Day 27 to 29 Fromista to Sahagún via Carrión de los Condes and Lédigos

"into the great wide open..."
-Tom Petty

I have to admit, the meseta is nothing like I thought it would be, but everything like I read. Big skies, wide open spaces, long distances between population centres, and completely devoid of anything interesting. I haven't even taken many pictures over the last couple of days because I thought that a dozen pictures or so of flatness was enough to bore anyone. Although the people who live in the towns and villages along the way are really nice and very friendly, the meseta itself is essentially a long, straight, boring slog. I need a city. I need one soon. Fortunately, one is coming up soon - León is only two or three days away. If I can get there by Sunday, I will have covered close to 180km in 7 days. I passed the halfway point of my camino today, in terms of kilometers. In terms of days, I suspect I passed that a week or so ago. Given the pace I´ve been on for the last few days, I can't see myself arriving in Santiago any later than the 19th or 20th (barring any disaster befalling me).

If it weren't for some of the people that I met over the past week, the meseta surely would have driven me mad by now. There's the two Francescas (one from Italy and one from Hamburg), Matias (also from Hamburg and a friend of the second Francesca), Gert (must have a pint of phlem in your throat to pronunce that properly) from the Netherlands. Super nice people who I´ve kept pace with this past week or so. Then there's Theresa from Vancouver and Philip from London...didn't spend much time with them, but what a time it was. Philip is an IT consultant, and an ardent atheist. Theresa is a retired nun and a theology major. Me: somewhere in between but with enough philosophy classes under my belt to really stir shit up in that crowd. We all got a lot excited (and a little drunk) as the converstion meandred from the nature of belief, the essense of faith, and ultimately to cognitive dissonance. May sound like dry stuff, but I ate it up like popcorn. I think we all quite enjoyed ourselves; we were all still on speaking terms in the morning, so that's a positive sign.

On a completely different note, I've been going through my previous blog entries, and I realize that I've been a little harsh on other pilgrims in general. Thing is, now that the race-walkers are far, far in front of me (by my calculations, they're somewhere over the mid-atlantic about now), I've met some teriffic people along the way. It's funny how different cultures handle foreign (for them) languages. On that front, the Germans come out way, way on top...most of the ones I´ve met here speak English very well, and do a very passable French. Brits try very, very hard, so points for that. Americans try slightly less hard, but are smart enough to hang around the Germans. The French, I'm sorry to say rank dead last. Every time you speak to them in any language, they respond in French. Blows my mind. Still trying to rank South Africans...most speak at least a couple of languages, and one guy, Stephan...I´d swear he speaks every language. I think I caught him having a long discourse with a sparrow yesterday, but I can't be sure.

Anyways, this is turning into a novel. Should be in León in the next couple of days, and in Astorga soon after. Then come the mountains. Big ones. Oh, well...not like they just popped up from nowhere - I knew they were there when I started this whole trip. So, until León...take care.

Day 23 to 26: Burgos to Frómista via Hornillos and Castrojeriz

"eat a live toad first thing in the morning and nothing worse will happen to you all day"
-Anonymous

My live toad this morning came in the form of a large, large hill just outside of Castrojeriz. Took two hours to climb it, through a fog so thick you couldn't see more than a few feet in front of you. Getting to the top was quite the experience though. It was a flat-topped hill, which would have had views for miles around were it not for the morning fog. It cleared a little just as I reached the top, but the endless vistas I was hoping for were unfortunately still hidden by the fog.

Rewind a bit...The road from Burgos to Hornillos can be described in one word: Wet. If I were to use more than one, they´d be wet, cold, gloomy, muddy, windy as hell and utterly miserable. I was supposed to have made it into Hontanas that day, but decided for the sake of my health and sanity that I should stay in Hornillos, some 10k short. No biggie; I had planned a short 10k walk into Castrojeriz the next day. During the second downpour and windstorm, my cheap-ass poncho decided it had had enough and tore itself to shreds right before my eyes. Pain in the butt - now I had to walk without any real cover from the rain. Made it though, and managed to dry my clothes a fair bit by morning.

The walk into Castrojeriz was much more pleasant. It started off windy and cold, but turned into a gorgeous fall day by early afternoon. Castrojeriz is the friendliest cities I've come to on the camino. No, make that any city I've ever been to. Scratch that, it's the friendliest city in the world. Everyone there just seems to be in a good mood all the time, and they'll smile at you and chat you up for no reason whatsoever. Really enjoyed the few hours I spent there. Even the restaurant down the street opened especially for me this morning. It was closed, but the owner saw me peering into the window, and he let me in and treated me to a coffee on the house. Great, great city Castrojeriz. I also managed to replace my poncho with something a little more substantial (ie, it won't shred, even during a nuclear strike.)

so...back to today. Despite the fact that I wasn't late enough to catch the restaurant being open, I actually did get a very late start this morning. I was supposed to get to Frómista today, but when I realized the time when I was having the coffee, I knew that wouldn't happen. When it took me 2 hours to climb that damn mountain, I was positive I'd have to stop at the town just before Frómista. After I (slightly) twisted my ankle with 15k to go, I knew I'd never get there today. Well, I did. Took me 10 hours, but I did finally manage to haul my butt into town. It's a nice enough city...much bigger than Castrojeriz, but still small enough to maintain it's rural quaintness. Surprisingly, despite my late arrival, I managed to get a bed at the albergue, and I'm just about ready to crash. 25k in one day, including a giant hill and a gimpy ankle will do that to ya.

On to Carrion de los Condes tomorrow, which, after today, is a laughable 18.5k (ha ha). More pictures coming soon, including some spectacular ones taken from various high points on the Meseta. There's even one with me wrestling a very rare feral Spanish panda. Stay tuned...

Day 23: Burgos

"Come clean, come good,
repeat with me the punch-line 'Just Like Blood'
when those at the back rush forward to say
how a little love goes a long long long way. "
-Simon Armitage from "I say, I say, I say"

Morcillas...I had been told back in Grañon to try Morcillas when I get to Burgos. It's a local specialty apparently. Now, I'm no neophyte when it comes to Spanish food; I knew perfectly well what morcillas are...they're sausages made from a bit of onion, a bit of pork, and a lot of blood. When he told me that I had to try them, I nodded so as to humor him, but I never had any intention of trying it. Well, after my second night in Burgos, fresh from taking stock of the condition of my feet (they're fine, but they won't be winning any beauty contests anytime soon), the thought of foodstuffs made from blood sounded much less disgusting. So I headed down to my favorite bar and ordered me up some. Realistically, they eat so much meat here in Burgos, I probably could have picked up morcillas from a fruit stand, but I wanted the real experience. So there I was, on the terrace of the bar in Burgos' Plaza Mayor with a plate of blood sausage in front of me, thinking "well, this is it - if I eat this, I'll never be able to become a vegetarian. Just as well". I'm a little embarrased to say that they were absolutely delicious. Spectacular. Had some more for lunch today. Washed it down that night with a Pastel de San Marcos (the local specialty cake), which was freakin' sublime. Small meal, but unbelievably satisfying, although it did give me a bit of stomach trouble later. Might have just been my mind saying "do you realize what you just ate???".

Went to see the cathedral and the castle on top of this city today. The cathedral was stunning...it's the medeival version of shock and awe. I can just imagine medieval peasants walking in there for the first time. Would have been the acid trip of the era. The thing about the cathedral is that from the outside, it's impossible to take it all in. The city is built so tightly around it that you can only see bits of it at a time. Shame, 'cause it would be that much more spectacular if you could take it in as a whole. The castle was cool, but not overwhelming...kind of boring actually. Nice views of the city, but otherwise nothing special. Then again, I suppose not every city can have an Alhambra. And let's face it, you probably can't get very good morcillas in Granada. My overall impression of Burgos is that this city rocks.

That being said, I'm heading out first thing-ish tomorrow, and will try to make the 28km into Hontanas before I drop. Broke down and bought a walking stick today; so many people say it makes a world of difference. Just guessing, but I'm pretty sure that I'll be using it as much for practicing my kung-fu as I will for walking (have to imagine Neo from 'The Matrix: Reloaded' for that to be funny. Too difficult? Well, then imagine Chris Farley from 'American Ninja').

That's just about enough for now. Must go out and see what else they can make from blood around here.

Day 19 to 22: Belorado to Burgos

(Via Villafraca Montes de Oca and Cardeñales Riopico)

"How many corners do I have to turn
How many times do I have to learn
All the love I have is in my mind
Well I´m a lucky man...."
-Verve

Ever since Santo Domingo and Grañon, I´ve been in an obscenely good mood. Walking down rural roads at a fast pace with a song in my head, and sometimes even whistling. Repugnant. If I had bumped into another walker like me a week ago, he´d be pushing up grapevines from the red soil of La Rioja right now.

The walk from Grañon to Belorado was uneventful, but I did bump into Michael, Sarah and family once there. We were in different albergues though, so no concert that night. Their Albergue was modern, with all the amenities a pilgrim could ask for. Mine was in the converted rectory attached to a 14th century church. But, there were very few pilgrims, very soft beds, and it was as cold as a witches tit. In other words, perfect sleeping conditions for me. I slept like a log, only awakening briefly at 6:00am to the sound of people speaking German (or Dutch...can´t tell them apart). Happens every morning on the Camino that you wake up to the sound of a foreign language, and yet never feels any less creepy. I shrugged it off, went back to sleep and was awoken at around 7:45am by the guy who runs the albergue telling me to get the hell out (we´re only allowed to stay until 8:00 at most of these places). "¡Ultreia!" he urged me, which is supposed to mean "onward", but I suspect it really means "get off my property you dirty, fat pilgrim".

Belorado to Villafranca was an easy walk through level farmland and along the side of a highway. I was going to go further, but one look at the big-ass hill outside of town changed my mind for me. So I hunkered down for the night. While I was napping in the mid-afternoon, who should check in but Sarah and Michael. Cool - I had thought they were going on to San Juan de Ortega today. Around this time, I realized that I needed to get to a bank machine and soon. I usually keep a €100 reserve in ******** (edited out for security reasons), but it was gone when I checked. Thought for a second that I had been robbed, but then remembered "oh, yeah...the hotel in Logroño. I wasn´t robbed, just ripped off". So, for the first time in 20 days, I had to take a bus. Backwards, to Belorado to get some funds. Taking a bus was a weird and humbling experience. All that day´s sweating, aching, and marching boiled down to a 9 minute bus ride and €0.98. Watching the landscape zipping by the window though, I´m glad I walked it. I´d have missed too much if I had taken a bus. While In Belorado, I decided I felt like cooking that night, so I picked up all the fixings for my pasta carbonara. When I got back to Belorado, I cooked it up for myself and Sarah and Michael´s family. I for one ate like a pig...minus the trough. It was awesome if I do say so myself, and the feeling of being full is a rare one on the camino.

My good mood was interrupted briefly the next morning by the walk from Villafranca to Agés. There was nothing wrong with the walk itself, nor with the monster hill I had to climb, nor with the scenery I was passing through. The problem was I couldn´t get a coffee that morning, and I was out of smokes. Spent the first 12km in serious withdrawal from both my drugs of choice, and the next 4 after that desperately looking for a cigarette vending machine. Once I found one, the day turned out quite nice. Between Villafranca and Cardeñales (last stop before Burgos) is the last big hill before the Meseta. You have to climb for what seems like an hour or so to get to the top. Once there, the top of the hill is level and littered with little white stones (no doubt the remains of the roman road that passed through here). Oh, yeah, it also had some stunning views of Burgos and the Meseta beyond. A cross marked the highest point on the hill, where the views were at their best, and someone had generously donated two sofas for people to sit on and enjoy the view. Waiting for Neo and Morpheus no doubt. How in the hell they got the sofas up there is anyone´s guess. I´m guessing they had help from an advanced alien race. Using the rocks that were strewn about, people had spelled out messages to their friends, family and themselves. Not wanting to be left out, I arranged some rocks into a little message for all of you. You´ll have to check the pictures to see it though.

Spent that night in Cardeñuela Riopico, which is a tiny little village just 15km from Burgos city limits. Guess who showed shortly afterwards. Yup. Again, it was good to see them. The morning´s walk into Burgos was fairly easy, although exeptionally ugly. Slogging through 8km of industrial sprawl is a lousy way to start a morning. Nonetheless, I arrived in Burgos at around 11:30am, and managed to get myself a tiny little room at the Hotel Norte y Londres. It´s about as basic as you can get (complete with rotary-dial phone), but it´s cheap, it´s comfortable, and it´s mine, all mine. Have been wandering the city a bit, deliberately avoiding the main monuments. That´s tomorrow´s job. Today I need to take care of a few things, like getting a haircut, going shopping for clothes and supplies (three guesses where I´m going. Amalia only gets one...answer below). I actually quite like Burgos - I was expecting the same kind of dickhead attitude I found in Logroño, but I´m finding the people here very nice and very accomodating. The city itself is nice, but no great shakes, the old part of town isn´t as old as I thought, and the newer part of town is filthy. Maybe my opinion will change once I´ve seen the cathedral and the castle the looms above the city.

Staying put until Sunday, when I´m going to try to get to Hontanas (I think). New pictures should be available at http://www.flickr.com/photos/36308626@N00/sets/. Enjoy.

Answer: El Corte Ingles. Congratulations Amalia!

Day 16 through 18: Santo Domingo to Belorado via Grañon

"I don´t care if it hurts
I wanna have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul"
-Radiohead

Warning: Don´t bother commenting on this entry...I got things figured out.

Okay...bit of a downer last time. I woke up the next morning after that blog entry sick as the proverbial dog, and far, far too late to actually walk anywhere. It really bugged me that yet another goal and timeline had to slip again. The morning after that (Sunday), I still wasn´t feeling up to walking, but I made myself a deal that if I felt a bit better by noon, I´d at least try and get to the next town. For two hours I sat in a café across from the cathedral in Santo Domingo drinking coffee, wondering why I can´t seem to get this camino on track. Why I can´t seem to hit my goals here with any kind of regularity. Had a bit of an epiphany - I don´t have to. I can´t expect to be perfect every day, and I can´t keep beating myself up when I´m not.

It occured to me that this is how I´ve lived my life to this point. Trying to be the perfect everything everyday. And every time I fell short, I´d tell myself that I didn´t deserve my successes, or my freinds, or any love offered to me, etc.. Even though it may seem obvious to the rest of the world, I understand now that I can´t be perfect at everything all the time. That does´nt make me a failure; I´ve come to understand now that though perfection may be the goal, it´s not the yardstick. And I understand now that I do deserve my success, my friendships, your love, their love, her love...not because I´ll ever be perfect, but because I wake up every morning and try to be.

I feel good. Yeah, that´s what it is. I feel good. Lighter than I´ve felt in years. Better than you would expect a man to feel after he discovers and accepts that he´s fundamentally flawed. I don´t want to forget this lesson, and I never want to lose this feeling.

I walked out of Santo Domingo at 1:3opm or so and arrived in Grañon about an hour and a half later. Probably could´ve gone further, but I decided to call it a day there. Good decision. The albergue was in the converted bell tower of a church...what it lacked in facilities, it made up for in atmosphere. Met a whole bunch of great people there (lots of Canadians, strangely enough). In particular there is this one family from Quebec who have been doing the camino (with 3 kids and 2 donkeys) since July. They started in Le Puy, France, and have already gone something like 900km. They´re an altogether remarkable family, and they put on the most wonderful musical show in Grañon. The father, Michael plays guitar and Mandolin (no, not at the same time, stupid). The mother, Sarah, and the kids all play violin). It made for a very memorable evening, and I really hope I´ll be seeing them again. You tend to know when you´ve just met special people, and every one of them is just that.

Made the 14km into Belorado in short order this morning, and will try for San Juan de Ortega tormorrow (might make it, might not, might get distracted by a shiny object on the side of the road). I can honestly say that things are going well now. No quitting now or ever. After all, this is a cumulative thing, and even if I can´t be perfect every day...it´s still just a matter of time.

Take care...will update soon.

Day 15: Nájera to Santo Domingo de la Calzada

"I have become comfortably numb..."
-Pink Floyd

Unfortunately, not in the way that I´m accustomed to becoming numb. After the rainstorm the other day, the weather changed dramatically. Whereas last week it was sunny and in the low-to-mid 30´s, the next few days are going be overcast and windy with highs in the low to mid teens. Nájera was a very nice little town, with the old section of the city tucked up against a sheer cliff face. Like everything else in La Rioja (the soil, the rocks, etc.), the cliffs were a deep reddish-brown. The old city looked very picturesque framed in that way.

Left Nájera at 7:00 in the morning or so, and it felt like the temperature was in the single digits. Normally not too bad, but given last week´s temperatures it was a bit of a shock. None of my rain-soaked clothes managed to dry (even a little) overnight, so I had to pack them wet. I don´t mind packing wet clothes...it´s the extra weight that gets me. Anyways, the hike out of Nájera was an initially pleasant one, through a little pass in the cliffs and out into the open countryside. That´s when the wind started up - sucks when you´ve worked up a bit of a sweat and you have a cold wind blowing at you from (it seems) every direction. It sucks the energy right out of you. Maybe if I could´ve worn my long-sleeved shirt (it was packed away and sopping wet), it might have been better. But anyway, on I went, through the wind, with the occasional rain shower to punctuate the misery. Arrived in Santo Domingo at 3:00pm or so to discover that all the refuguios were full up. Got a hotel instead, which suits me just fine. Maybe I can finally get a full night's sleep. Think I feel a bit of a cold coming on...when it rains, it pours. Literally and figuratively.

Sorry if this entry seems like a bit of a downer, but I´m seriously short of energy right now. Ever since the rains started up, I've just felt exhausted beyond belief. Even caught myself thinking about calling it quits for the first time today. That's one urge I don't want to give in to. Fortunately, I'm an accomplished procrastinator, so I've deffered that decision until I get to Burgos and (knowing me), will probably push the decision back even further.

Take care everyone back home - miss you all to varying degrees.

Day 14: Logroño to Nájera

"I´m out here a thousand miles from my home
Walking a road other men have gone down
I´m seeing your world of people and things
of paupers and poets and princes and kings

Hey, hey, Woody Guthrie I wrote you a song
´bout a funny old world that´s a-coming along
seems sick and it´s hungry, it´s tired and it´s torn
it looks like it´s a-dying and it´s hardly been born"
-Bob Dylan

30km. I didn´t think I could do it, not on a train, not on a plane, not in a box, not with a fox. But I did. In the pouring rain no less. The path from Logroño to here passes through many a-vineyard, which are very fine and pretty in the sunshine, very scenic under cloudy skies, and a veritable swamp when it´s raining. The mud sticks to the boots like glue, which slips off the mud on the ground like grease. Half the time I was fighting to stay on my feet, never mind moving forward. I actually stopped to laugh later on in the day at the sheer idiocy of my situation (well, I stopped for a smoke and ended up laughing - semantics) : out in the middle of nowhere, soaked to the bone, trying to get from point A to point B the hard way. Not to mention the fact that with my tan pants, blue shirt, white hat and rain poncho, I was the very image of Juan Valdez. Still, it´s something I was almost certain I couldn´t pull off, and I did. Tomorrow´s a much lighter day, with only 22km seperating me and Santo Domingo de la Calzada. Should be a cakewalk after today.

A word about why I chose to do 30km today. Bottom line is that I wanted to put as much distance between myself and Logroño as possible. My first impression of Logroño was that it was a miserable little town inhabited by miserable people. After a bit of a rest, I deceided that I hadn´t been fair. I was a miserable sod when I walked into town so that probably colored my impressions. After a day or so, I decided that no, I was right - these were, in fact, miserable people. Didn´t enjoy the town or the people in the least. I don´t know; Maybe they´re tired of dealing with brown people (which, admittedly they had more of then say, Pamplona), maybe I caught them on a bad week, or (my favorite theory) maybe they´re just dicks. It happens. They seemed to brighten up a bit towards the end of my stay there when the rain started falling. But that could have just been me enjoying watching them get rained on. Either way, my last hours in Logroño were my favorite.

I'm on schedule to hit Burgos in a couple of days. Burgos is the convenient delination point between this hilly wine country and the part of Spain known as the Meseta - which is flat as a pancake, and from what I hear, about as interesting. It´s the kind of landscape where you could open your back door and watch for three days as the dog runs away. 300km or so of that, which shouldn´t be too too bad, considering the Camino through there is flat, straight, and reasonably well maintained. After that, the Cordillera Cantabrica looms. That´ll be the real test. But that´s not for a couple of weeks yet.

Later all,
-Juan O.

Day 10: Viana to Logroño

"Bail out, bail out...the skin is shed"
-Auteurs

First off, new pictures are available at http://www.flickr.com/photos/36308626@N00/sets/

Shit, what a night, and what a day. When I turned in to sleep (which usually takes me a while), I discovered I was surrounded by the most ruthless snorers on the planet. I mean ridiculous snoring; so much so that it could have been a parody. Bach´s concierto in "Zzz". The two soloists were particularly adept at switching duties throughout the night. One would do his 30 minute solo, stop, and then the second would start in on his. It was like some twisted whale-song. So much so that I entertained thoughts of dunking them both in a large tank of water and holding them down so that I could hear it as it was intended. And so I could hear how it ends.

Anyways, after two hours of this, I decided enough was enough, and I grabbed my stuff and left just as the third movement was starting. I ended up sleeping in the garden of the albergue, where I could finally get (and ruin) some peace. Seriously, now that I fully understand how obnoxious loud snoring can be, I´m going to see if I can have mine fixed up once I get home.

I awoke to find my toes in even worse shape than the night before. I knew then that I wouldn´t be able to walk to Logroño. I did manage to stay around long enough to watch the running of the bulls though. No pictures, as it would be difficult to catch the action. Besides, I was too morbidly fascinated with the scene in front of me to think of pictures. Freaking nuts. It´s bad enough that there´s a drunken mob running from angry, (essentially) wild animals, that are drugged up to the eyeballs, but it seems that´s not enough to satiate the local need for insanity. People were tossing little firecrackers into the street as the toro´s passed, scaring the holy living shit out of the bulls, the runners, and at least one spectator (when a firecracker went off in front of me and caught the attention of a bull).

Having finished with that madness, I headed back to the albergue to figure out how I could get to Logroño. Three calls to the cab company later, and I gave up on trying to get a taxi. Went the the local bus stop to see if I could catch a bus to the city...busses didn´t run on Sunday. Oh well. No choice now. Managed to walk the 12km into Logrono, and crossed my first provincial border here. I had walked the length of Navarra (150km or so). Knowing that I really shouldn´t push it with my feet, I checked into a hotel here for a couple of days to see if I can heal up a bit. Seems to be helping. Next stage, whenever that is, will be to either Nájera or Ventosa.

Day 9: Los Arcos to Viana

"Sunshine; been keeping me up for days"
-Elliott Smith

Compared to yesterday´s trudge through a shadeless hell, today´s walk was almost pleasant. My feet are still protesting the whole idea of walking 20km a day, but I´ve learned to ignore them when I´m walking and pay attention to them when I´m not. I might need to stay an extra day in Logroño to really hear them out and make sure they´re ok with the rest of this little trek.

The walk from Los Arcos started early; at about 6:30am, just before the sun rose. As a result, it was nice and cool, and very comfortable (weather-wise) to walk in. Throughout the rest of the day, it did warm up, but while the trail went through lots of farmland and wineries, there always seemed to be a bit of shade when most needed. Just before noon, I crossed over the hill between Los Arcos and Logroño and...I could see everything for miles. Funny how it energizes you to be able to see your goal, even though it still may be in the far distance. I estimated an hour and a half to get to Viana, based on where it looked like it was. It wasn´t until three hours later that I got there. Not that I was poised to set any land speed records in the first place, but my injured feet are really slowing me down. That being said, there were plenty of beds left in the albergue - a really nice one too. It´s built on the side of the ruined cathedral of San Pedro, and is an old, old building with triple bunks (fortunately, I only got stuck on the 2nd level).

Walking into town, it was pretty obvious that something was up. Too many people in clean white clothes and red hankerchiefs around their necks for this to be just a regular day. Turns out, there was a fiesta going on; the fiesta de los santos patronales. The entire little town was abuzz with activity, and it was just as well that I got a bed in the albergue, ´cause there wasn´t a hotel room to be had in the entire city. Later, while having dinner outside a little bar, we (myself and the four English and americans I was having dinner with) found ourselves in the middle of a parade route. Was quite funny watching these immense paper-maché statues lumber down the street, preceeded by a giant-headed honor guard with foam sticks which they´d use to ritualistically smack children with (not joking). After the parade passed us by, the owner of the bar treated us all to a glass of pacharán, the local drink in Navarra. It was pinkish, sweet, and tasted very slightly of anise. It wasn´t until I had my third that I realized that it also had quite a bit of alcohol in it. Between that and the three beers and two wines I had over dinner, it´s a wonder I made it back to the albergue at all. Drinking lots of water right now so I don´t feel it as much tomorrow.

Hoping my feet heal up a bit tonight...I´m walking with a pronounced limp, and it´s starting to affect my knees and ankles. If it´s this bad tomorrow, I might have to find alternative transportation into Logroño, and then back again once I´m better (so I can still say I walked the entire way). Either way, I´ll be there tomorrow and will hopefully be able to update this blog then.

Day 8: Estella to Los Arcos

"everybody hurts sometimes"
-REM

Ouch. Today was defined by a lot of foot pain and a great deal of walking in the sun. Not really remarkable for the sights, sounds, only for it´s length. See, between Estella and Los Arcos, there´s a little town called Villamayor. It´s about 9km from Estella. After Villamayor, there´s about 12km of...nothing. No hills, no valleys, no clouds, no shade, no water, no animals, no people, no cigarettes, no hope. Altogether unremarkable except for it´s length, and it´s lack of anything worth remarking about.

My feet, for the most part are holding up well, with the big exception of both my little toes. The left one can´t seem to decide whether it wants to look like a grape or a chunk of ground beef, and the right one decided it didn´t really need that toenail after all. Sorry ´bout that - I´ll keep the details to myself next time.

To make up for that last bit, here, for your amuesement is scene 1 from an instructional play based on a real life story. It´s called "How to not make friends", by yours truly:

Cast of characters: Miriam (Irish), Jean-Philippe (French), Juan (idiot)

Scene 1: A pilgrim refuge, around the kitchen table; lots of activity about, Miriam, Jean-Philippe and Juan talking over the din about travel destinations

Miriam: Well, I don´t know...there´s really not much to see in Ireland. If you have other places you want to see, I´d put Ireland pretty far down on the list. Look at him (points to Jean-Pierre) nothing to see in Canada, nothing to see in Ireland, look at him just swell up with pride.
(the three laugh)
Jean-Philippe: Eez funny you know...everyone has zere idea of how countries should look. For example, when I seenk of Canada, I seenk of forests and mountayns. When I seenk of Ireland I seenk of, uh...
Juan: Burning cars and masked gunmen?
Miriam: ...
Jean-Philippe: ...
Juan: Holy shit, did I say that out loud?

Undoubtedly to be continued...

Day 7:Lorca to Estella

Fairly easy walk today. The heat finally broke, and we´re under overcast skies for once. 11:00am, and I´ve already made the 9km into Estella. It´s a pretty little town dominated by it´s two churches and huge castle up on the hill. It´s market day today, so the plaza in the city centre is a madhouse of people buying fruit, fish and veggies. Smells to high heaven too.

Going to try to make it to Los Arcos tomorrow, then Viana and Logroño after that. That means only two more days or so of Navarra, and soon to be in La Rioja. Mmmm....Rioja. Gotta run.

Day 6: Puente la Reina to Lorca

"on the road again..."
-Willie Nelson

Somewhat disappointed with my progress today; guess I overextended myself on the walk from Pamplona. After yesterday´s glorious 26km trek, I could barely make it 13km today. My feet were killing me the whole way; seems I got some pretty bad blisters the last bit of walking yesterday. Also did a very stupid thing and skipped breakfast this morning. One of the first things they tell you on the Camino is to drink even when you´re not thirsty. Eating even when you´re not hungry is just as important. I absolutely ran out of gas halfway to Lorca, and there wasn´t a cafe in sight. It was all I could do to drag my ass into town and get to the refugio. Learned my lesson, I won´t be doing that again.

The heat wave is supposed to break tomorrow, so that should be a relief. In any case, I´m only going as far as Estella tomorrow (which was today´s objective). Want to stay at least half a day there, as the town shares it´s name with my mother´s family. Should be fun. Weird how the various waves of pilgrims come through here. First few days it was mostly Spanish Pilgrims, then French for the next couple. For the last couple of days, it´s been German pilgrims. Every time I´m walking on the road I hear people speaking in German somewhere behind me. In any case, they´re all very nice, and with a few exeptions speak English reasonably well.

Day 5: Pamplona to Puente La Reina

"Have you come here for forgiveness
have you come to raise the dead?
have you come here to play Jesus
to the lepers in your head?"
-U2

The Alto del Perdón..."the peak of forgiveness" was the name of the mountain outside Pamplona that I was dreading. As it turns out, the crossing was rough, but not especially difficult by my new standards. Fantastic views from up there - on one side, the valley that Pamplona´s in, and on the other, another valley showing the next few cities that were on the agenda. On the way down from the peak, I ran into two young kids; couldn´t have been more than 14 on bicycles, crouching in the shade. Turns out that they were both from Pamplona, but one of them had done an excange program in Orangeville (poor kid). Anyways, we chatted for a bit before I went on my way. As I was leaving, he called out "Excuse me...why are you doing this, the camino?". From the mouths of babes...I had to admit that I had no idea why I was doing the camino, and that I was hoping I´d figure that out on the way. It got me thinking though...what´s the deal? Why am I doing this? So many possibilities...to forget or to remember; to forgive or find forgiveness; to lose myself or to find my way. No easy answers unfortunately, but I´m hoping I´ll know the questions by the time I´m done here.

The deeply forested mountains of the Basque country are gradually spreading out, leaving wide undulating valleys of vineyards and farmland. It´s quite beautiful in a pastoral kind of way, although the stretches of farmland leave shade at a premium. And it´s been hot...apparently, the hottest September so far on record in Navarra. Got up to 36 today, and that is murder when you´re walking in the sun during mid-day. Took a detour to a little church in the middle of nowhere called "La Virgen de Eunate". The church was built in the 12th century, but no-one seems to be sure by whom. Knights Templars, the local populace, aliens...who knows? It was very beautiful though, if a little remote.

Covered 26 km today...by the end of it, I was wiped and checked into an albergue just outside of Puente la Reina. It´s a bit of a dive, but it does the trick. Bumped into Cecile from France, who I met in Trinidad de Arre. Only reason I caught up with her is because she was sidelined with a case of tendinitis in her knee. Anyways, bought her a beer, shared a smoke, and talked for a bit before we both had to get to sleep. She´s staying another night in Puente la Reina. I´m hoping to run into her again, she was a lot of fun to talk to.

Recieved some sad news later this night night. One of my uncles passed away while I was in Pamplona. I´ll always remember my Tio Iñaki as a kind and gentle man, who always seemed to be smiling, and just on the verge of bursting out in laughter. I remember visiting him in Vancouver several years ago, and how he doted on his kids and his grandchildren. Above all, he was a good man, and one who will be missed terribly. The world of all our family were enriched by his life, and everything seems a little grayer and duller with his passing. My thoughts wander to his wife and his children even as I walk. If I make it to Santiago, it´ll be for him and for them.

Buén Camino, Tito Iñaki.

Pictures

One more thing...pictures are available now on Flickr...address is:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/36308626@N00/albums/72157633958957054

Day 3: Trinidad del Arre to Pamplona

"Climbed out the window and stared at the stars
but the moment I wanted had already passed"
-Neil Halstead

Too damn easy. Level, paved roads and sidewalks all the way. Left the refugio at 7:45 and got into town just after 9:00. Most of the pilgrims were up at 6:30, rummaging about, determined to make the camino a substitute for their regular rat-race. Not me. Since I couldn´t sleep with all their bloody noise, I went into the garden for a coffee and a smoke (3 each, actually) under the stars, and watched the sun rise over the mountains. Incredibly peaceful way to start the day. People should do that kind of thing more often.

In Pamplona now in my little room in the Hotel Europa. Arrived a couple of hours ago and had breakfast in the Plaza del Castillo. Pamplona´s really starting to grow on me. It´s a small enough city that people are still friendly and helpful, yet large enough to have all the big-city amenities like taxis, cafes, a public transit system, a tourist infrastructure and crazy people. Their system of crazy people (heretofore referred to as "locos") is particularly impressive. It´s very complex, but from what I can determine, each loco is responsible for wandering (quite randomly) around an approximately 3-block radius hurling abuse at anyone who should happen to pass by. In addition, there are a couple of stationary locos (or Loco Stations...take your pick), in the Plaza del Castillo and the Plaza San Fransico; presumably for people who want their abuse now, and can´t wait for the next roaming loco to get it.

Heading out to Puente la Reina tomorrow. Hopefully. There´s a big-ass mountain just outside of Pamplona that fills me with dread. But, just like before, one step at a time.

Funny how time passes on the Camino. Bilbao and London seem a lifetime away, even though it was less than a week ago that I left London. By the time I finished the Camino, it will have felt like years. At this rate, it might very well be years.

Also noticed an interesting phenomenon. My clothes appear to be growing. I´ve considered other possibilities, but this is the only explination that makes sense. This will require more study....

Day 2: Zubiri to Trinidad del Arre

"De colores,
de colores me gustan los campos en la primavera"
Joan Baez (I think)

11:00 am: After the brutality of yesterday´s climbing, today comes as a somewhat welcome relief. My guidebook says that it should be a level track from here to Pamplona, and so far it´s not too bad. Some hills, certainly, but not nearly as relentless as yesterday´s grind. Had to be out of the refugio by 08:00 today, and headed out just before that. Second night in a row that I´ve had little sleep. When I get to Pamplona, I´ll see if I can get a small hotel room and stay an extra night. If I get there, I´ll have earned it.
2:00pm: I´m very disappointed with the accuracy of my guidebook. Almost immediately after the last entry, the path started a steep ascent that seemed to never end. Strangely, even though the hills are just as steep and long, and my backpack is even heavier today (more water), I´m managing a lot better today. Amazing how quickly the human body adapts to abuse. Ran into José Luis and Aurora by an idyllic little spot by the river Arre. From the sounds of it, most of the peregrinos are staying in Trinidad de Arre tonight. Sounds like a plan...Pamplona is an additional 5.5km further on, and I doubt my feet will get me there tonight.
5:00pm: The refugio in Arre is fantastic. It´s a converted building that appears to have been the rectory of the church it´s attached to. Inside is clean, comfortable and a little crowded (in a good way). It also has a closed off section specifically for snorers. Reluctantly, I fessed up to my propensity to snore, and I was promptly banished there. In an upper bunk no less. Now I have to deal with snorers and acrophobia in order to sleep. Still, I´d rather be in this spot than the poor lady in the bunk beneath me...waiting for the bed frame to collapse on her. A modern day rendition of Damocles. Between the church and the refugio there´s a garden that´s walled off from the outside for the use of the refugio. It´s a tiny green paradise in the middle of a hot and dusty Camino. Great place to hang about and socialize. In fact, I think I´ll do that now.
9:00pm: Just about to crash for the night. Tomorrow, I´m going as far as Pamplona, and then taking time to enjoy the city. Also have stuff to do there, like cash my travellers cheques, and mail forward some items from my backpack. It´s too heavy - I realize that now. Met a number of interesting people in the Refugio today from many different backgrounds. There´s Cecile from France, but currently working in Vancouver. Osa, from Norway who´s only on the Camino for a week and doesn´t speak a word of Spanish (didn´t have the heart to tell her that her name translates to She-Bear in Spanish). Jorge, also from Segovia, who seems nice - if a little strange. A whole cartload of Quebeçois who all snore (and hence share my gulag), and a young family from Barcelona who are only doing the camino for a few days. Interesting bunch. I wonder which ones I´ll be seeing again once I spend the extra day in Pamplona. Short hike tomorrow; should be a welcome respite.

Day 1: Roncesvalles to Zubiri

"To everything there is a season
a time for every purpose under the sky"
Ecclesiastes 3:1

8:00 am: Just about to head out; the bus here was packed, and predictably, so was the refugio in Roncesvalles. Went to the traditional pilgrim´s mass last night at 8:00, and the communal dinner afterwards, where I did manage to meet a few people. Liane and Laura from Sydney, Derek and Andy from Brisbane. We talked about meeting up this morning to head out together, but so far no sign of them. Might as well get started. Didn´t sleep last night, partly because of the anticipation, and partly because of the snoring (for once, not mine). Anyways, here goes nothing...
9:30 am: Unreal...two hours so far before I had my first coffee. That sets a new personal record for me. Ended up bumping into the aussies in Espinal, which is the first little village outside of Roncesvalles. Walked for a bit together, but they all walked too fast for my comfort level. I´ll meet up with them (or not) later, I´m sure.
1:15 pm: Ouch. This is not easy. I think I did the right thing by starting in Roncesvalles. As up and down as the road from here is, it´s prevailing direction is down. You really feel the "up" parts though. Crossing the Pyranees would have done me in for sure. As it is, the road to Zubiri goes directly over the top of one of these mountains, and it´s positively killing me. Every time you think the road can´t possibly go any higher, you turn a corner and it does. All this in 33 degree heat. It´s tough to even stop in the shady spots, ´cause the flies swarm you as soon as you do. It´s almost as if they´re asking "Are you dead yet? Can we lay our eggs now? How about now, are you dead yet?". Sheesh.
2:15 pm: Reached the top. One foot in front of the other...rest often...drink often. That´s 16 brutal km down, and 4 more to go. Rest is downhill to Zubiri, so at least I´ll have gravity on my side.
3:45 pm: Gravity sucks. Clambering down a steep, steep slope with tired legs, weak knees and aching feet is almost as hard as climbing. Resting halfway down right now - should be in Zubiri within the hour. Going to check into the hostal and sleep like a baby.
4:15pm: Both refugio´s are full, but I managed to get a bed...well, a space on the floor in a jai alai court anyway. Can´t tell me Navarra´s not part of the basque country. No sign of the Aussies, but they´ve prolly gone on to Logroño. Shame really, they seemed like a lot of fun.
9:00pm: Just had dinner with the nicest retired Spanish couple, José Luis and Aurora. Apparently, they have a son who is about the same age as they thought I was (under 35 is all I got...Yes!). Luis is apparently some kind of amateur historian, and was all over the place talking about the history of the Camino and the Iberian peninsula. Was very entertaining, and also forced me to communicate in Spanish. By the end of it, I was very comfortable with it, even though I only have the vocabulary of a small Spanish dog. On the plus side, everyone is surprised how I don´t appear to have any kind of accent when I do speak Spanish, so I have that in my favor anyway. Time to turn in. Hopefully get as far as Pamplona tomorrow.