One week and 100 km behind us

A short summary of the first week on the Camino.

Day 0 - Saturday, Aug. 23 - Saint Jean Pied de Port

- A day to acclimatize in SJPDP - get used to the feeling of being with pilgrims, and possibly even begin to think like one.  We got a great night sleep and late start because of the kindness of the lady who took us in last night without having reservations. Put our back packs on and walked around town all day.  SJPDP is initially a confusing town, but soon becomes manageable.  Ever conscious of our budget, and conscious of the fact that we are in the tourist trap end of the Camino, we found a grocery store and bought "dinner" for about $5.00.  Looked in the shops to see what we might have forgotten, got out credentials stamped at the office, walked to the beginning if the trail to see it, and looked for an albergue for the night.

Wow!  For €20.00 each we found a religious hostel that gave us bed (in room with 10), dinner and breakfast. Did I mention dinner?  We had no idea we were at the beginning of a four course meal, so we ate too much of course 1, 2, 3, and 4.  Finally clued in that we were full, so went to bed and tried to sleep. 

Day 1 - Sunday, Aug. 24 - Saint Jean Pied de Port to Ronscavelles - 28 km

After a light breakfast we left at 8:30 - took a wrong turn at the beginning, which added 1 km to the 28 km day - but at that point no-one was worrying.  The route is called the Napoleonic route, (also the night route) and for the most part was exactly what we had expected.  Think of a steep hill on any road, then imagine strapping 30 lbs on your back and walking up that hill for 8 hours.  Don't forget to turn up the heat to high 20's for good measure, and turn the sun on bright.  

The first part was the hardest (770 meters elevation in 6 km) and brought us to a hostel/bar/restaurant where we could refuel our systems. Many people stop here for the day, but it was only 11:30 and we had only gone 6 km, so we soldiered on.  The next section is easier, but longer, so for 4 hours we walked another 12 km, with 450 meters elevation.

At this point, because of the lay of the land, we thought the ascending was done, and all that was left was descent to Ronscavelles.  Imagine a child waking up on Christmas morning and being informed that Santa had not arrived.  That would be somewhat akin to the emotion we felt when we rounded a corner and realized we had to force our aching bodies up another 200 meters in a fairly steep climb.  Somehow we did it, then walkd down 1.5 hours.  The hill was so steep, the only way I could prevent blisters was to walk backwards.

At 7:30 we arrived at the famous hostel, got assigned our beds in Martin Sheen's albergue, had an absolutely delicious pilgrim meal, and crashed into bed.  The kind lady who checked us in found out it was our 40th anniversary, and arranged that we would have adjoining bunks so we could at least wave goodnight to each other.  No need to worry - as tired as we were nothing more than a friendly wave was going to happen tonight anyway!

For more pictures of the trip over the Pyrenees, as well as the rest of week one, feel free to check this public album on Facebook -  https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10152726848128410&type=1&l=a16c9fdf57

If that link doesn't work, there's a link in the menu at the top of this page. 

Day 2 - Monday, Aug. 25 - Ronscavelles to Zubiri - 21 km

Because of the aches and pains from Day 1, we planned on a very slow day.  But it's hard to stop at 10:00 am, and after that there just didn't seem any good place.  And even if there were, 4 km to the next place doesn't seem that far even when you're walking.  And that's how a short day turned into 8 hours of walking.  

The highlight of the day happened as we left the first village. We met an elderly man, and when I greeted him in my best Spanish, he stopped us and asked if we were going to Santiago.  He took Lorraine's hand and spoke words of encouragement.  We have no idea what he actually said, but if felt like a "blessing". When he ended he tenderly kissed her on both cheeks, and we were on our way - the load of the packs feeling lighter already.

The lowlight of the day - there really weren't any, except that the last 4 km into Zubiri felt a lot more like 10, and the temperature spiked so let's just say we were really glad to find the town, and a place to call home in a private Albergue, and a bonus of reuniting with friends we met last night at the restaurant. 

Day 3 - Tuesday, Aug. 26 - Zubiri to Villahave de Arre - 16 km

Once again, we went further than we intended in the morning, because once again, there didn't seem to be a good place to stop at a good time. It turned into a seven hour day, and the first six were very enjoyable.  The seventh was unbearably hot. 

The highlight of the day was the game of Camino Leap Frog that we played with Ethan and Zachary - two teenage boys from Portland, Maine who kept crossing our path. At the end of the day we were able to help them reunite with their parents, so that whole interaction made the day special.  (You can read more about it in the blog called "See you in three minutes ...")

Stayed in a religious hostel, in a four bed room all by ourselves.  Not sure why we got the special treatment, but we'll take it.  The pilgrim menu in a downtown restaurant was not as good as we have become accustomed to, but it hit the spot.  

 

Day 4 - Wednesday, Aug. 27 - Villahave de Arre to Pamplona - 4 km

After breakfast with friends from Belgium (Domi and Sophie) we had a leisurely stroll into Pamplona, found a great German Albergue for 6 €, and acted like tourists for the rest of the day.  Lorraine needed the time off from the trail, and although the record books show we walked 5 km, being a tourist in Pamplona probably cost another 10 km as well.  

Wonderful, and I mean wonderful pilfgrim meal in an upscale restaurant for 9 €.  Treated us like royalty, served us quickly and the meal was great.  A solo pilgrim named Mikayla was eating there as well, so we invited her to join us.  

Felt good to be a tourist/pilgrim for the day.

A highlight of the day was a special moment with Domi.  Upon finding out I was a pastor, he honoured us with a special show of homage.  Too difficult to explain here, but I feel privileged to have interacted with him.  

Day 5 - Thursday Aug. 28 - Pamplona to Uterga (via the Hill of Forgiveness) - 16 km

One line to summarize the walking part of this day: There is no shade on the Hill of Forgiveness.  

This is a hill made famous in the Martin Sheen movie, "The Way" - the one with the metal images of pilgrims which serve as a great backdrop for photos.  It was a hot 4.5 hour walk from Pamplona to the top of the hill, and on the last stage there is no shade.  I couldn't help but think that as we approach Calvary (the real Hill of Forgiveness) there will be nothing to hide behind.  All we are will be visible to the all seeing eyes of God.

There was no shade on the two hour walk to the Alto de Perdonne either, so we were definitely ready for a rest when we checked in at 3:00.

The highlight of the day: bumping into Alan Fleming, the man from Russell, ON that I met last Saturday in SJDPD.  We walked and chatted together and spent a very enjoyable evening at the same Albergue.  

Day 6 - Friday, Aug. 29 - Uterga to Cirauqui - 12 km

Most days as we walk, we walk alone.  Occasionally someone falls into step with us and carries in for a while.  On this day that someone was Peter, from Germany. Peter can't speak any English, we can't speak any German, but somehow we learned that Peter is 50 years married, and is 80 years old.  Peter also carries the heaviest backpack on the Camino. (Some younger men teased him and told him it was ballast). Peter, like everyone we meet in the Camino, was a joy to walk with for a couple hours, (and as I write this four days later, we have crossed paths with him several times (including tonight) and he brings a smile to everyone's face.

Once again the Albergue in Cirauqui was amazing, with amazing cuisine served in a wine cellar.  The hostess was super helpful helped to end our first week on as positive note as it had started.

A wonderful Life

He met us as we left some small town in Spain this morning. Asked where we were from, and when we said Canada, he began to chat in broken English.  He told us of the places he has lived and visited, including Bilboa, San Sebastian and the village we were in. After each place, he would say, "it is wonderful. You have to go see it. It is beautiful!"  He talked of coastlines, and beaches, and festivals, and every one of them was "beautiful ... You must go see it."  As we walked away, he shouted, "it's a beautiful life!"

Well of course it is.  When you choose to see the beauty in every place you visit, and in every situation you encounter, it is a beautiful life.  

On that basis, today has been a beautiful day.  Much cooler to walk in than the last three days of 35plus.  Much fewer hills to conquer.  Nothing spectacular. But you have to admit, having 90 days to walk across Northern Spain makes even non-spectacular days spectacular.

On the same basis, yesterday was a beautiful day.  Blazing hot sun, with zero shade as we approached the brutal ascent and descent of the Hill of Forgiveness. But I ask you, "how do you get beautiful vistas and panoramic shots if you don't first climb the hill? 

And speaking of the hill of forgiveness, there was another one!  Climbing Calvary's hill if forgiveness also requires the harsh light of exposure.  Nothing to hide behind as you walk that hill either.  But approaching the Cross, the brilliant searing light of exposure turns into the swarm, loving light of forgiveness.

The hill of Forgiveness is worth climbing.

It is a wonderful life! 

A Camino Prayer

See you in 3 minutes... Or 3 days ... Or 3 months - whichever applies

"See you in three minutes," they would say as they passed us on the narrow trails of the Camino.  Sure enough, in three minutes they would be sitting in the shade.  A cheery wave would welcome us to their new place of refuge from the sun, and as we strolled on by one would be sure to say, "see you in three minutes."  "They" were two teenaged boys walking the first part of el Camino with their parents.  While it was a obvious they were a close family, they chose to spend this day playing  "see you in three minutes" with us. Toward the end of a long day, they had been separated from their parents for over four hours, and it was obvious they were becoming a little nervous.  We helped them regain contact, and the last time I saw them was sitting outside the albergue where I was staying.  "See you in three minutes," I joked ... And just like that they were gone out of my life.

A long time ago I read a Readers Digest article written by a family member of a Canadian soldier.  The gist of the story was that the author was bemoaning the  the fact that because she was an "army brat" her life was a continuous series of saying hello and goodbye.  No sooner would she make a friend than she would have to tell her friend she was moving, and say goodbye. She felt sorry for herself until one day she realized that that was what life is: a series of hellos and goodbyes.  

In SJPDP the other day, we met people whom we may never see again, and we met people we may see again in three days.  Some I hope I do: 72 yr old from San Fransisco - "see you in three days". Mystery man from Russel, ON - "see you in three days."

On the way up the mountain on day one, very near the top but with one major hill left to climb, we passed two ladies from Finland.  They looked distressed - the younger one stopping often, so often that I asked her is she was OK.  Did she need food or water?  We were 8 hours in to a gruelling day, and there's no way to know how many it may have taken them to get that far. She assured me she was all right, so we passed them by.  They were near the top, but at that point there was no way of knowing how near.  

An hour later, during a long descent there another lady was under a tree.  It was beginning to get dark on this wooded decline, and she said, "I'm waiting for my friends". She also was from Finland, and we told her we had passed an hour ago, assured her they were still coming but were moving very slow.  As of yet, we have not seen any of them again.  Lorraine said if they made it to Ronscevalles at least two of them would have bought an immediate flight back to Finland.  I don't know ... But to them I say a hopeful, "See you in three days." 

As I write this, a man whom I can hardly understand (and I know he can't understand my Grand Manan Englisjh) have just had a ten minute talk.  He's shutting up the albergue for the night and I'm writing in the enclosed courtyard.  We struggle to communicate well, but as he walked away he turned back and said, "Buen Camino, Bon Chemin", to which I simply replied, "Gracias. See you in three minutes."

Strength to climb - Day 1

An old gospel song says:

Lord here I am again down in my knees in prayer

And Lord you promised me that you would always meet me there

Now there's a mountain up ahead that I can't seem to climb

But I'm asking for the strength to try it one more time

Lord don't move that mountain

Just give me strength to climb

For if you should move each mountain 

I'd grow weaker every time

So just as your Son Jesus

Took that cross up Calvary's hill

Oh Lord don't move that mountain 

So I may better do your will.

Lorraine and I sang that song as we walked hill after hill after hill on Sunday.  The Napoleonic route from Saint Jean Pied de Port was as demanding as everyone said it would be.  It was a beautiful day, and not too hot (mid 20's) so in that way we were blessed. There is only one stopping place on the 27 km route, and unfortunately is is only about 6 km in, but it has a 770 meter elevation so took us three hours to do it with several stops to exclaim over the beauty of the Pyrenees vistas, (and exclaim over the aches and pains that were becoming evident so soon!)

Many people stopped at Orisson, but many were still going on so at 12:30 we started back up.  The rest of the ascent would not be so dramatic, but by that do not read that it was any less easy.  Any day you carry your back pack up hill for 8 solid hours, and then find a steep two hour descent is not going to be an easy day.  If we had not done the Fundy Footpath two years ago, we would have easily describe this as the most difficult day of our lives.  But because we had done the Footpath, near the end of the day I surprisingly heard Lorraine say, "This is a piece of cake!." I know that was just a pep talk she was giving herself, but although we were exhausted, at no time did we ever feel overwhelmed.

We passed some people who were overwhelmed, and for whom we feared for their safety. During the last part of the day, we (along with most other climbers) assumed that we were at the top of the ascent, and the only thing left was the 1700 meters down.  We were wrong! We rounded a corner and saw another significant ascent (200 meters).  When your mind is thinking all it has left to do is go down, it does not take kindly to being forced back up! I don't know the name of this hill, but I affectionately dubbed it the "Dirty Rotten Trick of the Spanish".  I was only that generous because I am a preacher and don't make a habit of using stronger language! 

On that last ascent two ladies from Finland were obviously struggling. We offered to help them with food and water but they insisted they were OK.  I pray they were. We never saw them again (which is not unusual) and at the speed they were walking it woud be well after dark before they reached the days end.  Buen Camino, ladies from Finlnad.  Buen Camino.

The Eve of our 40th ... the Eve of our 1st!

Three editorial notes before I start the blog

1 - I'm writing this on Saturday night, but we have no internet today so who knows when it will get posted 

2 - When I write offline, I have no access to pictures, so won't be able to dress up the blog page like I'd prefer.

3.  There will always be more pictures on my Face Book page than there will be in this blog.  So feel free to follow me over there as well.

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So here we are on the Eve of our 40th Anniversary, sleeping in a hostel with 8 people we have never met, seven of whom speak only French, and the other hasn't spoken so far, though he entered the room in his undies, so I guess that's speaking something!

So how did we get here, and where is here?

We got to Saint Jean Pied de Port (henceforth known as SJDPD) on Friday, Aug. 22, after a long trip from Paris.  We had a little bit of a scare shortly after our 7:30 pm arrival, when we realized we didn't know how to go about finding a room.  All of the obvious hotels were full, and SJPDP is confusing enough at first glance that we didn't know how to find the non-obvious ones.  Everything official was closed, and we don't operate well in French so help was not easy to find.  We finally found a busy bar, that had a sign that I think said "Addresses for Bed and Breakfasts" and asked them. He gave us an address, and directions, but the gruff woman who opened the door said simply "No reservation, no bed".  We were at least now on the old section of town that really caters to the pilgrims, and after tentatively knocking and opening a few doors, a nice younger lady welcomed us into her home.  She has 2 rooms, one with 8 beds and one with 4.  She took one look at Lorriane and said, "Eight beds not for you.  You can have room with four beds, and tonight it's just you two." 

And that's how we ended up with a good nights sleep on the pre-Camino weekend.

Saturday - today - we carried our bags around town most of the day, and got ourselves acclimated somewhat.  Breakfast was 14.00 Euro for bread and jam and a thimble of coffee.  Normally I wouldn't pay a penny over 13.50 for this, but we were really hungry, and there were no options. By dinner time we had scouted out the town enough that we thought we knew our top three choices of albergues (which we could start to try to access at 3:00 pm), had found the bank machine, the tourist office, a couple of grocery stores, the Camino Office to register and as a bonus met several people.

Speaking of close to home, one man who starts the Camino tomorrow (meaning we will probably cross paths several times in the next few days) that grew up in Russel, ON, and went to school at NDDHS. That's the school my kids attended. Small world!  Any of my friends know someone from Russel who is walking his second Camino? 

Other people we met today:

- Martin - from Conneticut has been very helpful both yesterday and today.

- a woman from Maine - will probably see her again.  Even with my limited (and I do mean limited French) I was able to help her through the Registration process.

- two ladies from Sheet Harbour, NS. 

- Lorraine met a happy conversationalist from Ireland on thhe bus.

So here we are on the Eve of our 40th Anniversary, sleeping in a hostel with 8 people we have never met, seven of whom speak only French, and the other hasn't spoken so far, though he entered the room in his undies, so I guess that's speaking something!

So here we are on the Eve of our 1st Camino, sleeping in a hostel with 8 people we have never met, seven of whom .... Yes, I know you've heard all that.  So I'll sign off but first let me say:

I live you baby.  You stuck with me through 40 years of life.  Hopefully we can abide 1 Camino together as well.

An Island Awash With Grief

They say, "your Camino starts the moment you walk out your door."  They may be right.  While waiting for the plane in Ottawa, we spied a man and woman with back packs, and I thought it would be funny if they were peregrinos.  We sat across the aisle from them on the 45 minute flight to Montreal, found out they were returning pilgrims, and they gave us some good hints.  The Camino ... it starts outside your door.

It works for the Camino of the Soul as well.  I guess the best way to describe what I mean by Camino of the Soul is to compare it to the physical.  If in a physical pilgrimage your feet hurt, and your muscles cry for relief, then in a Soul Camino one should expect some measure of spiritual discomfort.

So, that's why I say my Soul Camino started before my actual walk on the Way of Saint James.  Today my soul aches.  In my last post I mentioned the people of Grand Manan.  Most of my readers will know that is the island which I call home.  A small island in the Bay of Fundy on Canada's east coast.  It consists of several small hamlets with a total population of 2500.  Though it is 43 years since I lived there, it is still home. 

And this week my home Is awash in grief.   Literally awash. 

Four weeks ago, the lovely and talented high school valedictorian was killed in a car accident.  Every Grand Mananer, no matter where they lived in the world felt as if a piece of them had died with Danielle.  It mattered not that many of us never met her - we grieved deeply with the family, our family.

Four weeks later life was beginning to feel normal, or at least it felt like the fog might someday lift. But when the people awoke last Saturday, they heard the terrible news of the early morning crash of the local medivac plane.  Klaus, the owner and pilot, an island resident since 1982, lost his life as did Billy, a paramedic and life long resident of "home". "Enough God", the island cried. "How much grief can we take?" But then all too soon it was Sunday, and the news of Nick, another graduate of 2014.  Gone far too soon.

So as I leave Canada for my Camino, my Island is literally awash with grief.  And with them, my Soul struggles in Camino.  

So dear friends of home, I may never breathe your name in verbal prayer, but my feet will ache with you, and pray for you every day.  I wish I could do more, but then so does everyone else ...

"Praying with your feet"

That's how Nathan Green, a friend of mine, defines a pilgrimage: 'Praying with your feet!"

I resonate mightily with that description.  On my 60th birthday, I felt compelled to do a 60km walk - a prayer walk around and around our small town.  The 17 km before breakfast was a snap, and praying was easy.  But around the 22 km mark, my feet began to blister and I could tell this was going to be a long, long day.  8 km later I learned that 30 is not anywhere near half of 60.  (Walk sixty km some day and you'll learn what I mean.)  I can take you to the spot in the road where I told God, "I have no strength left to formulate thoughts and words, so you are going to have to accept that for the rest of this day, every step is a prayer."

Today at the airport, while waiting for our first flight someone I had just met asked me the purpose of my Camino. I replied that it was a celebration of 40 years of marriage, and we had an interesting talk. (He was in town to celebrate his 50th, which made me fee like just a child or a newly wed)

It's true - the official reason for our Camino is to celebrate our 40th Anniversary, but we've read and researched enough to know that there is something more. Part of the "more" is to pray ... and mostly without words.  On any given day if you ask,"What did you pray about?", I think I'll have to say, "I don't know".  But I know I prayed. My "feet" prayed

I haven't started walking yet, in fact as I write this I'm somewhere over the Atlantic (I always wanted to say that) but I feel that my feet have started praying.  And maybe, just maybe, they are praying for you. 

If you are a resident of Grand Manan, I know they are praying for you.  But more about that in the next posting.  Look for it under the title "Camino of the Soul".