Roncesvalles to Zuribi

Well, I finally have some time to catch up. Here at this bar where we´ve been since 5 (my companions slugging back vino tinto and then eating a LONG meal), it´s 1 Euro for 12 minutes, but it´s driving me nuts that I´m not getting much time to write in my journal OR online, so I´m gonna drop a little coin and catch up here.

Things I´ve learned:
1. My pack is too heavy. I THINK I asked the waitress if the post office is open tomorrow, and I THINK she said yes, at 7am. But right after that, she brought us the breakfast menu. So we´ll see. At any rate, I´m sending home one outfit, leaving me with two. And anything else I think I can live without. I may just send it to Santiago via general post or to Wendy in Madrid...?

2. My right knee is ANGRY. If yesterday its warning was that of a tense, sniffing dog trying to decide whether or not to bark, today it is a snarling mongrel. We had a lot more downhill today, and though it wasn´t as treacherous as yesterday´s downhill nightmare, the effort it takes to maintain control on your descent is KILLER. And there´s only so many places you can put the impact. If it´s not on your feet, it´s on your knees, constantly flexed and absorbing the impact of your whole body plus about 30 pounds (which, as we´ve already covered, is TOO STINKIN MUCH). If it´s not in your knees, it´s in your hip joints, which are carrying a great deal of the weight of your pack because your collarbone is bruised and your shoulders are sunburned, and so, by the end of the day, they are way too taxed to absorb it either. I have an ACE bandage and I´ll probably wrap it tomorrow. I´m terrified it´s going to give out or whatever knees do when they die...and though I´m past my nightmare of ¨Day One: wrenched knee...flying home,¨ it´s still really early in the trip.

3. I´m really good at the water thing. I seem to always fill up just enough so that when I run dry, I´ve either gotten to a water fountain or to where I´m going. Or, like yesterday, to an old couple up in the mountains with lots of little prayerbooks in different languages, and who dumped an entire bottle of Evian into my Camelback, though we didn´t speak a single word in common. I felt bad about taking their water till my walking buddy told me she thinks that´s the whole purpose of their presence. Reminded me of Charlie´s ¨trail angel¨ he told me about from the AT.

3a. CHARLIE SHOULD DO THIS. Sorry, Lynn. But he´d love it. =) He could walk it with my dad while you and my mom followed in a car, sampling rich Navarran wine all the way. It´s unparalleled and CHEAP.




Okay, on to today´s report. Last night´s refugio was like a great stone church-like building. There isn´t anything in Roncesvalles except an ancient abbey (where monks still practice), the Alburgue, which is like a converted church building, and two hotel/bars. Every night, they hold a Mass where they bless that day´s pilgrims. I went last night. It was in Spanish, and I understood almost nothing, and really resented the parts where we had to stand (since most of the people there had just crossed the friggin´ mountains), but they gave us communion and then at the end, brought us up to the front of the pews for a blessing. He translated a sentence or two into French and English, so I caught at least that part. I bought a scallop shell, but I don´t like it because it has a red Basque cross on it (they all did there), so I´m going to look in Pamplona for another one. Lights went out at 10, and I mean WENT OUT. 120 beds in this big open space and I had to find mine in the dark. They went on again at 6, but most of the pilgrims were stirring by about 5:30 and half were gone when I woke up. We had until 8, so I took my time and caught up from last night´s journal writing.

We left Roncesvalles at about 7:30am. I say we. I mean me. I was, I believe, the last person to leave the alburgue. I had a towel, a loofah, four wool socks, and three pairs of underwear hanging off my backpack. Which is great till you drop your pack face down and it all gets dirty again....

The walk out of Roncesvalles was GORGEOUS. Sunlight slanting through the trees onto a forested pathway with stone cross monuments here and there...lush green fields just on the other side of the fenceline...later giant bales of hay, fields of pale cattle, and ONE black and white cat all alone in her own field on a bed of hay. =) Little towns with white houses and red roofs and the most gorgeous petunia window boxes you´ve ever seen. Some houses have, easily, 30 or 40 pots and windowboxes filled with flowers. Every house´s windows seem to be fitted with holders for these flowerpots. They´re amazing. I have pictures.

We stopped for breakfast and found them showing the running of the bulls in Pamplona. The news station doing the coverage kept showing these cartoon bull icons, like it´s a big joke and PEOPLE DON´T DIE. One cool thing about finally being in Spain is that I´m useful again. In our little crowd, I have the best grasp of Spanish, and while my comprehension of what people say back to me is agonizingly slow, I can usually get across what WE want just fine. So I´m usually in charge when we hit a restaurant or need to speak to a local.

On the Camino, there are some people you meet up with again and again. You don´t always walk together...people go at their own pace. You walk with a friend for 10 minutes or so, and then gradually, you separate, and when you stop to take a break, everyone regroups and the whole thing starts again. My tribe consists of Karl from Belgium, age 51, Michael from Idaho, age 65, and Christa from Austria, 37. Two other Belgians named Jean-Francois and Jean-Charles (or JC and JF) meet us from time to time. It´s a nice crowd. Especially since no one is in a hurry. We take our time. (Too much time today, we agreed.) We took a leisurely lunch and had a sit-down and a SPRAWL in some grassy shade. It´s nice to stop, but sometimes harder to get going again.

On fellow pilgrims: I keep looking for people I think of as ¨in my group.¨ People who began in St. Jean. Sometimes I wish I didn´t have a group. But sometimes it´s nice. Nicknames are inevitable. Michael is simply ¨IdaHOOOOOOO!¨when he appears. There is a French girl I´ve been trying to meet for two days, but don´t know how to say ¨what is your name,¨only ¨My name is...¨ So today I just started with that, and found out her name is Peggy and she speaks NO English or Spanish, so when we see her coming, we holler ¨Le Frances!¨ and it´s our way of encouraging one another.

We had a lot more up-downs today than I was expecting. I´ve gotten REALLY GOOD at the Ups. Which is amazing, because yesterday I was a wreck. Even Karl said so...he was my first walking buddy and left me before long because I kept stopping. Today, we hit an incline and I go to town. (I taught Karl the phrase ¨step it out.¨) I´m usually in the lead when we hit an incline. But the downs are another story. Today I got left in the dust as we finally came into Zuribi, which stunk because I was so far ahead so much of the day.

The mountains are still in view and even the foothills are gorgeous. A lot of the scenery looks like a picture postcard. Green hills with fields and trees and little white farmhouses with red roofs. It´s incredible. I´m taking lots of pictures...I think 50 or so so far.

Today we walked for a little while with a 59 year old woman from Wisconsin whose pack was far too heavy. Idaho said she turned around at one point and went back to the last village. She was very nice, though...and proof that people of all ages and physical conditions do the Camino. I gave her one of my business cards, then gave one to all my buddies...felt a bit silly, but they all thought they were really cool.

A note on turning back...I don´t care WHAT is behind me. Every step on the Camino is a ONE-WAY VALVE. NOTHING will make me retrace steps. Nothing. Each one is too dear.

Not much else to tell about the day except that it was really hard at the end. We started at 7:30 and finished at 4pm...walked about 18km. Yesterday was 27km in about 10.5 hours. My pedometer said yesterday I took 37,860 steps, but that only about 9,000 of them were aerobic. The pedometer people are, in Emily´s words, cordially invited to bite me. Every MUSCLE TWITCH I´ve made in the past two days has been aerobic!!! (Karl says you lose 10kg on the Camino. If you´re counting, that´s 22lbs.)

The flies SUCK. They´re not in swarms, but there´s always a few around, and when one decides it´s in love with you, it´s maddening.

The weather has been perfect. It rained a bit today while we were in the bar, but while we´ve been walking it´s been sunny with a wonderful breeze. I use my fleece for the first hour and then it´s just gorgeous.

My little shampoo-conditioner-bodywash-laundry soap sheets were a miserable failure. I left them behind in Roncesvalles. (There´s two shelves downstairs to leave things on or to pick things up from...after the mountains, people get rid of a lot.) So today, when we got to Zuribi, we found a market, where I bought two nectarines and a travel pack of toiletries, simply because it had a travel-size bottle of shampoo, though it cost more than a full bottle would have. Doesn´t matter. Every ounce counts.

So far, NO BLISTERS. Not even a hotspot. I rule. But I can´t really move my legs very well. I almost cried when I realized the bar bathroom was down about 8 steps.

This is getting long, so final note. I did some route planning today. An average of 20 miles a day has become a more realistic average of 20 km a day...mainly because of hills, which slow you down A LOT. I´ve decided to take a train from Fromista to Leon, which cuts out 117km - 6 days´ walking. Karl says that´s cheating. I say, I REALLY want to see Finisterre if possible, and it´s not as easy for me to ¨just come back¨ as it is for him, and that apparently the entire countryside from Burgos to Leon is flat and barren and shadeless and hot. And even with the train ride, at this pace, I don´t make Santiago till Aug 9 anyway. So Finisterre is STILL a question mark. If I took no train at all, I wouldn´t even make Santiago, and hell if I´m going home without seeing the place I´m walking 500 miles to see! I´m not a pilgrim purist. Besides, I crossed the friggin´ PYRENEES, so I´ll have words with ANYONE who gives me flak about a train ride.... =)

All for now...I´m not sure this had any kind of order to it, but I tried. Hopefully I will sleep well tonight, and my leg will be better in the morning. Tomorrow´s plan is to get just outside Pamplona. With the festival still going on, the refugios are closed, so we can´t stay in the city. But we´ll hopefully be able to see the bulls run early Sunday morning.... I want a red kerchief before we leave there. =) Maybe even a shirt splattered with fake blood. Ha ha. FAKE, Mom, I promise....