Camino Day 2: Roncesvalles - Larrasoana (10/09/14)

The lights came on in the Albergue dormitory at 6:00 am and we left Roncesvalles at 7:10 along with numerous other pilgrims quietly brushing the sleep away from our eyes as we set off in the half light of dawn. On the outskirts of Burguete we passed a stone high cross and found a supermarket and bought frappe coffees, cakes and fruit for breakfast and ate them on stone picnic tables nearby which reminded me of the Stone Table in the Chronicles of Narnia that Aslan was slain on!


Stone cross at Burguete

Burguete was a pleasant town with a stream running down a channel in the main street past the doors of the houses and I thought how in the past it must have been very convenient to have a source of fresh water at your own doorstep. The town is famous for two things; the witches that were burnt at the stake in front of the Iglesia de San Nicolas de Barri  in the 16th Century and the fact that it was a favourite resort of the American author Ernest Hemingway who liked to stay here in the early 20th Century.

Burguete church

We turned off the main road and over the rio Urrubi, before reaching Espinal where there was taxing steep climb up the Alto de Mezquiriz. Ben and I stopped for a bacon sandwich in the village of Viskarret where a friendly cat made short work of the fat and rind from my bacon. Matt soon joined us and I refilled my water bladder in a convenient fountain. The great thing about the Camino is that fountains of drinkable water are situated every few kilometres and well marked on maps, so there was really no excuse for not keeping my fluids up to avoid becoming dehydrated.



Crossing the rio Urrubi

After Linzoain I found myself walking with an Austrian and we had a very interesting conversation. He himself had joined his friends at St Jean to walk with them for a few days (they were ahead of him along the track) but his friends had already walked in stages all the way from Austria via Bavaria and Switzerland! The walk was beautiful through mixed deciduous and pine woodland and interspersed with Scabious flowers, rose hips and carpets of more Autumn crocuses; fully open in the sun and resembling stellar constellations. During this time I received a text from Ben Jonas telling me that he and his girlfriend Auste had got engaged the night before and I spent time praying for them and their future life together as I walked along.

Constellations of more Autumn crocuses

At Alto de Erro the Camino crossed the main N135 road and another mobile trailer café allowed me to have a coffee and a snack. Matt and Ben had rejoined me and we sat for a while talking to some young English women who were complaining about how hard walking the Camino was and Ben who was starting to limp again due to the trainers of doom agreed. Matt and Ben wanted to rest awhile so I walked on by myself and although the path was very rocky at times and in places hilly, I enjoyed the seclusion and fell into a rhythm of walking which I became more and more familiar with as I walked the Camino on the following days and found myself praying, singing worship songs or reciting snatches of Psalms. In this way I arrived at Zubiri.

Approaching Zubiri

The medieval bridge at Zubiri  crosses the rio Arga and is known as the Puente de la Rabia  or Bridge of Rabies because there used to be a local belief that if you drove your livestock around the central pillar three times, it would ward off rabies. This ritual according to Lozano arose because the relics of St Quiteria were buried in the abutment of the bridge.

Puente de la Rabia

I should probably have stopped at Zubiri as there was an Albergue there and especially as Ben's feet were really starting to hurt again, but on the map the next town of Larrasoana only looked a short distance down the river valley and I pressed on so that the walk to Pamplona the following day would be shorter. In fact the walk seemed much more arduous than expected and involved climbing up to three villages in the heat and walking along a road past a long and hideous quarry complex that seemed to fill the valley floor with it's industrial sprawl. The industrial intrusion was lightened however by sulphur yellow butterflies and green lizards skittering up the walls.

Industrial Complex

I arrived in the small village of Larrasoana at 14:40 and checked into the  municipal Albergue. It had taken me 7 hours and 30 minutes. Already I felt I was falling into the rhythm of getting up early, walking, arriving at an Albergue, showering, hand-washing my clothes and then relaxing. Once refreshed, I made my way to the local bar and booked a pilgrim meal for the three of us for the evening and then had a beer with Eduard, the Brazilian we had met at St Jean on the first night. We compared notes about life in Ireland and Brazil. Eduard was from Sao Paolo and explained how hard life was in such a mega city for him and his family and how he would like to live somewhere much smaller and rural. I explained that the village I lived in back in Ireland was about the same size as Larrasoana and probably the kind of place he had in mind, apart from the weather! We were then joined by another Austrian and Bob from San Diego who was walking the Camino with his friend Clint and was writing a blog about his experiences called sandiegotosantiago.com

Larrasoana

Whilst talking to Bob and Eduard, Ben limped in at 16:30 accompanied by Matt and exclaimed angrily "That's it! No more Camino! No more walking! I am getting the bus! I am finished!". He looked in agony with his feet. Because Matt and Ben were so late the Municipal albergue was full, but thankfully they managed to find a Pension up the street where they could stay.

Bob far left, Eduard in red and me in green

While they went to shower I went to sit by the rio Arga and sketch the medieval bridge and a semi derelict farmhouse beside it. I noted how in traditional Basque architecture extremely large stones are used to frame window apertures. Whilst sketching, a group of about a dozen men in their early thirties arrived from Pamplona in a transit van. They were accompanied by their young sons, changed into swimming trunks and proceeded to swim and cavort in the river. It was fun watching them and especially the small boys, one of whom had brought plastic sharks and dolphins to "swim" in the river. The men took an interest in my sketch and maybe discussed in Basque how rubbish it was (!) and then one of the boys found a freshwater crayfish. Whether it was a native species or the invasive American variety I do not know, but it suggested to me that the river must be fairly healthy despite the industrial complex up the road.

Boy with Crayfish

As I sat by the river I felt God calling me to "cast the net on the other side" and try new things and see things in a new way in my life. I also took the time to thank God for my friends (I had an encouraging text as I sat there from a friend back in Ireland whose friendship I appreciated) and I also reminded myself that Jesus is the gate to all blessings and real life in it's fullness.

The pilgrim meal that night was lovely, although the wine was rough as a robber's dog and a French guy at our table turned his nose up at it. Afterwards I took Ben back to the Albergue and examined his feet as he was in agony. He had sub ungual haematomas (blood blisters under his left first and fifth toenails) caused by two days of repeated pressure / trauma in his unsuitable trainers. I got my Podiatry pack of sterile scalpels and dressings and drained the blood from under his nails and dressed them with iodine tulle dressings. Ben yelled as I did so and the Austrian from the bar came to look on and give encouragement.


That night I found I was sharing bunks with the very pleasant Zimbabwean couple Ian and his wife Maggie who I also met at St Jean and after friendly chat I read the graffiti on the bunk slats above me before going to sleep. At 3am I was awoken by the wonderful sound of owls hooting in the trees outside the open dormitory window and fell back to sleep smiling.

Graffiti on bunk slats

Camino Day 1: St Jean - Roncesvalles (09/09/14)

I awoke many times during the night, not only due to the earth-shaking turns of the bunk inhabitant above me, but also due to the excitement of being eager to set off on our walk and nervousness as to how I would find the walk over the Pyrenees. Day 1 was to involve a 25.1km (15.6 mile) hike over the mountains, but when adjusted for an accrued ascent of 1,390m, it would be the equivalent of walking 32km.

A last look at St. Jean in the morning mist

By way of explanation I should explain that when walking the Camino it is normal to get up early around 6- 6:30am (some eager souls get up much earlier!) and set off about 7:00am. This allows you to complete a 6-7 hour walk and still be done by early afternoon, thus avoiding the worst of the mid-afternoon heat. Since the day's walk was going to about the longest of our trip, I was therefore up at 6.00, had a quick wash and then made my way down to the dining room where a basic breakfast was available of cold coffee or chocolate (which could be heated in a microwave) and slices of a French stick with butter and very runny jam, which I got everywhere. I got into conversation with two Irish guys in their early thirties, Brendan and his friend who were from Co. Wicklow. There was an air in the room of "well this is it!" quiet resolution. After Ben and Matt finally appeared for breakfast we gathered below the stairs and I was able to show the Barcelona woman that contrary to dire predictions, a second glass of red wine had not killed me!


We left the Albergue at 7.15; it was barely light and the River Nive was wreathed in an atmospheric mist. We could have turned left and up the street through the Porte D'Espagna, but I wanted to take the circular 1km detour route along the river, so we turned right in front of the Porte Notre Dame and made our way over the Roman Pont Eyerabarri bridge and round the outside of the city walls before rejoining the main route. The route then splits - right to the lower Valcarlos route, which has a lower accrued ascent of 990m and left to the route we were taking, uphill to the Route de Napoleon et du Marischal Harispe. This route has very ancient origins and goes back as far as Roman times when it was part of the Via Triana and linked Bordeaux with Astorga. Napoleon also used it to invade Spain - hence it's modern name.

Ben & I walking the Route de Napoleon

The climb to Orisson involved ascending about 900m in 8km and I found the climb quickly became punishing. Matt and Ben seemed to find it even harder and I found myself walking alone after an initial period of starting out together. The tough climb was compensated with stunning views; we had by now climbed above the morning mist and above the cloud the day was sunny and we looked down on a sea of mist interspersed with hilltop "islands" peeking up above the cloud. We were also reminded by signs in English that whether we were in the modern states of France or Spain, we were in fact in the Basque Country.

Ben felt sufficiently patriotic to produce an Albanian flag and tied it to the outside of his rucksack in celebration!

I arrived at the Albergue / restaurant at Orisson with some relief, as I needed a rest, a good 20 minutes ahead of Ben and Matt and found Brendan and his mate downing beer on a outside area of decking with tables and chairs. I was able to refill my water bladder as I had already drank about 1.5 litres of water and tried a glass of glorious cloudy Basque cider - fruity apple-ly heaven and then followed this with coffee and a slice of Basque Cake and the essential sello in the Credencial.

We journeyed on continuing our ascent through wide and expansive scenery that greatly impressed me; I was already falling in love with the Camino! We fell into conversation with some Canadian women. Ben taught some of them to call me djall i keq (bad boy) in Albanian and I had a discussion with another about the forthcoming Scottish independence referendum and I was surprised when she said that she already thought Scotland was a separate country and not part of the United Kingdom! Leaving them when they stopped for lunch, we saw numerous Griffon Vultures and other raptors soaring on thermals at Pic D'Orisson (1,100m). With a wingspan of 2.5m the vultures were very impressive and according to John Brierley there are 1,800 pairs in the region - the greatest concentration in the world.



 At Thibault below Pic de Leizar, we found a mobile trailer selling coffee and food and providing the last sello in France (essential!!), so we stopped for lunch and reclining on the grass in a surprisingly hot sun for such an elevation, we ate our packed lunch and looked across the valley at Basque farmsteads. Near the trailer was a modern cross where other pilgrims had scratched the names of people they were praying for on stones and thrown them at the foot of the cross.

Thibault

Ben & Horses at Thibault

It was after Thibault that Ben began to need prayer and develop a pained look on his face! Several hours of walking in the infamous luminous orange and blue trainers were starting to catch up with him as the elasticated fastenings did not restrain his feet from sliding forward inside the shoes, which meant that his toes were repeatedly being rammed forward and his toenails bashed on the uppers. Slowly the exclamations and wails from Ben began to increase with every step "Ooooff! Aarrgggh! Ooooh dear! This is the worst thing I have ever done!" Etc! The Albanian flag disappeared!

Fountain of Roland - note Trainers of Doom!



We reached the Fountain of Roland (more on Roland in a while) and soon crossed the Spanish border were laminated signs in English informed us that the Government of the Province of Navarre was refusing to allow children's TV programmes in the Basque language. Ben hobbled along with us (vocally) to the summit at Col de Lepoeder (1,450) and looked ready to punch a German walking in the opposite direction who cheerfully asserted "not very far!"

Spanish Border: France left, Spain / Navarre right, Basque Country both sides!

After the summit the path plunges steeply downhill through the beech woods of bosque de Irati considered to be one of the largest surviving native beech forests in Europe. We left Ben to limp downhill behind us and Matt and I went on through the forest, the floor almost a rich purple with beech leaves and speckled with wonderful Autumn crocuses illuminated in the sunshine. The descent was very punishing on my knees and as I walked, I mused that walking the Camino teaches you things and I realised that my first lesson was that during the day's hard ascents, I had "withdrawn" into myself to conserve energy and that yet the descents were just as hard, if not more so - surely a metaphor for life; that coming down from some life event can be as hard as climbing up to it in the first place as I had been discovering from the recent death of my Dad.

bosque de Irati

Autumn crocus

And so were reached Roncesvalles after 8 hours and 10 minutes and Ben came in a creditable 20 minutes behind us. Checking into the Albergue run by the Collegiate Church, we were met by a friendly Hospitalero who instructed us where to leave our boots and packs. I particularly liked his description of the room where the boots were kept as The Aroma Room! This Albergue was in a large 17th Century(?) building which although traditional outside, had three floors with rows of modern cubicles with four bunks in each cubicle (we shared ours with a Hungarian guy) made from light wood which gave an Ikea feel.

Roncesvalles



After a welcome shower, I hand-washed my clothes in the Albergue laundry and then took the chance to explore Roncesvalles which is a settlement made up mainly of ecclesiastical buildings; The Royal Collegiate Church of Saint Mary (consecrated in 1219), the13th Century Chapel of St James and the 12th Century Chapel of the Holy Spirit, along with a hotel and a bar.

Albergue on right

Roncesvalles is famous for the semi-legendary battle of Roncesvalles. At one stage Charlemagne and his nephew Roland, invaded Spain to attack the Moors but on their way home Charlemagne damaged the walls of Pamplona, even though he had promised not to. As Charlemagne was retreating back to France, an assorted Basque and Aragonese army suddenly attacked the rear of Charlemagne's forces in revenge and Roland was killed despite sounding his horn Oliphant. This story became incredibly famous in Medieval times through the epic song the Chanson de Roland and the story collected magical myths and legends around it.

L-R Chapel of St James & Chapel of The Holy Spirit



I enjoyed visiting the Collegiate Church and sitting awhile in the atmospheric crypt, but I had meant the visit the tomb of the king of Navarre Sancho VII The Strong but I misunderstood where it was located and by the time I realised, it was closed, so I had a beer with some South Africans and a Canadian from Ottawa instead.


Interior of the Collegiate Church

In the evening we had a "Pilgrim Meal" in the local hotel and were joined by another Canadian lady. I had heard about these meals and expected them to be basic, but it turned out to be a three course affair with salad, soup or pasta as a starter, trout or duck as the main with a glass of red wine and cheesecake for dessert; all for €9.00!! You wouldn't get that value in Cork!

I finished the evening by observing the Pilgrim Mass in the Collegiate Church and there was an atmospheric pilgrim blessing when the pilgrims came forward to the altar and the lights were dimmed.

Pilgrim Blessing

The comfortable beds in the Albergue promised a good night's sleep without earthquakes!