Cap'n's bLog

Stage 9 is complete. 14 miles of mainly gravel roads. Our blisters have blisters. We took inventory of our aches and pains coming into town. The summary report is that my right elbow doesn't hurt. We have blisters and rashes and bruises and Clare is getting over a cold and Amy is developing one. Today in a small village outside a café where we enjoyed café con leches x3 Amy performed minor surgery on a mega blister. Manners and discretion have been discarded just like all non-essentials in our packs. The Spanish word for blister is pupa. It's pronounced poop-ah (💩Ah). We are going Old Testament on this pilgrimage. Tomorrow's forecast calls for a 100% chance of locusts. After back-to-back 30+k days we only went 25k but it felt like 26. Most of it was on dusty gravel roads but we passed through 5 small towns and had coffees in most. I am currently relaxing with a San Miguel on the terrace of our pensión. The decorations are hung for Halloween festivitie

Back-to-back 30k stages have broken us. We are breaking down physically and mentally. We have covered over 200k in just over a week. For the imperially inclined we stand 131 miles into our 490 mile trek. We have bitten off more than we can chew. There is a reason that the guide books recommend 31-33 stages and not 27. It's very difficult to make up time by foot with a pack on your back. You can increase your speed but that increases the pounding on your feet. Oh how the dogs are barking. Last night I pushed a needle and thread through Amy's heel blister and then tied a square knot. That's a first. I didn't blog last night for stage 7 because I have a rule. If I don't have time to wash clothes then I don't blog. We had a lively dinner of pasta and peppers cooked by Massimo. Cheese, bread, salad and two bottles of local wine completed the menu. The wine could be acquired at the Albergue for €3/bottle. This wine is made from the grapes that we were walking

I was happily blogging in my lower bunk on the third floor when my cross bunkmate Javi from France seemed in distress. He had arrived much earlier than us and had been walking around the village. NOTHING was open. "What are you planning to eat tonight?" My blank stare informed Javi that I didn't have a plan. We assembled in the kitchen and there were the four of us, plus Carmelo. I hadn't seen Carmelo before but he was asking if we needed wine. Carmelo departed and then quickly returned with eggs from his father's chickens, 2 beautiful homegrown tomatoes and a bottle of red wine from the Navarre region. But how? Turns out Carmelo lives in the village and looks after the Albergue when his brother who owns it is away. We scavenged through our packs and took inventory. Pasta and red sauce with tomato and cheese omelettes would be the menu. Two Italians came down and waited for us to cook our pasta. I was in charge of the omelettes. The pressure was on. Preparing pa

The targeted highlight of today's 26k stage was the Fuente de Vino (fountain of wine) in Irache but that would come toward the end of the day. We reluctantly said adios to Roberto of El Cantero but only after two each of the best café con leches this side of the Pyrenees. The sun was rising on our backs as the hilltop town of Cirauqui announced from its perch that it would not be taken easily. It was quiet just like all Spanish towns in the morning. These towns are beautiful but resemble ghost towns until 6-7pm.  As the evening air cools people begin to emerge, turning ghost town into fiesta-ville.  With our bellies full of croissants and café con leches we strode through town with a purpose, the fountain of wine. We walked along a path through farms and gardens and only saw a few pilgrims all day. We seem to be getting out of sync with the masses as we try to gain a stage. We saw the friendly Spanish pilgrim who helped us shout on the Perdón. We met a young French woman

I'm not sure if it was the cider or the new insert in my left shoe but I had no ankle pain on today's 27k. We left Cizur Menor at day break as 8 bells rang out from Iglesia de San Miguel Arcángel. We walked through some flat farmland with a rolling fog moving from left to right.  Soon it would be on our right. The fog in Spain moves mainly like a train. Our morning target came into sight with a strand of giant windmills leading up the ridge to Alto del Perdón. These windmills provide all the power needs of the 200,000 residents of Pamplona. Sins can be forgiven for the pilgrim who climbs the Perdón. You'll have plenty of time to recount and codify your many sins as you trudge up to the lofty peak along the rocky path. There is a pilgrim monument at the peak and the locals say that you should shout loudly at the top to release your sins. I let one rip like Tarzan. The descent is steep and a bit chunky but we had a dry path and took it easy. Clare's knee is

The day started out a bit ominously with the retrieval of some wet underwear hanging on the line and staring at an approaching line of thunderstorms on my radar app. It was still dark and the night sky was illuminated by lightning in the distance. Unfortunately it was coming from the direction we were heading. It was also 10° colder than expected and a moderate wind was blowing. We put on two extra layers and rain gear and headed in the direction of Pamplona. The stage began with a climb and by the top we were all overheated and sweating. Over the next few hours we would get down to shorts and a t-shirt and the storm never materialized. Obviously our rain gear frightened it off. My Camino app recommended a nice breakfast stop complete with outdoor wood-fired oven. Unfortunately like all of the breakfast stops, it was not yet open at 9 am when we arrived. It really looked lovely. Onward, and pass the corn nuts please. Just before Pamplona we stopped at a bakery and had a hold-

I slept well, until 4:30 am when I started the blog update. The albergue in Roncesvalles is not to be missed. Amy would not give it as high of a review, as she as a mom is a very light sleeper. I as a bear, hibernate each night. Obeying Newton's first law I remain at rest. Disobeying Newton's first law I do so even when acted upon by an outside force. In comparison with large brevet overnights this place was near morgue-like quiet. Amy disagreed with me and did not sleep well due to across-the-room snoring etc. I never heard a thing. Clare has inherited my sleeping abilities. Eventually we got up, repacked and headed out at 8am, into the dark! We used headlights for the first 5 km. We skipped the pilgrim breakfast after experiencing the pilgrim dinner. Unfortunately breakfast in small Spanish towns is enjoyed in the privacy of Spanish homes. Nothing was open in the first 3 towns. Morale began to sag. We hadn't even had a coffee!! I prayed to St James that the nex

We were delivered to the autobus station in Pamplona by Clare's sweet and generous host family. They left us with some food because traveling without food would be unspeakable. Jamón and tortilla de patata bocadillos with some oranges and torta. Everything was of course delicious. Our bus took us and several other pilgrims over the Pyrenees into France along a very curvy road. Clare and I slept while Amy made sure our driver stayed on the road. The scenery was spectacular and we saw our first peregrinos along the Way. They were the cycling variety and the bikes were loaded with front and rear panniers, front bags, handlebar bags and as such some were being pushed by walking "riders" along this very long and steep roadway. We made it to St. Jean Pied de Port and found the hotel Beilari. Everyone was in a festive mood at Beilari since this was the last night of their 7 month season. This was fortunate for us since a special meal and celebration was in the w

I became interested in jamón last summer when our vegetarian daughter returned from a summer program in Spain no longer a vegetarian. Clare had returned singing the praises of the dry cured melt-in-your-mouth meat that had extended her dietary habits. Jamón is not simply a food. It is ritual in España. I wanted in. Clare had spent the better part of last summer in Soria, an ancient hill town in the Castilla Leon region of Spain. She took two language courses through Colorado College and lived with a wonderful host family who now counted Clare as the first American that they had ever met. On our journey to the start of the Camino, Amy and I were now being introduced to Sergio, Montse and Sophia as Clare reconnected with her summer hosts. In arranging our rendezvous Clare may have mentioned my fascination with jamón. Montse and Sergio were smiling and waving through the windshield of our bus as we arrived from Madrid. They walked us to our hotel just off the main square and retu

The backpack is packed and checked. It weighs 17.2 lbs and will sustain me for the next month. I will carry it from St Jean Pied de Port just across the Pyrenees in France to Santiago in the northwestern corner of Galicia Spain. Contents: 2 shorts 1 long pair of pants quick dry t-shirt wool t-shirt quick dry collared shirt 2 pair Darn Tough wool socks 2 pair quick-dry socks 3 pair REI boxers one wool long sleeve base-layer Gortex rain jacket long fingered gloves 2 cycling caps wool buff col'd lizard tights cut-off scrub shorts plastic Birkenstocks hiking poles various toiletries and personal care items goPro camera chargers and cords iPhone nail clippers reflective triangle headlamp sleeping bag dry sack a few snacks and gifts a copy of Travels With My Donkey US Passport Pilgrim Passport I'm doing this walk because my wife Amy has wanted to do this for a long time and I'd like to experience it with her. Our daughter Clare will also be with us which is very helpful sinc