Today was a good day. Let me back up a bit first, though, and fill you in on all the gory details of my evening.
The Albergue, or Pilgrim Hostal, in Orisson has 22 beds. 18 of those beds are in three rooms, six bunk beds each. We were originally allocated three top bunks, but Dad asked if there were any bottom bunks available, so we ended up being moved to the four-bed room with a private bath. The fourth bed ended up being occupied by a very nice medical student from Brazil named Pietro who is walking the Camino by himself. Unfortunately, while Pietro was very nice, his family apparently did not understand the finer points of time zone differences, as his phone rang no fewer than five times during the night.
I know this for a fact, you see, because I was awake. Pietro also snores loudly. When Pietro was not snoring, one of my parents was. I'm not really complaining, because I suppose that when I was sleeping, I was snoring too. We were a regular snoring choir.
Dinner was served family style in the dining room; a siimple but very good meal of vegetable soup, pork loin with white beans, and Gateau Basque for dessert, all served with local wine. it was really quite an enjoyable dinner, because there were about 10 different countries represented, with English the lingua franca. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits and full of goodwill toward their fellow pilgrim, and i found myself wondering how different the world would be if we all interacted with our fellow man that way all the time. Of course, this is exactly what Christ calls us to do, but I will admit it is perhaps easier to do on a pilgrimage 7,000 miles from home than in my normal routine.
Sometime in the night, it started raining and a fog moved in, so when we awoke at 6:30 this morning it was cold and wet. Breakfast was served at seven, and was disappointingly French: coffee, juice, bread (not even toast!) with butter and strawberry jam. I have very high hopes that breakfast is yet another way the Spanish will outshine the French, as they do pretty much everything else in my obviously unbiased opinion.
We were walking by eight am, after adjusting our packs and refilling our water. Today's trek involved a climb from 2,100 ft. to 5,000 in about six miles and then back down to 3,500 in four. About a mile up the hill, we had to break out rain gear, and it got rather cold. The scenery was some of the most beautiful I have ever seen, with sheep and wild horses grazing on the hillsides and the mist flowing over the mountains. I did lament the fact that I did not bring a jacket as the temperature peaked at about 50. I have some fantastic pictures to share, of course, but again, it will have to wait until I have a real internet connection. Once e reached the peak and things levelled out a bit, we crossed in to Spain, which felt to me like coming home. On the Spanish side of the mountains is the oldest and largest surviving forest in Europe, the Bosque del Irati, which is made up mostly of towering beech trees. As I walked along the ridge that marks the frontier watching the rain and mist percolate through the ancient woods, I thouh about the thousands of people who had walked that path before me, and the thousands who would come after. it was wonderful to be in the moment, with everything I needed on my back. I'd like to think that though I'm a bit taller, and my clothing is diifferent, I am very much like the pilgrims of 1,000 years ago, with hopes, dreams, fears, and desiring to understand the meaning of it all.
The descent to Roncesvalles was treacherous in the rain, with an average 25% grade, but beautiful when I could look up from the trail long enough to enjoy the forest.
We are moving slow, about 2mph average in the hills - slower than most of the European pilgrims. Though I hope we can move the pace up closer to 3mph on flat terrain, simply because it reduces the amount of time we have to be on our feet, I remind myself that this is not a race, and in this case the journey IS the destination.
Roncesvalles is literally a wide spot in the road and has fewer than 100 permanent residents. Sometime in the early 800s, legend has it that Charlemagne and Roland fought the Moors who had invaded from Africa here, defeating them, and saving the rest of Europe from the pagan Moslems, though it cost Roland his life. In reality, Charlemagne pissed off the Basques of the area because he made a deal with the local Moorish Caliphate that he could have the region if he left France alone, so the local Basqus attacked Chalemagne and his army after he besieged their capital of Pamplona and were headed back to France. Nonetheless this is an impotant place to Spain.
We will go to the Pilgrim's Mass tonight, which is held in the 9th century Romanic church, then enjoy a Pilgrim's meal. We are not in the albergue, we secured a two-bedroom suite in the local hotel. The albergue here is 118 beds in one room, usually full, and with minimal toilet and shower facilities that do not generally have hot water. We decided the 108 Euro investment fo three people was probably worth it, not for comfort, but also security. when everything you curently posess is in one backpack, ou end to guard it carefully.
Tomorrow, I think, will be our first "real" test. We have 27 kilometers to walk; about 16 miles. I'll let you know how it goes. Buen Camino!
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