Author: Pete Schloss

Day 1, Hike to the Refuge at Orisson

Posted on by Pete Schloss

Dear Christine and Renee.

Day 1 is in the books. Cold, occasional drizzle, 3 hours and 2,000 feet of elevation gain. I’m so glad we made this a short day… I’m beat!

I will let my pictures and captions speak for themselves.

Departure!
Angry clouds threatened throughout the day. 
Four pilgrims from Japan.
Wonderful countryside! 
Two women pilgrims from Brazil. The struggled mightily but ultimately had to call for transport.
I took over 40 pictures today and it was hell trying to figure out which ones to post. 
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t this point I look much happier than I feel!
We heard bells, but knew there was no church. Look who walked around the corner!
ARRIVED!
The view from the Orisson Refuge.
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Britton checking out his bunk.
Two of our roommates, Abbey from Texas and Erica from Ohio.
Our table at dinner.
The gathering. 37 pilgrims.

We are waiting for dinner and I am looking forward to introducing Britton to the other pilgrims. Our room has 6 beds and seems to have been assigned to English speakers. Lou and her partner Gary from New Zealand, Erica and Abbey are teachers from the States, and us.

The room is COLD. The shower (limited to 5 minutes) is tepid but welcome. Let’s hope the food is hot!

Tomorrow is another climb. My fingers are crossed that the weather favors us.

Love to you both, and thank you for sharing your “late night I can’t sleep thoughts, Renee. They brought me to tears and mean so much to me. Love. Dad

From my daughter Renee to Britton on our 1st Day:

“My late night I can’t sleep thoughts:

Ya know it’s funny how so much changes and yet stays so solidly the same. When dad was just my dad, long before he became anyone’s grandpa, I thought his turtle-like tendencies were insane (let’s be real, I still might). Who the heck wants to carry their house on their back for weeks at a time?!?! But he did, and he drug me kicking and screaming along with him as we descended into the woods. No cell phone, no AirPods, nothing but what we could carry for a couple weeks at a time. And as evidenced by my face in all the pictures – I was not amused. And here we are and life has come full circle. Except now it’s my youngest son lugging his worldly possessions along side his grandpa. And while the idea of carrying an emergency roll of toilet paper and wearing the same socks for three days in a row wasn’t my speed, it seems to be his. Perhaps if my destination had been as exotic, the oatmeal became chocolate croissants, and the tang was a nice glass of wine at the end of the day, I would have felt different. But somehow I doubt it. I guess those turtle like tendencies must skip a generation. Because it seems that if you’re patient enough to wait a few decades, you’ll find your perfect backpack buddy. I’m so dang happy for you both that you can be turtles together. Be safe and walk proudly. Love, Mom”

Saint Jean PdP, Just Pictures

Posted on by Pete Schloss

Dear Christine and Renee.

I thought to take advantage of the strong wifi hear at Maison Simonenia to upload some pictures of the day. Just pictures… Enjoy!

This is the Citadel, a fortification that dates to the 1600s.
The fortifications provided an offensive and defensive military position against Spain.
Britton at an overlook.
It rained on and off throughout the day
These are some “friends“ that Britton found.
The town below us and the Pyrenees mountains above. 
“Green space“
The Village and mountains, a different view.
At times the sky became quite angry.
Strange person crossing an ancient bridge
Britton does not like being in pictures unless I convince him that it is also for his mother.
The river Nive as it winds through town.
And of course food. French bread with ham, cheese, and pate.
Our hotel, Maison Simonenia.
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The breakfast room and lounge.
The terrace.
The proprietor and our most excellent host, Kathrine. 

Love to you both. Peace. Dad

At Saint Jean Pied-de-Port, June 9, 2024

Train-ing to Saint Jean Pied-de-Port

Posted on by Pete Schloss

Dear Christine and Renee.

It was a good day to travel. The taxi from our hotel in Biarritz was on time to the minute and delivered us flawlessly to the railway station in nearby Bayonne. The train was in the station early as it was the origination point for our destination, Saint Jean Pied-de-Port. We had the luxury of 1st choice adjoining seats and relaxed as the small 2 car train filled to capacity, mostly with Camino bound passengers.

A young gentleman wearing sandals, shorts, and a loose-fit tee-shirt boarded shortly after us, definitely not a pilgrim. To our surprise he was the engineer!

We departed on time for our picturesque 1 hour transit up and into the Pyrenees Mountains. There were a few whistle stops and at least a score of tunnels which must have been cut over 100 years ago. We seemed to reach back in time as we drew closer to SJPdP.

A medieval bridge
Farmhouse
“Boef”
Nearing our destination
The station at SJPdP

Very little has changed in this medieval village since I was last here 11 years ago. That is really no surprise since most of the buildings on the narrow cobblestone street where we are staying date to the 1600’s and 1700’s.

One of the village gates.
Near our Pension
In the distance the bridge to the Camino

One proudly displays a stone above the door declaring it was once St. Francis Xavier’s ancestral home.

The church just down the street, Notre Dame du Bout du Pont, sits just inside of the fortress wall that once encircled the village and dates to the 1300’s. We hope to attend Mass there tomorrow.

We stopped at the Pilgrim Office to register and were told that it is fortunate we are not starting our Camino tomorrow (Sunday) as a major storm is predicted. Monday is our departure day and the weather forecast is excellent. More good luck.

In 2013 I bought a beret, wearing it in the evenings on the Camino. Today I was again tempted at the sight of an upscale shop featuring this traditional French and Basque headwear. The shopkeeper did the fitting for both of us. He explained that his excellent English derived from his time living in Miami where in his youth he was a professional Jai Alai player.

Does the hat make the man?

One language “disconnect”: We stopped at a small bar for tapas and mineral water. Somehow the proprietor misunderstood my request. Britton turned to me and said, “Grandpa, that doesn’t look like water.” I awoke from my daydreaming stupor unable to stop the gentleman. I stared at two large beers he had poured for us. I drank one and left the other to the unknown.

In the States distillers call what disappears from the whiskey barrels over time the “Angel’s Share”. Maybe some “Camino Angel” (not named Britton) drank the second beer.

Love to both of you. Peace, Dad

Written at Saint Jean PdP, June 8, 2024.

PS. Yes, there was food…

The Rogue Backpack

Posted on by Pete Schloss
Dear Christine and Renee.

I expected to enjoy my time on this journey with Britton but I can’t say that I expected him to be such a delightful traveling companion. Kind, thoughtful, and patient. He is beyond his years. I know that we are barely into this trip but I think that I am seeing Britton at his core, the person he is and will be.

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The flight from Kansas City to Atlanta was nondescript but pleasant. The trip from Atlanta to Paris was excellent as we were treated to high class accommodations.

 

There was plenty of room to stretch out, real food, real silverware, and real wine for me, Sprite for Britton. I fear that I may have spoiled him to the point that he will no longer be satisfied flying economy coach.

 

The “fly in the ointment” was discovered when I looked on my Delta App and saw that my bag was happily onboard, traveling with us across the Atlantic. Britton‘s bag took an unscheduled detour. I felt my anxiety rise and expressed my concern to Britton. He merely shrugged his shoulders and said that since there was nothing we could do about it at the moment, why worry. Amazing at only 15! 

Ultimately, I was able to secure enough information and contact the necessary authorities to arrange for a departure of the errant bag on the next flight to Paris, and then to Biarritz. With luck it will arrive before noon today. We will have to travel to the airport to retrieve it, €50 round-trip by taxi. I understand that Delta will pay compensation.

Last night neither Britton nor I felt particularly hungry after the stress of 20 hours of nonstop travel, but we forced ourselves to find a bite and a drink. What we found was a delightful nightlife at street-side restaurants where tapas were the order of the night.

 

 

We enjoyed four different tapas: spicy potatoes, roasted red peppers in sauce, ham and cheese croquettes, and blood sausage with a raw egg yolk.

 

All were new to Britton and he certainly found his appetite! Me too. Mineral water for Britton, an excellent wine for me, and we closed with dessert.

 

There are some very deep pockets in this town, and we overheard an order being placed for €5000 bottle of wine (about $5,500.00)! 

A hot shower and comfortable beds were the welcome finish to what had been an arduous day.

Love to both of you. Peace. Dad

PS. We just got a call from the airport. The bag has arrived! 

Our Hotel.

Written at Biarritz, France, 7 June. 

A few more pictures from Biarritz:

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5 Generations

Posted on by Pete Schloss
Dear Christine and Renee.

I am writing this the Sunday before Britton and I depart for our trek across Spain. I have timed it so that you will be reading it sometime while we are flying over the Atlantic. I find my thoughts drawn to each of you, and of course to him. There are others, the loving hands that reach through to give me strength and a nurturing spirit. I am consciously coming to grips with the responsibility of watching over and caring for one of the dearest treasures that life has given you as Mother and Grandmother.

We are not “islands”, disconnected from the line of our ancestors. We are the product of genetics which determines our height, eye color, hair color… and those other things which decide what we look like. To an extent, genetics also determines personality, but here we have some self-determination. I have never learned to overcome my wanderlust, but I have chosen to embrace my emotions. I willingly recognize the “female” side of my humanness.

I feel the touch of my Mother and my Grandmother.

I sense the touch of Christine upon you Renee,

…My touch upon you…

…And your touch upon Britton.

We are not isolated islands, but an endless archipelago, a family chain of individuals linked by the love and caring of preceding generations.

There has been much said about what an extraordinary experience I am providing to Britton. However, in giving a measure I am receiving back a greater measure. (Luke 6:38)

Please understand that each of you, in trusting, have given me and him this gift.
Thank you. Peace, Dad.

PS. June 6, over the Atlantic. Three of us are having a really nice flight. Britton, me, and my bag. Unfortunately, Britton’s bag decided to spend an extra day in Atlanta. Hopefully it will catch up to us tomorrow. 

Britton and his Great Grandfather, William “Bill” Nichols (1918-2020).