The Climb to the Castle

The trip up the hill to the castle above Villamayor de Monjardín was totally worth it. One, because it reminded me how much easier it is to walk anywhere when you don't have a pack strapped to you're back. Two, because the castle at the top was fairly cool.

I procured the key from the bar in town, and had the castle to myself. It was originally an Arabic fortress built when the Moslems controlled that part of Spain. it was used primarily as a border fortress to keep an eye on those pesky Christians to the north. Sancho Garcés, as I mentioned, took the castle, and named himself King of Navarra, sometime around 905. From the point onward, the castle was used by the Kings of Navarra to keep an eye on the Moslems to the south. Later, when the frontier was far enough south that here were no Moslems to worry about, the castle was used to warn of an attack from neighboring Castile, a threat that did not go away until the unification of Spain was complete in 1514, under Ferdinand and Isabel. Over time, the castle fell in disuse and disrepair, though The first three Kings of Navarra aere supposedly buried there.

I looked all over that dang castle, and did not see anything that looked like graves, much less the graves of kings. This got me thinking about the world as it was in 925 AD and the world in 2011, and did those kings expect to be remembered? What kind of men were they? Would we have anything in common, were I to meet them on the street and strike up a conversation? What about those who will walk across my grave 1100 years after my death? Would the world be recognizeable?

Many things to ponder as I walk over the next few days. Enjoy the pictures of the castle.

The Going Gets Tough

For some strange reason, none of us slept well last night. This made it really interesting when we had to get up at 5:30 this morning to be walking by 6. At dinner last night our hostess, a very nice lady named Noa, told us that if we were going to Villamayor de Monjardin, where we stopped today, we would need to get an early start, as there was only one pilgrim hostel in town, with 28 beds, and a casa rural. This, combined with our fun walk in the heat yesterday, made us quite eager to get on the road sooner.

This we successfully did. We bought supplies yesterday afternoon for our breakfast, surprisingly good coffee from a machine in the pilgrim hostel, and were walking by 6:05, while it was still nearly dark.

This reminds me, happy Summer Solstice!

Back at the ranch...our first hour of walking was on the old Roman Road that was the main route between the Roman province of Aquitania (southern France, I don't remember the capital city, Bourdeaux perhaps?) and the city of Asturica Augusta, the capital of the Roman province of Hispania Tarraconensis. This was an important road because much of the metal used in coinage during Roman timess came from northwest Spain. And I don't just mean we walked the same route, I mean we walked on the actual Roman road crossed a Roman bridge. Very cool.

Today was scheduled to be a shorter day, only 14 miles, and combined with the earlier start, we were looking forward to being done with our walking a little earlier than usual. The weather also was much cooler today, and that helped as well. On the other hand, lack of sleep is telling, and my left leg and knee hurt quite a lot. Dad is having trouble with blisters. I told him that he could just learn to levitate and glide the rest of the way to Santiago. His response?

"Well, I am a lot like Jesus, and he could walk on water."

Me: "Except for that whole 'I'm the son of God' thing."

Mom: "And how about all the other miracles? Dying on a cross? Rising again after three days? Maybe, if you're just like Jesus, you'd like to heal this cut on my mouth?"

Mom doesn't appreciate potential blasphemy.

We're now beginning to move into one of the more fertile regions of Spain for wine. If you've ever heard of someone talking about a wine called 'Rioja', that's more or less where we'll be for the next few, very wonderful days. In fact, we passed a winery today that has a wine fountain for pilgrims. Walk up to it, open the spigot, get some wine (free!) and enjoy. I can't figure out how they get away with this. There is a sign saying "People under 18 can't use the fountain", but I'm amazed the wineries lawyers and the government thinks this is a sufficient deterrent.

There's also a webcam at the fountain, I assume so that people can see their friends who are on the pilgrimage. If I had thought any of you cared enough to watch for us at 2 in the morning California time, I would have warned you.

So, we all drank our wine at the fountain. It was pretty crappy wine, but I sure as heck wasn't going to pass it up, just on general principles. Dad and I think Mom snuck another glass when we weren't looking. She was kinda giggly at lunch.

We made into town according to plan around 12:30 after another beautiful walk through forest, vineyards, and rye fields. The town is notable, not because it sits on the side of a hill (as I said you notice exactly how much this is the case when you're on foot), but because on the top of the hill (another 400 feet up) are the ruins of a 10th century castle.

Rather than the pilgrim hostel, we thought we would try to stay in a Casa Rural. It occurs to me that should give you some frame of reference for the places we stay:

Albergue: Hostel with common sleeping rooms, bathrooms, and meals. Meals are extra.

Casa Rural: This is like renting a room in a private home, but with bathroom, kitchen, and laundry privileges. You're on your own for food.

Pension: Like a bed and breakfast, but dinner is usually included as well.

Parador: A 4 or 5 star hotel, operated by the Spanish government, and usually in some kind of historic monument: castle, monastery, palace.

Marriott: Just like in the US, but way cooler, because it's Spain.

Anyway, we knocked on the door of the Casa Rural. No answer. So we rang the bell. Still no answer. Eventually, an old lady across the street stuck her head out the window, came over and tracked down the owner for us. We didn't have a reservation, but the owner had a room for three people, with bath, laundry, kitchen, all for 50 Euros. The house is lovely, having been built in 1832, and re-done with the existing house beams exposed.

This is a different Spain than even I normally see. We are in a town of 600 people, and everyone has been super kind and friendly, especially towards pilgrims. This has been true of our whole trip thus far. I find myself thinking that this is how the world should be.

After lunch in the bar (the only bar/restaurant in town - it's also the grocery store) I noticed a statue, so I went over to see who it was. Turns out, it was some guy named Sancho Garces I. I doubt you're exactly jumping for joy on hearing that name, but I was pleasantly surprised - he was the first King of Navarra.

The Garces family had a pretty good deal. Remember the story about Charlemagne double-crossing the Basques and laying siege to Pamplona? The Garces family was in charge of Navarra then, too. So they worked a deal with Charlemagne to be a buffer zone against the Arabs, and also worked a deal with the slightly corrupt local caliph to leave them alone, provided they didn't rape and pillage to far to the south. Left more or less to themselves, the Garces family went to work carving out a kingdom. By 905, Sancho Garces decided he was strong enough to tip his hand, and by taking advantage of some internal political conflicts in Muslim Spain, he significantly expanded his territory south and declared himself King. He died ignonimously by falling off his horse in 925, but his son and grandson succeeded him.

I was very excited to see a note below the statue of friend Sancho telling me that he (and his successors) are buried in the castle. I inquired in the bar about climbing up to it, and they told that they had the key, and I could go up and poke around any time I want. I plan to do that a bit later when things cool off a bit, and will report back any interesting findings.

Beyond that, tomorrow will be a hard day - 18 miles with little shade and few fountains. We'll be getting an early start again.

Sent from my iPhone

Agua=Vida

It was hot today.  Not Southern California hot, either.  Actual hot.  We decided to get an earlier start, so we were up before six and on the road before seven.  This was a good idea but it meant that there was no coffee.  I have yet to have a cup of good Spanish cafe con  leche today, and I am not happy about it.  Because we knew we wouldn't get breakfast, we bought a sandwich last night to share this morning, so we devoured that after about an hour of walking.

Today's route took us out of the river valley where Pamplona is situated, across a mountain range with (modern) windmills on it, and over towards La Rioja, the wine region of Spain.  It was another beautiful walk.

The windmills were cool, because it reminded me that the province of Navarra now generates all of its electricity from renewable sources - wind, solar, and hydroelectric.  Why  can't we do that?

We passed through vineyards, wheat fields being  harvested, orchards, and a couple of medieval towns.  One of the towns was called Puente La Reina, "the Queen's Bridge".  It's called this because some Navarese queen (probably named Sancha) in the 11th century decided that the pilgrims were having too much trouble crossing the river outside the walled town, so, she built them a bridge.  Nice lady, and as I crossed it today, I greatly appreciated her bridge.

That was about the time it started getting hot, like in the mid-90s.  It was also when we got to the part of our walk with no shade and another climb.  We slowed down quite a bit, simply because it's all fun and gmes till someone gets heat stroke.

Someone, sometime, in their infinite wisdom installed water fountains along  the Camino.  These are not drinking fountains, more like ornate spigots, usually with some benches and shady trees.  After  four kilometers or so walking in the hot sun, coming to one of the oases tends to make one very grateful for the chance to take a load off your feet, sit in the shade, and refill your water bottles.  I drank nearly two gallons today alone.

In all we did pretty well, still a little slow, but we made, and I think we all feel more or less OK.  We are staying tonight in a town called Ciraqui, at  a hostal.  Mom and Dad got a private room and  bath for EUR 40.  My bed in a common room was 10, and I'm sharing the folks bathroom.

A couple more observations:

1) As we walked up a hill into town, Dad said "Why does it seem like I eat more than you two?"

Me: "Because you do."

Mom: "Because you need to keep things in balance.  I'd rather have to wait  on you to eat than have to pick you up off the ground." (Dad is diabetic)

Dad: "And we both know you wouldn't pick me up of the ground."

Mom: "Right, I would just leave you there for some other Samaritan to come along and deal with you."

2) The following songs I hope to never hear again, as I have now listened to my parents sing them incessantly for the last five days:

"Here We Are But Straying Pilgrims"
"There's a Fountain Free"
"The Long and Winding Road"

Those probably all make sense.  I am hoping that he doesn't remember the Sheryl Crow song "Everyday Is a Winding Road" because I like that  song and would like to continue liking it.

Mentally, I seem to be doing well.  My feet hurt, I hate my pack, it's hot, but I will say this: I have yet to be bored of walking.  There is so much to see and think about that I am content to walk along.  I find myself worrying that I'm not contemplating enough, but I am only five days in to the journey.  I have been praying that  God will speak o me, either in a whisper, a shout, or through someone I meet on the pilgrimage.

Apologies for no pictures tonight.  I'm back to posting via cellphone for a bit.  Stay tuned and I'll catch up when I can.

Seeing Stars

The honeymoon is officially over. After yesterday's near forced march to get in to the pension by 4, we decided to get an earlier start today, we were up before 6 to get walking by about 7 - or so we hoped. Breakfast was typically Spanish, which means continental (honestly, what do I have to do to get some bacon around here!), and after last minute bathroom trips, pack adjustments, and going through mental checklists to make sure you have everything it was closer to 7:20 before we were walking.

The walk this morning into Pamplona was beautiful. I know that most folks can't take a month, nor have any interest in doing so to walk the whole Camino, but it would be well worth the investment of four days to do St. Jean to Pamplona. We crossed the river several times on Roman and medieval bridges, walked through wheat fields, and stumbled on sleepy little villages crowned with old Romanesque churches that were old before our country was born.

In the town of Villava (founded 1184, medieval bridge still intact) we asked for directions to a clinic to have Mom's mouth looked at after yesterday's mishap, just in case. An hour more of walking (8 miles so far) found us in the clinic we had been looking for. They informed us they only saw urgent care patients until noon. It was 12:30, so they directed us to another clinic. We had left the Camino some way back on the outskirts of Pamplona, and would have to get back to it.

They were able to see Mom right away, but informed us we would have to pay. 33 Euros. Compared to my last urgent care visit, this strikes me as a smoking deal. What was interesting was that they could not take payment at the clinic. I had to take the bill they printed for me to a bank (they gave me a list of acceptable ones) and have the money deposited directly into the provincial government's account, get the bill stamped as paid, and bring it back to the clinic. At first blush, this struck me as dreadfully inefficient. On the other hand, we are foreigners who are not entitled to public benefits in Spain, and they know we will be leaving the country at some point, so maybe it's quite expedient on their part. I am amazed at how cheap the medical services were.

I was also impressed by the system for taking money the bank teller used. Instead of the typical cash drawer like you would see in the States, he fed the 50 euro bill I gave him into a slot, which apparently counted it, made sure it wasn't counterfeit, and stored it. This mini-vault then gave him the 15 euros of change I was due. Pretty smart machine, and relieves some responsibility on the part of the teller, plus it's more efficient. By the time I got back to the clinic, Mom was all fixed up. No stitches required, and we were back on our way. Total time lost was about an hour. Not bad, really.

We made our way through Pamplona, and I have to tell you, the most wonderful thing happened. We are obviously pilgrims, as we're carrying large packs, hiking poles, and wearing scallop shells, the symbol of the Camino. Probably 30 times today as I walked through the streets, people would stop to ask me if I was going to Santiago, where I was from, and with a look of genuine joy on their face, wished me "Buen Camino" - a good journey. What a cool thing, and tired as I was, it was difficult not to smile perpetually.

After a wonderful lunch we began the last four kilometers of our trek. We had started out the days walk in very cool temperatures; it was now well above 90, and we no longer had shade as we left Pamplona. We had not really had issues with carrying sufficient water to this point, but if those temperatures continue, we will have ton rethink hydration.

I found myself thinking about three main things as we labored in the heat this afternoon. The first two I knew intellectually, but they took on new meaning as a pilgrim than they had before. Spanish towns and houses, largely because of history (they were at war for 800 years after all), are both built with an eye toward defensibility. This means that Spanish towns are dense. Unlike American towns that have a downtown, an urban area, suburbs, and finally rural areas, Spanish towns basically go from city to rural in one block. There are few single-family homes, almost no yards, and everything is as crammed together as reasonable. The buildings themselves, still, seem to be constructed with an eye towards durability. Almost all construction is of thick brick, with relatively few windows. This keeps out heat and energy costs down. Spanish towns, again because of a history of war, are almost always built on a hill. In medieval times, you wanted to see your enemy far off, and then you wanted him to have to work to get to you. This does not matter much in the modern day, except when your mode of transport is your own two legs and you are walking from place to place. Climbing up and down hills every time you enter or leave a town bets old fast.

Finally, I thought about how much smaller your world is when you walk. Today I walked from one bedroom community of Pamplona to another, and it took all day. I thought about pretty much nothing in my nor al world except walking, eating, and hojw 15 miles seems like 1500 sometimes.

Which brings me to the blog title. We have once again eschewed the pilgrim hostel four a four star hotel. We've decided we'd rather pay a little more, where feasible, to at least have a private bedroom, if not bathroom, simply because having to plan your life to keep an eye on your possessions gets old, as does sleeping with your wallet and passport in your pocket. Tonight that meant a Marriott affiliate a couple of kilometers off the Camino. Do I feel guilty? Yes. But even medieval pilgrims didn't make themselves suffer unnecessarily.

Tomorrow is 16 more up-and-down miles. I am holding up better than I thought, but am worried a bit about the folks. We struggle to keep our average speed above 2 miles an hour, and with the heat...we'll just have to see.

Roncesvalles to Larrasoaña

Pictures of Day 3

Orisson to Roncesvalles

Pictures from our second day of walking.

St. Jean to Orisson

Here are a few pictures from our first day of walking.