Dark side of the moon

Remember when Apollo 13 went out of radio contact with Houston as they circled the moon during their remarkable adventure? We were sort of “out there” beyond WiFi and even phone service the last few days. And we had a few memorable moments.

This guy was also at our albergue. Apparently he had a role at the Cathedral… it’s a long story!

In Santo Domingo de la Calzada, I wanted to visit the Cathedral where the saint is buried. I followed the signs to the entrance, but when I got there, it was the entrance to a museum. I asked the gatekeeper if I could go in to pray. Only for Mass, later, he told me. What if I just want to pray now? I asked. Three Euros for the museum, he said. Hmmm, “isn’t this how Martin Luther got started”, I wondered. We came back for Mass that night, and the Cathedral was packed, not with pilgrims, but with locals! Seems a local man named Antonio had died, and we were at his funeral mass. We were welcomed nonetheless. He had an impressive show of flowers, family, and friends.

Later that night, we stayed at the parrochial albergue. Our room had about twenty older adults, so I figured it might be loud snoring-wise, but certainly boring. Until about 2:00 am, when one Italian man started shouting. It started as just loud talking and banging about with his gear. As more of the pilgrims began to “shush” him, he got louder and nastier, although that was just by tone, as I don’t speak Italian. Finally I heard someone ask in Spanish what time it was, and the Italian said something like two-forty, turned ON the overhead lights, and stomped out of the room. I guess we’ll never know what ticked him off!

Last night we had a private albergue in a tiny town called Villamayor. It was so cold inside when we arrived in the afternoon, we sat outside in our coats and took a nap, as we had full sun for the first time in a week. Later the hospitalera turned on the heat, but then she turned it off again at night. At least we had ample hot water in the showers.

We are in Villifranca today, headed for Burgos tomorrow. Today marks the end of two full weeks on the camino. The path has become smoother and much less hilly. The weather remains poor: overcast, windy, with highs of 50 degrees, at best. It is cold enough to chill you without a jacket, but too warm and sweaty with one. After a day or so in Burgos, we will enter the Meseta, where perhaps some sun and warmth await.

Great view of the local church from our room

 

We rested

It being the Sabbath and all, we slept in until 7:00 am, took leisurely showers, got dressed and hit the bar next door for breakfast. Since we have now visited it four times (!), We were greeted like locals.

Know how some folks have a knack for closing bars? We have a similar knack for opening churches. We walked to the church on the main square, which was clearly under renovation. As we deciphered the sign on the front door, a little church lady opened it, and explained we should follow her to the chapel down the street, where she pulled out keys to open early for us for Sunday Mass.

After Mass, we hit the local supermercado for a few supplies, and we’ll visit the town museum later. Nájera was the regional home of a kingdom once upon a time, so a visit is practically mandatory. Here are some of the photos I have been trying to post for the past several days:

I could have taken this shot 500 times so far. In the guidebooks, they always describe how good the camino trail is, but I have found it to be very rough, especially on the slopes. It may not show well here, but this is about a 7% uphill slope.

This is the main church in Logroño. If they all start to look alike after a while, you’re not alone.

These are shots inside the church in Navarette. It was a tiny village, yet the church was amazing inside.

These are our Aussie friends, Valerie, LeeAnn, and David, strategizing on routes and places to stay while waiting for laundry to dry.

Nájera is a compact, picturesque town built into a cliffside along a river. It has been a great place to rest and regroup.

 

Navarette & Najera

Up the hill to Navarette

We left Logroño without a lot of juice in the tank, and decided to walk just 12 kilometers to Navarette. It was a cool day even though the sun was bright; the temperature never got above 60 degrees. Tomorrow it may not break 50, with rain, so we’re looking at another short day.

Resting at the top of the hill

Judy’s knees started to hurt pretty bad, even over the shortened distance today, so we’ll try sending her pack forward to meet us at the next stop. There is a well developed system for doing this, and it only costs 3-5 Euros per stage. However, you have to make a reservation, and you need to know exactly where you’ll land the next day, which complicates the planning. Our hope is that the reduced weight of her load will give her a chance to heal.

We met up with the Aussie members of our pilgrim family: people we met that first night in Orrison and have run into repeatedly since. We spent the afternoon together doing laundry and working out places to stay tomorrow: such is the life on the Camino.

Your cross

Along the way today, there was a long chain link fence which was filled with makeshift crosses placed by pilgrims. I added one, with a prayer, for all those we promised to pray for, and all those who were praying for us.

While we were walking around Navarette, we went into Our Lady of the Assumption, the local parish. Mind you, this is a little village of 5,000 souls, but the church was magnificent. Unlike our visit to Barcelona a few years back, where many of the church buildings were repurposed as museums or cafés or apartments, every town in this part of Spain has a treasured church with remarkable art.

On Saturday, we got a little rain, but mostly just overcast skies and cool temps. Even without a backpack,  Judy had some knee pain, so we’ll take a rest day on Sunday.  After all, it’s been ten straight days of hiking,  so we can use the break, even if this is a small town.

I have had terrible luck the last two days uploading pics, so I will just post this update for now and add some pictures later.

Logroño vía Los Arcos

Clouds heavy with rain
Gent playing “Cantar no llores ” on violin
Cabras, no chupocabaras

Evening before last we ate dinner in Estella, then we decided to visit the local church. The doors were locked, but as we turned to leave, the door opened and someone invited us in. We wete very happy to catch the tale end of Mass. We had an overcast but not rainy day from Estella, and we made the most of it, running up another 27 kilometers to Los Arcos. We skipped the famous wine fountain at Irache, mostly because we hit it before 8:00 am, and who wants wine–even if it’s free–at that hour? The route was more ups and downs, with less towns and support along the way. The skies threatened all day long, but never delivered the rain which seemed imminent.  We crosed the goat’s pass, and got into Los Arcos just before 3:00, and ended up with a private room in a pensíon again, as the cheaper rooms in the albergues were all taken.

We continue to eat ourselves very full of pintxos and pilgrim dinners, and we split two pitchers of Sangria before dinner, which was probably one pitcher too many.

We got an early start today, under more cloudy skies and possible rain, but our blessings held and we stayed dry. The walk was once again long: almost 29 kilometers, over the inevitable hills and valleys. At least we made it La Rioja, the famous wine region, and we’re staying in Logroño. We will certainly take a short hike tomorrow, because we are wiped out.

We’re staying in an albergue tonight, so we’ll doubtless hear the song of the snorebirds. I have been amazed how many times people ask if they snored, and looked honestly surprised when I told them they did! I think the Camino should have badges for snorers, rated by quality and type. A simple smiley face for non-snorers, a large “Zzz” for the rhythmic snorers, a boar’s head badge for the very loud, and a chainsaw symbol for the truly earth-shattering. The stickers would be in the dorm, and those kept up all night by the snoring could attach the sticker to the snorer’s backpack. We might even be able to establish rooms based on badges. Personally, I think I merit a solid “Zzz.” These are the kinds of crazy thoughts that wander through one’s mind at 1:00 am!

Un buen día

My pilgrim spouse

Today the weather was perfect, things fell into place, and we had an excellent Camino from Villatuerte to Estella. We walked a total of 27 kilometers, even going a few over our goal as we sought a pensíon for the evening.

Queen’s bridgr

First thing in the morning, we had some coffee and hit the road, anticipating an open cafe just a mile or two down the road, and there it was! Fortified by a tortilla española, we crossed through Punta la Reina and its famous Romanesque bridge. Now the Camino continued to wander up and down the local hill towns, but there were longer flat stretches with decent trail surface. We did walk on an original Roman road, which was historical but dreadful. I can’t blame the Romans: they only guaranteed their work for one millennium, and now it’s a full millennium past it’s wear out date, so of course it was a wreck!

A very unusual Y cross in Punta; prayers returned to all out there!

We had a delicious lunch of bocadilla, another tortilla española, and several bowls of fresh lentil soup…oh, and a cerveza, don’t forget the cerveza. We skipped past Villatuerte and landed in Estella in a nice little pensíon.

View from our balcony

None of which is to say we aren’t exhausted, a little blistered and sun-burned, and emotionally fatigued. But today was more like the Camino I envisioned, and less like some weird re-creation of Beast Barracks (Google it).

A Camino Moment

Things were pretty bleak yesterday in Pamplona. After I caught the blog up, we rested until the early evening. We decided we needed to get dinner, if nothing else, so we got up and went out. The pintxos bar across the street had some excellent snacks and wine, and the nearest ATM fully cooperated. So we even agreed to go on a little sightseeing hobble around the town.

Could have been anywhere

We were a few blocks from the Cathedral when we saw a little church tucked into a side street, and the door was open. You cannot fathom how random this seemed: every block has a church on it, and many have an open door, but something told us to enter.

When we did, we were warmly greeted and told in English that a multi-lingual prayer service for pilgrims was just about to begin. We stayed and joined in with 12 other pilgrims from Canada, Italy, Mexico, and Spain. Then three Dominican priests asked us all up on the altar for a Sunday evening Mass! It was all so beautiful, and served to remind us why we are here.

Mass on altar, afterwards

With full spirits and full bellies, we had a great night’s sleep. We didn’t leave Pamplona until 9:00 the next morning, and the weather was bright and warm. We had an uneventful walk through the suburbs, but with Alto del Perdón always looking on the horizon.

Very steep trails…
But they’re full of loose rocks, too!
I couldn’t resist telling the pilgrims which way to go

We climbed it, took the requisite photo op with the famous pilgrim statues/art, then completed another 8 kilometers (21 for the day) when we checked into our albergue for the evening. This one even has a pool, which is great tonic for tired legs!

Judy soaking her dogs

Finally, for my daily truth-on-the-camino fact, here is a shot along one of the nicer parts of the trail, where you can clearly see that while the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain, the pollen in Spain lies heavy on the Camino.

The white stuff? Ah-choo!

A load of bull in Pamplona

After two more hard days, we arrived in Pamplona Sunday morning physically and emotionally exhausted. As friends suggested, we got a real hotel room and are recuperating after a hot shower and a nap. With a good dinner and night’s rest, and all your prayers, we will resume the Camino tomorrow.

Roncesvalles pilgrim church
Steep and uneven!

When we left Roncesvalles we thought we were out of the worst of the trail because we were leaving the Pyrenees and the weather was improving. Our guidebook described one hill and a “mystical walk alongside the river.” Now the book was wrong about where a bridge was day one, and where a mountain was day two, but certainly that was the end of it, right? The hill turned out to be a series of hills, and the riverside stroll was on a loose gravel path up and down the old river embankment. Although we left early we quickly fell off pace and knew we were not going to make it to our goal, but we also knew we could not stop in Zubiri, the next big town, because that is where the guidebook tells everyone to stop. Plus we knew there is a pilgrim bubble on the Camino now, with too many pilgrims bunched together trying to get to the same set of rooms each night.

The Basque have a rule: you must take this picture

We trudged on to Larrasoaña, an extra 5 kilometers, for a day total of over 27 kms. Since we arrived so late (around 3:00 pm), the nicer albergues were full. After wandering around town, we ended up in the municipal albergue, where our board of 8 Euros each included a plastic covered bunk bed, no heat, and no hot water! But wait, there’s more. We walked around the small village only to learn only one bar (which is both food and drink here) was open. Ok, no problema, they had a pilgrim meal available for us, which we greatly enjoyed.

A happy pilgrim meal

What about breakfast, we asked. Sorry, no breakfast, but there is a cafe in the next town (4 kilometers). At dawn we set off, up and down the hills we were not told of, only to arrive at a closed cafe, because it’s Sunday, and in Spain Sunday does not begin before noon. So we marched on past one sleeping town after another all the way (16 kilometers) to downtown Pamplona, where the cafes were just opening at 11:00 am. The only reason we made it was they had a coffee automat machine where we started, and a guy named Dan from Idaho (not kidding) was dispensing fresh coffee trailside just before we entered the city outskirts. As we walked up the hill to enter the old town’s walls, Judy was way beyond her limits. We never trained beyond 3 miles without breakfast, since “there’s always a cafe.” She said, “is there a town inside the walls? This better not be a ruin!” The sad effects of no food, little coffee, and way too much hiking.

We stumbled into the first open bar, dropped our backpacks, and ordered a huge breakfast with mucho café. After our credit card was rejected at the bar and an ATM, we were really worried we now had a money problem, too. The guidebook was totally wrong about the location of several places to stay, so we ended up circling back to the tourist info center where they kindly found us a hotel room. Meanwhile, Judy called our bank and ensured we had no money problem.

After all that drama, we decided to call it a day, rest and regroup, and recommence our Camino on Monday morning. Thanks so much to all of you sending prayers: it was touch and go several times today, and I know it was only the Holy Spirit holding it all together!

 

 

Cinqo de Mayo

A short commercial break from Camino news!

Ever heard of dynamic equivalence? It is a form of translation where the new, translated text seeks to capture the meaning of the original language without worrying about what it literally said. It is used appropriately when translating an idiomatic phrase like “killing two birds with one stone” which is not about birds, a stone, or killing.  However, it can be very controversial in other genres (like Biblical texts) because at its root dynamic equivalence substitutes the translator’s understanding for what was actually said.

Anyway, I’m going to attempt a little dynamic equivalent translation of a concept you may already know: Cinqo de Mayo.  Now the obvious direct translation is the 5th of May, and that is correct as far as it goes. In the US, Cinqo de Mayo has become a multi-purpose ethnic holiday for all things Mexican, like St. Patrick’s day for the Irish.

Some Americans think Cinqo de Mayo is Mexican independence day, akin to our 4th of July. Its not, that’s September 16th, which began with “El Grito” (The Yell) and started the revolution which overthrew the Spanish. Some may know Cinqo de Mayo commemorates a battle, but what battle, and what war?

The Battle of Puebla

Here’s the deal. After the US invasion of Mexico in 1846-48, Mexican society eventually broke down into an internal conflict which lasted three years and bankrupted the country by 1861. Mexico had outstanding debts with several European governments, which sent forces to intimidate Mexico unless the debts were repaid. Mexico negotiated a settlement, but France (under Napoleon III) decided the time was ripe (since the US was busy tearing itself apart and the British were as angry as anyone at Mexico) to invade and establish a Mexican Empire aligned with France.

French troops seized the port of Veracruz and marched toward Mexico City. On May 5th, 1862, a small, ill-equipped Mexican garrison in Puebla decisively defeated a larger French professional force, which withdrew. The bad news was the victory was followed by a larger French invasion force which did overthrow the Mexican government and install Maximilian I, although his “Latin American Empire” (a manufactured notion whose only legacy was that term “Latin America”) lasted only three years before the Mexicans rebelled, overthrew and killed Maximilian.

The French Army was considered the best in the world at the time. Cinqo de Mayo represented a singular victory in an otherwise losing campaign of a war which was ultimately won by Mexico. While it was significant at the time, it was afterward really only celebrated locally in the Mexican state of Puebla. The big American celebration has as much to do with advertising (beer companies) and the willingness of the Mexican expatriate community in the States to join in the fun. There is a parallel here to the Irish expat community in the US: St. Patrick’s Day was a solemn religious feast in Ireland, but it morphed into the brewfest it is in the States when the Irish there embraced it.

So how should Americans understand Cinqo de Mayo? Here is my dynamic equivalent translation: Bunker Hill Day. Most should be familiar with the American Revolution battle of Bunker Hill (actually fought on Breed’s Hill).

The Battle of Bunker Hill

The British forces in Boston stormed the heights, winning the battle but at great cost. Ultimately they withdrew from the hill and from Boston, fought seven more years and lost, ending British control of those colonies. Bunker Hill Day is still a state holiday in Massachusetts, but little remembered elsewhere. Maybe the beer companies will get a hold of it too someday!

Both battles were more symbolically than militarily important, both pointed to ultimate victory, and both were only remembered regionally. So when you hoist a Margarita (rocas, con sal) and eat your guacamole this year on Cinqo de Mayo, you can regale your friends with the parallels to Bunker Hill; just be ready to duck when they start throwing nachos!

 

Roncesvalles at last

Last night at the pilgrims’ dinner, we all complained about the weather, but expressed hope the next day would be different. It was different. It just wasn’t better. We replaced the steady rain with a just as steady wind. The temps continued to drop as we continued to climb: it was just above freezing all day. And the fog/clouds remained with us. This did provide one very unusual visual effect: when the wind howled, it would temporarily disperse the fog, providing a glimpse of the countryside before the fog literally descended upon us again.

We hiked 25 kilometers and hit an elevation of 1400 meters. Part of the route was closed due to the rains making it too dangerous and slippery. We staggered in to the albergue at Roncesvalles around 1:00 pm. We were some of the first arrivals of the day, so we were able to hit the bar for lunch, get a hot shower, do a load of laundry, and catch up with the internet.

Judy has been a real trooper: we picked May to walk the Camino to avoid the worst weather in the Pyranees, and we targeted our gear on surviving the hot weather on the meseta. We never anticipated two days of ice cold wind and rain! Judy just layered up, which is not very comfortable when carrying a backpack. Still, she persevered and we made it “over the hump.”

Tonight we had another pilgrim dinner and a pilgrim Mass with a blessing. Just can’t get the photos to load online. Perhaps tomorrow.

Mañana!

Across the Pyrenees

Some caminos begin with breathtaking videos from the mountain vistas of the Pyrenees. This was not one of those. As we stepped out of the Porte Espana, the rain began. The  temperature only climbed to the mid 40s, and then fell as we ascended the path. A dense fog set in, or maybe we entered the storm clouds themselves as we climbed, but all we could see was the next turn, a path which only went up. The steady cold rain turned the trail into a red, muddy mess. It took us about two and a half hours to complete the 8 kilometers to Orrison, where we had a hot soup for lunch then settled into bunks for a rest before a communal evening meal.

The ascent was every bit as challenging as promised, with the weather simply a bonus. The dense fog made distance indeterminate, which is all the more daunting uphill.

Judy finally said “if we turn one more corner to find another hill, I will cry.” St. James took pity on us, and the next corner uncovered a short downhill stretch before our destination. We reached Orisson safely, and even found a dryer for our gear, which wasn’t going to dry until June given the local temperature and humidity.

Pictures will have to wait until another day. I am the only one around with any internet connectivity, and it is very S.  L. O. W.

The communal meal was lovely: we sat with a group of Aussies and had a cheery good time. Now you might think that bad weather, hard exercise, hearty food and plentiful wine would occasion a visit by the bane of albergue nights, the snorer. Not so! As I tried to fall asleep, I only heard one sound at first: a wild boar which seemed to be rooting and rutting with great gusto somewhere near our cabin. Then I heard another sound: some energetic young Basque had a battery powered chain saw, and was attempting to chase off the boar. The boar versus Basque battle raged pretty much all night long, while neither seemed to gain the upper hand. But at least I didn’t hear any snoring!😉