April 17-18, 2013. Pamplona, Puente la Reina, Estella.

We arose with the break of dawn. Most albergues allow only a single night stay and further that pilgrims be out the door before 8:30 a.m.. This is to allow the staff, often volunteers, some rest and an opportunity to prepare for the coming night’s lodgers.

I pulled on my pack, but the previous evening Christine discovered a service that was to benefit her often over the hundreds of kilometers before us. For from 5 to 7 Euros a pilgrim could tag their pack and leave it at the albergue for pickup by a courier who would then deliver it to the destination designated by the pilgrim. Get the envelope from staff, write the destination on it, seal in the coin, and tape or wire to pack. Brilliant! Thus unburdened Christine was better able to travel the distances with me.

Most of Pamplona remained asleep, giving us the opportunity to gaze upon the old city absent the usual throng of tourists. The areas of the Cathedral and Town Hall were just beginning to see first light.

Pamplona, founded in the 1st Century BC by Roman General Pompaelo, is a large city with a population of over 200,000. The walk to the outskirts was a matter of a couple of kilometers that wandered through picturesque sections including a delightful park that was in full Spring flower.

One might be concerned with becoming lost in the maze of crossing city streets or in the unfamiliar countryside, however the entire course of the Camino’s French Route is well marked. In places this takes the form of metal icons embedded in the pavement, tiles mounted on the sides of buildings, or pylons emblazoned with the stylized scallop shell.

Even though well marked, a guidebook is very helpful. We relied upon our 2012 copy of John Brierley’s popular guide. The first such guide was the Codex Calixtinus written in 5 volumes by the French Priest Aymeric Picaud in 1138. An original copy is held it the treasury of the Santiago Cathedral. Of course, one can also purchase a modern printing on Amazon!

The 12^th Century Codex divides the Camino into 13 stages, each averaging approximately 63km. Brierley divides the route into 33 stages averaging 25km, and we completed the journey in 35 walking days. Apparently pilgrims in the 12^th Century were a heartier breed.

 The April 17^th hike from Pamplona to Puenta La Reina spanned 24km with a challenging climb to the 2,590 foot summit of Alto del Perdon (“The Hill of Forgiveness”).

As we began our ascent the city limits of Pamplona were visible under the city haze behind us, along with the ruins of the Fuente Reniega (“Fountain of Renouncement”).

The fountain dating to the Middle Ages is reputed to be the place where a pilgrim dying of thirst was tempted by the Devil to renounce God upon the promise of water as a reward. The pilgrim instead rejected Satan whereupon the tempter vanished. St. James then appeared before the pilgrim and revealed the spring, allowing the pilgrim to quench his thirst. Today the spring is dry. A metaphor of our times?

We again encountered Regina from South Korea. She had shared our cabin at Orisson Refuge on the first day.

Unfortunately, she suffered from a bronchial infection that turned into a small epidemic among pilgrims during our early days on the Camino. We were not immune.

Another contrast to our eyes in the distance was the array of modern wind generators atop the Alto del Perdon. They loomed over a monument to past and present pilgrims on The Way.

Before us lay a broad expanse of countryside. Puenta La Reina was in the far distance beyond green estates, wine vineyards in early spring bud, and vast fields of yellow flowered rapeseed. Rapeseed is cultivated as the third leading source of vegetable oil, animal feed, and bio diesel fuel after soybeans and palm oil.

Down we descended the winding and potentially treacherous path to the peaceful plains below where in the 8^th Century King Charlemagne’s army soundly defeated the Muslims in pitched battle.

It was unseasonably hot and dry that day with little shade. Fortunately the Camino provided frequent public rest stops, water fountains (yes, safe to drink), and the occasional snack shop where huge “bocadillos” (cold-cut sandwiches) and beverages could be had for a few euros. A can of San Miguel beer (1€) cost less and tasted better that a can of soda.

At the end of the day we were ready for a bit of pampering in Puenta La Reina which we found at the Albergue Jakue. The 40 bed albergue occupied the basement level of the popular 3 star Hotel Jakue which featured a sauna, library, a welcoming outdoor garden with Bar, and a full buffet breakfast. We were permitted use of the same amenities as the full-pay hotel guests, but at a fraction of the cost. Who needs privacy? By the way, Christine scored a massage with a delightful and most friendly masseuse.

 

The 18^th dawned clear and crisp, the heat of the day lay hours off. Puenta La Reina, a pleasant village of 2,000 inhabitants, features an iconic Medieval bridge ordered built by Queen Muniadona (995-1066) as an aid to pilgrims seeking to cross the broad River Arga on their way to Santiago.

Our path wound 22km to the town of Estella (“Star”, pop. 15,000). En route we passed through three small villages, the most charming being Cirauqui (pop. 500), which provided a welcome stop for a brief rest and snack.

 

This stretch of the Camino included passage over a still used 2,000 year old Roman bridge and road. Rough, but memorable for the experience of following in the footsteps of long dead Imperial Legionaries.

Seated at the far end of another ancient bridge I encountered a seated pilgrim. He greeted me and we spoke for a few minutes. He had received a recent unfavorable cancer diagnosis. He was walking the Camino to seek God’s blessing and asking for prayers from fellow pilgrims. The kilometers that followed for me were spent in quiet thought for that gentleman.

We arrived in Estella before the albergues had opened. Typically pilgrims are not received until after 1 or 2 o’clock in the afternoon.  This allowed us time for a visit to the stunning 12^th Century Church San Pedro and its adjoining cloister. It was here in Feudal times that the kings of Navarre were crowned and swore their oaths before the Church.

There was always time for sharing wine with a fellow pilgrim. On this occasion it was with our new-met Camino friend Deb Rouse from Australia.

Our journey would parallel hers in lockstep over the next few days. We have maintained contact with her to date. One of the gifts of the Camino.

Peace Everyone, and Buen Camino! Pete  

 

 April 14, 2013. The excitement and exertions of the prior day earned Christine and me a welcomed sleep. My night was occasionally interrupted by a deep resonant cough from a young South Korean pilgrim. Regina was one of the 10 sharing the cabin. A few days later there was a spreading bronchial contagion. We were not spared.

Up before dawn I dressed and with camera in hand I hoped to catch sunrise. I was not alone. On the first day I had met a pilgrim from New York laden with perhaps 20 pounds of photography gear. He had already staked out a prime location to erect his tripod and await the anticipated glory of the first rays breaking the horizon.

Photos taken, I returned to the cabin and was greeted by another blaze of light as the morning rays brilliantly played upon Christine’s silver white hair.

The Orisson refuge provided a breakfast of coffee, tea, juices, pastries, breads, fruits, cold meats and cheeses, typical for the Camino and typically European. Afterwards Christine and I assembled our gear and emotionally prepared for the day ahead.

I thought that we had anticipated every eventuality. Rain, cold, heat, blisters, but we never expected to be apart. It is often said that each Peregrino walks their own Camino. I was learning the truth of those words. Over the next 35 walking days there would be many times that due to our different abilities and tolerances Christine and I took separate paths. Due to illness there would be 11 nights we would sleep apart. That came later of a “difficult conversation” in the city of Burgos that saved our Camino(s). For now I will only say that Christine’s insistence won out.

Outside of the albergue I waited for Christine’s pre-arranged departure. The delivery van would return to St. Jean before proceeding on to Roncesvalles. Two other pilgrims had heard of Christine‘s plans and arranged to join her. Other pilgrims were present when one woman, Patricia with a group from New York, remarked that “real pilgrims” carried their packs and walked every step of “The Way”. Most but not all pilgrims are pleasant and polite. Patricia was neither pleasant nor polite. We would encounter her again weeks later.

Parting with a kiss we each began our individual Caminos.

It was not long before I found myself with a variety of companions including Heika from Germany and Brent Ledford, an expatriate California District Attorney who had retired with his wife to Barcelona, Spain.

Brent found that his pension could provide an enhanced standard of living while allowing them to enjoy the culture and environment of a beautiful European city.

As promised, the hike was difficult and made more so by a raging mountain wind conservatively estimated to be over 50 miles an hour. I witnessed a pilgrim chasing his pack as it rolled end over end like a tumbleweed, threatening to plummet off a cliff.

I encountered here, and at various other locations along the Camino, monuments to pilgrims who had died on The Way.

Deaths were typically the result of illness, infirmity, or injury. None to my knowledge were from violence. Poignant was a monument to a Brazilian pilgrim who weeks before had lost his way on the pass during a snowstorm, falling to his death.

The fountain of Roland is reputed to be the place where Charlemagne‘s cousin and chief knight met defeat and death at the battle of Roncesvalles in the year 778.

Charlemagne, who had been at war with the Muslims in Iberia, was withdrawing to France over the Roncesvalles Pass. Roland commanded the rear guard. At a point in the pass that was narrow and bordered by forest he and his troops were ambushed by Basque soldiers.

Roland’s struggle became the story of legend told in the oldest surviving piece of French literature, the 11th Century epic poem, “The Song of Roland”.

Snow remained evident in the higher elevations and the border between France and Spain was marked by an ancient stone monument.

The vistas, fresh air, and brilliant sunlight made for a remarkable experience, a sensory banquet.

Roncesvalles came into view at the top of the pass. It was a welcome sight.

The descent was steep and remained challenging. I was met by Christine with open arms.

We registered at the Albergue and were assigned adjoining bunks in the clean and well-maintained facility. While still a hostel, there was a welcome nod to privacy. Next came a tour.

The Catholic Collegiate at Roncesvalles was originally established as a hospital built at the end of the 12th century. Today it primarily serves as a waypoint and hostel for Pilgrims on the Camino. Our tour of the grounds and buildings was conducted by one of the priests.

He spoke to our group in English, French, and Spanish. We viewed the wonderful church from its choir and visited the tomb of King Sancho VII of Navarre who was reputed to be nearly 7 feet tall and fought against the Muslims in the battle of Las Navas in 1212. The stained glass above his crypt is dedicated to the battle. There were also chains reputed to be from the 778 battle of Roncesvalles where Roland lost his life. The image of those chains is central to the crest of Spain’s Navarre province.

At the end of the tour the priest asked which of us spoke English. We raised our hands and he asked us to step aside for a moment. When the rest of the group had left he asked us if we would be willing to deliver the liturgical readings at evening mass. We agreed.

Beer with new friends and later a communal dinner were afternoon celebrations of a good day.

Most evenings on the Camino featured an opportunity for a pilgrims blessing, a brief prayer service, or Mass. We came to enjoy those moments as times to spiritually contemplate in the company of other Peregrinos. That evening I executed my reading with heartfelt emotion before perhaps 100 pilgrims. For some in attendance it was memorable enough that over the next 34 days I was occasionally asked, “Didn’t you speak at Mass in Roncesvalles?” To this day my spirits are lifted to recall, “Yes I did”.

Buen Camino. Peace Everyone. Pete

 

“The Way”, presented an idealized Hollywood portrait of life on the Camino. There were a few dramatic scenes, but for the most parts it was a pleasant countryside stroll. We thought that we were prepared for the reality. Having read the Brierley Guide’s cautions we knew that the transit over the mountains could be difficult and even dangerous.

We had decided not to hazard the entire 25km passage to Roncesvalles, Spain in one day. Instead, the refuge at Orisson, a private albergue, was situated half the way to the pass and would split the climb over two days. This seemed prudent given Christine’s untested tolerance for walking laden with her pack. A recent snowstorm had closed the Route Napoleon the prior week. It had reopened that morning, so given the warming conditions an extra day seemed like a good idea.

We were up at dawn and greeted by Marie Josee with the breakfast table set.

She encouraged us to take some fruit and cheese with us “for the road” and saw us to the door for a warm sendoff.

Returning to the start of the Route Napoleon the sky was clear, the rising sun had burned off the morning dew, and the temperature was warming. It promised to be an excellent day for a hike.

The Route Napoleon is one of two paths to the Monastery at Roncesvalles (“Valley of Thorns”). It is the more difficult of the two but presents spectacular views as one ascends to the pass.

However, it is prone to rapid changes of weather and pop-up storms. It can be dangerous for the unprepared. It is also deemed the most strenuous segment of the entire Camino Frances.

The alternate route, Via Valcarlos, is preferred in the winter months and whenever there is a threat of deteriorating weather. It mostly follows roads where the main challenges for pilgrims are traffic and noise. There was never a question for us, we would take the Route Napoleon if at all possible.

The Route Napoleon was Napoleon Bonaparte’s favored track for moving his troops into and out of Spain during the Peninsular Wars of 1808-1814.

Adrenaline and high spirits carried us up and through the first few kilometers. There is a limit to the relief that excitement can give to tiring legs and winded lungs. I was doing well and felt in my element. Christine began struggling.

A few kilometers later and I was growing concerned for her physical and emotional state. Given what we were experiencing, any attempt to have covered the entire 25km to Roncesvalles was unthinkable.

We took our time, made frequent stops, and took in the spectacular views.

I encouraged Christine while she put a brave face on her pain. It was a good thing that the Camino had been her idea since with “ownership” comes responsibility.

Hours into the climb we arrived at the Orisson Refuge.

What a pleasant surprise! The albergue was crawling with pilgrims of every age and stripe. All were just beginning their journeys. Backpacks lay scattered everywhere, and one could overhear conversations in a multitude of languages. Best of all, there was an outdoor deck with an amazing view of the mountain range, and a waitress bringing beers to the tables. Our spirits again soared.

We registered and were given bunks in one of the three shared cabins.

With about 30 Peregrinos assigned beds the refuge was at its capacity. Dinner was an excellent communal affair that included wine and good company.

After we had eaten, our host rose and spoke to us in French, Spanish, and English. He asked for volunteers who could translate for any unable to speak those languages.

He insisted that each of us stand to introduce ourselves to the group. We were to give our names, country of origin, and offer the reason that brought us to walk the Camino. It was marvelous!

The room erupted in laughter when I pointed to Christine and with a deadpan expression said, “I’m here because this was her idea”.

One young man stood and while looking at his companion announced that he was on the Camino to ask for her hand in marriage. First there was stunned silence, then loud applause and even a few tears, more than a few from his bride to be.

As we began making our way out of the dining room Christine said that she would catch up to me in a few minutes. She wanted to speak to the hostess. She had a serious expression that concerned me. Anxiety building, I waited outside for 15 minutes that felt more like 2 hours.

Christine returned and said, “Well, that is taken care of. I’m not going to continue over the pass.” Our Camino that had barely begun was over… or so I thought. She caught my expression and correctly read my thoughts. “No, we aren’t done. You are going to continue in the morning, and I will meet you at Roncesvalles.” A delivery service was scheduled to transport supplies between Orrison, St. Jean, and Roncesvalles the next morning. The hostess called the service and arranged for Chris to ride along. Our Camino would extend to 35 walking days. this would be the first of many days that we did not walk together. There were 11 nights we would spend apart. In our 35 day journey across Spain we found that we often traveled different paths and embraced different experiences.

I thought that I had planned for the foreseeable. I was wrong. Life presents each of us with unique paths. So it is on the Camino.

Peace Everyone. Pete

PS. Before departing Kansas City, Christine bought a colorful piece of lightweight fabric. It measured roughly 5 feet by 6 feet was attractive, fast drying, and packed very small. It’s general utility was marvelous. In this image she wears it as a modest wrap after having taken a shower. Her “sarong” (as she would call it) became the envy of many women on the Camino.