Author: RebWhite

First, can I say that I am grateful for my left foot and right knee, mole skin, Hikers Goo, band aids, and Motrin – the best gift. 

Totally was totally great and gave me a practice opportunity for an attitude shift. 

Today was another quiet, walk alone hike with occasional chatting and listening to my book. I finished Old Path White Clouds by Thich Nhat Hanh. What a totally perfect book to listen to as I walk miles through completely beautiful country. I know I’m writing in hyperbole, but it was truly a gift of a day.

The country has shifted a bit, still all farming, but now many more vineyards, rolling hills and it’s warmer, dryer. Probably 80’s again today. Here’s one scene:

I started off walking out of Estella which was bigger than first imagined, so traffic, suburbs a bit, and talking to Summer. So nice that the time difference allows us to talk at a more reasonable time. I kept having to call her back because there would be something else diverting. The first time I realized we were off track because I’d been following three Spanish guys, assuming they knew the way so I could focus on Summer. Hmm. No signs and they’d stopped too. We looked at my map and they knew the area so we got back on track. Started talking – in English – and turns out they work doing wind turbines, getting blades from Boulder, setting up systems for people. One of them had been to Padre Island for a month to help a farmer install a windmill. I couldn’t believe he had a month in the states and that’s where he was. Small world to have geographical connections with them. 

Then I saw the forger that I’d read about. Really nice guy, he’d followed his father’s blacksmithing, but his grandfather was a farmer. He had 2 sons and a dog – just saw the photo of 3 generations so talked about that a bit and about his work. In Spanish!

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Then shortly after that, saw the vineyard that I’d read about, the Monastery of Irache with its Fuente del Vino (fountain of wine). I’d been thinking that was figurative, but nope. Also – Bodega means ‘vineyard’ here rather than a little store.

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That’s the monastery behind me, but sadly, opened at 10 and it was 9:30. Gotta keep moving. I would like to have seen it because it’s still pretty complete, a town of its own in its heyday. 

Continued after a short hot chocolate and ham and cheese sandwich break in the little town. I knew there wasn’t any support for food or water after that for about 9 miles. And – that’s the only way to get to use the WC. The town was Villamayor de Monjardin. Courtesy of The Pilgrimage Road to Santiago, “It was the last major stronghold of the Banu Qasi Muslims in this region until King Sancho Garces captured it in 914.” Look at it! The effort to build it and then, really? Go up to it and capture it? Incredible. 

Back to hiking. One thing that’s astonishing – have I written this? – is the amount of tissue paper by the side. Do people think it’s organic? And really? Right there? That being said, there’s very little trash other than those sightings. And the towns are immaculate. 

Just when I was starting to get hot and thinking of pulling out the apple I’d been carrying since St. Jean Pied de Port, I saw 2 guys cross over the track and down the bank. Bathroom break? But then I saw them in the vineyard and one of them was eating some grapes. I asked if they were ready and they said yes, did I want any? Is that ok? Sure! They were French so figured they knew their vineyard etiquette. Oh my – the best treat. I ate one at a time because of the seeds and there were so many grapes in the bunch that I was able to walk this whole track and had only eaten half. Eating the grape and spitting the seeds. So satisfying! Then passed a guy with a big pack looking really tired and hot. I asked him if he wanted the rest. “Oh no, I have food, just too tired to stop.” “Well, take these, my hands were clean when I started and they’re great.” I stopped to clean my hands with a bit of my water and when I caught up again, he had a big grin, “these are great! I’ve never had them.” So fun.

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Finished my book and was enjoying the silence for a long time. Just when my feet/knees/legs were signaling enough already, met up with a woman from Monument, CO. She was great. We talked the rest of the way and she and I agreed that it made the last miles go much more quickly. In her 70’s, had biked the whole thing 20 years ago and said it went too fast. She’d always wanted to go back when she had time and realized, she better go before she ran out of time! She is winging it day by day. Making reservations a day or two ahead, sometimes just doing the hostels. She had her bag carried, but arranged it day by day as well in case she wanted to stay extra days here or there. She thought she might start carrying it at some point, but it still felt like too much right now. Amazing. 

Then I walked into Los Arcos while she looked for her papers to figure out her hotel. Clearly siesta time. Amazing how ghost town these old villages are during that 2-4pm break. I was so happy to be there. Got there at 2, could take a shower, and get that great big lunch that I love. Plus the town was what is fast becoming my favorite kind, small, ancient, accessible. 

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And there’s the restaurant. Plus all the people I know would be gathering to chat and catch up. So fun. 
BUT went to the hotel around the corner from the church and he said my reservation had been canceled by the agency. I’d completely forgotten that a few weeks before I left I was suddenly informed that the hotels had canceled my reservation in a few places so I was going to be shuttled. But he said, no, here’s your reservation, I don’t know why they canceled. And the place was full. I was so hot and tired and couldn’t see waiting until 5 when I was going to be picked up, nor did I want to have the happy gathering if I couldn’t stay, so I got a taxi earlier and went on to Logrono. 17 minutes to drive (he was very fast) the 17.5 I’ll be walking tomorrow. 

Definitely a practice opportunity to not be attached to my preconceptions or expectations. Oy, practicing hard. Especially when I realized Logrono is a big city, the hotel was a business efficient hotel with walls 1 inch thick so that I could share my neighbor’s TV experience and no charm. And I’d lost my peeps a day early. Sigh. 

So I’ve rallied now. Walked the ancient city, and finally got to sit and have quiet time in a beautiful old church (you’re probably rolling your eyes). One thing that I’m starting to appreciate is that the doors are just absolute works of art. Here’s where I sat, the doors behind me and Mary in front. An old guy was there too and we had about half an hour before tourists starting walking through, though quietly because of the “Silencio” signs. 

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The Iglesia de Sant Maria la Redonda, built between 15th and 16 c, but with decorations into the 1700’s. This is actually the area behind the choir – basically a second church. Much lighter and more appealing (I thought) than the bigger main church on the other side.  

Last night I got in to the hotel that had a restaurant as well and I was starving, so had a big lunch around 4 – just in time before they change to sandwiches. The salad of tomatoes was giant and incredible – from their garden. I would love this to be a regular thing, two days now had an amazing lunch and then didn’t need anything else after.

A fellow American, Rick – dentist from Kerrville – sat down near the end of my lunch and had a beer. It became a musical chairs table for a lot of the people we knew. I left to get a shower and make myself look at the churches and town, happily tiny, so little more walking. Found Fiona and we sat back down at the table with Murv (turns out it’s Merv as in Mervyn, not Murph as in Murphy) and others. Then we were there until 9:00 just chatting with people walking up and down the street. Well, I was just chatting, everyone else was having beer and wine with their chat. Don’t know HOW they walk the next day. 

Today, met Fiona and Merv at breakfast and off we went. Beautiful full moon over the church on our way out of town.

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Then 2 blocks later hit the bridge that the queen of Navarre built for the town in the 11th c. Until then there were ferries that helped/swindled the pilgrims as they tried to cross the Arga River. 

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And off to Estella. The tiny town with the GIANT churches. It’s a truly wonderful little town, “one of the most charming on the Camino.” 

I didn’t take too many photos during the walk. Talking with Fiona and Merv all the way, I actually was much more distracted than usual. Realized when I’m listening to my book, I’m paying attention to it, but also watching everything around me and noticing interesting buildings, people, etc. 

I actually was distracted enough that I left my poles in two places and Merv saved me. Actually, that was how we’d met the first day when I was so focused on a giant slug that I walked off after my photo and they called me and gave my poles. Today, we came across this guy who had an olive grove and a fruit stand. For a donation you could get something and I was really hungry. He had cold perfect fresh cut melon, so so good. The whole scene was great. I thought I got it on video, but nope. So Fiona and I walked off while Merv was chatting with another Irish woman. Engrossed in Fiona’s stories of teaching, I didn’t even realized I’d left my poles for ages. Then we were going up a slope and I suddenly realized. Oh, good grief, cursed, turned and there was Merv grinning with my poles and they were laughing, saying they wondered how long it would take me. Then I did it AGAIN. This time remembered quickly, but again Merv behind us had the poles. Oy. So – now – when I stop, I’m tucking them into a loop on my bag. 

Here’s Fiona on a bridge where a story was written by a pilgrim in the 12c. Unfortunately, I don’t have the exact wording, lost the page – but again from The Pilgrimage Road to Santiago. A pilgrim and his friend saw bandits who had skinned the horses of pilgrims who’d gone by – only if they died. The bandits told the pilgrim and his friend that the water was safe and they let their horses drink. Within a short distance, both horses died and the bandits skinned them and kept the money. Rough life being a pilgrim. I guess harder on the horses…

Finally, walked into Estella. Walked by the Church of the Holy Sepulcre, incredible stone work, but doors were closed. A lot of churches if closed, open half an hour before mass. All we could think was that we would have to walk BACK if we wanted to see it. The last mile always feels forever. 

My foot was getting very cranky from the hot spot and I was so hot, 82 when we walked into town. But – showered, put on flip flops and off I went. I was so hungry and very anticipatory for another great late lunch, but I got turned around and missed the timing, too late. Had a couple of little sandwiches and then went to explore more giant churches. 
This one is the most famous, San Pedro de la Rua, 12th to 13th century. There’s a beautiful cloister with two of the original walls and the church felt really calm and nice. I love it when there’s music playing. Took a video this time and you can kind of hear the music. I then thought there must be another church. It looked so big from below. But no, giant safe fortress place with fairly small church inside. 

Beautiful, right? Last church is 12c Church of San Miguel, right next to my hotel. I was so glad to get back close. Took a couple of Mary photos, couldn’t resist the one from Ecuador. Looked her up, but only found Spanish so got a gist, but will look again. 

I realize that when I put mileage, that doesn’t count when I walk around the towns. And those walks are an effort – just want to sit. But one day in a town and I want to see. 

Actually Puente la Reina was wonderfully small. My hotel was an ancient building with a rabbit warren of rooms and very weak Wi-Fi, so lost the post I made yesterday. Amazing that I have to look at my photos to remember what we did and then it comes back. 

I loved this day – all alone with brief conversations with a few people, always saw people I knew by name when I stopped at cafes and joined them. Stopped twice today, but other than that listened to my book and marched along. My longest conversation (in Spanish!) was with a woman from Valencia that I’d had brief interactions with a couple of times yesterday. She was great. As far as the walking, I thought it was the hardest day on the feet because there were a number of miles that looked like this: 

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But, of course, there were a variety of paths and so many beautiful scenes.

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This is heading toward the ridge with the windmills. Tore down an ancient village to build them, but the books don’t say much about the loss. And they do have energy! This is where there is a row of bronze pilgrims that’s quite wonderful. I’m a bit hunched over in the photo because it was blowing and my feet hurt courtesy of those rocks. But it was fun because I ended up taking about 15 people’s photos once I got going and was then told in about 5 languages to get a jacket! People really are nice since there’s this bond of being a peregrino (pilgrim). The photo after the pilgrim photo is what you could see behind the statues. 

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One of the littlest villages I walked through had a very small church with a beautiful Mary and child – the notes said Flemish which you could tell from the sweet smile. The church looks giant in the photo, but it’s only big enough for about 10 rows of benches. Outside the church were a couple of guards/policemen. Then I took a look at the car and realized they were for the pilgrims, first I’ve seen it. They are the inheritors of the traditions of the Knights of Templar and Knights of St. John, who started in order to protect the pilgrims to both Santiago and to Jerusalem. I took a photo of the car and one of the guys gave me a card. Hope I don’t need it!

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Weird juxtaposition there.

The markings generally have been amazing all along the way, different towns sometimes implementing their own style. Only once did I get a bit stumped and for the first time no peregrinos were anywhere. After a couple of minutes a French woman came and we conferred and finally pulled out phones. We then talked for a bit, she’s been doing this since 2014 in two week increments with some years off. But she started at the beginning – the real beginning – outside of Paris. Wow.

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Finally, on this day, someone – American probably – had written messages in some of the yellow arrows that we follow along with the blue with yellow star/shell signs. One said “walk, don’t reach.” Good reminder. 

So nice to have a shorter walk. Had a croissant this am along with fresh-squeezed OJ in that gorgeous old house and I was off. Walked almost all the way alone, watching the animals, tiny towns, and listening to my book. I did talk a bit with a woman from Valencia but language was limited, though we covered a few basics with my Spanish. She was walking with her father-in-law and it was a bless her situation. I’d seen the guy talking to a rock, well, maybe to himself, but looked like to a rock. He talked a LOT. She’d walk ahead, keeping an eye back to make sure he was alright, then keep walking. Clearly, she had a strategy. She was lovely, so happy to have a week away with the mother-in-law watching her two kids. 

I arrived in Pamplona, crossing a 12th century bridge, updated in the 14th, then restored in the 1960’s, I think. The Magdalena  Bridge. It’s pretty much all about the church here. I didn’t realize Pamplona is another medieval town. Then I was walking between enormous fortified walls as the bells started ringing for 12N. So amazing that I’m here, I was just grinning.

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Then I found the tourist office, got my stamp – hadn’t meant to, but walked right by it. Oh right, have to do that. Then realized I had to walk all the way through town (about 7 minutes) and my feet decided they’d had enough. But – oh – when you do a walking tour, when you get where you’re going, you have to walk to see what you came to see. That was a bit dismaying. Found my hotel and at first a little disappointed because it’s like a Spanish Hilton, then decided that was REALLY nice. Quiet. Can’t hear the nice old Irishman snoring all night next door. I’m going to sleep tonight 🙂

Took a shower, picked through everything I could and sent a box home to lighten my bag. I seem to always be on the third floor of a walk up hotel. Very proud of myself between post office and restaurant – made it work with my oh-so-limited Spanish. Came back, took a shower and then made myself go out armed with the ripped out sheets from my great medieval history book. 

First, I had to eat. It was about 3:30 and I found a restaurant with a lot of people in it, they let me sit though getting close to closing lunch time. Totally great lunch. I’m beginning to see why people like Spanish food, but it sure is hit or miss for where you go. Also – NOONE eats alone here. I’m such an oddity. 

I started with the Iglesias de San Ignacio, “unremarkable 17th century church.” Well, even unremarkable church’s are pretty incredible. But I loved the background story: “The church marks the site where a young night named Ignacio de Loyola was wounded in the defense of Pamplona on May 20, 1521. While recovering, the wounded knight asked for novels of chivalry to read. Instead, his friends brought him the Bible and some saints’ lives. Ignacio decided to become a soldier of Christ and went on to found the Jesuit Order.” (The Pilgrimage Road to Santiago) I loved that.  

Then to the Cathedral, incredible and they had music playing in the background and this time people really were respectful of all the “silencio” signs. That and Ignacio were my sitting places today. The photo below is just one chapel – Santa Caterina.

Now – got a text from my Irish friends that I missed today that they’re going out at 8. That seems very late to me, but it’s 7 minutes away so going to go, have some cider to counteract the extremely thick chocolate I had at a cafe and then back to sleep. Almost 15 more miles tomorrow. Want to get going early, serves me better. Street and cafe scene below.

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I realized last night that I had 18 miles, not 11 as I’d mistakenly thought. And it was supposed to rain the whole day. I was definitely feeling a bit dismayed, then ran into an English couple, Audrey and Peter, coming out of their room in the same hotel. They too were walking almost all the way to Akeretta. Ok, just knowing I had company whether we walked together or not was great.

I started early this morning. 7:40 is early here because sunrise is at 7:30 and it’s dark! It was raining, but right away I saw the St. James chapel was open and it was beautiful. Then started walking. I had a lot of quiet time, I was warm, comfortable and loved the walk. Again, so beautiful and the terrain kept changing, trail, forest, field, beautiful town, witch burning site, thin trail, wide trail. Never boring.

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After a few hours, started listening to a book which took me another couple of hours, then connected up with the Irish couples I met yesterday. They are great and ended up walking into Zubiri with Fiona and Murph – ending the day again with them. Had lunch at a cafe, then they went to their hotel and I walked on for another 6m to Akeretta. As one of the guide books wrote, tiny town with giant houses. That’s true in this case. I walked up a beautiful path after having been alone since I left Zubiri. Then into this little town of maybe 4 houses. Dead quiet, no sign of life. Oh boy, now I am tired and it would be hard to find housing since most things have been sold out. Luckily, one of the giant houses was my hotel. I’m including a video that I recorded for the fam about walking into the town.

These houses are from 17th and 18th century, Basque. The first floor was animals, the middle was people, and the top was the hayloft and storage. And this hotel is a remodeled 1723 house. And gorgeous. It looked familiar – like it was from The Way when they had their Basque dinner. Turns it, it WAS the house where they filmed his Basque dinner and they argued about Roland. Population of Akeretta – 6.

Still bit cold so we ate inside, but we were talking across tables and it was fun, great food and, happily, a lot of it because I was starving. Another great day!

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15 miles – the most beautiful 15 miles I’ve probably ever walked. Only thing similarly beautiful was the west coast of Ireland. Every vista. AND we got completely lucky because the rain lightened up so that we could do the Napoleonic route, a higher more scenic route that Napoleon took in order to surprise the Spanish who were used to people coming the other way – lower, easier.

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The houses are all white washed with red roofs and shutters, it was green and misty. There were goats/cows/horses, all grouped and moving independently and with bells on a few to track the group. So bells ringing, roosters crowing, people chatting in all different languages, wonderfully musical.

You fall in and out with people depending on pace and interest. I had a few long periods with different people, so fun to hear their stories. My favorite people were Fiona and Murph from Ireland (different from the snippet couple). We had a couple of periods and happily the last few miles because Fiona was funny as she wanted to get there and get into bed, sending Murph out to find her some tea. Kept me distracted because I was getting tired too.

This town has 21 people, one of the biggest churches ever and two hotels and a huge aubergue – the pilgrim hostel. It used to be the major point from which people crossed into and out of France/Spain. Roland had a major fight and died in 778 here – Charlemagne’s man. The church was built in the 1200’s and when I walked in, they had a recording of monks singing. Then the priest walked in and started singing in a beautiful voice. I quietly left out the back after a while.

A lot of the Spanish (I think mostly) people do seem to go to the services and they time the evening service so that they can go between arrival and dinner. They were all singing the responses with him. Beautiful. And it’s been going on in this church since 1200’s – incredible.

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Snippets from the day:
New Yorker: My cousin is from Texas. She was married 6 times, became Mormon and is now converting all of our ancestors. My family won’t talk with her.

Irish: I lived in Aspen for a while, helped build the extension to the airport. Went from Dublin when I was 21. Took me a month to get used to breathing it was so high. And it was expensive! There were heated footpaths. I went to the priest, who was Irish and asked if he had a parishioner who’d let me a room. He did and I moved in with a woman who was 41 and exercised on a trampoline. Wrote my mum and she was very nervous. After about 4 months, my brother wrote and told me to come to beautiful LA. So I took the desert train from Glenwood Springs. It was beautiful!

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Day of getting sleep, getting in order, leaving tomorrow for the first day.

Things I’m grateful for:
Trekking umbrella – used it all day today.

Culottes that Carol told me to get, wick dry right away and so comfortable!
Updated phone that James said was a definite.
Medieval villages that are preserved and currently vibrant.
Walking out of dinner and hearing the music from the church built in 1212. The priest walks out with an old woman and gives her a hug, confers with a biker who brought his bike up to the steps, then turns to great a sizable crowd leaving the church. Pilgrims hitting his church would indeed feel welcomed.

To get to the starting point, most people fly into Paris and then take the train from Montparnasse to St. Jean Pied de Port. That’s what I did, so cool to spend a day and a half in Paris. So lucky that Rick sent me off with a hug and I’ll see you in 4 weeks – but would love to have been with him in Paris.

I’m hoping to sit in churches all along the way so today, in the morning before taking the train, I went to two churches. Both of which I’d found when I’d been lost in 2 different jet lag fog walks within a few (2) bocks of my hotel. So I went back. The first, Saint Germain Des Pres abbey, was built in 540AD, oldest current part from 1000 AD. The second was the Church of Saint-Supice, started in 1646 and my favorite part, the Lady l, was finished in 1660. I sat in both for a bit of quiet. Both are incredible, but the second was truly amazing because of the giant sculpture and chapel for Mary behind the altar. You couldn’t even see it until you walked around and behind the alter. I was astonished. I wish I could have seen it with Rick’s mom, Mimi. She loves Mary and this was a gift of a place. The marble fresco (described as white, but looked brown to me) was incredible carving, no haloes, gilt, signs of anything but a woman and her son and the faces were beautiful. I took an up close photo and then one with a woman who was cleaning meticulously to give an idea of scale.

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After both periods of sitting, I was calm when I walked out. So – will carry on with the pattern and take time to sit. I will say that I look for Mary or the kinder actions of Jesus to sit in front of if possible. And to think of the incredible number of people over the centuries/years who have done the same, though with perhaps a different type of devotion. Buddhists talk about devotion as a critical element of the practice. Again, different, but a way to connect.

THEN the train. Oy. The sitting calmed me down from the 4am wake up of – oh my goodness, I’m going early to make sure I don’t miss. And thank goodness I did. Montparnasse makes Grand Central look like a village train station. Well, not exactly, but close! AND not a single information booth. Anywhere. I got dropped off in terminal 2, found someone who pointed (no one speaks English and all of my French sure sounds like Spanish) to terminal 1. Felt like a mile. Happily, I found a nice woman who between my ticket and her bits of English was able to point to where I’d look. No announcements are in English (why should they be, I’m in France) and out of 6 information people I saw walking around after about 40 minutes, one spoke a wee bit of English. Wish I wasn’t so American in my lack of languages.
I made it on.