Our third day started by moonlight (let’s just presume they all do from here on in – we leave at 6.30am). A big change today as we walked through urban areas and saw people & cars instead of cows & sheep that we’d been sharing the path with so far.
We passed through the bustling city of Pamplona, with some very cute streets & buildings and some very scary giant baby head sculptures.
Stayed the night at a hostel run by the Knights of Malta, where we met Janet & Fred, a couple from the USA walking the Camino to celebrate Janet’s recent 75th birthday. Amazing.
The next morning was overcast and a little cooler, thankfully, and saw us reach the wind farms and wrought iron pilgrims of Alto del Perdon. Our guide book suggested a 19km day, but we said boo to that and walked 26km. Passed through some beautiful olive groves and vineyards along the way to the cute hilltop town of Cirauqui. Where the church bells toll every half an hour – right through the night. And our hostel was right across the square, so no danger of losing track of time!
Here’s an update on the Camino, day 1. We started in the beautiful little French village of St Jean Pied de Port, on the French side of the Pyrenees. A great atmosphere in the busy town – it’s the popular starting point of the Camino Frances. We met some lovely people in our hostel and got some time to wander around the town before heading off early the next morning (around 7am, so still a bit dark) to begin our first day.
And what a day it was – I found it incredibly tough, as did a lot of the people we spoke to after we’d made it through alive. Nothing like an extreme physical challenge to form strong bonds with fantastic people from all over the world! The strangeness of the backpack + the very steep mountain climbs (and equally difficult – or maybe more so – declines) + ferocious winds + long distance and then the summer sun made for quite a challenge. But the breathtaking views, cows & sheep & horses provided a good distraction from the pain!
So satisfying to finish the day & share a beer with new friends in Ronvesvalles. A fantastic modern hostel in another great little village.
As I’ve mentioned, it’s only around a month til my friend Steph and I leave for the Camino. A lot of well-meaning peeps have been giving us tips and hints, as well as remarking on how they can’t wait to see how fit and thin we are on our return. (Not that we are super unfit and ginormous now, I might add.) I remind those people that one of my favourite lunches on my last trip to Spain was a potato omelette on a giant bread roll – now that’s carb loading. And then there’s the wine – I am sure that it’s culturally insensitive to refuse.
So, we really don’t know what impact the 800km will have on us. Sure, it’s a lot more walking than we’d normally do each day in our office jobs, but then there are the delicious (and not always healthy) foods along the way, undoubtedly an important part of the journey. So maybe it’ll just even out and we’ll come back looking EXACTLY THE SAME. Just warning you now – it’s definitely a possibility.
One of the many books that I’m reading is ‘Guide to the Camino’ by an Australian lady, Trish Clark. Trish includes local delicacies in her book – food and drink that walkers should try in each town. As I read the list for one town, I felt the weight stacking on:
Fried bread with garlic and ham? Caramelised custard & sponge cake? Yes please!
And then I read about another town and realised that – at least for me on my bull-free diet – this stop might be a lean one:
Cinnamon pancakes it is.
So, looks like there will be lots of exercise and lots of fried bread and pancakes (and bull hoof stew) – life is all about balance, right?!
I am excited. REALLY EXCITED. I have just booked my flights for a European trip later this year. But it’s not just any European holiday – no sunning it up in the Greek Islands, no David Hasselhoff gigs in Berlin, no Portugese tarts in…um, Portugal. Not this time. Not for me and my friend Steph (you may recall her as one of the Color Run Stephs). We are going to walk the Camino de Santiago – starting in France, popping over the Pyrenees and then trekkin’ across northern Spain. Because, why not?
The modern sign of the Camino – this shell marks the path. It’s hard to get lost, they say. We’ll see.
If you’re not down with the Camino (a.k.a. the Way of Saint James), it was a super-important medieval pilgrimage – with many different ways to walk (as in different paths, not different walking styles) to reach the Spanish town of Santiago de Compostela, where the remains of Saint James are reported to be buried. Apparently, the route was very popular in the middle ages, but numbers dropped due to things like the outbreak of the Black Death pandemic and the Protestant Reformation. Pesky little things like that.
But in the late 1980s, the Camino was declared one of UNESCO’s World Heritage Sites and the tourists came back – undoubtedly a lot of religious and spiritual pilgrims, but also a lot of people looking for a unique physical and psychological challenge. Apparently tens of thousands of peeps walk the Camino every year (with an increasing number of cyclists too), generally starting from somewhere in France, Portugal or Spain. If you walk at least 100km (or cycle at least 200km) of the Camino, as evidenced by stamps collected in your Camino passport along the way, you get a special certificate when you reach Santiago de Compostela.
The spectacular Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. Also known as THE FINISH LINE.
Steph and I are walking the Camino Frances, which starts on the French side of the Pyrenees. Reports vary, but from start to finish, it’s approximately 800km. We’re hoping to walk it in around 30 days. Which means getting up and walking every day with our backpacks, regardless of the weather, regardless of our mood, regardless of our aches and pains. Needless to say, I’ve never done anything like this before, but I’m really excited about the challenge ahead. We will get into training shortly and I’m looking forward to getting my walking poles and hiking boots like a real trekker. Well, like a real trekker or like the 250 year old man who uses walking poles to walk along the path near my home. The countdown has begun!
everydaysparks 