Day 47: 30 May- Orisson (France) to Roncesvalles (Spain)

I could scarcely believe my good fortune when a second day dawned clear over the Pyrenees. These were perfect conditions for climbing, with enough cloud to prevent the day becoming too hot, but still allowing gorgeous views.
Near the statue of the Virgin of Orisson there were huge vultures sitting lower on the same outcrop of rock. I regarded them for a while, but was too slow to get my camera out! When they rose and took flight, I was just astounded by their size and wing span.
There were more farm animals to encounter on the slopes,
including these sheep, and also some horses. The climb kept on going upwards, though the gradient became less steep as we got higher. Finally it came time to leave Napoleon's road behind, and head onto the mountain slopes.
Lyne and Denis had carried some special crosses from home to place on this cross, and they waited for me here.
Also here was Shinechi, a Japanese man we were to meet regularly along the way to Santiago.
I was glad to be finally climbing 'off road', though I knew we were so fortunate with the weather. At these heights I have seen many photos where people were surrounded by mist. And others have encountered alpine conditions here, that for a few, sadly, have claimed their lives.
Eventually, I realised that I was crossing into Spain. No great fanfare, just a stone route marker...
There were some muddy sections up higher, formed by leaves that lay here thickly on the ground. And the mud was quite the blackest I met anywhere, which I guessed explained why the slugs were so black! Washing my socks this evening was also to be a very 'black' experience!!!

I loved this section of the climb- quite alpine, and this area would be covered in snow all winter I would imagine. I was glad to know that Lyne and Denis were never far away, keeping an eye on my progress over the mountain so I wasn't tackling it alone.
Denis' sports watch - a gift for the trip from his children- allowed us to know when we had reached about 1400m, near the maximum height for this climb, and here there was a lunch stop to celebrate. It was starting to get cloudier and cooler by now on the top of the mountain pass though, and I wasn't sure whether we would still be dry when we reached Roncesvalles.If you look very hard, you can see a slight whitey area down in the valley below: those are the roofs and buildings of Roncesvalles. (And slightly further along, the buildings of Burguete.)
When I reached the place for the descent to begin, I took the road option, recommended on the info given by the pilgrim's office in SJPP. I was to hear later how steep and tricky the forest option was, and was glad I had taken the road route.

We arrived before 13.30, and had time to register for a bed for the night at the pilgrim's office before it closed for lunch and siesta until 4pm. We were on "Spanish" time now, with later lunches than what we had become used to in France...
At the albergue (run by the Collegiate church), Dutch hospitaleros made everyone welcome on arrival, with a calm, friendly manner.
We reserved for dinner, then relaxed until a guided tour of the village and museum. Later there was a special pilgrim Mass and blessing.
I found it slightly overawing to be in a huge dormitory, along with so many of so many nationalities. But the building was beautiful. And at 9.45pm the hospitaleros reduced the lighting and started playing some calming music...until lights off.

Day 48: 31 May- Roncesvalles to Zubiri

At 6am some quiet classical music came on, and the lights came on.... And as I passed by the doorway en route for the toilets downstairs, I realised that it was Pouring with rain outside, with a capital P. It became evident that not everyone was prepared for such conditions. Some had no rainwear at all, while others had thin plastic ponchos of the $2 shop variety, that would be lucky to last ten minutes. Roncesvalles lies at 950m folks, and is in a mountain valley: if you think Spain is always dry and warm, think again and come prepared!

I wasn't among the first to leave the albergue. I was hoping the rain might ease off a little. It didn't! It was a wet walk to Burguete where breakfast provided a welcome break indeed.
Luckily, there was a gymnasium open next to the bar, where everyone could strip off their rainwear before enjoying breakfast in a welcoming dry, warm place. Then put it on again for the next section in the rain...
Later the rain stopped, and there were some pleasant villages to walk through, as well as some muddy paths to negotiate.
I met up with the three Canadians I had first met in SJPP, and again in Orisson... and I was to enjoy meeting them again..... We had lunch in a pleasant wooded spot, without any rain.
After I wrote on my Nomad blog that I had reached Zubiri, I got a lovely e-mail from John, whose pilgrim blog I had read before my journey. He talked about how he remembered Zubiri with fondness because he had spent time on the riverbank in the sunshine... Well such an exploit was certainly not possible today. The river was running high and swiftly, and all the grass near it was long and saturated.
And this bridge photo also brings back other memories for me: it was just before this bridge that I took a huge fall, the only such fall of my whole trip. I was actually very lucky it wasn't a trip-ending fall. I had just finished descending the long rocky, muddy hill down into Zubiri, using my stick all the way, and needing to concentrate. When I reached the "safe" concrete path at the bottom, my concentration lapsed a little as I began to think about taking a few photographs near the bridge. Then, skedaddle.... I completely lost my footing and fell forward, flat onto my front, with my pack falling hard onto my back a fraction later. Amazingly, I felt fine the next day, and even my camera, on my waistband at the front, wasn't damaged!

Ahhhhhh and another memory from Zubiri: it was the place where I came across The Snorer From Hell!

Day 49: 1 June- Zubiri to Pamplona

I rose early, very early, like about 3am early, at the Municipal Albergue. I could stand The Snorer From Hell, a Brazilian woman sleeping in the adjacent bunk, no more! And I was in good company, with several others who had also escaped for the sake of sanity to the toilet block. Most of us were to return to bed, albeit not to sleep, but a young Englishwoman right next to her on the top could stand it no longer, and spent the rest of the night in the toilet block. Somehow, this view of the industrial factory site that dominated the valley floor leaving Zubiri, seemed to suit the kind of night it had been!But before long I had the good fortune to meet up with a friendly group of young South American walkers, sheltering in a church porch like I was... and all was good again!
It turned into a wet, wet morning again, and the track was very muddy and required care to negotiate. I was glad to have the use of my walking pole: I left it 'collapsed' on the outside of my pack most days in Spain, but the days I used it, I am certain it helped me avoid injury in slippery and/or steep conditions.
The river was full...for obvious reasons!
Eventually I reached the outskirts of Pamplona, or more correctly the suburbs of Villava first, but it all just seemed like one long urban stretch. I was muddy after the morning's exploits, and I arrived this Sunday afternoon, just as people were all heading to the 1pm Mass dressed in their Sunday best. I felt as if I was looked at here as if I was some kind of alien in my muddy shoes.... though surely they must be used to pilgrims passing through!

The approach to the old part of the city of Pamplona though was very special, and took away all resentment I had about feeling like an alien! There was a medieval bridge to cross, a moat to walk through
and a historic gate with which to enter the city, as pilgrims of bygone centuries had done.
Then I passed into the narrow streets of Pamplona, increasingly busy with people spilling out of bars as I reached its centre on a Sunday afternoon.
I was pleased to find the signs up to the Jesus and Mary albergue near to the Cathedral.
Being Sunday though, the Cathedral was only open for services. The story of my life in Spain: I kept missing important monuments by arriving in places on Sundays when they were closed! However, I realised there was a rosary on at 7.30pm, so I grabbed the chance to get inside the Cathedral then. And got to hear some exquisite singing, and see quite an amazing procession around the aisles afterwards.
The Jesus and Mary albergue, like quite a few buildings I was to stay in in Spain, was in an historic building. But it had been completely modernised inside. The welcome was very much a fill-in-the-form-you-are-a-number kind of welcome. But the beds were comfy, and there were partitions to break down the dormitory feel. I thought this was fortunate really, when I recognised that The Snorer From Hell was here before me, which surprised me somewhat, as I knew she was just arising as I left the albergue in Zubiri. But I heard later from a reliable source that she had left Zubiri by bus. Each to their own! She was at one end of the albergue and I was at the other on the other side... so there were sufficient degrees of separation for me not to have to worry!

There was an amazing piece of 'synchronicity' at this albergue this afternoon. Lyne and Denis had left Roncesvalles well before me, and I had not seen them in Zubiri. Once I had found my bed in the albergue, and showered to get rid of the mud I was encased in, I went wandering to explore the albergue. I found the internet area..... and found L&D seated at a computer..... and they had just sent me an e-mail asking me where I was...telling me they needed me!!!! There was much laughter as I walked in to the room in reply to the e-mail they had just sent.....

Day 50: 2 June- Pamplona to Puente la Reina

I was concerned about finding my way out through the city of Pamplona, as the signage into the city hadn't been all that obvious in places. However, the signage was large and clear on the way out. It didn't seem to take long before we had reached the outskirts of the city, and were passing the Jacobean University. We decided to make the short detour to get a credential stamp there- and it was a particularly beautiful and delicate stamp. Soon I was walking on the way out to Cizur Minor, alongside a busy road, and alongside the morning rush hour of pilgrims, something I hadn't been used to in France.... I loved seeing the castle on the hill with crops in front of it.
At this early stage of the Camino we had to make way for some cyclists. However, I think mostly they soon learned about the copious spring mud on the walking route, and quickly switched to a route with a surface kinder to modern gears!
There was another climb today, so soon after the Pyrenees, and for some reason I felt tired and found it hard to psych myself up for it- perhaps because I wasn't yet adjusted to sleeping with more people in large dorms....
However, the well practised rhythm of my feet took over, and carried me along. Before too long, those distant windmills on the horizon became windmills nearby.
Before leaving home, I had already seen the pilgrim statues of Alto del Perdon many times on the internet. In some strange way, reaching these statues had become my necessary goal: so long as I reached them, I would be happy. If I had injured myself or become sick without climbing to them, I know I would have felt something was 'incomplete'.
Not many people were hanging around long to examine these statues or to pose with them. But I knew it was something I really wanted to do! Luckily it was fine enough while I was on top of the hills to have lunch and spend some moments here.
The clouds had begun to look threatening overhead while I was still on top, and it quickly began to rain a little on my descent... then to rain quite heavily.....and care was needed.... I met someone a few days later who was injured on this muddy descent.
But by the time I reached Uterga it was sunny and warm, and the cafe was doing a great trade at its outdoor tables. I joined a couple of French women I had seen a few times, and had a cool lemon drink with ice. At the cafe I was surprised to see TSFH, in fresh, clean boots, unlike the muddy variety sported by everyone else. A reliable source told me she had caught a taxi thus far! She later arrived in the same albergue as me, but luckily there were separate rooms there with about eight beds in each... and we were not in the same room!
Obamos was an interesting village along the way, but I still had quite a distance to go for the day, so never explored far. The whole time in Spain I felt under a kind of time constraint I had not put myself under in France: I wanted to arrive in Santiago before the summer crowds became too huge, and I really wanted to avoid walking in too much heat.
In Puente la Reina there were storks on the church tower, the first of many I was to see in northern Spain. I began to wonder what the storks did before humans invented church towers! The storks later retreated from view though, when yet again, the rain came down.
This afternoon, I found that I felt particularly tired: Puente la Reina looked like a very interesting town to explore, but I didn't seem to have the heart for it... There were days like that... when you were tired....

Day 51: 3 June- Puente la Reina to Estella

When I walked in France I was aware that the Le Puy route was a 'creation' of the 70s: the original pilgrim routes had been 'lost' over time. Still, the Le Puy route was routed past towns that pilgrims were known to have visited, and I saw many twelfth century churches along the route. Yet somehow I had the feeling that in Spain I would be walking more of a 'real' pilgrim route. For many reasons, today's walk had me really thinking I was on an ancient pilgrim trail, and I treasured it for that. I would have treasured it even more, if I had realised how much of the Spanish route was to be on modern senda or next to busy highways, with no signs of anything left from previous centuries.
One of today's treasures was the town of Cirauqui, which loomed ahead like some kind of jewel on a hillside,
but there was some sticky, thick mud to scramble/slide through next to these vineyards before the prize was reached! At one point I had to wade through knee-deep, cold water in order to continue....
It was a steepish climb up to the top of the village, then I sat and rested here for a while, enjoying the light and shade near the medieval arcade.
If I hadn't been feeling the need to push-on-summer's-coming, this would have been an interesting town to stop in longer to explore. (Maybe next time!) Leaving Cirauqui, there was an old Roman road to walk over, with many of its ancient paving stones still in place.

There were several medieval bridges to cross along the way today,
and fields of wheat with poppies that enlivened the view.
In the village of Lorca there was an area of comfortable seating where lots of pilgrims stopped for lunch, enjoying some welcome sunshine.
We were tired when we arrived in Estella, so we were pleased to find that the municipal albergue was reached soon after we arrived in the town.
Estella had many historic buildings, and after I had done the 'usual'- ie shower and laundry, I was glad to go out exploring. There was an amazing steeply humped bridge over the river, and I took that when I headed to the Correos. My mission was to post home my good windjacket (and a light long-sleeved top)- both of which I thought were now surplus to requirements since I had crossed the Pyrenees. I would have to say it was lovely to be rid of a kg of weight. However, I can't say I didn't have reason to miss the warmth of the jacket over the next few weeks. Spain in June might not be as warm as you imagine it is going to be is the only warning I will give here! Luckily it never rained much, so I was often able to wear my day and night layers together - but some people went out and bought an extra fleece jacket at this point.

Estella had the church of St Peter's as one of its treasures, and it had a steep 'penetential' climb up to it
and a very atmospheric cloister behind it, where I caught sight of this 'Peter with the keys'.
In Estella, the Red Cross had volunteers in a place right near to the Municipal Albergue. Several pilgrims I knew who had foot or leg problems were glad of the kind welcome they found here.