Santiago

Annnnnnnnnd….. I got the paper. I have officially completed the 775km from St. Jean to Santiago. I will say that coming into Santiago was pretty anti climactic. Like every other city we walked into there was the new industrial part of the new city that leads into the old city. As we walked the last bit in I found myself meandering to the finish line. Not too determined to get to where we have been going for five weeks I found myself with my pack unbuckled, eating a sandwich and taking my own sweet dear time. That alone indicated my lack of desire to put the walk behind me. Or face what was ahead of me, and even behind.  

Emotions, emotions, emotions. Before I left for this trip I was overwhelmed with emotions in the aftermath of competing my undergraduate degree. Since the beginning of this journey the hurricane of emotions has been kept at bay by my persistence to live in the moment and take in all that I can.

Temporarily skipping ahead one whole day after our completion and before we left to go to Paris, I had decided to venture down to the main plaza by the Cathedral to watch the days pilgrims make their way in. While I was there I ran into a fellow pilgrim that I had met about two weeks back. I will say that this particular pilgrim has held a special place in my heart ever since I first encountered him on my first night on my own in a separate albergue and town away from those I had been with. He shared with me his story, as we all do, and his name, Eugene.

I will say now that I am not one to believe in coincidences, and for such a kind, sweet, and thoughtful person to share the name of my deceased grandfather whom I was extremely close, was something that stuck out to me. So when I saw his wise and weathered figure walking towards me in the plaza I could feel my heart strings tug.

He sat down and we proceeded to share our experiences of our arrival into Santiago and began to discuss the emotions that have been bubbling up for some time. At one point he had mentioned his disappointment that when arriving in the main cathedral plaza there was no great fanfare, no mayor to shake hands with, or banners with our faces plastered all over them. I reflected on what he said, and replied that although that would have been nice, the lack of climax allows the pilgrims to tell themselves, “This is it. I am finished.”

For me, to think those words was one thing, but to come to terms with their meaning was something else entirely.

To tell yourself that you have reached the end, and not have the fanfare and external voices telling you so is a very internal and intimate process. A process that is not something you go through quickly and immediately, but for many will be something that will take a week, a month, maybe even years depending on their journey that they created for themselves.

To process all that we did, all that was accomplished, and the people we met is no small task. A lot happened in 5 weeks. We are not the same people that we were at the beginning. I said this before, but it is even more true now, we may have stopped walking but our pilgrimage is not yet over.

To finish in Santiago and receive the Compostela was a small victory, and more of a catalyst into the rest of the day. After the Compostela was safely in our possession we found our hotel to dump our extra appendages (aka our packs) and headed back to the Cathedral.

The Cathedral Santiago de Compostela is not only the end point for the Camino but known to be the resting place of Saint James, one of Jesus’ apostles. To wander the cathedral and not feel a sense of awe and wonder would be nearly impossible. Being Catholic it is difficult to hold back tears as I passed the many taking confession and look upon the resting place of the holy apostle. It's even more difficult when the mass is underway and I saw all of  the walks of life that have been traveling with us, share the sanctity of a Catholic mass. Much like when I went to the National Catholic Youth Conference in 2011, it gave me hope to see so many people come together for the love God, or at the very least, the appreciation of a higher power.

Afterwards, we knew that we were pressed for time and set out for some food to tie us over and I was determined to find an American snack food shop that I had heard about. On a mission my friend Nick and I began our hunt for the heavily processed foods that our bodies had been denied for 5 weeks. By my masterful navigation skills we successfully found our shop with the heavenly angels singing and a glowing light surrounding the sign (wait, I might have gotten that part mixed up with mass). I wasn't able to find the Cool Ranch Doritos that I have been dreaming of for weeks, but settled on some Barbeque Lays and a Nerds Rope, and Nick went for the Dr. Pepper and Pringles. Content with my bounty, I picked my way back to the hotel to get ready for the End of the World.

Now I don't mean the literal end of the world, but what the Spanish sailors thought was the edge back when the earth was still considered flat. It is also the unofficial end of the Camino, where you find the 0.00km marker and where many pilgrims hike on to once they leave Santiago. We decided to take a taxi there to see the sights and enjoy the ever famous Pulpo with dinner. In preparation, and now in possession of my Paris luggage, I decided to make the trip even more special by wearing makeup, donning my usual jewelry, and dressing up a little bit.

I was not a fan of the makeup and jewelry. After over a month of neither they felt excessive and heavy. It almost felt like I was hiding behind them. Which made me wonder if I was hiding before without being fully aware of it. Not that it's bad to wear those things, but to know that you are just as, if not more, beautiful without them is something I believe most women aren't aware of.

For now I will leave out the Finesterre part of the tale for another post in order to focus on Santiago, so don't abandon reading the blog just because I got the paper.

When we got back around 8pm I wanted to explore more of the city and the night life. Not necessarily to go out and, “Get trashed mannn” but to see the city come to life. The streets were full of pilgrims and locals enjoying food and drink, celebrating and laughing. We ran into familiar faces and shared information so as our goodbyes would not be our last. In every plaza there was live music frequently paired with dancing and joy. It was impossible to not find the merriment contagious. It was the perfect way to end a momentous day.

Almost There

10km. That's it folks, T-E-N kilometers left to Santiago. Is it the light at the end of the tunnel, or the edge of a cliff into a great abyss? Honestly, I think I am in the Twilight Zone where it is both at the same time.

For the past week we have been walking the the beautiful mountainous region of Galicia, a stark difference in scenery than the seemingly never ending planes we had been in prior. For the most part the walks have been better because there is more to see and look at, that is until you decide to do a few 30km days in a row, then you just start hating life a little.

As a whole we have been going slightly off book from the normal “stages” that most pilgrims follow in the Brierley guidebook. By doing this we have had less troubles with finding beds at albergues and have seen different parts of the Camino hospitality that most pilgrims don't. We are able to get ahead of the big crowds and have a sense of ease while walking, which only encourages our bar/café hopping method of going town to town and stopping for food and drink whenever we want so long as we get to our albergue in enough time to get beds.

In the beginning we would often see faces that we recognized. Not that we don't see familiar faces anymore, but there has been a notable shift in the ratio of familiar to unfamiliar faces. This has a lot to do with other Camino routes joining our own as well as the influx of people who are only doing the last bit to obtain their Compestela. I guess it ensures us to keep on our toes about making sure to meet new people and not become clique-ish.

With the addition of people there have been losses as well, as I have mentioned before. Most of the group that we were with before has dispersed and only a couple of us are left, mainly the California father and son I mentioned previously and my grandparents and I. Occasionally we come across the Georgia couple, who make me smile every time I see their welcoming faces. Or the two long time best friends from England, who remind me of my own lifetime best friend and how much I would like to come back and do this with her (hint hint). One of the things that has become apparent on this trip is that the Camino is not all about walking, but the people. The Camino is not the Camino without the unique backgrounds and stories of the people.  

There are things that I will miss, and there are things I won't. I am ready to have a wider selection of clothes. I am ready to make my own food with more flavor. I am ready for my feet to not be as swollen as a woman in her third trimester. But I am not ready to leave my new people. I am not ready to have responsibilities. I am definitely not ready to not be able to eat anything and everything within reach.

So come tomorrow it is the end. But it is also the beginning. I have put my life on hold for 5 weeks now, 7 by the time I get back to Colorado. As much as running away from responsibility seems like a nice idea, it's never a reality. Life always catches up, even if you are a world away.

I look back on this trip and I see all that I have done and accomplished in the past few weeks and see that I HAVE in fact gotten something out of this trip, but not everything. I also have come to the realization that everything is not a one time thing. To get everything would require additional pilgrimages, which just means more things on my bucket list. The gals on Pinterest talk about “Wanderlust”, I don't believe that the lust is truly realized until you get a taste. Doing this Camino has been my taste, causing me to crave adventure more and more.

Oh look, an update!

The other day I made it to the Iron Cross. Since my grandmother joined us in Leon, I have developed the habit of staying in the town just passed their designated stops in order to maintain a comfortable average of 24 km per day, not too short, not too long. So starting off I was only 2 km away from the cross when I left that morning. Wanting to make it a special experience, we planned to get the cross at the same time. That didn't happen. Oddly enough my anger over the lack of promptness was promptly squelched by the emotional people watching I was able to partake in.

The cross, a significant milestone (kilometer stone?) of the Camino is the location where the Pilgrims place the rock that they have presumably been carrying since they left home. It is a place of reflection and prayer, as well as providing a chance to leave your sins that have been weighing you down in your heart and mind.

For the hour that I waited in the crisp cool air with the birds chirping and the sun shining, I saw all sorts of people from all walks of life experience the cross. For I know not what each of their individual burdens were, but I do know that if they fully took in the experience, then they would leave a bit lighter in soul. There were tears, there were smiles, there were moments of silence and prayer, there were hugs and kisses, and of course copious amount of pictures.

The community that has formed along the way is made even stronger when we help one another place our own individual burdens from our life beyond the Camino. These moments on this journey are the ones that we will carry with us for the rest of our lives.   

As for everything else? Well since the last time I wrote most of the walking we had been doing was in a vast amount of nothingness. For over a week we were walking along highways, with cars flying past, wind blowing in our faces, going from freezing to heat stroke. So instead of writing about seeing the same stretch of road over and over again I made the executive decision to spare you. (Or maybe I was lazy and don't feel like writing, you may never know….)

Anyways, starting on Sunday we began to see the mountains again. Just the sight reminded me of home. That particular morning I was climbing a hill jamming to some Twenty One Pilots (because that's literally all I have to listen too, but that is in no way a complaint), when I reached the top of that particular hill before going into a town I could see the mountains straight ahead to the west. The sight was enough to put a goofy ear to ear grin on my face.

Since then the parallels between the Camino and home add up every day. Whether is be running down Alto Altar like I was running down Barr Trail, or walking through the mountain towns paralleled by a highway, not unlike I-70, but more tranquil. The hills surrounding me is like a long distance hug from home.

Now I don't want you to mistake all of this Colorado vs. Spain talk as a form of homesickness. In fact the idea of being done in a little over a week really depresses me. I am not ready to say goodbye to my new friends, or the country of Spain itself, or maybe I am just not ready to go back to my real life.

It's not because what I am doing is a walk in the park, because it's anything but. It's actually a walk across a country, in case you missed that fact, which is really bleeping hard. Hard on the body, hard on the mind, and even hard on the heart. But without all of the “hard", the great amount of good and easy would not be so sweet.

Stages 10- 15 with a Break Day

Needless to say that since my last post a lot of things have changed, some for the better and some for the worse, as they normally do. So I will simply start where I left off.

For the most part things have remained the same; we get up, we walk, we eat, we chat, we walk some more, we get to the end of the stage, find residence, eat, wander, sleep, repeat. Along the way we have picked up some friends who have stayed regular in our journey. We have the California father/ son pair, a happenstance 3rd degree Kenyan that knows some of the same people as David from home, two teachers from New Jersey who we affectionately call the “Jersey Girls”, a couple from Georgia, and an Irishman and German man who have only just met on this trip and act like an old married couple. These are only to name a few but have remained the ones that we frequent walking, talking, and “living” with. We have become a sort of family.

Very often when we reach a café or a bar for breakfast it turns into a big family reunion as we all show up separately sooner or later and leave as a muddled group that splits up only to later catch up once again.

I had mentioned before how difficult it was, or rather different, to walk with other people. I have since grown accustomed to it and prefer it because it tends to make time fly by, which is quite handy during the hot dry days crossing the meseta and your walking partner has some sweet tunes to get you through the last 10km of a 95°F, 31km day.

On a separate note; I have sad news to report. We have lost Betsy. Not lost as in something has happened to her, but lost as in she has left us to go back to the real world. The night before she left, several of us had gathered in the little town of Agés to celebrate anything we could. Our reasons included the California son and I have birthdays exactly one week apart, mourning Betsy leaving, surviving this far mostly injury free, and primarily because we could. The Jersey Girls gifted the birthday kids with Camino shells and gummy candies (which I should probably find and eat soon). There was much laughter and fun conversation to fill the evening with smiles and send us to our beds with happy hearts.

The next day walking into Burgos was an adventure in the least. The walk in was quite fun and pretty, I was in a good mood, until we hit the outskirts of town. Somehow we needed to get Betsy to the train station one way or another. We stopped to Google where exactly that was relative to our present location and found that it was 5.7km away. Easy peasy, right? Wrong. We ended up walking under the relentless sun through several industrial city parts, in between warehouses, through sketchy looking streets. It was rough. At one point Betsy and I started to become delirious, laughing, stopping, even wondering. It took all that David had to keep us going along the never ending awfulness that was the outskirts of Burgos. When we made it to the station, Betsy went to ensure she had a ticket and David and I promptly assumed our positions and took a nap. In the middle of the station. She later woke us up so that we could enjoy our last meal and cervezas and sent her on her way.

Since then we have continued our way, with a few adjustments of course. So to end this blog post I have decided to make a list of things I have learned so far in Spain:

• Women's bathrooms are always missing at least one vital piece of hygiene management (toilet paper, paper towels, soap, lock, or even the toilet seat)
• Speaking of bathroom locks, I have locked myself in too many than I would like to admit. If I were to not come home, it would be because I'm stuck in a bathroom somewhere in Spain without any one of things I mentioned previously
• Siestas are a thing. And they a both wonderful and annoying at the same time.
• Only words you need to know in Spain: Cerveza, Helado, Hola, Buen Camino, and Gracias.
• The worst parts of a walk are any time before there is coffee, and the last two hours before your stop.
• Don't leave your sleep sack in a bathroom. You will be screwed and grossed out when sleeping any time after.
• Time flies when you do nothing. Getting to the albergue, checking in, showering, washing clothes, eating, hanging out with friends. Before you know it it's lights out!
• You see more people on the streets that you know in a foreign country then you do when you are home
• Connections are everywhere: humans are associated to one another in so many ways. It's simply astonishing.
• I love people. The people you meet on the trail, in the albergues and town are some of the best humans you could ever have the pleasure of knowing.
• Everyone are Wi-Fi junkies. Find a good Wi-Fi spot and stay. But also Wi-Fi is so much more accessible here. Except on the albergues and hotels.
• Flies are everywhere due to the vast amount of live stock roaming around.
• Shepard's are still a thing. And cool to watch.
• I will restate that fresh orange juice, coffee, and Spanish tortillas make the world go round.
• Laundry is a must. If you don't do it then God bless the people around you, specifically their noses.
• If you can do 31.1km in 95°F with no shade, then nothing in the world could stop you.
• It's fun to wing it sometimes.
• Switching shoes and foot support makes all the difference in the world on a long day
• Vaseline + feet before walking → prevention of blisters
• Get blisters early, sucks for you, you are bound to struggle
• You get used to walking and that's what you do. Walk, walk, walk, and walk some more. And it's the best thing to every happen to you in your life.

That's it for now. Hopefully I'll keep on it, but no guarantees. 

Stages 7, break, 8 and 9

Wednesday morning we decided to take a very slight detour from our usual morning routine. The albergue that we were staying at started serving breakfast at 6, which corresponded with our usual departure and eating schedule. At breakfast we had the pleasure of talking to an older English woman who is doing the Camino for her young grandson who suffers from scoliosis and autism. She shared with us her stories about her family and how she is traveling the world at least until November. She is one of many people so far on this trip who has given me travel/retirement goals.
 

After that, we set off on what was to be our longest day yet, - 29 km to Logroño. Initially it was thought to be a great challenge both mentally and physically. It also marked the day that we would complete 100 miles and enter a different region of Spain (Rioja). Big day.

Personally I approached the day by thinking of it in two main chunks; Los Arcos to Viana and Viana to Logroño.
 

When we were leaving I found the tightness I had been feeling in my Achilles tendon had not been relieved. It was rather painful, but I figured I would push through the pain as I had done the day prior despite the voices of my coworkers, mother, and father grumbling in my ear that I shouldn't push it. But hey, since when have I ever listened to advice like that? (The answer is never, or when it's too late). My pace wasn't damaged too much by it, mostly just my gate by a small bit (in no way significant). On the outskirts of town, a young Boston couple we have been talking with since Roncesvalles passed by and mentioned in passing something about ibuprofen. What a novel idea! Although I am not one to jump to the drugs at the first sign of trouble, I took stock of my situation and how I still have 400 miles left and decided that it wouldn't be such a terrible thing if I were to pop a couple pills.
 

When we reached the town of Sansol, 6.8km from Los Arcos, we stopped to regroup at a café. There, I took two ibuprofen and crossed my fingers that they would make a difference. I then headed out with my sights set on Viana for a break and lunch.
 

The way to Viana was peaceful, as per usual, with vineyards and fields all around. There was a bit of wind to cut through the heat of the sun, that had decided to actually show up to its job that day. Not long after we left Sansol, I saw a younger  Englishman who had paired up with an American salesman around the same age earlier on in the pilgrimage (the two are actually a riot when you talk with them and are so entertaining to be around). The pair were ahead of me and were catching up to a limping woman (limping due to blisters) as we were coming down a hill. The Englishman proceeded to put a hand on her elbow and help her the rest of the way down the hill. So there is a daily heart warmer for you.
 

There was a point just past one of the vineyards where a local Spanish couple had come out to play music for the pilgrims as we endured the relentless sun. When people say that something was “music to their ears” I am positive that the couple's guitar playing is the gold standard to said ear music.
 

Eventually, in contrast to the fields, we also walked on a highway road as we got closer to the town. It took a lot of self discipline to not thrust out my thumb to mimic a hitchhiker. Once we made it to Viana, food and elevated feet were the only things on my mind. We found the town square which led us to a restaurant of our choice. Once we found a place and sat down I was completely enthralled by the people watching. We had picked a place that was part of the Camino path and were able to holler greetings to the familiar faces that passed us by. The American and Englishman pair were some of those faces, and they informed us it would be a loss if we were to not go into the Inglesia that stood prominently in the town square. So naturally after lunch we tried to go see what all of the fuss was about, and naturally, we couldn't get in due to the start of siesta.
 

Taking that as our sign to move on, Betsy and David re-applied Vaseline and I switched into my chaccos for a change in support for the rest of the days walk. As we were leaving there was a church ruin we were actually able to go into and wonder a bit. There wasn't much there but it was cool, none the less, to imagine what used to be.
 

The way into Lagroño wasn't terrible terrain wise, but was very hot and exposed to the hot afternoon sun. By the time we got to the city I was named official navigator to get us safely to our hotel. Yes I said hotel. By the time we checked in and got into our rooms I had received an e-mail from my dad trying to catch me up on all of the hullabaloo back home. Being fed up with the long drawn out e-mails and wanting desperately to hear a voice from home, I quickly replied with the curt suggestion that he download the “WhatsApp” so we could call over the Wi-Fi. Not even 5 minutes later I saw he was calling me and I was purely giddy with happiness. The second he said hello I couldn't help but giggle and keep repeating “hi” back because I could actually hear his voice. The Wi-Fi kept cutting us off but whenever it would reconnect us we would carry on as if nothing could happen. It made my day, possibly even my week, to actually hear his actual voice and not just in my head.
 

After talking with him we left to look for food and found a cute restaurant that we stopped at and began to “sample” two bottles of the region's infamous wine. While having a grand old time, some fellow pilgrims came and joined us and we carried on enjoying the beautiful evening laughing and being merry. At the end of the night we went back and fell straight asleep.
 

The next morning I slept in a whole extra two hours before getting up. Unable to find where Betsy and David disappeared to, and not wanting to leave for fear of being unable to communicate plans, I decided to go downstairs and get some breakfast in the hotel.  After hanging around in the room for a bit, Betsy finally showed up with information regarding our plan to do laundry after the market opened. So, that's what we did. We waited for the market to open so we could get detergent and then walked across the city to find the laundromat - culminating in our poor American selves struggled to figure out the laundry system. And I really mean struggle. The three locals that were present tried, in vain, to show us how it all worked - and slowly we began to figure it out.
 

We decided to relax at a café and wait for the laundry machines to finish its arduous task of tackling the cleansing of our several-day nastiness that was our clothes. While there, I was able to take in the local community. Considering it was a weekday and most of the population was either working or in school, it left the elders to roam free and take proper claim of the streets. I will take this moment to reiterate an earlier point: I love old people. To quote myself from when my dad and I stayed at a hotel full of them in California, “These are my peeps!” I was fascinated to note some of the differences between how we treat elderly in America versus how they are treated here in Spain. There is more respect here and they are more visible rather than being tucked away in America. But that is my own humble opinion.
 

When the laundry was finished, we headed back to the hotel and I met up with another pilgrim with whom to wander the city.  We mostly went to the park that ran along a river. At one point we sat on a park bench for a while, resulting in my shoulders, in particular one shoulder, exhibiting its apparent lack of melanin. It was a beautiful sunny day that became leveled up (gaming pun) by the overabundance of cotton flowing through the air to provide a less cold appearance and peacefulness of falling snow.
 

The next day we tackled yet another long day - from Logroño to Nájera, 29.6km in whole. It was nice because we each ended up with our own individual walking buddies to talk with and enjoy. Something we hadn't yet experienced. Up until yesterday we had just been walking on our own or all together. While I very much enjoyed the company, it still takes some getting used to to not be on your own with your thoughts after you have gotten so used to it.
 

It wasn't a hard day at all, just long and hot. The heat is what was the bigger hurdle to overcome, but we made due. I think the distraction of our partners made it all go by quicker and easier, save the last few kilometers, which are never easy because by then you can't not feel the pain of the distance culminating in your feet. Every rock, every bump is felt through every cell that has taken residence in your feet.
 

Our grandiose images of a paradise at the end of a dusty trail disappeared when we reached the lackluster outskirts of town. The further we pushed the more we were able to see the oasis that was nestled against a red rock plateau resting just beyond a rocky creek.
 

We were able to find yet another cute albergue with available beds just past the bridge. From there we fell back into our routine with food and drink and rest with strangling fellow pilgrims joining us.
 

Another benefit to gaining friends is we have also broadened our Spanish vocabulary. Betsy took a particular interest in the word for ice cream, or helado. After lunch we searched for an ice cream shop. Betsy, being the ever outgoing person we have all grown to love, decided to find where the nearest kne was by running up to people screaming, “HELADO?!?!” After scaring off and confusing at least three people, we got a rough answer as to the direction. We found ourselves in front of a bar that served ice cream bars (not what we were looking for) and we're very disappointed. Pouting ever so slightly, I took a few grumbled steps just beyond the bar to look up - and low and behold there it appeared! As if I had manifested it from my own imagination, there it was. In pure disbelief and excitement I began to scream, jump, point, and all around act like a crazy lunatic.
 

For the rest of the day we just took it easy and hung out with the fellow pilgrims until lights out. To end the day, a giant thunder storm rolled in with plenty of booms and flashes followed by a monsoon-esque downpour.
 

Today we did 21.3 km to Santo Domingo de la Calzada. For most of the day the weather hung in limbo that looked as though it might rain with the threat of heat and humidity that could have left us drenched in our own sweat. Despite the short day, with mild terrain we still found ourselves with sore feet and tired bodies by the time we reached the town.

Although not as cute as other towns we have been through, the town makes up for it in Catholic lore and architecture that brings awe and wonder to even those who are non- believers. After actually taking last in siesta after lunch we went to visit Catedral de Santo Domingo de La Calzada. It had several paintings and sculptures of religious figures, as well as a display of miniature models of historical and non-historical (sorry I don't count the Battle of Helms Deep as historical) events. Once we got into the actual chapel, we were able to witness the famous chickens of Santo Domingo (due to the high demand for and push to get this blog written, please refer to google for that interesting tale).
 

Since then, we have taken to relaxing with our pilgrim people before our adventure tomorrow. 

Stages 4, 5, and 6

Two things before I get into it…

1. Happy belated Memorial Day
2. Sorry I haven't written in a couple days. I've honestly just been tired and lazy and maybe a little bit rebellious

Pamplona to Puente la Reina - 23.8km

We left early from Pamplona as we have grown accustomed to and set off on our way. As I mentioned in the last post the fútbol championship was happening and Madrid was one of the playing teams. So naturally when they won the city erupted with excitement and pride leading to drinking and general frivolity often seen after a momentous achievement for a region. While I did not partake in such activities I was sure to note their existence after the yelling, screaming, and cheering woke me from my much needed slumbers. But I digress. So as we were leaving the city that morning we witnessed various groups of people stumbling home after the night's escapades. The high buildings, the empty quiet streets, and the rising sun aided in our optimistic mood. I had one problem though, I was starving. The tranquility of the streets could only get me so far before I was acutely aware that the last time I had eaten was lunch and ice cream the day prior. Famished, very quickly did the monstrous characteristics of swimmer Annie emerge, that is will do anything if it ends in food. Naturally, since it was Sunday nothing was open. Literally NOTHING. The closest pilgrim bar was 5.1 km outside of town. After we figured that, getting to that point was my only intention. On our way through Pamplona three things of interest happened, 1) we got semi lost following two female pilgrims in pink hats and not paying attention (the hats from the wine tasting event the day prior) we got back fine because we quickly noted our error and re traced our steps a bit 2) In the distance we could hear a church choir singing, their songs echoing through the streets, their harmonized voices washing over us, compelling us to stop and take in the moment. 3) we walked through a Universidad which reminded me so much of the college life that I am only two weeks removed from. I had a sense of longing and sadness that I would not be returning to a campus such as CSU. The Universidad projected what most colleges do, potential and hope. Potential to do so much with our lives and the hope that we can all make our own individual mark on the world. Seems so much more attainable when one is axis student, a little different when you leave. Just another reason why I am going to miss college.

We made it to the café and I proceeded to snarf a basket of bread washed down with hot coffee → happy Annie. After we left the café in Cizur Menor, we could see that a large number of pilgrims were catching up with us, once again providing ample opportunities for camaraderie and companionship. We headed off towards Alto del Perdón easily seen in the distance, it's summit lined with wind turbines indicating our highest point for the day. As we climbed we came across a town a little more than halfway up by the name of Zariquiegui where we re grouped. While everyone got food, I took the time to pop over to the church of St. Andrew San Andrés to take a few quiet moments of prayer and reflection. Afterwards I headed off and came to the top of the mountain. The views were breathtaking to say the least and we were all able to look back at the region from which we have already traversed and say, “I walked across that!?” and then turn around to see what we were to tackle next.

Coming down from the mountain I suddenly had a surge of energy rush through me leading to me jogging the rocky path down. Content in my pace I had forgotten to look around. It wasn't until an Italian pilgrim waved at me from ahead and yelled something while gesturing to the side of the trail did I stop and slow down. My expression of surprise when I saw what he was indicating to must have been hilarious when paired with a rather higher pitched “oh!” The astute Italian was in fact pointing out a range of balanced rocks that lined the trail. It was a sharp reminder, to quote Ferris Beuler, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

I did slow down a bit after that, but still jogged a bit, but really slowed down when I reached the bottom because ouch. My feet were feeling the distance, and I still had 6.5km left to go. So I took it slow the rest of the way in. One cool thing to note was that after we crossed over the mountain we were able to hear the church bells ringing from the towns below. One bell would ring for several minutes then the next town over would start, it went on and on. A nice addition to the already peaceful natural noises that we had been hearing. At one point in the town of Óbanos, the last town before our destination, we were walking through the vacant streets and came across a church just as they were letting out mass to proceed through the streets  to their own sounding bells. It was neat to see the community come together over something to special as their devotion to God.

Fast forward to La Reina, because I just meandered slowly the rest of the way and that's so much fun to re live (not). We returned to our developing habits of finding an albergue, settling in, setting put in search of food and drink, and returning with full bellies and happy souls for naps and reflection. In addition to the usual, I walked around town looking for an open farmacia (no such luck) and ended up wondering around the Queens Bridge before I headed to mass at the Inglesia de Santiago. Mass was beautiful and only a handful of people were present. Still getting over the not knowing Spanish thing, but I'm working on it! Getting better.

At the albergue we shared a room with only a handful of other people. A pair to note is a father/ son pair from California which we have kept along with since by mere happenstance. They have been a bit better at making friends than us so maybe they are our “in” if you will (joking, then again sort of not)

Puente la Reina to Estella - 21.9km

We left Puente la Reina not before stopping at a café for breakfast. There we experienced an older man, possibly the local drunk, who had tried to buy Betsy and I our breakfast. Not well versed in the language we struggled with our objections and even the worker at the establishment tried to aid in our objections. We left there laughing at the what had transpired and set off.

Immediately after town we started on a steep climb up and the conversation that we had started was cut short. My contacts were not working properly and I wasn't able to clearly see my surroundings, not being a fan I took them out on the spot and switched to my glasses. It's amazing what you can see when you change the lenses that you are looking through, literally! When we got to the top of the hill we could look over across the valley and see three little towns that we would got though and an expanse of vineyards and farmlands. The sun was starting to shine more on the mountains and brighten up the valley to urge it from its slumber and start anew. One area of particular interest was a group of lavender bushes grown in the shape of the earth's continents.

Once again I pulled ahead and made my way through the valley. In the town of Lorca, two towns from Estella, I contemplated stopping for our usual re group sessions, but I was feeling the momentum and have learned if you have it keep it up or you will regret it. On the way out of town I heard yipping sounds coming from a rough looking box thing. As I got closer I found that there were two puppies that resided in said box thing. I will admit to seriously contemplating taking one and putting it in the front part of my pack so it could look out as he and I do the Camino together. Tell me that doesn't sound awesome. But I thought better of it and moved on after visiting a little longer.

As I came into the last town before Estella, the black cloud that has been looming to the west decided to open up and dump down upon us poor pilgrims. At one point I thought that I could still push through it because I was feeling good. I passed by a café where a few people I was pacing with had stopped, thought better of it and turned around to relax and read the Camino book while I waited out the rain and for my amigos.

Once we re grouped we headed out and went to Estella. I was hurting and rusty as we were leaving because of the stop and slowly picked up pace, but not nearly the same as I had before. I also had to pull out the pole to assist as well. Once in Estella we got to an albergue, did our routine, and by the end of the night I was catching up on journaling and talking with fellow pilgrims on the patio on a beautiful night in Spain.

Estella to Los Arcos- 21.5km

So today! Finally talking about recent things! Yay! Today we actually stuck together most of the day, conversing with one another, laughing, and being merry. Just outside of Estella was a wine fountain that we took full advantage of :). It was very overcast for most of the day and we had apparently gone the “long” way through the towns and not the scenic route that a lot of others had chosen. Which was nice because there weren't too many people around. Today's goal was to drink more water because I have found myself on the dehydrated side of things. The error in my thinking was that what going in, must come out. And we were in fields again. Do with that what you will and how that may have affected how quickly I was walking to reach a baño. We made it to Los Arcos the quickest yet, even with pit stops, and have settled in and our people have since caught up and joined us.

That about sums it up! 

Picture Descriptions (top to bottom):
1)Wind turbines at the top of Alto del Perdón
2)Streets of Pamplona
3)Balanced rocks coming down from Alto del Perdón
4) Queens Bridge in La Reina
5) Looking down from Cirauqui
6)In Estella
7)After the big climb from La Reina
8)Wine fountain
9)Fields from Stage 6

Stage 3: Akkereta to Pamplona

To cap off last night, we had a wonderful dinner in the hotel with the other guests, all 12 of us. The three of us sat at a table with a pilgrim from Australia whose presence elevated the enjoyment of the meal to perfectly cap off the good day that was Stage 2.

At dinner we had made the executive decision that we would “sleep in” today, enjoy the breakfast offered by the hotel, then be on our way to Pamplona with the idea that we would arrive at our destination around 12. We had our breakfast once again with the merry group that had resided there the night before and we slowly made our way out, finally vacating at about 9:15. As we were leaving I started to get a sick feeling in my stomach and just started to feel “gross” overall. I attributed this to the over consumption of wine the night before mixed with coffee at breakfast. In general, the elevated amounts of acid I have been putting in my system was not agreeing with me one bit. I wasn't feeling so bad that I couldn't walk, I was merely slower and more lethargic along the way.

Despite my feeling of ickyness, the walk was gorgeous as per usual and the sun was out from the get go. As a whole today's walk mostly paralleled roads and highways, so the sounds of cars were predominantly heard throughout the day as opposed to the tranquil woodland sounds we have grown accustomed to. For the first quarter we were still in wooded areas that ran along a broad river with rolling grassy fields seen in the distance. We emerged at a Camino bar (which frequent the way to allow pilgrims some rest and nourishment) and remained in residential areas for the next quarter of the way. Now would be a good time to mention that at one point after we checked into our hotel yesterday I had misplaced one of my water bottles (don't worry, it was a cheap trash plastic one) which reduced me to a single bottle on a hot day in the sun. Luckily there were several water filling stations to encourage my water consumption, which I have been less than stellar with up until now. At about the halfway point we left the residential areas and started climbing on a trail that was mostly exposed to the sun, but looked out across the Spanish hills that had little villages cropping out between them. It was very reminiscent of the Palm Springs area in California, but green.

Eventually we dropped down into the town of Burlada. This was our first real experience walking through an actual city like town. There was traffic and large businesses and people rushing everywhere. It was a slight shock to my system after the country side I had grown oh so familiar with. Not sure exactly where we were supposed to go we continued walking through the town and picked our way by following the Camino shell symbols over to the walled-in city of Pamplona at 13:00. This is where things for interesting.

Once we breached the walls our mission was to find an albergue, get a bed, and sightsee the city. This plan got a bit edited. First albergue: full. Second albergue: full, and informs us that all albergues in the city are full…. What now? In addition to being in a walled city with narrow streets, there was an annual festival (no, not the running of the bulls) that filled the streets with people. This was even more of a shock to my system than Burlada. So. Many. People.

We followed the parade as they made their way into the square, which happened to be adjacent to the tourism office. There we picked a hotel at random, were able to get rooms, and adventured out in pursuit of finding said hotel. So far successful in our revised mission, we rid ourselves of our bags and decided to brave the city streets once again to take in the city’s beauty, culture, and most importantly, food. Tired from the day's excitement we headed back to our home base in order to prepare our minds, bodies, and souls for what tomorrow holds.
So for now I am ending the night hanging out in the hotel lobby with an old high school friend (who serendipitously happened to be in the same town, hotel and floor as me, and doing parts of the Camino for a study abroad program. We didn't figure it out until recently) taking care of our respective tasks while watching the fútbol finals and catching up. Stage 3 mission complete. Annie out. 

Picture Descriptions (top to bottom):
1)View as we were leaving our hotel this morning
2)Outside of the pilgrim bar was a statue of a pilgrim
3)City Hall in Pamplona
4)Dancers and musicians after the festival posing for pictures

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

Stage One

Today was hard. End of post. Just kidding, but really today was really REALLY hard. We left our hotel in St. Jean Pied du Port this morning a few minutes after 6 and made our way towards the starting position, if you will, and were on our way by 6:30. From the get go we were climbing, starting off in town making our way into the mountains. I will admit to having a bit of a temper when we started but just before we left the town there was a house with a gorgeous garden with an assortment of flowers, most notably, columbines. Seeing those before the walk really got heavy gave me a sense of reassurance and happiness as it reminded my of home. For most of the fist stage it's uphill. Now I had heard this many times and seen the profile and thought, “I've done 14ers before and hiked other hilly trails, I've got this!” No. Just no. I honestly don't know how there was so much up in one region. We started and it was very steep, and that's putting it mildly. It's not just steep but it's constant. Steep and constant. After a while the steepness reduces but it's still up, and up, and up, and up and up. When you think there on no way there is any more up, there is. And that's just the terrain. While doing all of this the French/ Spanish bipolar weather makes Colorado look as constant and predictable as knowing your new puppy will at some point be a dog. Rain, wind, sun, luckily no snow but it was a close one. Name it, we got it. Layer on, layer off, layer on, add another layer, take both off. It went on and on. Just past the half way point there was a van with assorted foods and drink. It wasn't until I got there and started to put something more than the croissant that I had for breakfast into my stomach that I realized how fatigued I had gotten. In addition to prices for various items the vendor also had a map and a little hope that said, “1km up, 5km flat, 5km down.” These few words became my mantra for the next 11km. By the time we had gotten up to the top we were well above the fog that had engulfed when we were about an ⅛ th of the way up, and the tops of the mountains peaked their little heads out to continually gave a moment of appreciation every time you stopped and looked around.  After that, there were still some hills, but nothing like what we had already done. As part of our initial descent there was a long path with trees canopying the way. It was like you had stepped onto a movie set or something. At that point though I was beginning to stretch me “up” muscles and they didn't seem to like it that much, or rather I didn't like the feel so much. At about 2 miles until town is when I finally gave in and pulled out my pole knowing full well, through information gathered from previous pilgrims, that there was a rather hairy steep descent into town. And they weren't lying. At first it seemed really bad and my knees were not fans but after a while most of the pain that I had before had disappeared.

Now we are at the Albergue in Roncevaux, Spain. All cleaned and resting, waiting for dinner and mass, and most importantly, sleep. 

Picture Descriptions (top to bottom):
1) Near the top of the Pyrenees 
2) In the canopy coming down
3) There were two trail options to get to Roncevaux. We took the harder, more scenic path and followed these markers in addition to the scallop markers.