She has been walking from Geneva since early April and is going all the way to Santiago when she will meet her daughter and continue to Finisterre at the coast.  I begin to tell them my story about dinner the night before and she stops me.  She has already heard the story.  She met Daniel at lunch time who told her the story about meeting four women in a grocery story and lucking out on the best dinner he has had in a long time (and the cheapest too).  It is a small world on the Camino.  I talk about the killer hill coming into town and I am met with blank stares.  No one but me found it so difficult.  So strange.  I also see my Hungarian friend, Agnes at this Albergue.  She has met up with another Hungarian girl, Zsuzsa (Susan in Hungarian).  I talk with them for a while before going to bed.  They tell me their stories and I share a little bit of mine.  Such is the Camino way.

Home for the night.  You can see my laundry in front of my green towel.

Lots of bunks – mine is the lower bunk on the left.

Our pilgrim’s dinner was served in what was once a wine cellar.
Elizabeth is to my right, and the Irish lady is across from me. 

It has been a challenging day – emotionally and physically and I crawl into my bed still feeling gratitude for being on this journey.

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From Zubiri to Cizur Menor (25.2 km)

It is day 6 and I finally have Internet access again and time to write, but the internet is expensive (one euro for twenty minutes) and I have so much to share.  The keyboard is strange too so please forgive all my typos as I am typing fast.

On day 3, advil and tylenol are my friends on the Camino.  I didn´t have a very good sleep again and I awake feeling physically tired.  My leg muscles are a little sore but not too bad.  I decide to wear my hiking sandals today to give my feet a chance to breathe.  It has been so hot!  It was a good decision as I have no problems with my feet today. The blisters from yesterday filled up again with water so I resort to a trick I read about on a Camino forum, to pass a needle through with some thread and leave the thread in to allow the blister to drain.  I hope it works.

I head out around 6:45 am, a few minutes ahead of Pauline, my Irish friend.  We both decide to walk alone today.  I need to channel my low energy into walking and not so much talking.  I also feel the need to think about some of the things I have been talking about these past two days.  I spend the entire day walking alone except for the occasional greeting and a few minutes of friendly banter here and there.

Since nothing was open when I leave so early in the morning, I resort to my provisions in my bag: a banana, some stale bread, and a few pieces of salami.  It is enough to get me started.  I reach the first open restaurant at 10:30 am.  By now I am quite hungry even though I have also eaten an apple and some nuts along the way.  My breakfast costs five euros which buys me a large coffee, a toasted ham and cheese sandwich and yogurt.  It is enough.

My breakfast stop.  Yes, that is Pauline in the background.
Although we walked alone, we both ended up here
for coffee at around the same time.

The scenery this morning is changing.  We are still in the foothills of the Pyrennees but today I have passed factories and noisy highways.  The vistas are still breathtaking even with the human intrusions.  Today there are two accidents along the camino, within a few minutes of each other.  First, a guy wipes out on his mountain bike going down a steep hill and really does a number on his knee.  It is full of gravel and very bloody.  Several pilgrims stop, including my friend Pauline, to help him get cleaned up and bandaged.  Less than five minutes later, I see an older gentleman sitting on the side of the Camino with a bloody forehead.  Just before, there was a large, low hanging tree that we had to bend under to pass.  He was reading his book and walked right into it.  His wife and another Pilgrim had the situation under control and he was clearly embarassed and did not want a fuss to be made over him.

The scenery isn’t all beautiful today;
the sight of this large factory rudely intruded on the
picturesque landscape I’ve been enjoying.

This morning I am thinking about what I want to do next with my life.  I have an idea of something I want to do, and it is not a new idea either.  It would take me many years of study, perhaps 7 – 10, to realize this dream.  Today I grapple with the philosophical question: at 50 (almost), am I too old to start something new, to pursue new dreams and aspirations?  Aside from the practical logistics like funding the whole venture, is it sensible to embark on a new path at this point in my life?  Should I even care if it is sensible and just do it because it is my passion?  Pauline mentioned an accelerated program in England that could help me reach my dream within just three years and this has my mind spinning with possibilities.  I come to no resolution, but notice how excited I am just imagining what my life could be like.

This is the first memorial I see to remember
a pilgrim who died here on the Camino.
It is sobering to see this and I wonder
about the circumstances that lead to this.

There is a wonderful sense of comaraderie on the Camino.  Everybody says hello to each other as they walk by.  In the evenings, it is quite a lot of fun in the Albergues.  Last night, 4 of the 8 people in my room were Irish and I went to sleep listening to the Irish lilt of their banter as they were clearly not ready for bed at 10:00 pm.  I thought I would find communal living in dormitories to be annoying but I am quite enjoying myself.  But I must admit that getting woken up at 3:00 am by loud snoring is quite irritating especially when I have such a hard time getting back to sleep (damn my insomnia).  For now, I enjoy the novelty of it all.

An example of a water fountain from which to fill my water bottles.
Water is plentiful on the Camino so far. 

Today I walked through my first large city, Pamplona.  It was strange to walk from one end to the other.  The Camino was beautifully marked with a silver disc carrying the Camino symbol (a shell) embedded in the sidewalk every fifteen feet or so – impossible to get lost.  I am treated with respect wherever I go. I am a Pilgrim afterall. People wish me ´Buen Camino´.  I am touched.  Pamplona has a beautiful historic centre which attracts plenty of tourists. It was just buzzing with commotion when I arrived.  Other than peaking into the Cathedral, I simply pass through the town, determined to reach the next little town about 5 km away.  I find being in the bustling city to be rather disruptive to my Camino pace.  I do, however, take advantage of the amenities and stock up on bandages and a notebook to write a journal when I don´t have internet connection.  I eat my lunch on a park bench on the way out of town – I eat a little every hour or so.  It is too hot to eat a big meal at lunch.  I look forward to the Pilgrim menu tonight for supper when I know I will be starving.

The Camino marker on the sidewalk lead me through Pamplona.

A glimpse of the cathedral in Pamplona.

Another beautiful building in Pamplona; maybe I’ll come 
back another time to explore this historic town. 

The Camino passes through pretty city parks as I leave Pamplona.

I find the Camino to be physically challenging today, not because the terrain is particularly difficult, rather my old body is tired and quite frankly resents another day of walking.  My right hip started to hurt early in the day and by mid-morning I started popping pain killers to cope.  I think it is just inflamed, not injured, so I am not too worried about it.

I reach the Albergue in Cizur Menor around 3:30, tired and sore.  This Albergue is associated in some way with the Order of Malta and is run by a volunteer, Pablo.  I am greeted warmly and told to take my pack off, sit down.  Pablo offers me, and every other Pilgrim who arrives, a cold glass of orange juice and a cherry.  I am touched to the core by his kindness and almost burst into tears.

I find myself in a dorm with many beds, about 25, but spread out over several rooms.  I choose a bed next to a girl who I learn is from Denmark, Layla.  She asks me if my husband is on the Camino. Apparently she walked with Chris for alittle while the day before.  I haven´t seen Chris since Roncesvalles and I am glad to hear he is doing well. Remember the mother – daughter pair we met when waiting for our train to St. Jean Pied de Port?  Well I ran into them at the church in Pamplona and they had just seen Chris settled into an albergue closeby.  So I know he is staying in Pamplona tonight.   I am just a few kilometres away.

My bed for the night.  I was lucky tonight, no one took the top bunk.

I am so happy I pushed on to Cizur Menor as it is quite peaceful here with lovely views of Pamplona and the countryside and best of all I learn that Pablo offers breakfast to Pilgrims in the morning, for free.  It´s been another wonderful day on the Camino and in my journal I think I am ending my entry for the day, but it is not over yet.  By the way, I wrote this journal entry from the comfort of a lounge chair in the church across the courtyard from the Albergue, also the Order of Malta.  Imagine, someone has put a row of comfy chairs behind the stiff pews – it was wonderful.

And so let me continue my story of my evening on Day 3.  I hope I haven´t bored you so far with too many details but I want you to share in my happiness from the day.  I meet another girl, Agnes from Hungary, who says she does not have very much money and would like to cook dinner tonight in the Albergue, which has a very good kitchen. Would I like to join her, and Layla too?  We agree to check out the grocery store to see if we can conjure something up.  At the store, we meet Daniel a young student from England and Rihoko from Japan who listen to us talk about our dinner possibilities.  They both ask if they can join our dinner.  So now we have a dinner party of five.  We make our purchases and it costs only 3.60 each, including two bottles of wine.  Very good for the budget which I seem to be blowing each day.  Bandaids are very expensive here!

We prepare dinner together: pasta with tomato sauce with pork sausage, a large garden salad full of fresh vegetables, bread and wine.  There is so much food that we eat until we cannot possible take another bite and there are still leftovers.  Daniel packs a lunch for tomorrow and Layla and I pack some salad.  We all share the left over bread.  What a grand (the Irish are rubbing off on me!) way to end my third day on the Camino.  In case you haven´t noticed, I am having the time of my life.

We all pitch in to prepare our feast.

We’re ready to eat (and w’ere all starving)
but we pause to capture the moment.

The view from the kitchen window: Pamplona in the distance.

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