After walking more than 20 miles in eight hours, I decided to call it quits. I did not quite make my planned destination of Salvatierra. I found a truckstop along the way with a Hotel attached. They had one room left and I grabbed it.
It was a flat and pleasant walk until the end when it turned to asphalt and the heat became a factor. I ended up on Araia, which is actually good news. There are some interesting sites in the sierra near here, so I have changed my plans slightly. I will spend the day exploring the mountain, and then take the train to my planned destination of Vitoria-Gasteiz.
So, this will be a short post.
This guy was very proud of his tomatoes which he said are really coming on strong these past few days. I saw a lot of personal farms today. The fields of the bigger farms have been tilled. and I guess they’re waiting for the rains to come before planting. Ot has been very dry. This was a typical view of my morning walk. I heard a whooshing sound at one point that sounded like a river or a waterfall, which would have been unusual for this time of year. it turned out to be an old cement factory. There are a lot of limestone quarries around here.
Today was a challenging day, una caminata muy dura, you might say. But the greater the challenge, the deeper the sense of accomplishment. Also, often, the more exhausted you are!
But first, a little more on Pilar, the owner of casa rural Irigoein Etxea (which translates as house at the top of the town) where I stayed last night. As I arrived, she took my sandals and washed them with a brush and water. The proverbial washing of the feet is what I felt. She had an ice cold beer waiting for me. She took me upstairs and showed me to my room. “The best and largest room we have,” she explained. I washed up and had a nap, then went down for another cold beer. She prepared a fine meal starting with cream of calabacín with added veggies from her garden. The main course was pollo luma gordi, free range chicken raised in Guipúzcoa. Of course, there was a bottle of Navarrese tempranillo wine to set off the flavors. After pudding for dessert, I finished with home-made Pacharán, the Navarrese dessert wine made by soaking sloe berries in a special anisette mixture.
My chicken dinner topped with sautéed onions and carrots — and full of the protein I needed!
Breakfast was waiting in the morning. Hot coffee and toasted local bread. Pilar also prepared a bocadillo for the road. She is that special hostess you mostly hear about on the Caminos in Spain, and here she was, an angel treating me like the most special guest she ever had.
It was still dark when I left so Pllar gave me a reflective vest for walking down the road. We had some nice chats about other pilgrims, her daughter and my sons, and everything under the sun. I would say, you must do the Camino Viejo just to experience her hospitality.
I started the morning as the sun was rising with a 6 km hike to the Zamartze Monastery, a building with Roman origins. My path took me through the Sakana valley dominated with two mountains on either side like sphinxes. San Donato (Beriain) was to my left and San Miguel (Aralar) was on the right.
Sunrise catching the limestone summit of San Donato. It actually lies within the valley with Aralar on one side and Urbassa on the other. Mount Aralar from the monastery. That was the mountain I would soon be climbing. The monastery had a beautiful garden. When planning the trip, I was thinking of staying there because basic lodging is offered.
I pulled up my Gaia app and started climbing about a kilometer past the monastery. The trail zig zagged and was difficult to follow. There were plenty of signs that cows were more common than people. About halfway up I met an interesting man coming from the other direction. I was on the lookout for a trail which would take me closer to Arbizu, my ultimate destination, rather than looping all the way back to Zamartze. He told me he was not on that trail, but another variant of the one I was climbing.
He told me the story of San Miguel de Aralar: Teodosio de Goñi was returning from battle (maybe against the Moors in Spain or from a crusade) when he met a devil diguised as a hermit who told him his wife Constanza had been unfaithful to him. In a rage, he arrives home to find two people on his bed and stabs them to death. Vindicated, he walks outside and sees his wife, returning from church services. He learns the two people he killed were his parents. Devasted, he goes to the bishop to ask forgiveness but the bishop sends him to Rome to see the Pope. The pope tells Teodisio he must return to his home in the Aralar mountains and wear chains until they fall apart. While wandering in the forest of Aralar, he finds a cave with a dragon. Saint Michael appears, defeats the dragon, and frees Teodosio from his chains. Teodosio builds a chapel there, which became the Sanctuary of San Miguel de Aralar. Apparently, Teodosio also went in search of the possessed hermit and with St Michael’s help, exorcised the demon.
My guide, who appeared out of nowhere today to lead me up the mountain. He told me interesting stories of the Zamartze monastery and the legend of San Miguel de Aralar.
Today a Romanesque church stands on the site where St Michael slayed the dragon. Chains kept there in the sanctuary are traditionally said to be his.
Chapel of San Miguel de Aralar, shown wearing a wooden cross atop his head. Outside the chapel are the chains that held Teodosio. There was a woman who was trying them on! I wanted to tell her to be careful in case she could not remove them because St Michael was unlikely to return to help her.
On the way down I took a chance on a fork in the trail, hoping it might be the one that would drop me closer to Arbizu. It turned out to be the right path and it was much better marked than the way up but it seemed forever to descend. Then, I had to walk miles in the sun along the edge of the mountain, running very low on water. After that the trail was blocked by a train overpass that had been closed. I managed to find my way across various fences and the tracks and got back on the trail. Finally I reached my hotel in Arbizu about 5 pm. “By the way,” the propreitess told me, “our kitchen is closed and the bar is closing soon.”
After cleaning up and resting a bit, I set off into the town, looking for a meal. No joy! Everything was closed down. Luckily I still had Pilar’s bocadillo in my backpack and I returned to the hotel to have that for dinner.
Imagine you awoke one morning and found yourself walking outdoors along a deserted path, then gradually realized that the familiar surroundings were not quite what they seemed. As you walked down a trail through a wide valley, the colors on the distant hillsides were brighter, the definition of the leaves and of the bark upon the trees was crisper and a certain beauty emerged that was not apparent before. You might think for a moment you were dreaming.
I found myself this morning at an arch which led to a magical place: the Camino Viejo. From Berrioplano, just outside Pamplona, to Irurtzun, there are no other pilgrims on the trail. There is no where to get a coffee. There is only time for prayer, self-reflection, meditation, and to take in and savor the beauty of this world.
That is how I started my Camino Viejo this morning. This comes to mind: when a babe is born and takes its first breath, it is overwhelmed with the sensations of being alive. The blurred colors, the muffled sounds, the heat and the cold, the warm mother’s milk. I was not transported back in time that far, but far enough that I had an innocent’s wonder of the world around me.
There were a few joggers and dog walkers on the Camino Viejo near populated spots. Otherwise it was just me and a few cyclists, including a German going from Alicante to Bayonne.
God created heaven and earth, they say. He kept heaven and gave us the earth. Hey, I’m in. I’ll take that deal!
Well, as soon as that thought set in, I got lost. The trail I was following ended up in a brushy impassable wall. Zeus must have been angry that I had made fun of Mount Olympus. I called to Athena and she appeared as a man walking his dog. “You should have gone further on that trail before turning,” he said. “But if you go up that road, you will find your trail,” he added. So I went up the road and was again faced with an impassable brushy obstacle. But I saw Athena again, disguised as an old man looking out over the valley below. She was contemplating something profound, like, should she help me, angering Zeus, or just laugh and say “You are a lost soul! Go back to where you started!”.
Turns out the old man was lonely and wanted to talk to someone. So he explained the intricacy of the path I was on. I could do this or that, but if that, then this. I listened because he wanted to speak and I wanted to find my way. The words poured out of his mouth, often repeating what he had just said. It had nothing to do with the trail. I could see what I must do, indeed what I had to do if I were to salvage my way. But I could not leave him. He rambled on, repeating nonsense full of wisdom. I nodded and thanked him profusely, edging away. My goodness, Athena, haven’t I done penance enough? Release me!
There is no place to get a café con leche and a croissant between Berrioplano, just outside Pamplona where I started from this morning, and Irurtzun, where I found a few shops almost 10 miles later. I had a cafe con leche and a croissant. Then I had another cafe con leche and another croissant.
On my way to Hiriberri, my final destination for today, I travelled through a village called Egiarreta, where they were celebrating their feast day with a paella cook-off. There were paellas galore, sausage, seafood, rabbit. I was asked to stay for a plate, but the day was getting late and I still had 5 miles to go. I reluctantly declined, turning back two or three times after leaving to take them up on their offer but thinking better of it.
I had a nice conversation with these gentlemen. They asked me about California and whether I thought Spain was a good place to live. I told them Spain edged out California because they make better paella in Spain. Had I stayed for a paella, this is the trail that lay before me. A bit of a challenge as it was, it would have been more difficult with a belly full of paella and the 3 or 4 beers it would have taken to wash it down!Turn your volume up and tell me what you hear. Some places along today’s trail were so quiet you could hear the whisperings of your spirit, which are usually drowned out with all the noise we are immersed in.
I made it to Hiriberri and Pilar, proprietess of the place where I am staying, treated me like a king.
A dark side of the history of the Basque people in Spain (and south of France) was ETA, a terrorist group formed during Franco’s rule with the aim of establishing an independent Basque homeland. They were active when we lived in Madrid including several car bombs targeting the Guardia Civil. I walked by the Defense High Command building every morning on my way to work so I was on the lookout for any suspicious vehicles. I remember hearing an explosion one morning in 1985, learning later that an American in Madrid on business was killed while jogging and a dozen or so Guardia Civil were injured. I remember because it happened right after JP was born.
Joseph at the Hotel Akeretta put on a nice breakfast and I got a late start to the last leg I will do of the Camino Frances. It was a gentle hike and more than well-marked. I had to stop by the train station to change a ticket (one of the wheels that came off and had to be replaced) and walked through the old town of Pamplona to get there. With train business complete, I had a bus adventure to get me from Pamplona to Berrioplano where I will spend tonight. I found the bus stop was not far from the train station but was having a bit of trouble finding the right bus. It was either #16 or #17 and each of them had several permutations. Finally, a nice young lady helped me figure it out. The bus driver told me how to get from the bus stop to my hotel.
A late start – about 8:00 am. But I had a shower and a shave, a big breakfast, and re-packed my backpack, which I will be carrying until I reach the final stage of my journey. The photo does not quite capture it, but the twisting moss-covered plants look like some alien creatures in a forest menagerie. I could even see them slowly twisting and breathing. (Don’t worry, they were tame and content to stay within their sylvan border). Your mind relaxes on the Camino, allowing it to see magical sights like these along the way. Occasionally along the Camino you come across a cairn or memorial that marks the death of someone. This one really seemed to get to me: Fin del Camino, Rosanna di Verona, 2006. Who was Rosanna? How old was she? Was she a peregrina? Did she have a happy childhood? I could not stop thinking about her, and then about some of my friends who have died. It was not with sadness but with great curiosity. Fin del Camino. We all reach that destination sometime. Coffee in Burlada, the town just before Pamplona. This is the end of the Camino Frances for me. Tomorrow I start the Camino Viejo. So I thought about the people I met in the last few days: On the train, Alice, a young Australian who did not like her job and David, retired teacher who had some ashes of his mother to spread; the Ukrainian lady in St Jean; on the road, Matthew, 44 years old, does work stays, working for room and board, like picking olives in Greece or tending honey bees in Japan; Tim the 33 year-old old Dutchman who cannot understand how we Americans can get so worked up over politics that it breaks up families; Ana, who invited me to her home in the Azores; Lena, a Swedish half-marathoner who walked the Camino on the same dates as Lisa and me in 2023; the Christian lad who lamented that so many young people forsook organized religion for TikTok; Al, aka Nubie, from Lake Elsinore who wants to help people walk all seven continents; Mark and his wife who are building a home around the corner from my sister in CandidSa, Bali; and many others, including Cedric, Joseph and the Dutch volunteers housing the homeless pilgrims. The Hotel Luxe “El Toro”. Home for tonight. The clerk at the desk comes from the village I hike to tomorrow. He showed me the path to take so that I stay clear of asphalt.
Tomorrow should be lots of natural beauty and much fewer pilgrims. That’s good. This Camino is designed for solitude and contemplation. If I get too lonely, I will swing back down to the Frances!
When the Romans arrived in the area now known as Navarra, they found it inhabited by the Vascones, an indigenous people who were most likely descended from the Paleolithic and Neolithic peoples who were already present before the westward spread of the Indo-Europeans (Celts, Italics, Germanics) 4500 years ago.
The Basque language is unrelated to any other language family. The Basque people are proud and fiercely independent, having resisted the Romans, Visigoths, and the Muslims. Castile was finally able to control part of the Navarre kingdom with the huge army funded by the riches from the new world.
The Hotel Akeretta dates back to the 14th century belonging to a minor nobility family. In the 16th century, it was converted to a defensive or fortified torre or tower-house. Along with other torres, it was burned during the Castilian invasion. Later, they were allowed to be rebuilt as granaries.
I stayed at the Hotel Akerreta the first time I walked the Camino Frances. Joseph, the owner, is a good chef and I will be trying his cod stew tonight. Post Script: the stew was delicious. And another interesting tidbit: I am staying in Room 14, where Martin Sheen stayed during the filming of The Way. The room number on the door has long since been “souvenired” so my door is the only one without a number.
Today was an easier day than yesterday but with a lot of more gentle rises and drops. When we lived in Caracas, I would climb the Avila to the Pico Occidental, which I recall was about 3000’ feet elevation above the Altamira trail head. I would then get an adrenaline rush by running down the hill, jumping from a rock (“hope it’s not loose!”) to a fallen tree branch (“hope it’s not rotten!”) to the leafy trail (“hope there’s not a rut under there!”), making snap decisions without time for an alternate step. I also skied hard in my younger days and ended up with two ACL reconstructions in my older days. I guess those are the excuses I am using to tell you that my legs and feet and knees are sore today after a 15 mile hike. But I loved every minute of it!
I started out at the chapel of Santiago. This morning I got an early start. It was quite brisk and very dark. I had to use my iPhone flashlight to find the way until I came upon another pilgrim who had a flashlight. I came across this massive magnetite mining operation which the Camino skirted. This was right after Zubiri, which was booked solid leaving a lot of pilgrims searching for alternate accommodation.
First, I want to give thanks and acknowledge my good fortune to be able to walk my Camino. I thank Paula for giving me the freedom to leave home for some far away place to go roaming about the countryside. I thank my family for their support because they understand, somehow, that I need this quixotic quest. I thank all who read my ramblings because it gives me discipline.
Second, I pray for inspiration and strength. On my first two Caminos, I received a blessing, the first from Pastor Michael of the Community Church near our home in Encinitas and the second from Father White of St Kateri church near the Wranch in Buffalo, Texas. I did not get a blessing prior to this trip, so I ask that each of you send a good thought my way. Then, I am sure that inspiration and strength will find me.
Yesterday, 24 hours after leaving Encinitas, I took a bus from Biarritz to Bayonne and from there a jam-packed train to St Jean Pied de Port. While waiting for my hotel to open I sipped a beer at the bar next door and met a Ukrainian woman. I could see the war in her face, but after we talked a bit, she would flash the occasional smile of the happy young girl that Putin took away.
I walked around the village, seeing much more than I had on my first visit in 2023, had a decent meal at Chez Dede, checked out the start of the Camino, and, tired from the long day, went back to my hotel and slept soundly.
I lit a couple candles in the church in St Jean Pied de Port for Colleen and Frank. I paid another visit to the church the next morning and prayed for strength. Who did I pray to? I am hoping to get a better understanding on this Camino.
This morning was dark and cold and I was sleeping so good I got off to a bit of a late start, but I had a great walk. Last time, it was sunny and crisp and the vistas were amazing. This time around it was foggy and sometimes visibility was about 50 feet. The refuge in Orisson was crowded — seems there are more pilgrims this year — but the orange juice, tortilla and coffee were delicious. Total elevation changes today were +1260 meters (4135’) and -380 meters (1245’). Total mileage, about 15 miles.
Terry wanted a picture of some goats. She would rather have a picture of a goat than of me. I will have to ask Norm about that. Maybe she was thinking of a GOAT? At any rate, the goats would not stand still. They bolted as I approached for a shot. But the sheep didn’t care. And, really, what is the difference between a goat and a sheep?About halfway through the walk, it started raining. Fortunately I had packed Juliette’s specially tailored rain protective attire in my day bag. (I’m not proud — I sent my backpack ahead with a transport service). It worked like a charm. When I got to Roncesvalle the sun came out for a short time and I managed to dry my jacket somewhat.After a long climb, the path finally descends steeply to Roncesvalles. The fog was clearing up and the sun caught the beautiful carpet of red and golden leaves.
I decided to stay this night in an albergue (like a youth hostel, where you sleep in bunkbeds in a room with other people) and checked into the place in Roncesvalle, which holds about 250 people. I had kind of forgotten they don’t have sheets or blankets or towels. I went to a nearby hotel and searched the floors for the cleaning lady’s cart to find a towel — with no success.
Check-in at the albergue. It is run by volunteers. Somehow, I ended up in the top bunk. 50/50 odds, I guess. No consideration for age or sore knees.
Tonight, I go for a meal at the hotel around the corner, called the Hotel Roncesvalles which looks like a very nice place — even if the maids don’t leave towels lying around— for which the albergue provided me a meal voucher.
By the way, in case you were wondering, I found a towel in the albergue Lost and Found. I had just enough shampoo in a small packet taken from my last hotel in case of emergency to have a good scrub. I feel much better! But I look forward to a normal check-in, towels and blankets, and a private room tomorrow night. And I haven’t even experienced the snoring, groaning, farting and sleep-walking in this bunkhouse yet.
This is a short note to clear up some confusion generated in my last post. Yes, the wheels came off, but if there is one thing I have learned in this life, it is how to put the wheels back on. To make a long — and boring — story short, do not plan to stay in Poladura de los Tercios on the Camino San Salvador on a Sunday. The waters I muddied will run clear soon enough.
But not here in Minneapolis where I sit drinking a beer and watching the rain pouring down. My flight to Paris, already delayed, will hopefully get me to Charles de Gaulle in time to catch my final leg to Biarritz.
By my side is my backpack with all the earthly goods I will bring with me on my Hybrid Camino. It all weighs in under 15 pounds, including my trademark trash can liner rain jacket (which would be ineffective in this Minnesota rainstorm). Juliette cut the head and arm holes in the bag last night.
It also includes a book I brought along. I had been debating whether to bring St Augustine’s Confessions or Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Although I have started each one, I decided to read a random sample of each one and let that be the decider.
I opened Confessions to Augustine’s discussion of time. Auspicious, given the title of my last post, and definitely a subject I love to think about. I couldn’t get a vibe from a few random samplings of Pilgrim, but given its title and my upcoming role, I selected that book. Augustine can be a bit heavy and more suited to sedentary reading and pondering. I can read a bit of Annie and contemplate while on the go.
So…sorry for any confusion. Rain is clearing up. I will be boarding soon. Next post from the Camino!
I had my Camino pretty much planned out and was happy just to pass these last few days biding my time until I head off to the San Diego airport and fly to France. I had written the two sections below and was waiting for an opportune time to send it off. Then, this morning, the wheels came off one stage and I had to re-schedule everything from about the mid-point onwards — and re-title the blog.
I was happy to walk around Swami’s point during my Camino “training” unaware that destiny had another plan to shake off my complacent attitude.
Hot Tips
I get a lot of questions about the Camino and, though I am far from being an expert, I thought I would record some of my thoughts. Of course, you could ask your AI slave to peruse various blogs and forums and Facebook pages and to summarize the findings in 3-4 bullet points. For example, if you asked for an AI review of the most popular footwear on the Camino, you would learn that trail runners are the preferred choice. But it is more fun to engage with real people, even if you have to put up with the occasional misanthrope, grouch and bot invader.
Which Camino? There are many Caminos to choose from, with the Frances, Portuguese and Norte being the most popular. For first timers, I always recommend the Frances. Also, do the entire Camino if possible, that is if you have 30-ish days or so. Of course, there are beautiful journeys, pilgrimages, nature walks, wilderness hikes, etc. all over the world. But for this discussion I will focus on the Camino Frances.
What time of year? I like mid-September to mid-October and mid-May to mid-June. Avoid summer months due to crowds and heat. Avoid winter months due to cold and fewer facilities.
Where to stay? You can stay in hostels with maybe twelve pilgrims to a room in a bunkbed or private room with bathroom in the many inns and small hotels along the way. Most people use Booking.com. Or you can pay top dollar and get a bespoke Camino tour planned for you. I stay in the occasional albergue, but prefer a private room in a “casa rural”.
What type of clothing, equipment, gear? You are on your own here. I have an Osprey Talon 22 liter backpack weighing 15 pounds fully loaded. I wear Ecco Yucatán sandals. I do not use poles or a staff. I take one pair of shorts, one pair long pants, two long sleeve shirts, a merino wool undershirt, a “puffer” jacket and a Tilley wide brimmed hat. Layering is important for cold evenings and hot days.
How to prepare? Be sure you can walk 5 miles without getting blisters. Michener’s Iberia is good pre-reading to learn a bit about Spain (he wrote a section on the Camino) and The Way with Martin Sheen will get you pumped. If you want to do it and you can do it, then do it.
2. Destiny or Delusion?
The big question, of course, is why do it? Each person will have their own reason and their own individual experience. But what about my reason, you might ask. Before I can answer, have a look at the second sentence of the fourth verse of the poem in last post: La dicha del camino se gesta en el designio. The original wording, before translation to Spanish, is: The joy of the journey begins with the plan.
I went back and forth from English to Spanish, trying to get something which might shed light on my reasoning for walking a Camino. “Joy” is too frivolous a word, bliss is too sublime. “Journey” is perhaps to rigid of a word; I wanted to convey something very physical, yet without excluding the very spiritual feeling one experiences. And “begins with a plan” doesn’t quite capture “charting a course through the heavens”.
But hey! I learned two new words: La dicha and el designio.
That brings me back to the present moment. I have made the necessary changes to the itinerary and once again, await my departure, hoping for the best.
There is good cause for cheer. John and Lisa Bartges marched into Santiago de Compostela today. They started about a month ago, from St Jean Pied de Port, the very place I will be starting from next week.
I have been looking forward to this Camino with eager anticipation for some time. But now that it is almost upon me, I hesitate. I must rein in my excitement for the sooner it begins, the sooner it will end. Best to relish these last few days to enhance the experience itself and to enrich the memories that follow. But if I seem distracted, it is because the spirit calls:
¡Despierta, Caminante! Sacude el sopor de tu cuerpo que yace sin sueños. ¡Que se alce el espíritu!
Mira alrededor: los tenues rayos de un nuevo día van empolvando el cielo oscuro. Respira hondo, como tu primer aliento, tomado con temor y con triunfo, hace una eternidad.
Salpica agua fría sobre tu rostro y pasa tus manos húmedas por el cabello. ¡Ponte erguido! ¡Vientre adentro, hombros atrás!
Prepárate para la prueba que te aguarda. La dicha del camino se gesta en el designio. ¿Qué planetas serán las piedras del paso? ¿Qué estrellas señalarán la ruta? ¿Bajo qué galaxias habrás de dormir?
No mires atrás. Todo cuanto hemos deseado se ha cumplido. Hoy es el nuevo comienzo. El mañana ya está sobre nosotros.
¡Despierta!
Nota: Peter y Stephanie, el verso anterior fue escrito mientras pensando en vosotros y en nuestra cena familial en casa de Cheryl.
Despierta, Caminante! Sacude el sopor de tu cuerpo que yace sin sueños. ¡Que se alce el espíritu!
Mira alrededor: los tenues rayos de un nuevo día van empolvando el cielo oscuro. Respira hondo, como tu primer aliento, tomado con temor y con triunfo, hace una eternidad.
Salpica agua fría sobre tu rostro y pasa tus manos húmedas por el cabello. ¡Ponte erguido! ¡Vientre adentro, hombros atrás!
Prepárate para la prueba que te aguarda. El gozo del camino comienza con el plan. ¿Qué planetas serán las piedras del paso? ¿Qué estrellas señalarán la ruta? ¿Bajo qué galaxias habrás de dormir?
No mires atrás. Todo cuanto hemos deseado se ha cumplido. Hoy es el nuevo comienzo. El mañana ya está sobre nosotros.
