Day 5: Pamplona to Zariquiegui (10km)

So today was our rest day, a chance to let our muscles heal a little and gives our brains a bit of a break, so we only walked 10km to this teeny tiny little town called Zariquiegui. It basically consisted of a church (of course), an albergue and a little corner shop, but it was perfect for our needs.

The walk there was hard because it was completely up hill, and we all know how I DO NOT do hills. But knowing it was a short day and that tomorrow we'd be starting our day already be 2/3s of the way up that hill made all the difference.

The walk was so pleasant, despite our aching muscles. 

After we checked into the albergue, we basically spent the day just lazing about, reading, and eating. The woman at the corner shop was so incredibly lovely, and for just €3, she made these giant bocadillos (sandwiches) for us with cheese, avo, tomato, and prosciutto, plus a drink. It truly was a glorious afternoon.

While we were sitting in the church courtyard soaking up the sun and enjoying the greatest bocadillos ever, my bunk buddy from Roncesvalles, John, walked by. Noni called out to him and he stopped and chatted, then decided to also stay and give himself a rest.

I'm going to share John's story here, but I don't actually have his permission to do so. When I see him later today I'll ask if it was ok and if not I'll remove it, but it will be here for a few hours at least. 

John is 70 years old. He first heard about the Camino when he was 24 and was walking through Spain from north to south. He was in Pamplona, running with the bulls, when he met an Irishman on the Camino and decided that one day he'd do it too. Then life and marriage and babies got in the way and there never seemed a good time.

Two years ago, John's wife was diagnosed with cancer. Two weeks before he set off on the Camino, she was given the all-clear. Then two days later his own test results came in and he found out that now he had cancer. So realising that he'd never get a better opportunity, a week and a half later he was off on Camino, having done no training or preparation. He's carrying the same bag that he took on his walk across Spain 40ish years ago. And he's giving it his all. He needs to complete it before the beginning of June which is when he has to be back in England for surgery, so he's giving it his all.

He is amazing. I'm a bit obsessed with him because he's quite curmudgeonly and it turns out I love that in an old man. Reminds me of my nonno, whom I miss everyday.

Anyway, it puts things in perspective for me when everything hurts and I think I just want to take a cab to the next town...

Day 4: Larasoaña to Pamplona (15km)

With our aching muscles and brain-deadedness, we headed off from Larasoaña just after 8am. We weren't in the mood to have an early start because we were still recovering from the long walk the day before. 

So of course the moment we left the albergue it started to rain.

Not heavily though, but enough to be really annoying. 

We walked through some stunning scenery along the river...

Through a cute little town and gorgeous scenery...

And then this bitch of a hill.

I guess the view was worth it? My poor, aching calf muscles didn't think so.

After walking for hours with our aching muscles, we eventually came to what we thought was Pamplona. Unfortunately for us, it was not. It was the town of Arre. We were pretty pissed off so decided to give into our tantrums and sit next to the river and read for awhile.

We eventually decided to leave our lovely spots and keep going to Pamplona. The passed a marathon that was going on in town, listening to people yelling, "Andale! Andale!" 

We eventually came to the Magdalena Bridge just outside of Pamplona. Then we had to go through a drawbridge into the town itself. Of course it had to be on a bloody hill. 

We stopped at the first albergue we came to which was just within the city walls. We were desperate to dump our stuff and shower. 

After feeling refreshed, washing our clothes, and checking out our "pod style" bunk beds, more people started to arrive, and it turned out to be a bunch of friends we'd made earlier, like Oliver, Sylvia and Elma. 

Noni and I attempted to do some sightseeing, but we got to the cathedral and it was closed. On a Sunday. Well done, church. Good work. 

Here's what the outside looks like. Isn't that something? Yeah, not really.

Despite our exhaustion, we went out for dinner with our Camino buddies that night and had some tapas/pintxos. The selection was mouth-watering, and I had trouble choosing just a couple. Had such a fun time at dinner getting to know everyone. Dayle turned out to also share mine and Noni's love for The Walking Dead, and if he didn't live so far away he'd probably be part of our post-apocalyptic survival team.

We made our way to the main square, which was gorgeous.

We were also doing something I never thought I would do in a million years- go out in public wearing socks and sandals. This Camino has made me do many things outside my comfort zone, but this was probably the most comfortable. It helped that all of us were doing the same thing, but I still hated myself a little. But more importantly, my feet loved it. Damn you, comfort!

So apparently this was Dayle's first ever selfie. From left to right: Rebecca, Dayle, and Sylvia (plus Noni and I).

And then we ended the night with churros. That's how you end an exhausting day.

Day 3: Roncesvalles to Larasoaña (28km)

So we set off bright and early from Roncesvalles. Not that we had planned to- we actually wanted to leave at 8, but everyone in the albergue started getting ready as loudly as possible at 6:45, and if you managed to sleep through that, the lights were switched on and Gregorian chanting was piped over the speakers. I'm sure that would have been lovely if we'd had a nice night's sleep...

So we left and started a pleasant walk through a witch's forest (according to local Basque legend) and had brekkie at a night little cafe about 3km down the road.

We passed through some beautiful scenery and cute little villages whose names I didn't quite catch.

We also passed a whole lot of farm land.

The scenery was gorgeous and we were having a lovely walk. At about the 15k. Mark s bunch of hills started happening, which I did not love, but it was still doable.

We arrived at Zubiri which was 23km from our starting point, and we felt fine. Noni's feet were sore, and mine a little bit too, but we thought we could push on for another 5km to the next town so that our next day's walk was a lot shorter.

We soon found out that 25km was our peak. The last 3km was so incredibly painful. It was liking walking on bruises. Everything hurt, and we were just miserable. 

Finally, we were only 1km from Larasoaña and were getting frustrated because we could see and hear the village, but the path wound around and away from it every time we thought we were just about there. Finally, we crossed the bridge into town and went to look for the Albergue San Nicolas which we had been told about earlier in the day. 

Then it started to rain. 

Of course it did.

We hobbled/ran through the town and finally saw the hostel through some buildings. We got inside just in time for the rain to stop. Of course.

But, the incredible pain was, in a way, worth it. Albergue San Nicolas is a brand new albergue and was only €11 for the night. We paid an extra €10 for the pilgrim's menu for dinner and €3,50 for breakfast, and both were delicious! Dinner was a delicious soup, lots of hot, crusty bread, schnitzel, and a yummy ice cream cake for dessert. Breakfast was bread with jam, cheese, coffee, orange juice, and tortilla, which in Spain is a potato omelette. So good!

The facilities were excellent too- fast free wifi, rooms with only 6 people max, and amazing showers. Showers are so important on the Camino because a good shower when you reach your destination helps you come back to life.

Day 2: Orisson to Roncesvalles (17.4km)

At 8:15 our taxi arrived and we headed back up the mountain to Orisson where we had ended the previous day's walk. 

You can already see the look of trepidation on my face. 

After relieving ourselves at Orisson, very important as this was THE LAST TOILET FOR 17.4km, we started walking.

I had spent the whole of the night before psyching myself up for this walk. After the struggle of the 8km yesterday, I was very worried. The walk to Roncesvalles continued for 14km up the mountain, before a 3km descent to Roncesvalles. 14km uphill. I was scared.

There were lots of other pilgrims heading off around the same time, so we followed everyone else, and the many way markers. 

The scenery was amazing, and for about the first 5km, despite the steep incline, I was enjoying myself.

Look at us up that mountain, still smiling and everything- take that, Pyrenees! 

At one point we came across this beautiful craggy rock with a statue of Jesus on the top.

Oh hey there, buddy!

And then we walked a little further on and saw snow! Right next to us! How novel! Luckily there wasn't snow on the trail though...

Still, we were enjoying the scenery. Noni and I saw our first ever MOLE!!

We even had time to stage photos like this one:

It's obviously staged because there is no way that I was ever in front of Noni- she was always ahead, often waiting for me to trudge up the mountain, like this:

We saw this emo horse standing on the mountain's edge, contemplating the meaning of life:

Just after crossing into Spain, the Camino leaves the road and heads cross country, through what we were calling 'haunted woods', because they had to have been, what with the creepy way the trees grew out of the side of the mountain and the fog that enveloped them.

And then suddenly, there was snow. On the trail. For the next few kilometres. Let's just say that Noni and I were pretty miserable. Have I mentioned that we are doing the Camino in sneakers? This is the time that we wished we had waterproof shoes. It was not pleasant.

After a lot of whinging and moaning and hating on life, we finally got to the part where we start heading downhill- we were on the home stretch, only 3km to go!

So of course, it began to pour.

We whipped our sexy ponchos out of our packs and started tramping down the now slippery and dangerous mountain. Noni discovered that the zigzag uphill walking also made the walk downhill easier, placing less strain on your legs.

And then finally, we made it all the way down, rounded the corner and were presented with this glorious sight:

The Abbey and municipal albergue at Roncesvalles. A happier sight was never seen.

Apart from the rain, we had timed our arrival pretty well, arriving at the albergue just 10 minutes before people were allowed into the room.

I had been warned what these albergues were like, but I definitely wasn't quite prepared. On the one hand, the facilities were very modern and nice, with only 2 bunks (4 beds) per... cubicle is how I would describe them. They were all open to each other, but only 2 bunks in each section. There was a little bit of privacy, as you can kind of make out in the photo, but it was all still exposed to each other, so EVERY SOUND CARRIED. Sleeping was very hard- there were 100 people in that dormitory. And many snorers.

The bathrooms were pretty crap- 3 showers per gender per level. And they were those push-button ones where you press the button and get about 2 seconds of hot water before it stops and you have to push the button again. Nice. But for €10 you can't complain, right?

We also had the €10 pilgrim menu for dinner, which is 3 courses and wine included. If you ever stay and Roncesvalles, I highly recommend you DO NOT bother with this. Or at least get the pilgrim menu from another restaurant, not through the albergue.

The other thing is, being in the mountains, it was freezing. Noni and I sexed it up by making sure our sexy sandals were enhanced by socks.

We did some exploring of the immediate surrounds of the albergue (not too much because we were exhausted), and discovered the stunning church.

St James was in there too, making sure I didn't light a candle without putting money in the box first.

Day 1: St Jean Pied de Port to Orisson (8km)

After finally having a good night's sleep, Noni and I decided to bite the bullet and walk the 8km to Orisson. 8km? That's nothing! We'll walk, have a coffee at the bar at Orisson, then catch a cab back to St Jean. Easy!

So we set off, jet lagged but pretty excited.

Here's Noni and I taking our first steps! These sorts of markers are along the whole Way.

Just look at how fresh faced and energetic we were!

We set off through the beautiful town of St Jean and I got pretty camera happy. We had a good pace, had only minimal belongings in our backpacks to ease ourselves into it, and we were overtaking people left right and centre. We had this Camino in the bag.

The road started becoming a bit steeper, which was a little bit difficult. We knew it'd be a solid incline, but so far so good.

Look at us! Despite my red face, we were still enjoying our brisk walk in nature, waving to all the adorable farm animals (sheep! donkeys! baby donkeys!).

And then the path veered away from the road and the real incline started. And I died. I cannot describe the struggle, but I'll try anyway. First, the mouth breathing started. Then the huffing. Then the pain in my calves. Noni suggested smaller steps on the incline, so I tried taking small steps. Then I just stopped. I was attempting to get some energy back and psyche myself up to keep going.

Then an angel appeared.

 

Not this Virgin Mary statuette, but Christine. Christine saw my plight (which I was still pretending wasn't happening) and leant me her walking poles. They were odd, but I definitely think they helped me, if only to concentrate on something other than the fact that there were still 3km to go of this blasted mountain.

Helpful signs like this "keep going" one were helpful, but not as helpful as Christine. She also taught us to walk up the hill in a zigzag pattern which took a lot of the strain away.

Here's Noni waiting for me, hating me for making her take so long.

Here's Christine and her poles.

Eventually, when I thought I couldn't go any further, we rounded a corner and found this:

Orisson. Finally! 

I cannot stress enough how difficult this walk was, and for some people, this isn't the end of their first leg. They continue another 17.4km up that bloody mountain to Roncesvales. I cannot even imagine going further than Orisson. Apparently the incline isn't as bad, but those measly 8km zapped us of our strength.

At Orisson we ran into our iPad charger hero, Oliver, and his travelling buddy, Rudyard. We bought them both the promised beer. 

If you ask me, Rudyard has a drinkin problem. Look at him, the lush.