I’m writing from Zubiri, my fourth stop. All systems have been Go: the weather has been absolutely beauiful, my legs and feet are doing well, and I’ve met some interesting pilgrims to walk with.
On my way to ValcarlosIn ValcarlosLeaving RoncesvallesWalking to ZubiriThings found only in Camino town vending machines
My first day on the Valcarlos route was fairly easy but there isn’t much to the village. From there to Roncesvalles on my second day nearly killed me! It was really quite hard going uphill but, luckily, other pilgrims walking with me were were supportive. Here’s a shout-out to you, Andreas (DE), Angelo (IT), and Peter (UK).
Roncesvalles provided a nice respite, with good cold beer and AC where I stayed. The next day I clocked a short 12 Kms to Bizcarret-Guerendiain and today I made the even shorter trek to Zubiri. The downhill last two Kms into town are really hard on the knees.
I have seen very few others on the trail, which is nice at times but also disconcerting for the health of the Camino. September is supposed to be busy, so maybe traffic will pick up on the coming weeks. At which time I’ll probably complain about it. Nonetheless, there are plenty of folks here in Zubiri.
Tomorrow I head off on my first long trek, 21 Kms to Pamplona, about 6.5 hours of walking. I’ll have a rest day there and will probably need it. I’ll keep you posted.
I’m writing from my hostel room in Saint Jean Pied-de-Port, on the eve of my trek. It’s nice to be back in this tourist town and to mingle with the other pilgrims from all over the world.
I’m glad I was just a spectator to this downpour this morning
After breakfast I stood, coffee cup in hand, outside my hostel and wished those pilgrims setting off a buen camino as they trooped by. Some of them were carrying everything but the kitchen sink, even one guy I swear had a portable typewriter lashed to his pack. There’s a rule about not carrying more than 20 percent of your body weight and I’m sure these folks were over that. Well, they’ll likely be finding the local post or DHL office soon, to ship stuff they haven’t abandoned home. That’s what I did back in 2019.
I do love good writing and, as much as I try to do that here, I often find others who have put the Camino experience into words so much more eloquently than I. With that in mind, I’d like to direct you to this, from the Wall Street Journal of all places:
So tomorrow I set off, and instead of the Napoleon route over the Pyrenees I’ll be taking the lower Valcarlos route though the surrounding valleys. This is the only route open in the Winter and is said to be “easier but not easy” compared to going over the top. Having done the top route three times, I chose the lower one this time for completeness sake; something new.
My morning station, where I wish departing pilgrims a good walk
Saint Jean PdP remains a touristy place and there are now three hiking outfitter stores on the main drag, where there had been only one – a reflection of the large increase in the number of pilgrims in recent years.
Espelette pepper beer! Happy days!
Tonight I will pack my backpack and review my plans and tomorrow I’ll head off after breakfast. Pray for dry weather, please, and good company. I already have that in you; thanks for coming along.
In an earlier post I inaccurately said that the Via Francigena pilgrimage starts in Canterbury. That was wrong; it actually starts in London. I was reminded of this one day when I was halfway to Chartham on a training walk, all decked out in my Camino gear, and I encountered a dozen people hiking to Canterbury, from London. They were a group of young Via Francigena Goodwill Ambassadors, mostly Italians, and they were delighted to meet a fellow pilgrim (even if I was heading in the opposite direction). We had a nice trailside chat and several of them had been on Caminos in Spain. Based on the videos two of them were taking, I’m pretty sure I now appear in someone’s Italian blog.
Here’s the brochure they gave me. You can see that this is a very long hike! In fact, it’s about 2,000 miles through four countries and takes three or four months. That’s a commitment. Someone else I talked to a few years ago who walked it said that it doesn’t really have the level of supportive infrastructure found on the Caminos in Spain and is quite difficult. Let’s not forget we’re talking about crossing The Alps, too. The ambassadors were very nice but I’m not inclined to do this one. How about you?
However, meeting them put my measly upcoming Camino into perspective. Now I’m raring to go.
I’m in Paris as I write this and I’ll be heading south in two days. I’m passing the time between coffee, croissants, and cafes by engaging in the time-honored, pre-hike practices: tweaking my gear and generally overthinking all my plans. Yes, everything fits in my pack. Yes, I have all the required documents. Yes, I’ll probably be able to carry it all even if I do include that Swiss Army knife. And, as I’ve reminded myself several times, they probably, almost certainly, sell whatever else I might need, in Spain. Sound familiar?
I’m lucky that the wildfires in southwestern France that temporary shut down the trains out of Paris have been tamed. And, at the risk of jinxing myself, the weather forecast for my first hiking day is very pleasant – sunny and dry. One can only hope. I look forward to my ride to Saint Jean Pied-de-Port because the train is full of pilgrims and there’s a festive and excited vibe. I confess I’m getting a little of that right now.
I’m writing this final installment of my 2024 Camino posts from Paris, after getting over my parting gift from Santiago: a bout of food poisoning. Ooh la la.
The end of this Camino was much like its beginning: foggy, rainy, and cold, with low visibility, so the line of pilgrims along the way sported ponchos and other rain gear. However, when we reached Mount Gozo and the outskirts of Santiago were in sight, no one cared about the weather. We made it!
But, I’m getting a little ahead of myself. My last post left off in Ponferrada, where I stayed in a wonderful albergue with great services. Subsequent days took me to Cacabelos, Trabadelo, Las Herrerias, O Cebreriro (a dreadful climb and weather),
Triacastela, Sarria, Portomarin, Airexe, Melide, Arzua, and O Pedrouzo. My lodgings were generally good, but sometimes not that great.
After O Cebreriro, it’s not quite all downhill but it seems that way and once you reach Sarria, where all the tour groups jump in to get the minimum kilometers required for a compostela, momentum and excitement help propel you forward toward the finish.
Each time I met Americans on this hike, and there were many, I carefully brought up the upcoming U.S. elections. I don’t often get to talk to people I don’t already know, from across the U.S., these days so I wanted to do so here and to listen to their views. As it turned out, almost all of them had the same political feelings that I have. I guess going on the Camino may reflect a certain world-view, so sharing those feelings is not that surprising. It was nice, though, to find that Americans from states like Louisiana, Texas, Idaho, and Montana are nicer, more thoughtful, and more progressive than their media stereotypes often suggest.
Camino-inspired wine in CacabelosCustom group Camino patchesRainy morning is Las HerreriasCaldo Gallego – yum!Canine cafe welcome committeeCows on the Camino near AirexeCamino chic: hiking kiltA cleaning company; not a commentary on the European economyYours truly, at the Santiago Cathedral
It continued to rain throughout the weekend after my arrival in Santiago. My New French Wife, Marti, flew in and joined me a few hours after I arrived. We enjoyed our reunion and in the following days dashed around through the rain to various good restaurants for some excellent Galician meals. We went to the official Pilgrim office and I collected my Compostela certificate, a process that is all automated now, somewhat impersonal, and without the hand-lettering of your name and details. It looks like this:
The rain continued to come down throughout our stay in Santiago and it really was pretty miserable at times. What I would have given for some sunshine! Our flight back to Paris went smoothly and now I’m sorting through my gear and decompressing.
As reported earlier, my poor feet took a beating and I’ll probably lose a toenail, but they’re slowly recovering. I’m happy to have survived the physical and mental challenges once again, and I’m enjoying the post-Camino downtime. As before, it’s a bit of a shock shifting gears from speaking Spanish to speaking French.
Looking back over the last seven weeks, I’m a little sorry that the Camino seems a bit too touristy now. At times it seemed that there were just too many pilgrims, and many who saw it as a lark, in my opinion, so some of the specialness of it has gone. Maybe that’s a symptom of a post-pandemic, pent-up demand resulting in generally high tourism levels everywhere, or maybe it’s just the consequence of walking the Camino for a third time. At the moment, I don’t even want to think about doing it again, but I know that in six months or so the rose-color hindsight will take effect and I’ll start imagining my return. We’ll see.
Once again, thanks for coming along on my journey and for your encouragement. Cheers.
The Occasionally-Examined Life 