Cizar Menor to Puente la Reina (including the Eunate loop) 23.2km

Started out this morning under the threat of storm clouds though through some miracle of God (or of the Camino at any rate)  the rain has held off.  Much as I could live with a day or two of rain, was nice to have a day off and actually arrive in dry clothes and with some feeling in my fingers. 

Today’s walk reminded me a bit of home, with big sweeping fields full of rapeseed (aka canola), wheat and broad beans.  What wasn’t very Suffolk-esque was the whopping great hill in the midst of it all and of course the Camino took us up and over, rather than round and about.  

The sides of the hill are lined with wind turbines which, despite their enormity, only appeared from the mist when we were right underneath them. We also seemed to sneak up on the statues of windswept pilgrims at the summit of the hill – one I had been looking forward to, having seen it in just about every Camino book and film I have binged on in the last few months. The sculpture geek inside was a little overwhelmed by this piece – so perfect an addition to an already impressive setting and radiating so much energy and emotion through relatively simple iron silhouettes … or maybe I was just a little tired.  Unfortunately, as with everything on a cloudy day, the photos don’t do it justice … but then again, maybe a big part of experiencing it is actually climbing the hill to get there and feeling as ravaged by the wind as the figures in the sculpture.

 Toward the end of the walk we also had the option to take a detour to a place called Eunate to check out an octagonal church from the 12th century. Seemed a no-brainer at the start of the day, and to be fair it was pretty special, but the church itself was annoyingly closed, the actual path was quite depressing – through field after field of dead vineyards, neck high with equally dead weeds (perfect setting for making zombie wine, but not much else) and Mairead’s feet were giving her so much grief it was painful to watch (yep, wasn’t even close on my first guess at spelling her name) Not entirely convinced it was the world’s best decision to head out there, but can now check that off the bucket list (after hastily adding it on there). 

Quite shattered today.  Wasn’t a particularly tough day today, but think the last few have caught up with me so was quite happy to call it quits about 2pm.  Thankfully we have a few spare beds in our room so have built a cunning ‘elevate your feet ramp’ out of extra duvets and am trying to bring some life back to the poor things and talk them into doing the same again tomorrow. Will see how that pans out … 

Zubiri to Cizur Menor – 30.5km

 We woke up this morning to a fairly decent covering of snow. Yikes. On the upside though, it did make for a very picturesque exit from Zubiri and was enough to distract from the rain … for a couple of hours at least.  By the time I hit Pamplona about six hours later though, I was well aware of every single drop still attached to my body, particularly as the temperature signs around the city were waivering around 4C … not quite what I had in mind for a spring camino, but hey ho. 

Beyond the initial snow-laden forests, it hasn’t been the most picturesque of days with the Camino running in parts alongside a river (nice) and in other parts through the middle of what looked like a series of concrete factories (less nice). Toward the end we crossed Pamplona which looks to be worthy of a less rain-soaked return visit. After a few days of mountain paths though, it was all a bit hectic for today so only received a cursory glance and a quick stop for tea and a few man portions of tortilla espanol. Nom, nom, nom.

The big highlight in Pamplona was the Magdelena Bridge which marked the entrance to the city for pilgrims. I had been thinking during the day about how difficult it was to get your head around this path being hundreds of years old – doesn’t quite compute when you are walking alongside factories, through storm drains and even across landslides on the mountain paths (quick toss of the backpack and lithe scurry up a mini cliff and away we go).  But when you come to the marker at the Magdelena Bridge, the whole thing feels properly old and for about seven seconds it really didn’t matter that I was cold and soaked through with still a fair slog to go.  

I have been thinking today about how the walking is only part of the Camino adventure. In most of the books I have read before coming here, people talk about the importance of the people you meet along the way and I think I get it now. For the most part, you arrive at your destination before 3pm, without much energy to do anything other than sit around and chat.  It has brought back my backpacking days (in more ways than one as I trounced off, slightly outraged from the first allbergue yesterday when they quoted the outrageous sum of €15, €5 more than the ridiculously cheap going rate everywhere else). But it is also quite odd getting your head around the transient nature of the friends you make – have just heard that Oscar and Margarita, the mother and son team we hung out with last night were struggling today and have decided to get the bus to Burgos and rest up there for a couple of days so am unlikely to see them again. Paola the delightfully chatty Brazillian has stopped about an hour back in Pamplona, so who knows if or when our paths will cross again. And still not sure about Virag, Gary and Gabriella who I shared the journey from Biarritz to St Jean are apparently a day or so behind me after being talked into taking a closed mountain pass and getting stranded overnight in a shepherds hut (no comment!) I can already see how word of everyone’s progress travels up and down the camino … just an odd, but good. experience when you don’t know whether you are going to be sharing an evening in very close quarters with someone, or never seeing them again. But that is travelling I guess … 

The one constant is Mirraid who seems to have fallen naturally into being my walking partner. We both travel at the same speed and have about the same amount of juice in the tank before we decide it is time for a path-side snack attack or to call it a day. I was quite looking forward to some alone time and was a bit reticent to team up at first, but  this works even better – we generally walk for an hour or so without speaking, often 50m or so apart and will then come together for a bit of a confab about anything from which new and surprising aches and pains have popped up to what song is running through our head. 

On which note, today’s internal soundtrack comprised Gnarls Barkley’s Crazy, Queen with a bit of Don’t Stop Me Now (I’m having such a good time) and the random addition of the day, the Beach Boys with Kokomo …  who needs an iPod when your subconscious is throwing that fine selection your way! 

A girl has got to maintain some standards … at least on day two! 

  

Roncesvalles to Zubiri – 27.3km (inc accidental detour)

 Top tip of the day – it’s worth reading the directions right from the word go. I set off this morning with Mirraid (my new compadre from the Murwillumbah) … not sure if we were overexcited at the wet weather adventure of wearing our ponchos, or just high on all the e-numbers from the vending machine ‘juice’ we had knocked back for breakfast, but off we charged, full of beans …and heading in completely the wrong direction.  

Half an hour later and one scenic detour under our belt, we came back to the road outside of the monastery we had stayed in and spotted what may have been the largest camino sign we have seen so far. No way of missing it really. In theory. 

Despite – or maybe because of – the rain, it was a top morning walking. Firstly through birch forests with ridiculously picturesque little streams gurgling away under hobbitesque stone slab bridges and then, as we climbed up higher (gently this time), through pine forests that smelled the way air fresheners the world over aspire to smell. 

I had in mind that a day of walking in the rain would be a bit of a pain, but have actually really enjoyed it – there is something wet forests that make them that much more atmospheric. And as long as the three layers of waterproofing held out and I still had some feeling left in my fingers all was good. Having said that, think I am also a little bright eyed and bushy-tailed being a bit of a camino newbie, so guessing the obnoxiously good mood I seem to be stuck in will wear off pretty quick if this weather keeps up. 

Despite the good mood, I didn’t quite have the same spring in my step as yesterday … in fact most of the day it felt ever so slightly like someone had been beating the soles of me feet with a brick. Make that several bricks.  Mirraid and I spent one particular stretch debating whether the muscles in our feet actually ‘tone up’ (read man up) or whether we just keep layering on more pain. Time will tell I guess.   In any case, we arrived in Zubiri at about 2pm and just at the point where we were about to toss a coin to decide whether to keep on to the next town, the delightful Paola (of the Brazillian Paola’s) turned up to tell us that the Alburgue in the next town has a terrible reputation. So decision made,  we are now holed up in a lovely little allbergue with today’s camino gang – eight of us spanning Brazil, Mexico, Quebec, Italy, Spain and Australia.  The Spanglish (and whatever the French/Spanish equivalent is called) is flying thick and fast and – most exciting development of the day – we have all joined forces and have a load of washing on the go while we all laze about with our feet in the air. Happy days! 

So I knew that in theory today was going to be a tough day, but the reality of a tough day on the Camino definitely left the theory for dead. Seems this is not only a long walk, but a hard one as well – missed that in the fine print!

I started out skipping out of St Jean … humming, singing, whistling and even bopping out a bit of Pharrell Williams depending on the incline. Yep, you guessed it – feeling high on the happy scale. There was a bit of early morning mist, but it just added another layer to the scenery which, incidentally, is pretty damned gorgeous.

Not sure if it was the mist, but was really  struck by how quiet it was – I only saw one other person all morning (a friendly enough German chap who quite happily walked about 50m behind me for two hours)  and so all I heard was birdsong, gushing mountain streams and my occasional outburst of song (Pharrell now joined slightly incongruously by Tiffany as I  thought I was alone now)  I had been worried about descriptions of this route saying it followed a main road most of the way, but quite honestly that was all of an hour and I must have seen about six cars while I was on it.

Anyways, have smashed about 19km and am thinking I am quite possibly the world’s greatest Camino walker when I hit a sight saying 8.5km to go. What the sign failed to mention was that that 8.5km was pretty much vertical (well, about 30 degree in line by my reckoning) and was secretly designed to feel like 85km. Let’s just say that four hours later (yes, four hours!) after trudging through snow and an ever-thickening mist, a slightly more humble and infinitely more shattered version of the world’s greatest Camino walker hobbled into the monastery at Roncrsvalles.

Said Camino champion is now showered, changed and trying to recoup some semblance of humanity whilst sprawled across a top bunk in a 120 bed dorm.  All very clean, modern and civilised … though from the snores emanating from the afternoon nappers, am already glad I packed some earplugs.

So I made it through day one. 27.1km down. Not much to go then …

Have made it to my starting point of Saint Jean Pied de Port, surviving Stanstead renovations and a stag party infested Ryan Air flight. Got here late last night, in time to check in at the pilgrims office and get my passport then spend the night tossing and turning with every possible combination of jet lag, nerves, excitement and slight panic at the rain lashing at the window all night.

Apparently the scenic mountain pass is closed due to heavy snow, so a lot of day one is going to be spent traipsing along the side of a road. Hey ho.  On the upside it is slightly flatter and I will get to try out the new poncho which I am ridiculously excited about.

So, breakfast is done. The Cossie-lookalike in the hotel has been petted to within an inch of his life and there is nothing else to it.  So in the genius words of Dusty Springfield (who has been on loop in my head for the last 24 hours) … Are you ready boots? Start walking.

Correction: as my dad kindly pointed out, these are the genius words of Nancy Sinatra, not Dustgy Springfield who will have to be content with her preacher men. Oops! 

So the thought of carrying something 500 miles really makes you question what is important.  Over the last few months I have involved everyone around me in a series of debates about whether I needed everything from toenail clippers (no) to sleeping bags (yes).

I watched a Camino documentary last night which suggested the things you carry reflect the fears you carry – fear of being cold, fear of getting sick, fear of being dirty.  Which of course prompted me to empty my backpack again this morning for one long, cold review of what I really needed … and the realisation that my three top fears are sore feet, being cold and getting hungry.

For what it is worth to anyone either interested or going through the same dilemma, here is my packing list … all of which, including backpack, comes to the sum total of 9.2kgs – slightly over my 7kg target, but thems the breaks!  Be interesting to see what gets ditched along the way …

Essentials

• Passport
• Money, credit card, new green wallet (thanks Ian x)
• Ticket
• Phone
• Spanish USB power plug (cables for phone, Fitbit, kindle)
• Map book
• Sunglasses
• Superlight sleeping bag (700g)

Entertainment

• Kindle (currently loaded up with Don Quioxite and the Dalai Lama’s guide to happiness)
• Notebook/sketch pad, pen, pencil, erasor, sharpener
• Fitbit

Clothes

• Zip-off walking trousers x 2
• Tshirts x 3
• Base layers x 2
• Thermal tights
• Jacket
• Sports bra x 2
• Underpants x 2
• Socks x 3
• Neckerchief
• Sunhat (thanks dad)
• Rainjacket
• Poncho
• Walking boots
• Masseur sandals

Toiletries

• Toothbrush
• Mini toothpaste
• Moisturiser
• Mini shampoo and conditioner
• Pawpaw cream

First aid kit

• Tiger balm
• Antihistimines
• Ibuprofen gel
• Antiseptic wipes
• Plasters
• Arnica cream

Random useful things

• Walking poles
• Compass
• Plastic spork
• Head torch
• Earplugs
• Shells/stones for the cross
• Bag of cashews
• Naked bars x 2
• Sunscreen
• Insect spray
• Sarong/towel
• Travel laundry liquid

Let’s start with the easy ones … I, Jacqui White, being of sound mind and body (it’s all relative, right?) am walking 800kms across Spain on the Camino de Santiago, one of the oldest Christian pilgrimage routes in the world.  I am starting in a matter of days (eek) from St Jean Pied de Port in France and hoping to finish in Santiago de Compostela in Galicia, Spain something like five weeks later. That’s the plan anyway.

Though sprawled across an airport chair in Kuala Lumpur at 5am (on whose body clock I don’t know) those headlines don’t seem real.  I know when I get home that everything from insect spray to walking socks is laid out ready for final inspection before I pack. My first night’s hotel is booked.  My boots are worn in (though not the new orthotics that arrived at the 11th hour!) and for the last six months I have been hoovering up anything written by those inspired by their own camino experiences.

So in theory, I am ready. Yep, ready.  All set. Locked and loaded.  Firing on all cylinders. All systems go.  Ready to cue the Thunderbirds. Not at all fighting back a bubbling case of mild hysteria. Just to be clear on that.

So, onto the big question … Why?

By all accounts, this is one of the most common questions asked along the way and I am feeling a slight pressure to have a quick and pithy answer at the ready.  I know whatever I say at this point is going to have my wiser, more centred (infinitely fitter) self chuckling knowingly at my naivety a few weeks down the track … but surely that is half the fun?

So … I think I have three little ‘whys’ up my sleeve:

1. I need a time out.  A very wise woman I know recently described this as an excellent opportunity to ‘declutter my mind’.  I think that pretty much nails it.  I tend to take an all or nothing approach to most things which, coupled with a tendency for having a few too many balls up in the air, means I create a *little* more stress for myself than absolutely necessary. Which is fine, and fun, and at times extremely satisfying, but does mean I need a good time out every now and again.

2. I don’t recognise myself in the mirror anymore.  On the inside, I am an active, sporty, competitive(!) health nut eagerly awaiting a last minute call up from the Australian netball team. On the outside, I am an overweight, middle aged woman that sits at a computer all day and is doing her best to keep Starbucks (and the world’s most impoverished chai latte farmers) afloat.  Does not compute.  Need to figure that out.

3. I am not sure I can do this.  There isn’t much that daunts me, and yet – even though you wouldn’t call this a high adrenalin sport – I am a little bit scared I won’t be able to pull this off.  But hey, a little bit of fear is good for you, right?

Cue Camino.  And end the navel-gazing … am thinking my posts going forward are more likely to centre on blisters and map-reading blunders than existential angst, so thought I would get the heavy stuff out of the way first.

In any case, the sun is now up on KLIA airport and it is time to take my shiny red toenails on a final spin round the airport before I board my final flight back to Blighty.