Stage 2: Roncesvalles to Akerreta

I guess I should start where I left off yesterday, eh? After struggling to stay awake in order to get the last post finished I went up to my bunk and crashed for about two hours before the pilgrims’ dinner and mass. The dinner was great, 4 courses and wine to boot! The three of us were put at a large table with two Polish women (if I remember correctly), a German couple, a young Swedish girl about my age, and a retired Brazilian. Mostly I either talked to David (my grandfather) and his former business partner/friend Betsy (my two loyal companions), the Swedish girl, and the Brazilian. The Brazilian is who I enjoyed most of all, primarily because his story was really neat (as are for most pilgrims I've met so far). He recently retired from 32 years in the military and has decided to to travel the world. Starting with the Camino and continuing on with several additional travels when his wife meets him as he finishes.
After dinner we made our way to the pilgrims’ mass and received the pilgrims’ blessing. The church was gorgeous to say the least. As for the service, I know that the Catholic mass structure is the same world wide, but it was reassuring to experience something even slightly familiar. But me being me (having to be in the know) wished I knew more Spanish so that I could better respond and understand the homily and blessing. It's on my to do list to at least get the responses down before the end of this trip. After the blessing we returned to our beds, journaled, sent out some last emails and went to sleep.

Waking up this morning was a little rough for me. I wasn't really that sore, maybe a bit stiff, but the real problem was that I had put in some earplugs to guarantee a good nights sleep and had forgotten the fact that they would block out the sound of my watch alarm. It wasn't until I heard another pilgrim’s alarm did I wake up, 7 minutes after mine had started going off. I was able to rush getting ready and pack my things half hazardly before we headed out.

Leaving the albergue, the fog that had rolled in the night before had yet to lift and we set off into mist at about 6:20. We were informed that our best bet for breakfast was a cafe about 3.1km along the trail from Roncesvalles. It took us about 25 to minutes to get there. I had ordered some slice of quiche like thing with coffee in addition to grabbing an orange and banana for snackums later in the day to avoid a repeat of yesterday. I saw that several other people had gotten some freshly squeezed orange juice and I decided to jump on the band wagon to see what the hype was all about. The moral of the story for telling you the specifics of my meal, cause I know how much you care about that, is that after consuming these items, I came to the conclusion that fresh orange juice and good Spanish coffee make the world go round. Mostly because after breakfast I found myself in a much more chipper mood, to say the least, and was completely pumped to get the day going.

After the cafe we walked through the town which had no residents visible as far as we could tell and continued onto a dirt path through a pasture of cows and horses. Now, being well versed in the racing community, I have been trained, not unlike Pavlov's dogs, that cow bells are an encouragement to keep going and that you're doing great. In Spain and France they actually put the bells on cows/horses/sheep, go figure. So throughout yesterday and today whenever I would hear the bells in the distance I would have a sense of encouragement and excitement only to realize that it's just some cow who is the source of my affirmations, and he doesn't really care that I'm even breathing let alone walking 500 miles.

Which brings me to my next point. With sufficient caffeine and sugar in my system paired with the song “500 miles” (even better if it's the David Tennant version) you can set a really good pace for 7:30 in the morning. Just chugging along whistling to your merry self. But, as time goes by the caffeine and the sugar wear off and the internal metronome for the song tends to slow to more of a middle school slow dance pace. Also, I have reverted to my previous beliefs that up is better than down. Yesterday was merely the exception.

At this point I had made my way ahead of my companions like yesterday, allowing me to retreat back into my thoughts and observations. With the fog not showing any signs of relinquishing it's hold on the region it provided a sort of mysticism while traveling through the woods. At one point I had been pacing with a Spanish pilgrim, switching positions with him frequently. He didn't speak much English, and I even less Spanish. Despite the language barrier we had a sense of companionship for the few miles that we traveled together, making the occasional remark on the beauty of the trail and thanking one another in each others languages when opening the various gates for one another. Overall though today held a greater sense km community and connection among my fellow pilgrims. Unlike yesterday when we would pass one another with a half smile and grunt in their direction, today was filled with several, “Buen Casinos" and conversations.

I will note that the sun made sure to show it's shiny yellow face today, reminding me that the path was just as enchanting as it was when engulfed in fog. Until today I had yet to have a real sense that I am actually in a foreign country. While I “know” that I am no longer in the states, deep down it hadn't felt like it. I believe that today was the first time that the bonds of home began to loosen, allowing me to really, truly take in the Spanish country in a deeper manner.

At a point still several miles outside of Zubiri, I had definitely found my rhythm. On my own, mostly, and doing my thing, I came to appreciate my inability to properly guesstimate distances. Because of this “shortcoming” it gave me one less thing to think about, leaving room for other contemplations and appreciation. One being when I had passed an area of foresting and the tree hugging, Ferngully (movie) loving part of me was enraged at the destruction of such a beautiful forest. I let it go, but I wasn't pleased.

After stopping in Zubiri for lunch we picked up a lovely 80 year old woman who I walked with for the next 5km. Talking with her confirmed my belief that I get along better with older generations than my own. Not that I don't get along with my own, I just like old people better. Now we are cleaned up in the Hotel Akerreta (which was where some scenes in the movie “The Way” we're filmed) and resting our battered bodies for the night before we head to Pamplona tomorrow. A little more than 32 miles down. More to come. 

Picture descriptions (top to bottom):
1) Inside the church in Roncesvalles
2) Last night after dinner at the kilometer marker for the trail