To Pamplona

Setting off today there is a slight rain, enough to need plastic covering for both myself and my backpack. I am asked whether I would like to join a walking group including a young English couple, an Irish woman, a woman from Michigan, Richard from Seattle and Fr. Bart, a robed Dominican priest living most of his life in California and now on sabbatical in Salamanca. Yes, I will walk with them, providing, I ask, that our accompanying priest do something to hold off the water. He promises that, irrespective of the volume of downpour, that it will be holy water. It´s a veritable Canterbury Tales. One of the group has suggested the title for a murder mystery could be "Murder on the Camino." Yes, it's a good title but, please humour me, it wasn´t the priest who did it. That would be too corny.

Today is mostly on the flat and the thunderstorms do not materialise. There is a medium light rain all the way into Pamplona. It´s deliciously refreshing. I am staying again at the municipal Refugio which was once a seminary. Our group decides to celebrate our arrival in Pamplona with a few beers followed by dinner. I still find time to apply my stretches and am feeling increasingly stronger. Some of the others are not in such good condition so I am able to help them with a few applied shiatsu therapy techniques.

The priest goes into churches en route and I use my own expertise to help others in their journey. Busmen´s holiday for both of us, but that´s alright.

Poncho covering me and backpack......not me and chocolate croissants

Fr. Bart

Walking Day 2 Roncesvalles to Zubiri

Today´s another day and I feel strong and capable. Any negative thoughts from the day before have disappeared. I will set off and have breakfast in Burguette. This is where Ernest Hemingway wrote "The sun also rises." This is also the town where I originally met Pepe five years ago: he was such an engaging person with everyone he met along the way to Santiago. Will I meet people like him along the way? "Estoy estar chupao."

The day´s journey is still long with some considerable hills, but not nearly as difficult as the crossing of the Pyrenees. However, there is a long descent into the town of Zubiri and this is a strain on knees that are still not in their best condition.

I will not stay this night in the municipal Refugio but will opt instead for one that is semi-private. It´s still dormitory accommodation but it is better located: a stone building close to an old bridge crossing a fast-flowing river, overlooking a garden and very little distance from my route for tomorrow. An added bonus is that there are smaller dormitories; this one accommodates only nine. I book for dinner for a later sitting. Food after a strenuous day of outdoor adventure tastes exceptionally good. Mixed salad, a pureed soup of green vegetables and another meal of steamed cod is perfect. I have been placed at a table on my own because the other groups seem to be all friends - the advantage being that I am given a whole bottle of red wine. I will try not to consume all of it.

I do find the time to stretch muscles, especially hip flexors and hamstrings, and I feel immediately better for this. Tomorrow thunderstorms are forecast throughout the day for the walk into Pamplona. I will not entertain thoughts as to how to cope with this. I will take one day at a time and see what happens.

On the way out of Burguette

From the stone bridge of Zubiri

Roncesvalles

I am recovering somewhat from the rigours of crossing the Pyrenees. A meal of mixed salad with baked fish and a pastry for dessert along with a plentiful supply of red wine has restored my sense of sanity. My last visit to Roncesvalles five year ago was a similar experience: Descending  kilometer after kilometer into the valley below, being overtaken by others of seemingly greater stamina, I was in a state of extreme pessimism that I could keep up the pace required to reach Santiago in a month of walking. There´s a mass of people here, keeping very much to themselves, who it seems are physically and emotionally stronger. No real support here. Perhaps after a night´s sleep I´ll have mustered my own inner resources and be ready to continue my journey. Actually, a thought that crosses my mind as I drift into sleep:  everyone else around me is shocked into silence and I have mistakenly interpreted this as unfriendliness. I know that I should be stretching in order to combat the inevitable muscular stiffness I will feel, but I don´t feel like doing anything. Sleep can bring me some repair. Meanwhile, the views over the Pyrenees have been stunningly beautiful. The rest will be easier..........won´t it?

The descent

Ramparts of the monastery in Roncesvalles

Actually, it´s quite charming

Don´t remind me

In an internet cafe in Pamplona trying to download photos. Internet cafes are dying because everyone has computers at home. Couple that with a total lack of interest on the part of an employee makes me reluctantly agree with Vancouver businessman, Jim Patterson: "He who is not fired with enthusiasm should be fired with enthusiasm." Therefore, photos will be downloaded sometime soon.

3 days in

Learning curve: trying to remember how to continue my blog using a Spanish keyboard. I still have to learn how to post photographs. I am sure I´ll manage, but the physical component of the journey has overridden my ability to think clearly. Besides, the Spanish Spell-Check marks this complete English text in red underlines. That´s exactly how my papers came back to me in High School.

A quick synopsis: arrived in Biarritz on Ryan Air. The first challenge was to use my debit card at the airport to buy Euros. It´s a small airport but there is only one ATM machine and it´s not working. I have a reservation for hotel accommodation in Bayonne, which is 7.5 kilometers away. I don´t feel like walking, even if it were possible before the hotel closes for the night. At the Airport information office, a sympathetic staff member gives me the one Euro bus fare. They say that the Camino provides what you need and when you need it. Learning to trust that is the most difficult  part.

My hotel for the night

My walk started at St. Jean Pied de Port the following morning, and I have decided I want to manage the whole journey across the Pyrenees into Spain in one day. That is 26 kilometers provided I don´t get lost. In theory, that walk will take a minimum of seven hours although last time, five years ago, it took me eleven hours because of my bad knee.

Starting in St. Jean Pied de Port

Kingdom for a horse?

The ascent starts immediately outside the town of St. Jean and it seems even more grueling physically than the last time. However, the seventeen-year-old in me, for some really odd reason, is alive and well. I seem to have discovered God because at each step of the way I notice I am using the Vocative case: "Oh, God." Ten hours later I arrive in Roncesvalles on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees and my accommodation for the night. I am too stunned to make a coherent sentence. How am I going to manage similar walks for the next thirty-odd days? Like five years ago, I wonder whether I might be better off lying on a beach in Ibiza for the month.

Ascending the Pyrenees

A little bit of snow

Descending into Roncesvalles in Spain

A little inspiration; a little training

Two days before my departure for the south of France and the beginning of my Camino, it's Sunday and the day of the London Marathon. It's still that odd reflection in the mirror that leads me to think that the seventeen-year-old reflected back can run the Pyrenees in two hours and two minutes. Perhaps a little training is in order.

Time for a more gentle walk round Hampstead Heath, pass Kenwood House, take in a little culture at the same time.

Anticipating the Way

Landmark signpost used in the movie, 'The Way," with Martin Sheen

This will be me in less than a month, having just crossed the Pyrenees from France into Spain. Just another 790 kilometers to walk. Will I make it? I'll let you know.

Made it five years ago but then now I am five years older. It's only wine that improves with age, isn't it? And that's not always guaranteed because sometimes wine turns to vinegar.

Crossing the Pyrenees

Four weeks until countdown

In less than 28 days, I will be on the road again. Procrastination is over. I have finally decided to walk from St. Jean Pied de Port in France across the Pyrenees and then westward across the top of Spain. Will see what happens.

I am having some problems with the knees. Definitely some degeneration of the cartilage from practicing shiatsu therapy on a mat for so many years.  Five years ago it was the left one. This time it is the right. There are some that would say that a problem on the left side is a problem with the feminine. So, now it's a problem with the masculine. I obviously can't win.  I'll take that with a good pinch of salt - the non sodium variety.

Meanwhile at the gym I am working on strengthening the medial quads and stripping the iliotibial band along the sides of the legs with a cylindrical foam roller. Hopefully that will help.

Last time I walked, I had problems with shin splints. This can occur if the legs are overworked. I would classify walking between 25 and 35 kilometers every day for a whole month as 'overwork'. So in preparation I am now doing strengthening exercises for the feet, ankles, calves and hips, as these all support the shins.