Official Peregrinos

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 works for this evening. Joseph our host informed us that his family would be joining us, including his sister who had driven up from Pamplona! If only we had known. The place had a new age feel and was a wifi free zone but our room had a strong smell of Lantiseptic so I felt right at home. I noticed a poster on our way up the stairs. It's best read with incense in the air and wind chimes calling in the distance. It read, "There is no way to happiness. Happiness is the way." As someone about to step along the Way, this spoke to me.

We gorged ourselves on 10 courses including 3 desserts. It was embarrassing but then again we were about to walk back over those mountains that our bus just labored over for a couple of hours. In fact the same bus the day before broke down 6 km short of St. Jean but since everyone had a backpack they just suited up and hoofed it into town the old fashioned way. The meal was taken in the cozy kitchen with Joseph's wife and 4 y.o. daughter, his sister and her college-aged daughter Annie, Joseph's helper Mary and only one other peregrino, Veronique from Montreal. We learned about each other during an aperitif of Port and local cheese as we passed an imaginary ball around the table. Whoever held the pelota was the speaker. Joseph revealed that this was their third year in operation. It was not always easy and he had thought of quitting many times during the first year. Now he had Mary and he had Sunday as a day with the family. He and Mary were brought to tears. Veronique told the group that she was toward the end of three years away from Canada that began with a midlife crisis. She was now undertaking this as a last gift to herself before returning home due to funds running low. Name a place and she had been there. Somewhere after soup we added Joe from Lafayette, Louisiana and María José from Colombia. Joe was straight off of a cross Atlantic flight to Madrid followed by a missed train and then a caught train to Pamplona and the same bus ride over the mountains. MJ was quiet and conversing with Robert at the end of the table in Spanish. Before the meal was over she had secured a ride for herself and her backpack that night back to Pamplona with Joseph's sister. The reason why is uncertain but perhaps had something to do with Joseph's description of the route, her small frame and her large pack. Eventually the third dessert was washed down with some herbal tea and the meal concluded. As we waddled out of the kitchen Joseph reminded us that breakfast was from 7-8 but we should not set an alarm. Angels would be waking us. We wrestled with our packs and moved items in and out and to different pockets. Thirty minutes later it was lights out and we were in our beds now packing and unpacking our minds and moving thoughts about. Eventually my core temperature dropped to somewhere in the upper 80s and I put on my tights in the dark. I managed a few hours of sleep and Amy the same. Clare slept like a stone.

At 6:45 I heard monks chanting in the distance. Then they got closer and closer and then I think they were under my bed. Oh, these were Joseph's angels. Gregorian chant infused the hotel as Mary prepared breakfast. We ate a bit but really we were still full from dinner. We grabbed our packed lunches which contained one very large omelette sandwich each and added them to our very full packs. We did some last minute fiddling with gear and kit and then we were on our Way. Literally stepping out of the front door put us onto the Camino. It was 8am and just getting light. Seven hours later we would be in Roncesvalles but first the Pyrenees!

Earlier that day at the pilgrim office across the street Mark our Australian guide walked us through the stage that lay ahead. There were many do's and don'ts and my mind wandered a bit but then got refocused when he mentioned "whatever you do, don't go left at the iron cross"! If they have to rescue you by helicopter then they charge you! Being from America I was familiar with the concept but I'll have to say I was intrigued by the left route. Amy gave me the eye. The one that said we are not going left at the iron cross!! We were happy to hear that the high pass was open. Sometimes at this time of the year it is already closed. Another bit of good news was that it was not going to rain. Mark showed us on the computer. Don't trust computers. We should be prepared for wind though. He said it would be around 14. I naively assumed he meant km/hr but it turns out it was 1400 km/hr! We give names to wind events like this in the states. I'll call this one Maria because she was blowing straight out of Spain. I know that people cycle the Camino but I saw not a single cyclist that day. They were probably all hiding in the ditches under their bicycles. It would have been impossible to ride this route even though quite a bit was on a road. It was exceedingly steep and if that didn't get you off your bike and pushing then the Maria would have finished you off. In places it was hard for us to walk and stay on the road! In 12 miles we climbed 4820'. The stage was 15 miles but the last 3 were all downhill. Mark had previewed all of this for us with authority as he had himself done the Camino Frances. He first did the traditional route from St. Jean to Santiago just as we were planning but then returned to do the first half from La Puy to St. Jean. He then did the Camino Portugal but dismissed it as being too short at 350km. "We were about to undertake a mental, spiritual and physical challenge," he cited as reasons for his Camino addiction. He said he was not addicted but he was now serving as a volunteer in the Pilgrim Office. Did I mention that he lived in Queensland. I'll let you decide.

One does not ease into the Napoleonic route out of St Jean. It smacks you in the face as the pitch kicks up to 15% just as you leave town. Also smacking us in the face was Maria. The gradient and the wind collaborated to keep our pace in check. One should never start out quickly on a long journey. Of course everyone does but still you shouldn't.

The scenery was breathtaking but by the three mile mark the cameras were put away in plastic bags and our rain gear was tested. The rain lashed us for a bit but then moved on. We stopped at five miles and regrouped at the now closed for the season Refuge Orisson. We were on a paved one lane road and mainly shared it with other peregrinos as well as the intermittent ring-necked pigeon hunter and farm vehicle. At the iron cross we went right but I was consoled since we were now off road. Just after noon we hunkered down in a leeward cut out and took lunch. Other pilgrims joined us as this was the only place we had seen in the last few miles where it was safe to attempt to open a pack. Joe was one of the pilgrims now lunching with us. He explained how his pack had become free of its rain cover. Marie had separated the two and by this time it was likely somewhere over the English Channel. We re-packed and hiked together with Joe, Veronique, Mark from Ireland and a peregrina from Northern Ireland now living in Cambridge. We made our way to Roland's fountain and into Spain.

Through the Col de Lepoeder at 1426 m and down through a forest to Roncesvalles where Roland had been killed in 778. The albergue in Roncesvalles is an appropriate reward for the weary peregrinos arriving after their Pyrenean traverse. It is a modern clean facility housed in an ancient monastery. It is church-run and operated by volunteers from Holland. It can house 183 pilgrims, but with 4 beds to a pod it has a quiet and cozy feel. We even had our laundry done and dried for 3.50€! We took showers and then attended mass where we and all of the other pilgrims were called up for a special blessing at the end of the mass. This was conducted in all of our native languages including Korean and Japanese by the oldest of the four priests in attendance. This was not his first blessing of peregrinos. We took in the forgettable Pilgrim meal in the village at Posada but enjoyed the lively conversation of the other pilgrims at our table. Some were already a month into their walks, having started in Paris. The first week is the toughest, we heard again and again. After that you hit the walking groove. We shall see. Day two awaits.