Day 3: It starts to hurt

If our second day on the road is a little blurry to me because I was still in shock from Day 1, I can at least say I remember quite a lot more from day 3.  At this point, we’re getting into this, I think.  With that, also came the first blisters.  And the pain.

At this point, we were leaving Zubiri where we slept in a hotel because the albergue in the place was full.  I slept just fine, either from exhaustion or because Dale is the quiestest sleeper I’ve ever met !  It was fun getting up with our still damp clothes hanging from every hangable place in the room.  But we got up early enough and picked up a decent breakfast from the hotel and got on our way.

I remember tending to my blisters the night before.  I think it was just a single tiny one (got to at least 7 at one point within a few days !).  Walking on day 3 was not bad.  Crips morning but not really cold.  I remember beautiful landscapes, as the area becomes less mountainous and stretches out further ahead of us.

Note to self: damp clothes are heavy.

Note to self #2: don’t wash everything at once.  You’re gonna walk in those in the morning.

Dale was walking a little bit ahead of me most of that day, but I always caught up.  Even after I missed a yellow arrow and walked in a wrong direction (again !) for at least 20 minutes, and then back.  It got fairly hot that afternoon, but I remember being fine.  As I said, this whole thing was starting to sink in.  I’m really doing this !  And just like that, a routine was born.  It only lasted a few days, but more on that in a few posts.

Not much else to say about the Zubiri – Arre segment.  I do remember walking by a VERY old building.  Must have been at least 600 years old. I had never been close to a building that old in my life as a north-american !!  Very impressive, even for an old abandonned fort of some sort.

We reached our destination in late afternoon, for once not too late.  One problem… the albergue was FAR from any place with any kind of restaurent.  So we got settled and… walked downtown to look around and grab some food.  Maybe it was bad luck, or maybe we were still unused to the freakish hours of Spain…. but at 8:00 PM there was NOTHING open except a tiny diner where we had our… ahum… dinner.  Yeah.  Let’s call it that.  The least satisfying sandwich I’ve ever had in my life !

By then, I’m hurting.  A lot.  My sandals I brought with me are insanely horrific on my feet and I can barely walk and must have been moaning in pain at every step.  Sorry Dale !!

We made it back to the albergue where we had some kind of interresting night to say the least.  About 30 people sleeping there, with a bathroom which had a wall that did not reach the ceiling.  Result: every body who went in there was heard.  Clearly.  Urgh..!!  Some lady definitely had had the wrong food.   Did I mention URGHH?!

Anyhow.  I slep okay I guess.  I woke up every 15 minutes it seems, this being my first night in a real large albergue.  Roncesvalles did not count as we were in a room of maybe 10 people I think.  But this..?  Yeah.  I’m a pilgrim all right !!

Day 2

Fifteen months after my walk across Spain, I still have dreams several times week about it.  I am almost certain I’ll go back some day.  Hopefully, my wife will be able to come this time around and my experience should be even more complete.  We walk very well together !

I have been trying to remember details of day 2 on the Camino.  Some of the places and people are getting mixed up in my head.  Still, day 2 comes off fairly clearly in parts.

I woke up very often during the night.  The whole refugio experience was still strange to me.  Sleeping next to a dozen or more complete strangers was interresting.  It reminded me of teenage summer camps, except the people are not sneaking out during the night to go spy on the girls dorm.  The “girls” are sleeping in the room, some of them walking around, though mostly with decent clothing !

This early in the walk, me and Dale are still not quite used to the routine of this place.  So we once again leave too late.  I’m not sure what we did for breakfast.  I only vaguely remember leaving Roncessevalles.  I remember feeling a bit weak for the straining exercice of the day before, but overall in a good shape.  I am almost surprised at how easily I can walk.  So far, no blisters, only manageable aching in the knees and the planks of my feet.

So we walk into a sunny and confortable morning day.  The area is mostly forrested, with earthy paths running through it.  Quickly, we get to the Cross of Roland, a monument to the legendary medieval figure who was a Paladin for Charlemagne.  I know nothing of this history and I make a mental note to educate myself when I get home.  Note to self: make do on this sometime.

I decide to try something different.  I am not convinced my shoes are feeling right, so I try to walk in them with no socks for a while.  Now the shoes feel way too big with the two layers, one of the made of light whole, but it feels good to let the skin breath more.  After a while though, I start to doubt this strategy and switch back to the good old socks.  I chose fairly big shoes that are excellent for hiking.  For normal walk however, they might not have been optimal.  I did walk a LOT in them before I left, and they are good enough, overall.  Plus, the footwear I have soon all over the Camino was sometimes amazing.  From expensive equipment to bare 2$ sandals probably picked up in a garbage somewhere.   My only advice is to get stuff that you’re really confortable with.  Something you might have to walk in rain and mud at times though.

A bit later, we take a wrong turn in the forrest, into a path that definitely looks right.  After 10 minutes or so, we grumble our frustrations at realizing that this can’t possibly be it and double back.  For me, this is the first of several wrong turns in the first week.

I remember stopping for lunch to sit on rocks and eating a lunch we’ve been carrying.  Thankfully, the Camino doesn’t force you to do that all that much anymore.  During most of the trip, I’ve had lunches at bars or found stuff at a grocery to eat on a park bench somewhere.  Remember though that most groceries are closed around lunch time, only to re-open in late afternoon.  La Siesta is still very strong in these parts !  So always carry food unless you KNOW you’re walking in the village that has a bar for your lunch.

Strangely, I associate my day #2 with The Wizard of Oz.  Both Dale and I were in fairly good mood, and it felt like we were going someplace very nice.  He was almost singing “If I only had a heart”.  Maybe it had to do with feeling like his limbs were made of tin that day.

My mood went kinda bad later, and it’s my own damn fault.  For one thing, know that day 2 goes DOWN.  ALL DAY.  At some point, I estimate Dale to have been ahead by less than 5 minutes, I took a wrong turn.  I came at a T-junction, and I couldn’t see any yellow arrow or Compostella sign.  So I went with logic.  Bad move.  I walked for at least 20 minutes untill I said SCREW THAT !  This was a cement road with no circulation at all, just going down and down.  Coming to a crossroad with no arrow, I had to back track.  When I finaly got UP all the way to the original crossroad, I realized to my dismay that this was no mere T-junction but a full-blown crossroad with a tiny path going straight through on the other side.  Now, Dale was at least 45 minutes ahead.  I felt better when I met another pilgrim and chatted a bit, walking a bit slowly.

By then, the hot sun was blasting through but thankfully the trees were fairly good to us.  I caught up with Dale and whined about walking a good 5 km in the wrong direction.  We stuck closer together for the rest of the day.

This was another long day, this one really hard on the knees from going down so much.  I remember getting to our target destination around 5 or 6PM, only to find the publi crefugio completely full.  It didn’t take all that much convincing to go and grab a hotel room.  We did our laundry using the baththub and hung our clothes to the shower curtain and everywhere around the place.

We had dinner at the hotel restaurent, where I offered an older French man to sit with us as all the tables were taken and he was being told to come back in 90 minutes.  Poor Dale got to sit there while I was chatting away with this fascinating 75-year-old Doctor called Robert.  Funny thing?  I not only met up with Robert several times through the Camino, but I got to see him in Santiago before I left.  He got there the day before I did.

Zubiri is the name of the village.  I don’t remember anything of it, excep the hotel and the tiny Internet cafe I used to get on this blog and send a quick e-mail or two to give news of our survival of the first two days.  I remember sleeping fairly well, considering.  By then, I was aching quit ea bit but still no blisters.  Doing good !

One Year Later: Day 1

May 10th, 2007.  One year ago today, but I remember it vividly, still.  There are some blurry days from the Camino, for which I can only vaguely remember anything, and usually only after I look at pictures for that day or read the blog.  But Day 1 has a very special place in my memories.

I already described that day in a previous post, and I believe I could have written 8 times as much, adding anecdotes and miscellaneous tidbits.

What remains of it, after one year ?  First, that I’d do it all over again, anytime.  Of course, I think I would do it even better by the simple fact that I’m in such a better shape than I was then.  I would also have my whole Camino experience, so I would “manage” my day better.

1. I’d get up much earlier and make sure to start the walk at 7AM at most, not 8:30.
2. I would eat more at breakfast.  That albergue had only light bread with jam.  Better to get protein, either from a store or better yet, from stuff bought the night before.
3. Either carry more water or use it more sparingly.  I was extremely lucky to have Dale give me some of his water twice during the day, as he was doing much better at managing it than I was.
4. I would NOT “almost want to go home” when I started to think I was lost !!  What a wimp
5. The most important, I think, is that I would change my socks several times during the day to keep my feet dry from sweat !

But alas, I have no regret, as I made it and managed to keep fond memories of that day.  I felt like an complete stranger in a strange land, I was completely out of my element.  And I felt pride like never before in my life after reaching the top of the mountain.

This day was before Marcus, rank, Emily, Francis, Nathalie, Karina and Marie, Juan, Justine and Christian, the korean guys, before François, Robert, Paul, Ron and Berthe, the four French people, Roman, the young French artist (what’s his name again ?) and many, many more.  This was the beginning of a journey which would change my life, through its physical demand, but mostly through its people.  I will never forget them, as they *are* my Camino.

Day 1

Well I have been back from the Camino for over 4 months now. The memory is still clear in most places, but, like everything else, it fades away already. Some of it feels like a dream sometimes. I remember the people, but not some of the names. I remember the places, but not when I was there. Stranger still, I watch the pictures and for some of them, I have no clue of ever having been there.

I think I need to write a more detailed journal of some of the days, for prosperity if nothing else. I sometimes think I should keep a journal for everything I do these days. But who’s got time to take the time ? I say the Camino is worth it.

So, let’s say you want to go on the pilgrimage yourself. What can you expect ? I think Day 1 is fabulous in that it gives you an excellent glimpse at what’s in store for you. If you are to give up, it’s probably going to be on that first dreadful day. Dreadful seems too harsh. But as my friend Dale said, it’s the most excruciating day of my life. That holds true even if some days were harder. Your body does adjust after a few days.

I propose you take a look at some pictures I put here, as you read.

So here we are, or were if you’ll forgive me the use of present tense, in St-Jean-pied-de-Port, France. May 10th 2007. I’ll mostly skip “Day 0″ where we traveled by bus and train to get there from Bordeaux. Interesting day, but that’s all. Day 1 has me and Dale waking up in this quite pretty albergue in the village, a few doors down from the registration office where we got all our papers (pilgrim passport, elevation maps for the trip, etc.). The albergue is fairly quiet actually. We slept in a room with 5 other people, including an australian lady who is definitly not ashamed of her body. Oh not naked, but a nun would have fainted, let’s keep it at that.

Pleasant people, including a young French couple who are on their last day on the road, having walked from Belgium. They sing the pilgrim chant which I have heard online before, but feels strange to hear in person, especially a few minutes before our great departure. The albergue is offering breakfast in the price of the night (8 Euros I think), which is light but not bad. Getting our gears ready, we stop around the corner to get some ham and bread for our lunch later, as this is a LONG day without much places to stop at. The registration office people made sure we understood that.

So at 8:30, we are on the road. SJPP is extremely pretty and our spirits are up. The air is cool but not cold at all. Walking out of the village is easy, but of course very quickly, it starts to go up. And up. After half an hour, we definitely look down at SJPP behind us. Mostly, I am walking some distance ahead of Dale. He has too much baggage and knows it. He is stuck with a hand bag and swears he’s throwing things away that night. He’s carrying 13 kilos I think, which is a bit too much. I am not even at 10, which is perfect for me. After another half-hour, the landscape are already the prettiest I have ever seen. I am however showing signs of fatigue and Dale is catching up with me.

To his suggestion, I remove my heavier shirt which I was SURE I would need up in the moutain, and go for a simple t-shirt. Muuuuch better, but some of the damage is done. From there, Dale mostly walks in front of me, but I can see him ahead. That is, until another hour after that.

At this point, we are probably 600 meters high and we can see valleys far down to the right. The French Pyrénées are stunning. I am not a religious person, but I stop to think if God exists, this is as close to proof as I’m ever going to get. He’s an Artist. Unfortunately, I am not spending much time dreaming this way, as I am beyound fatigued. Two hours after departure, with Dale who knows where ahead, there is a sign point up a path that is not a road. I know we have to get there, so I start walking up. After a while though, I am SO WAY UP, it seems, that I am feeling terrible. Exhausted, and starting to doubt myself and everything.

What am I doing here ? Why am I even kidding myself ? My legs are shaking and the sun is hitting me, through my hat and clothes. I sit down on the side of the path, overlooking the most gorgeous landscape you can think of. Wow. Merde. Did I take a wrong turn ? I can wait here for another pilgrim to pass by me. Nobody comes. The Orrisson albergue is supposed to be up here but I feel lost. Do I go on stubbornly or walk back to that sign, way down ? I am hungry too. Nothing around here but landscapes.

I sit there maybe 10 minutes, wanting to go home. I swear, if there is a helicopter coming here, I’ll get on it and never come back. This is insane.

So what do I do ? Let’s eat some almonds from my pockets and a few cranberries. I still have some water. Calm down. I can survive 2 days with what I have. Except water but I am not in that bad a shape. Orrisson has to be up here, right ? So I get up, look back, and walk on and up. Funny thing is, 15 minutes later, I meet Dale, taking a break and chatting with some lady who just told him she saw me but that I was hours behind. Strange. I am happy again, I am not lost and incapable. I can do this. I eat half an orange to congratulate myself.

After going up some more, at maybe 800 meters, we get to Orrisson. They have sleeping places but it’s only lunchtime and they’re full already. No worries. we eat our ham sandwiches, not the best I’ve had, but sufficient. I drink enough water to drown a whale and meet this strange French man in his fifties. Big mustache, and know-it-all attitude, of course. He tells me I should put a bit of salt in my water, to help preserve it better in my body. I doubt it, but he turned out to be right after I checked, several days later. I never knew his name.

After maybe 45 minutes break, we start again. Oh yes, up some more. The afternoon is a blur, but I need to borrow water from Dale a few times. He’s not loosing his water much, and I definitely am. He graciously offered and I did not refuse. We come up to a famous cross, and later the virgin of Orrisson, which I missed and was pointed to it by Dale when I caught up with me. Luckily, I was 5 minutes away, so yes, I walk back to it for a picture. Amazing.

On we walk and just like that, we cross into Spain, with a very welcome water fountain close by, where we take another break. That’s where I realize how red my arms are getting. Whoops. I put cream on. Believe it or not, we’re not even done climbing. It’s always simple walk with a slope, but it goes on and on. We’re both VERY tired, and feel depressed every time we realize we’re about to go down a while, only to come back up some more. The ultimate high is at 1400 meters, but having gone down and up several times, it may be several more hundred meters total climb.

At the col, we are completely exhausted and ready to be done. We take pictures of beautiful Spain behind us and feel extreme Pride. It’s about 5:00 and we only have to go down from here. Wow. Down is hard. Most of the way, I am quite ahead of Dale, as his knees are killing him. Mine aren’t bad, but I’ll pay for that speed with blisters. More on these some other time. We walk down several hundred meters in two hours, to finally get into Roncesvalles. A quaint village where actually a LOT of pilgrims start their journey.

Dinner (fish, fries, wine) is served at a small restaurant where we eat with two French men. We don’t talk too much, as we are both wiped out. One of the French men is Michel, who I’ll meet again several times on the Way, a quiet guy who turns out to be a real gentleman, I think.

We go to bed around 10PM, in a very large albergue (can host hundreds !), in a room of maybe 12 people. This is still all new to me, and it feels weird to sleep with strangers so close by. As in almost everywhere on the Camino, the room is filled with bunk-beds and I can use a wool blanket and a pillow. I don’t bother washing my clothes, as it’s too late for anything to dry and I have enough for 2 more days. I sleep fine, waking up several times and feeling lost every time.

So this is the Camino, I think. So far, I have not enjoyed myself as much as I thought I would. I had too much going on, I was exhausted all day, and I just wanted to quit, 2 hours after start. Now, I don’t want to quit. I am proud of the most difficult day of my life, and I feel confidant. Dale is an excellent traveling companion, I must say. Not pushing, not dragging, and of good spirit. We can do this, then. We are Pilgrims. Oh my God I’m in Spain.

One Liners

I will apologize, as I am making this blog into a personal “memoirs” from my pilgrimage. There are so many things to remember, that I feel I should be writing them down somewhere. I am also sorry for not putting so many pictures lately. See my computer has been kaput for two weeks, or the Windows side anyway. I have been using Linux and am learning this wonderful system, but the fact is that all my Camino pictures are on the Windows side, which is impossible to access at the moment. Fear not, as I already have multiple backup copies on DVD’s.

Now… I thought I’d write a few one-liners from the road to Santiago. I realized, somewhere on the Way, that we could just burst out laughing or make a face of agony by just mentioning one line from a few days before. In context, those one-liners became running gags. Let’s start with the painful stuff.

Pain is information

In the first few days of my trip, I had such pains from several blisters the size of ping-pong balls, on top of already sore feet from all the walking (6 to 10 hours a day), that the pain just became constant. One morning, maybe my third or fourth on the road, I told myself this. I convinced myself that the pain I felt was a mere product of my nerve endings in my foot were being bombarded with new sensations, which they relayed to my brain, all the way up there, as mere information. Ok, my feet are telling me they hurt. It’s like getting an e-mail. It’s bad news, but you file it away and do something about it later. Believe it or not, it made my days more pleasant.

If you walk fast, it doesn’t hurt more. If you walk slow, it hurts longer.

I came up with that one towards the end of the fourth day, May 13th 2007. I was is complete, utter agony. Each step was torture. When I got to the destination, they were full. No place to sleep, not even on the floor. Dale was still around then, I he ran around the village, trying desperately to get me a taxi. Can you believe that ? You have walked 25 km in the heat, and you have to run around town trying to get a taxi for somebody else ! He called them, no answer. So, after a 45 minutes break, and politely refusing a lady’s offer to take her bed, I told Dale I could do it. We were at 5 km from Obanos. Meet you there ! Believe it or not, I JOGGED almost all the way, as I realized if I walked faster or trotted, it did not hurt MORE than it had before. But I’d get there faster.

Now, into some fun stuff !

Youuuuuuuuuuuu cannot………. passssssssssssss !

That, of course, was my Gandalf impersonation from Lord of the Rings. Well I had the walking staff, the rain poncho that looked like a Wizard’s cloak, and the attitude. I would step in front of incoming cars and stop them like Balrogs. It did not work, but it got me a temporary nickname of “Dangalf”. What an honor ! That happened first with Nienke, Nimh, and Marcus, as we walked toward Burgos. An aweful long day of 30 km in wet rainy weather, and the city was just not very pretty and felt like Mordor.

Are you locale ?

I was having dinner with Francis, Emily, Ron and Berthe, and Ron said something about the fact that you can always spot good restaurants when you see local people eat there. After walking all day, we figured we might as well ask people “Are you local?” to know for sure. Needless to say, we had fantastic food that night, even though Ron tried to poison us with Windex-tasting liquid he said was a delicacy drink. Francis had something with a lot of anchovies, which were great, but of course the next day he had to drink 1 galon of water per hour. Experience learned.

Pinochio !!

A joke from Marcus, yes he’s the source. I laughed for hours after that, and told as many people as I could on the Way. Funny enough, when Marcus got to Santiago, somebody told HIM the joke. When he said it was HIS joke, they did not believe him. Priceless ! Here’s the silly joke:

Jesus dies, and of course goes to Heaven. When he arrives at the Pearly Gates, there is St-Peter, welcoming people as is his job. Seeing the Lord, he says “Oh my Lord ! I have this urgent thing to do… and nobody else can do this but… could you help me out ? I would need you to take my place for 1 hours, tops ! Easy… all you have to do is say hello to people and make sure they belong in Heaven.” Jesus is in no hurry so he agrees to help out.

After welcoming a few people, this very old many with white hair and a long beard walks in. He’s crying… “Excuse me… I’m sorry but can you help me? I’m… I’m not sure where my son is. Did you see him by any chance ? He’s… He’s got holes in his arms and… in his legs… Did you see him by any chance ?”

Jesus has tears in his eyes and asks “F–F– Father?”

The old man replies, still crying…. “Pinochio???”

… well ok a simple joke but it felt good to laugh so much ! After a few days of telling it to everybody, I could just say “Pinochio?” and have half a bar start to laugh, while the other half thought those crazy pilgrims are really nuts.

Do you snorkle ?

Oh, Francis. Belgian friend, English as a third language. You mean “Snore” I know, but it took me several days to come up with the courage to let you know that “Snorkle” is something you may not want to do in your sleep.

Oh my God ! The beds are SO soft… you can even feel the WOOD underneath…

Classic line from Emily, in Samos Monastery. What a beautiful place. One of the oldest Monasteries in the World. And one of the crappiest places to sleep on the Way of St-James. Yet, I do not regret going there. That is the night I spent 1 hour sitting on the floor in a little store, where there was the only Internet connection in the whole village, waiting for the girl on it to stop playing solitaire and chatting on MSN. See… it was June 6th, the anniversary of when I met my wife. When I got to the computer, I wrote a beautiful love letter on this blog, but the computer froze when I tried to publish it !! Later, Emily let me use her cellphone so I could call my wife and say hello, after 3 weeks of not talking to her. Crappy beds though… and the next day, we walked 40 km. What an adventure.

Couch potatoe walks 40 km

It had been over 35 degrees all day, we had walked 40 km that day.  Me and Emily were sitting on the step going up to the city of Port-Marin, 2 minutes from arrival.  All she said was that one-liner, which was just precious.  I can’t help but smile in pride just thinking about it.  Can you believe that ?

Amazing Grace

As my father would have absolutely loved to walk this Camino, I whistled his favorite song of all time, at the very highest point of the Camino, at 1500 meters of altitude, in a place called O Cebrero.  For you, dad.  Thanks for who I am, for giving me courage and strength to do this.  Someday, we will do this together.

Thank you

And finally for now, but not least, the famous “Thank you” I said at the cross of iron.  It is a very personal one-liner, and everyone has their own private moment at the cross.  To me, it was all about realizing how important what I was doing was.  I put my little rock on top of thousands of rocks, and became part of history where countless other rocks will be placed.  This was very spiritual in nature, and very surprising to me.  All I could think of saying was “Thank you”.  Then I did not know if it was to God, the Universe, or to all the pilgrims before me.  All I know, is that I was truly blessed to be there, to be alive and in good health, and to have a life such as I do.  I had never felt as certain as I did that moment that I was happy.

Still losing weight !

In the last few days of the Walk to Santiago, I told Frank, the Austrian guitar player, that I had two objectives for my return home.  I had no issues to work on, as my life is already happy and I didn’t have anything to figure out.  I had no cause, as I profess myself an atheist and I had no sick people in my family for whom I was doing this.  My goal for doing the Camino was exploration, adventure, culture, and health.

It all happened, for me.  I even did more exploration then expected, as I got lost a few times.  The unbelievable sense of adventure was omnipresent, between not knowing where I was going to sleep that night and trying to find the net bar for water, chocolate croissants, or my favourite lunch: omelette with potatoes.

The health part, though, was obvious right from the start.  The first day goes UP.  1400 meters climb, over 20 km, and then 800 km descent, over 7 km approximately.  The first days makes you, or breaks you.  It made me.  There was a plateau segment, that lasted about 8 days, but even then, there was the occasional moutain and hill.

I am repeating some of these things I have said before, but it feels good to talk about it !  I have been quite nostalgic this week.  I keep refering to Spain, to my friends whom I miss, and I look at my walking stick, all alone in the corner right now.  Ahhhh.

I really just wanted to write an update about my two goals.  1) get in a gym and start training to keep loosing weight.  DONE.  I am going to the YMCA gym downtown Montreal 3 times a week, and have been loosing more weight since I returned.  I have now lost 17 kilos (40 lbs) since I weighted at the doctor’s office in late April.  I can even do JOGGING on a threadmill and still manage to talk right after I’m done !  What more can you ask !

2) Play my guitar.  Well I’m working on it.  I tuned it and played 3 times on it since I came back.  Frank, I promise you I will start again soon and get lessons.  I have all kinds of excuses at the moment, but let’s just keep it at that

Take care my friends,  and keep giving yourselves goals.  Even if you don’t reach it, at least you got off the couch and gave it a good shot.

One Month later…

I realized this morning that it has now been one month (June 11th), since I walked in front of the Cathedral of Santiago.  Times goes by so fast.

I have been looking at my pictures again, and I can’t help but smile.  So many memories !  I feel like I have been injected with a lifetime worth of moments.

To my friends of the Camino who are still reading this, I say hello and I hope you are doing good.  We all need to cherish those moments, as they will never come back.  I will probably walk the Camino again, but it will be an entirely different experience, as it should be.

Today, I look back at my Spring 2007 walk across Spain with pride and joy.  I will repeat my story to anyone who will listen.  It all started in the fall of 2006, when my friend Dale started talking about this pilgrimage…. [*sigh*]

Let’s talk about food !

It seems appropriate to talk about food.  After walking an average of 25 km per day for 32 days and loosing 15 kilos (35 lbs), it seems a worthy subject !  Even better now, as I am on a diet (Weight Watchers) and feeling better than I have in 15 years.  Not only have I lost all this weight, but I am at the best shape of my life.

But this is not about the weight loss.  For that, I can’t help you.  My friend and collegue is trying to GAIN a little weight, as he feels he would like to be more “buff”.  Never mind the reason, those crazy Asian people will always surprise you   The fact is, he wonders why he is not gaining even just a little.  “I eat fries, dessert, and junk…” but it’s ust not happening.  I asked him what he had done the night before.  “Badminton for 3 hours” he said.  Oh, I replied, I watched TV.  And the night before that ?  “Long walk and bycicle with my wife…”.  Well, I made some research on the computer, said I.  Get the p oint ?!

Oh yes, the food.  Surprisingly, I ate a lot of fries in Spain.  Every meal has fries, unless you really look for something else.  But the Camino is a really bad place to start a diet, as your body needs a LOT of calories for the exercice.  So I ate the fries !!  The thing is, though, they were fairly small portions of fries.  Maybe 15-20 fries at a time, nothing more.

Let’s start from the beginning.  I would usualy get up around 6:30AM and either eate at the albergue  breakfast was included in the price, or simply pack my things and go.  Most days, I would be on the road by 7:15.  If I ate at the albergue, I usually got simple bread with jam, and a coffee.  Not bad, but those are usually not enough.  Most of the times, I walked for 1 to 2 hours, to a bar or restaurent.  It feels really good to walk with an empty stomach.  You feel light, and you have a good reason to get a good rythm.  Your body wants food !  This was perfect.

At the bar, my favourite breakfast was croissant with chocolate, or anything with chocolate, as that holds you up really good, and then a coffee con latche, which is very strong coffee but the cup half-filled with hot milk.  This, my friends, is a good reason to go to Spain.  I am looking for café au lait in Montréal, but nobody does it right.  Oh well.

So, by 9:30 I would usually be on the road again, for another 2 hours or so.  By then, it’s lunch time and I have walked 18-20 km.  A couple of times, that was all I did.  This gives you a really good, long rest in the afternoon.  Your feet love you, and life is beautiful.  Most days though, I’d either stop at another bar and order something like potatoe omelette or ham sandwitch, with a coke.  The Coke is FANTASTIC for your body… *if* you walk this much.  Sugar is your friend.  Some days, maybe a third of the time, I instead had a grocery bag hanging from my backpack, in which I was carrying something to eat.  Half a baguette with cheese and tomatoes, or a can of ensalada with tuna, a can of orange pop or Coke… and of course a fruit or two.  The grocery bag is not so difficult to carry around, if you have a good backback.

So… here we are, around 1PM, and ready to start walking again.  Depending on how far I would go that day, I’d take another break in the afternoon.  Walking 2 hours between breaks felt very good.  On hot days like towards the end of my trip (early june), I would take breaks every hour, or stop whenever I had access to water.  Yes, water is easily accessible everywhere.  Bars will fill you up for free, and there are public fountains at most at every 10 km.

On most days, I would walk in  the albergue between 2 and PM, depending on conditions and breaks of course.  Dinner in Spain is LATE.   Restaurents will not serve dinners before 8:00 or even more, sometimes.  Which means you have a few hours to rest, take a shower, wash your clothes in the sink for that, hang them on a cord outside, and massage your poor feet.  Comes 8:00, it’s time to eat.

Almost every restaurent will have a “menu del peregrino” or pilgrim’s menu.  This consists of en entrée, like salad, pasta, or something else, usualy quite filling in itself.  The second part is a main course, which is a choice of chicken, fish, pork, red meat, or more.  They may have a plate of paellas, for exemple.  I had delicious squid one time, and beef stew another day.  After that, a simple dessert will satisfy your sweet tooth.  Natural yogourt is interresting, but they have “flan” which is a caramel-based cream, as well as fruit salad, Santiago cake (sweet dry cake), and more.  Just choose !

On top of all that, most places will have water, bread and wine included.  Many places even have wine “as much as you want” which was such a surprise to me !!  So, nobody never got really drunk around me, but there is always wine on the table.  All that, for 8 to 10 Euros (12 to 15 Canadian $).  Wow !  Count that, plus 2 to 3 euros for breakfast, and 4 to 6 for lunch, and you’re really well fed for the day.

I was afraid to be constantly carrying a lot of food from grocery stores, but it turned out you never HAVE to.  The only times I did, was when I was tired of restaurents.  There are often kitchen in albergues, where you can fix a little something if you clean up.  We had a few community dinners that way.  Very nice.  All truth said though, I just like sitting down and being served prepared food.  Did I mention there is no tip for service in Spain ?  Never !

So… where do you sleep again ?

One of the most unexpected elements of my trip through Spain was the sleeping experience. I must say, it is very well organized and you are never completely left on your own in the wild. You can tell there is a long history behind all of it.

First of all, I had two sheets of paper given to me at the registration office in St-Jean-Pied-de-Port. One had suggested days, with the length for every day and an elevation map. Just with that, you can tell where all the cities are, how far away and how high (or down !) you have to walk to get to them. The second piece of paper was a list of every single city with an albergue (refuge where pilgrims can stay for the night, at a very low cost), and again, the distance between each. Even better, that list gives you information such as what cities have banks, stores, and other facilities. With only those two things, I was able to plan my next day every night.

What is very, very nice is the fact that you never “have” to walk 30 or 40 km. You never walk more than 15 km before you come into a village of some sort. Even 15 km is rare, with the average probably around 7 to 10 km between cities. So, after a long day of walk, I could check my lists, and plan my day for tomorrow, laying down on my bed. “Ok, I can walk 18, 22, 27 or 34 km. I have X blisters, multiplied by Y aches in my legs, minus T hours of sleep on this crappy bed…. so…. I’ll do Z km tomorrow.”

So… how are those albergues, you ask ? Definitely interresting, I say. To be honest, I slept quite good most of the time. Your average room might have from 12 to 20 people, with most albergues having more than one rooms. Snoring people, pilgrims going to the bathroom all night, lights that are sometimes annoying, and more. You are provided with a single bed, almost always a pillow (you might want to bring your own pillow case but they were fairly clean I think), and a blanket. I usually slept in my sleeping back, using the blanket on top if it was cold.

With all that, I must admit that I slept pretty good. Maybe I’m the snoring pilgrim who kept everybody awake…. but nobody every tried to kill me in my sleep (that I know of….).  But it felt strange, the first few days, to wake up in the middle of the night, open one eye, and see a stranger in underwear trying to walk back to his bed.  Oh wait, that was a girl ??  Turn around, close your eyes, and just go back to sleep.  You’re a pilgrim !

Most of the times, beds are in bunks, meaning with two levels. Very often, they are also against another one, so you often sleep fairly close to someone. A perfect stranger, 2 feet away from you. It never really bothered me. Albergues are where I remember having a good time with my walking friends, sometimes laughing ourselves to sleep. Most of the times, lights are out at 10PM, so you can get a good 8 hours of sleep before the room starts to be noisy again with people starting to get up and pack their stuff to go.

One word on bathrooms…. I had read horror stories about them before I left, so I was expecting bad times. To be honnest, most of them were quite reasonable and clean. There has been some major investiments in the area, and as a result, bathrooms are cleaned everyday, showers have hot water almost all the time, or at the very least medium-warm. Only twice did I have to take a cold shower, and it had been so hot outside then, that it did not matter. Of course, if you rush to take your shower at the same time as everybody, you may have lesser luck then I did. But if you just wait an hour or two after the “wave”, you can get good showers almost everywhere.

I did not expect to appreciate the albergues the way I did, and they have been a very important part of my Camino. I am glad to be back in my own bed, but several really good nights of sleep really made my adventure a lot better then I expected. Many thanks to all the hosts, who are working in those places for free.

I remember

I have been back to work for 4 days now. The Camino is still very strong in my mind, and I seem to easily step out of my tasks, and straight back in Spain. It will go away, but I hope to always remember the wonderful times I’ve had over there. Many friends and colleagues have asked me about my 800 km walk, and I seem to always find different things to say about it. It never gets boring !

I remember how the way is very clear, with arrows pointing the way. I also remember getting lost a few times anyway. Not really lost… but wrong I have walked a few kilometers a few times in the wrong direction, only to realize that there should be arrows or that it was starting to not be a path that looks like it’s walked by 100,000 people every year for a thousand years. I never got very far, and could always simply walk back for 20 or 30 minutes to the place where I could find the arrow or sign I had missed.

I remember walking around 10AM with Marcus and Marius, the three of us singing songs from the 1970’s and 1980’s but changing the words to make them Camino songs. Like Queen’s “We are the pilgrims” for example. We sounded like three drunk guys. We even looked that way, when we spent about 30 minutes taking funny pictures of us with a statue sitting at a table. I have one of Marcus sitting on the statue’s lap, like Santa Claus.

I remember walking 40 km in one day with Emily. Almost at the end, in Portmarin, we had to go up several stairs, in which we sat for 2 minutes, to catch our breathes. She said like what she could see in the newspaper headlines the next day: “Couch Potatoes Walk 40 km in One Day”. The albergue was just 2 minutes after that, and we had the best view from any restaurant table I’ve ever had.

I remember walking alone on the plateau, in the Masseta. It was a very long and boring day, and also very cold (5 to 10 degrees I think). I was sitting on a bench on the side of the road, eating a sandwich for lunch, when Nadia, a lady in her sixties from England, passed by. She only stopped 5 seconds, adjusting her coat as she was getting cold. All she said was “I thought we were sent to Spain !!”. We ended up walking the last two days of the Camino with her, except the very end. What a nice lady with a wonderful sense of humor.

I remember walking alone in the early morning, for about an hour one day, when I came across a table with fruits and drinks on it, and a sign that read something about breakfast for pilgrims, for donations. I put one Euro in the box and took an orange. On a bench nearby, Frank was sitting and playing his guitar. I had met him before, but we had not really talked much. When he was done playing and I was done eating my orange, we started walking again, the beginning of a friendship that would last a very long time. We walked into Santiago together, two weeks later.

For any day on the Camino, I can tell you a thousand memories like these. For every picture I have, I can tell you even more. The Camino is really all about the people on it, even when you’re alone.