Out of San Sebastian (revised)

Posted on September 3, 2015 by Woodswoman

Monday, August 31, 2015.  After my night sleeping on the floor upstairs to avoid the oppressive heat of 50 bodies and no windows, I go back to my assigned bunk to look around for a ziplock bag of extra medicine, an extra pair of glasses and a few other things I now can’t find.  I had asked around last night, when I noticed that the bag with my night supply of metformin was nowhere around.  The hospitalero knew nothing about it.  Great. I need those pills every night, and though I can steal from my morning set of supplements and prescriptions, that won’t last long.  WHERE could I have put them?  This has been happening much too often since the day before I left home, but I did find the second Visa/debit card, and I did find a couple of other things I thought were missing, so I decided to let this one go and hope the bag surfaced at some point.  Time to go to Orio.

Ria and I leave together as usual, in search of a little bit of breakfast, which typically means cafe con leche and BREAD in some form.  No eggs anywhere, unfortunately . . . at least not yet.  Around the corner from the albergue are two pastry stores with coffee. A croissant and café con leche are to be my only bits of nourishment for nearly another 12 hours. Had I known the only bar on the route would be closed, with a snippy woman saying “Ciuso . . . bye bye” I would have at least bought a banana and another croissant before leaving San Sebastian. But instead I head for the Correos (the post office) to send my day pack, a couple of shirts and a few other unnecessaries to Ivar Rekve, a loyal promoter for the Camino. He not only manages the very useful website, caminodesantiago.me, but also provides storage for pilgrims’ belongings in Santiago for a small fee.

After the post office errand, I find the typical dilemma when walking out of a larger city . . . no markings, or very poor and sporadic ones, and three different sets of directions from three well-meaning locals.  Shades of Burgos two years ago.  Finally I reached the park at the edge of town and find . . . what else?  Stone steps ascending the mountain!

The day is about 20 degrees cooler than the past two days, and that is a great relief, but by the time one goes over the mountain, it seems nearly as hot. I stop once to put on my knee brace, again to fill a water bottle, again to order juice from a hotel at the top of the hill. Soon I pass what I’ve come to call a “generosity stop”.  Someone who loves pilgrims has created a sort of rest stop for anyone who needs it. You can even get your credenciale stamped.

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A “generosity step along the way, where there is no other place to get a water break

Passing the aforementioned restaurant, Nikolai, I sit on a big stone for awhile, take off my shoes, and let the swelling in my feet settle down.   My shoes are behaving themselves fairly well this trip, but still, the feet take such a beating on the mountain “paths”.

Several young peregrinos pass me, all very friendly and all clearly ready to go at a much faster clip than I.  I come upon them in an hour, as they sit on a log, eating the food they bought at an organic community on the way to San Sebastian.  I take a few proferred cherry tomatoes from the young woman, and walk on.

In another hour, I hear the sound of a spring or bubbling water, and having read about what is to come ahead, I quicken my pace.  A stream with a small waterfall and a black hose connected to the water, then arching toward me.  All over the rocks, painted in yellow of course, are words which indicate this is delicious, fresh and drinkable.  H2O, Potable, Agua, etc.  I take full advantage, and am sorry I didn’t have my camera out at the time.

To my delight, this path goes through many farms, so the horses, cows, dogs, chickens and hay bales I loved on the Camino Frances begin to appear.  I can hear the thunder in the distance, an indication of the promised rainstorm, and I want to get on with it, on to Orio to the Albergue San Martin, a much-loved place to stay, if the pilgrim reports I’ve read are any indication.

A baby horse, not such a baby by now

A baby horse, not such a baby by now

My first

My first “dog in the road” photo op! This little one did not even blink as I went by.

Do I take out my poncho yet or not?  Not.  But soon.  And I am happy that “soon” I do cover myself. By the time the thunder had had its say for 45 minutes, the sky opens up and I, gratefully covered in my new pack poncho, feel as though I have stepped into a sauna. This cold-seeking pilgrim cannot seem to escape the heat in any form. But the poncho is much more effective than the rain jacket I lost the first day on the Camino Frances. Covers me and my pack, down past my knees.

After the rains begin, the path becomes treacherous, large river rocks thrown about on the steep dirt walkways.

Part of the path down to Orio

Part of the path down to Orio

Down, down, down the stones and mud go, heading toward my destination, Orio, and by the time I get to Albergue San Martin, my shoes are caked in burnt umber mud. And at the top of the albergue hill, there is Ria, waving to me as in days on the Camino Frances . . . “JOANNAH!!”

Raindrops on my lens and many more on the stones

Raindrops on my lens and many more on the stones

The Albergue San Martin deserves all the accolades it has received in my guiding papers. Euro 25 for the bed, dinner, and breakfast. Such a relief not to have to go DOWN the hill into the village and back UP again. Fourteen beds, and a few familiar faces. Petra, and a young Curacao/Dutch woman named Yanira. And new faces as well. A lovely young woman from Warsaw, Alex(andra), who told me she met her now-husband in Washington State and “brought him home” with her. Now he is tending the house and cats, just as Neil is doing for me. And two Danish women who thought they must be the oldest people on the trail . . . 65 and 66. But at nearly 69, I have them beat, not that anyone was running a contest.

Here is the view, though it’s quite misty this evening, and next is our little “dining hall”, in which a dozen of us are served a delicious pureed vegetable soup, and some sort of fish (bacalao??), as well as the vino tinto (the red, of course) and mounds of the best bread I’ve tasted in Spain so far.

Nadine (Begin With A Single Step blogger) said it earlier this summer . . . this is a place I’d love to settle, and write for a month.

A misty view of the beautiful countryside past the albergue . . . and the little building we can call our dining room

A misty view of the beautiful countryside past the albergue . . . and the little building we can call our dining room

Delicious soup at Albergue San Martin, run by a family who offers the lower level of their enormous house to peregrinos

Delicious soup at Albergue San Martin, run by a family who offers the lower level of their enormous house to peregrinos

Posted in Miscellany | 5 Comments

The Surprises At The End Of The Day – Pasai Donibane and on to San Sebastian

Posted on September 2, 2015 by Woodswoman

Saturday, August 29, 2015 (continued).

We return (up the 119 steps) and I settle in at the kitchen table to write this. Gathering at the table are at least half of the temporary residents, eating a delicious meal or watching the variety of food Ana prepared for the volunteers and other guests. Miguel brings out his guitar and begins to sing.  Soon the guitar is passed to Pau (which means Peace in Catalan or Basque, not sure), who continues playing for another two hours. First he sings, then he begins a memory game in which we each choose a word but have to remember all of the words chosen before. The only thing I can think of is “bacalao” which is nearly a joke in Spain because it means “cod” and it is on nearly EVERY menu, ANYWHERE on the Camino.  I might have written two years ago about an Italian pilgrim sitting across from me at dinner in Zubiri, and for any question or comment, no matter what the converesation, this man, having had too much wine, bellowed, “Bacalao!”

The results were riotous, and Pau made a song out of more than two dozen words we threw out as we took our turns.

Pau and his guitar

Pau and his guitar

Part of the sing-along group . . . Ria in turquoise shirt

Part of the sing-along group . . . Ria in turquoise shirt

A mosaic of Che Guevara hangs over my head as our strangely connected group sings, laughs and though everyone is speaking Catalan and Basque, and the Americans, Germans and Chinese among us have absolutely no idea what is being said or sung, it’s a charming blend of bodies, voices, cultures before we all crawl to our bunks.

Che watches over me . . .

Che watches over me . . .

Sunday, August 30, 2015.  Awaken to strange Basque music, perhaps, and scramble to finish the ritual we will come to know well.  I am learning again how to be efficient in the albergue mornings, packing things so I don’t forget any items.  It takes a few days . . .

Leave the albergue, saying goodbye to Ana and Ana and Miguel, heading down the (yes) 119 steps one last time toward the dock, where a shuttle boat will carry everyone across the river to the other shore of Pasai Donebane.  Then the search for an open bar at 8:15 so we can all get our cafe con leche fix.  Sun reflecting on the water already, as I make my way toward the yellow arrows that will direct my path today.

Walk 500 steps, and yes, I count them, up up up and over . . . think of Dr. Seuss’ book, The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins . . . and that makes for the beginning of a a very long short day to San Sebastian.  Again, beautiful coastal views.  Magnificent cloudless day.  95 degrees and I can’t really tell that today’s temperature is two degrees cooler than yesterday’s.  Those steps.

The beginning of endless turns, stone steps and the sea

The beginning of endless turns, stone steps and the sea

Once I get to the “top” (there never seems to be a “top”  . . . ), I topple over twice . . . once backwards onto sloping grass, performing some sort of accidental chiropractic on myself. I hear my neck crack in a couple of places as I hit the back of my head on the grass. Maybe my fall will fix what Dr. Brown could not, after three minor surgical procedures.

The second fall comes near another “top” of the pathway leading down to San Sebastian . . . I try to duck under a railing between a steep downward stone path and a parallel set of descending steps, but my backpack catches on the railing and I land hard.

I must have hit the right side of my face, because last night (a full 36 hours later) I looked in the mirror at Albergue San Martin and saw the stony abrasion on my right cheek. So happy I don’t care how I look while I’m walking the Camino. But as I lie on the ground, “resting” after my second crash, a young couple comes rushing up. Ruben and Debbora . . . helping me up, offering to carry my pack –  “no thanks . . . better I get used to it again . . . ” and when we get to the bottom, on the eastern edge of town, they ask where I am headed. I tell them the Albergue de Peregrinos and gave them the street name. Of course . . . the other side of town. I am feeling pretty shaky and after yet another burning up day with no cloud cover, and those 500 steps, I ask for a taxi. (Again, sorry, Kent!) Awaiting me at the front of the closed Albergue door is . . . Ria, of course! We get two of the 50 beds, baja, of course. Settle in, take showers, and walk down to the central boardwalk on the seacoast.  This is a big deal resort city, so the beaches are packed with people.

Find a sidewalk café, order water with ice (always get strange looks when I do that), a glass of tinto (red wine), and some pinxos (the Basque word for tapas) with Ria and Petra, another German woman we met last night at Santa Ana.

Pau is also in our albergue and had told Ria about an outdoor concert at the Pavilion tonight, with swing and jazz music. We saunter over to have a look and join the packed-in crowd, all sitting on the grass overlooking the sea with the band’s stage at the front. A perfect setting. Everyone brings their children, especially the young ones. Strollers are lined up along the edge of the garden, and I notice how many fathers are attentive to their little ones. Fathers and grandfathers playing with the children, much moreso than the mothers, for some reason.

This isn’t a great photo, but I think it represents the energy of the evening.  At the end of the evening, the 50-person albergue is sweltering hot and there is not a window in the big room.  I drag my pillow and sleep liner upstairs where the bathrooms, showers and laundry sinks are located, put my night-time “equipment” on the floor in the next room, and try to sleep.  Some nice young woman shows up with an inflatable twin-sized “mattress” and I’m out for the night.

The Concert at the Pavilion . . . with the sea as a backdrop.

The Concert at the Pavilion . . . with the sea as a backdrop.

Posted in Albergues on the Camino, Camino Albergues, Camino de Santiago, Falling | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 13 Comments

Camino del Norte FIrst Days – Not the Perfect Start

Posted on September 1, 2015 by Woodswoman

August 27-28, 2015 again:

My first indication of the challenges ahead showed up when I got to DIA to fly out to Paris and on to my Camino start in Irun. I had put two Visa/debit cards in my pack, but of course could only find one of them. One was enough because I had transferred nearly $4000 to to a special travel account for my use over the next two months.

Since most of the Camino albergues do not take anything like a credit card, typically I get cash from the ATM machines in Spain . . . no problem.

Of course, there was so much going on before I left, I completely forgot the premiere phone call for travelers . . . notify your credit cards of your travel plans. The second card was found, and both worked in the ATM machines, but it took three days to get the cards to work in an actual credit card machine.

So here’s my summary of the highs and lows.  First the highs:

  1.  The flights were on time and so was I.
  2. The bus connection from Biarritz to Hendaye, France was smooth, and I got a front seat so no motion sickness.
  3. The walk across the bridge from Hendaye to Irun (Spain) was a piece of cakc
  4. My friend Ria AND the pensione room were waiting for me when I arrived.
This airport and backpack thing . . .

This airport and backpack thing . . .

The easy walk from one country to another

The easy walk from one country to another

Here are things that were . . . not so smooth:

  1.  My Visa/Debit card did not work in any credit card machines for anything (including food), despite three calls to my bank, though the bank was wonderful, as usual.
  2. The Paris airport told me IcelandAir lost my only checked piece of luggage, a bright orange art tube containing my hiking poles, swiss army knife and a bag of toiletries.  In fact, the tube got stuck on the airport conveyor belt, but it took nearly five hours to discover that little detail.  The “Lost Luggage” department called to tell me they had the tube and I was welcome to come back to Paris to pick it up.
  3. Though the walk across the bridge from France to Spain was a piece of cake, once I was in Irun, I had absolutely no clue how to get to my pensione, and after many sets of “helpful” directions, I found myself on a major highway, trying to cross with no crosswalks, so I could get “over there” into the old part of the city.  After an hour of wandering, I finally had a modicum of success, the largest part of which was that I did NOT get smashed by the traffic!

All I could think of as I hoped for a break in four lanes of traffic was that Ashley and Neil would NOT be pleased to get a phone call saying I hadn’t quite made it to this oh-so-difficult Camino path, and would not, in fact, begin at all.  Unlike my first Camino, when I feared I would be flattened by my backpack, this time, I would have been flattened WITH my backpack.

BUT, the dinner with Ria, risotto and wine (see risotto photo from last post) more than made up for this little bit of trouble, and Ria, knowing that my sticks were now lost in the bowels of the DeGaulle airport, had already scouted out a proper place to buy replacements!

Ria and her enormous salad!

Ria and her enormous salad!

Saturday, August 29, 2015.   Our first task was to replace my hiking poles, since I knew there was no way I would begin without a set.  Good thing.  The next order of business was to obtain the Camino Credenciale, the most important document on the Camino.  At each albergue, hotel, or pensione you must get the Credenciale stamped to prove you are actually walking The Way.  You can also obtain stamps at any church, bar, restaurant or tourist information office along the way. Once I get caught up a bit, I’ll post a photo of this year’s credenciale, and at this point, I have seven stamps, so I’ll have to get a second credencial 2/3 through the walk.

Finally we were ready to begin.  Our plan is, at least for the first week, to begin each day together, and since I am the tortoise and Ria is the hare, we’ll just meet at the albergue at the end of each day.  After a week, we’ll evaluate whether that plan will work well throughout the trip.  I think there will be large adjustments, but then each of us likes to walk alone anyway, so there should be no problem.  We already know we are not going to stick to the “stages” of the books written about this particular Camino, the del Norte.  Many of the stages are simply too long and/or too difficult for someone who isn’t a regular hiker to complete in one shot.  I picture 18-25km per day, but the books map out stages that are often as long as 30-40km at a time.  I get to write my own “book” and listen to my own body, not someone else’s.  I learned that lesson halfway through the last walk.

The first stretch, from Irun to Pasai Donibane (the Passage of San Juan) begins with a climb to Santuaria de Guadalupe, through a bamboo forest to  nearly 1700 feet up the mountain, and then a steep slide down to the little port city of Donibone San Juan.  Since we are deep in Basque country, every sign, every name of a place, is written in Castillian as well as in Basque language.  Lots of Tx’s and “oia” words, and just the signage is a vision around each corner.  The day is a glorious one, hot, sunny, not a cloud in the sky.  By the time we reach Guadalupe, it s 97 degrees and we still have a long way to go.  I am beginning to get the chills.  We look at one another, nod, and say, “Taxi.”

Now one of my dear friends said sternly before I left, only half kidding, “Joannah, this time . . . no hitchhiking, no taxis.”   Sorry, K.N. . . . at my age, I get to decide between pride and self-preservation.  Ria, my tough little German friend, was not about deal with heat stroke, hers or mine.  Finding a taxi in the middle of beautiful nowhere isn’t easy, but a couple of phone calls and one arrived,ready to take us to Donibane.  The view as we came down the mountain was spectacular, and the air-conditioning in the taxi didn’t hurt either.

First glimpse of the sea from the walk up to Guadalupe

First glimpse of the sea from the walk up to Guadalupe

The view into the port of Pasai Donibane

The view into the port of Pasai Donibane

Those 119 steps I wrote about yesterday brought us to our albergue, where a delightful Ana greeted us in her adorable and very exuberant introduction in English and Spanish interchangeably.  Fourteen pilgrims were soon settled in bunk beds, laundry washed and hung out to dry.

A very windy day for laundry

A very windy day for laundry

Down the 119 steps again to look for food, and when we finished a mediocre dinner in a spectacular seaside setting, we climbed 119 steps again and were ready for bed.  But sleep would have to wait.   More later . . .

Posted in Albergues on the Camino, Camino Albergues, Camino de Santiago, Getting started | Tagged , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Camino del Norte – 2015 – Beginnings

Posted on August 31, 2015 by Woodswoman

FIRST:  Please note:  The internet opportunities on this Camino are very infrequent so far, so no, I have not died, but though I’m writing on my Word docs, loading pics onto iPhoto, etc., I am unable to post frequently thus far, as I did two years ago on the Camino Frances.

I just began this post and had several paragraphs written, and everything disappeared.  I’m sure it was operator error, but after a very hard day of walking (though easier for the most part than the past two days.) I decided I just want to go to bed, give my feet a rest, my back and neck, my arms, my entire body, which feel as though they have all been beaten with rocks and brilliant sun,  two days of 95+ temperatures, accompanied by as many as 500 steps in the first couple of hours each day.  Yes, 500.  Oh, and today, a thunderstorm in the midst of walking for four hours on huge stones and dirt, making the road to Yankee Boy Basin look (and feel) as though it is flat pavement.

So I promise I will catch up with myself, and will make notes before I go to sleep.  But here are two photos from the first couple of days.  More later this week . . . thanks for following.

August 27-28, 2015

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My first meal . . . Irun, Spain. Risotto with mushrooms and duck. You can see part of Ria’s amazing salad in the background.

The first set of steps going up to our albergue in Pasai Donebane . . . 119 in all

The first set of steps going up to our albergue in Pasai Donebane . . . 119 in all

 

 

Posted in Albergues on the Camino, Camino de Santiago, Spain | Tagged , , | 10 Comments

Well, I’m OFF!!

Posted on August 26, 2015 by Woodswoman
Not much different from last year but for shedding about 15 lbs of pack weight this time!

Not much different from last year but for shedding about 15 lbs of pack weight this time!

My pack is packed, pills are in little tiny ziplocks, and I only have about 5 hours of work before I can leave!  But fortunately, I don’t have an early morning flight tomorrow, so I will have a bit more time in the morning as well.

Though this is from last time’s pack, the only real difference is that the lovely Libby-made purple journal is full from 2013’s walk, so I don’t have that.  And no sleeping bag, no big camera, no boots.

My son Tanner flew in from Indonesia Monday night, a few days earlier than expected, to spend a bit of time with me before I go, though his real reason for coming to Colorado for three weeks is to be with a very sick relative.  A wonderful surprise for me, and I’ll leave tomorrow a bit more cheery for having had him around yesterday and today.

Needless to say I am very excited to finally be off.  To leave my loaded, messy desk, my constantly ringing cell phone, and my endless list of e-mails.  Perhaps by Friday, when I begin the walk, I will be fully prepared for my new adventure, and I’m looking forward to time in total quiet, but for the wind, the birds, the waves of the North Atlantic coast

But now, those little last minute things still sit on my bed and on the blanket trunk.  And they look like this:

IMG_2541

Last minute items for the big pack

So I will go now to re-sort and find a sort of final place for all.  Then pay the last of the bills and do a few more business things.  So Goodnight, Moon . . . I’ll be back here when I get to Irun on Friday night.

 

A basket of items to wear and for my day pack

A basket of items to wear and for my day pack

Posted in Backpacks, Camino de Santiago, Preparation, Solitude journeys, Spain | Tagged , , , | 17 Comments

A Different Camino . . . and a Spectacular Hike

Posted on August 18, 2015 by Woodswoman
From the Porch at Barclay Lodge

From the Porch at Barclay Lodge

August 17, 2015 Well, I leave for the Camino del Norte route of the Camino de Santiago in ten days. At the moment I am in Estes Park, Colorado at a Petrie Family Reunion for my partner Neil’s family, and will take a hike in the morning. Haven’t had much time at all for this, but there has been too much to do. But the Reunion location, the YMCA of the Rockies, is a stunning reminder that I will be on my way to other nature points very soon.

The other night, a friend asked me, “Does this Camino prep feel different? How?”

I had to think for a bit but there really are some substantial differences. The obvious one is that I will walk the Camino del Norte this time rather than the Camino Frances (the path highlighted in the Martin Sheen/Emilio Estevez movie, The Way).   A bit harder, a bit longer (550 miles as opposed to almost 500 miles), less well-supported and less populated.

Another difference, which I’ve written about recently, is that I have not trained much at all for this walk. Perhaps I know I’ll be fine, perhaps I think the Camino WILL train me, and certainly I know that I accept how little time I have had to actually do the training. So be it.

I also think about the difference in the way I gathered my equipment last time, for nearly a year before my departure, and what I’ve done this time. Two years ago as I accumulated gear, I put it in a big tub in the back of my closet . . . those storage tubs for dozens of sweaters as summer begins. A month before my departure, I carted everything down to my large table in the basement, spread the items out, and began to sort. This is a “must”. This is a “maybe”. This is a “probably not”. I added, reshuffled, returned things to REI and bought different ones, read the forums, printed out the gear lists of at least four seasoned pilgrims, agonized over whether I should buy this or that, take this or that, etc.

Do I spray my sleeping bag for bed bugs or take my chances, avoiding poisoning myself with the permethrin? Do I take a poncho or a rain jacket and gaiters? How much soap, shampoo, etc. do I want? And endlessly, I reshuffled the piles on the table. Finally I took the “musts” and the “maybes” to my son’s bedroom and put the piles on the bed, packed them up, unpacked them, packed them again, and finally declared the backpack FULL. And it surely was full. I think I left home with a 35-pound pack. Ridiculous!

When I returned from Spain in October 2013, I unpacked everything, washed my clothes, and put all the “stuff” in two drawers in my closet. Last month, all that equipment went into a big basket and again I loaded up my son’s bed. But I am not taking a headlamp, a camelback, a flashlight, a sleeping bag, a bigger camera, three pairs of pants (only two this time), my boots, my rain jacket and gaiters. I have added a poncho and a thermal sleep liner instead of the two sleep sheets I took last time.

I feel calm, secure in the notion that what goes in the backpack this time is definitely what I will need. So I have just over a week until I depart. I will pack with confidence and reduce the weight from 35 pounds to 22 pounds, come hell or high water!

August 18, 2015 Today, sixteen of Neil’s relatives, including me, hiked for three hours in Rocky Mountain National Park. We went from Bear Lake to Bierstadt Lake and down a very switch-backy trail to the shuttle bus that took us to our car. A strenuous trek to begin with, but then the old breathing rhythm came back, the pacing with my hiking poles, the spectacular vistas from parts of the trail, and of course the woods I love so deeply. A great day. I’m more ready now!

Bear Lake - Rocky Mountain National Park - Estes Park, Colorado

Bear Lake – Rocky Mountain National Park – Estes Park, Colorado

Bierstadt Lake - Rocky Mountain National Park

Bierstadt Lake – Rocky Mountain National Park

Posted in Body readiness, Camino de Santiago, Colorado, Preparation, Women Walking | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Beach to Beach, East Coast Walking . . .

Posted on August 10, 2015 by Woodswoman

August 10, 2015

IMG_2458

Northern Coastline – Massachusetts

In the last few weeks, I have had the opportunity to practice my Camino del Norte beach walking . . .

I was visiting a friend on the northern Massachusetts coast, and we took a stroll down the beach for a mile. Walking on sand, wet or dry (and I tried both) is not easy, but I suspect I will encounter quite a lot of it as I walk the north coast of Spain. The spectacular views will compensate for the “hard on the legs” trekking through sandy pathways, and I’m grateful for a couple hours of “sand-walking”. I repeated the exercise at Cape Cod with another friend, and again mused about how different the view will be on the north coast of Spain than it is here.

Now, on the way back across the country, Neil and I stopped at the Indiana Sand Dunes National Lakeshore and did our instability walk, like drunken ducks,  on the shore of Lake Michigan while dozens of families of all ages splashed in the water and built sand castles on the beach.

Again, I was reminded of what different footpaths are in the world, and wonder how many of them I will experience soon.  But the lapping of waves is a thrumming meditation in the center of my chest, and I will look forward to hearing that sound often on the Norte.

My first night in Irun, my Norte starting point, will be spent in the Pensione Bowling, which I find a hilarious name. Picture private rooms along the sides of a Spanish Bowling alley. No, I’m sure that will NOT be the scenario, but I wonder what the word “Bowling” represents in Spanish, or in Euskera, which is the local dialect in that part of Spain.

No matter, I will have a “flat bed”, not a bunk, for the first night before I begin . . . I will write as usual, and send updates as I can. The internet access might be a bit more scarce on this particular trail, with fewer pilgrims and fewer albergues. I can’t believe I will depart in just a day more than two weeks, and my next two weeks at home are overcrowded with doctors’ appointments, a family reunion for Neil, book groups, unpacking from my New England trip, packing for the Camino . . . I suspect it will take me a few days of strenuous walking to step out of my overcrowded life and into the serene exertion of a long walk across a country.

For now, I’m returning to Colorado from a month in Vermont and surrounds, eating fresh farmer’s market vegetables, working at the computer too much and not getting enough real work done. And the rush will be over very soon . . . at least for the next two months.

I’ll be back to this site very soon.

Posted in Camino de Santiago, East Coast USA | Tagged , | 2 Comments

“You Don’t Train For The Camino . . . The Camino Trains You!”

Posted on July 9, 2015 by Woodswoman

July 8, 2015

Well, I certainly hope this bit of advice from a multi-Camino-walker is generally true.   I’ve returned from a month in southwestern Colorado, near Ouray, the Switzerland of America, where my partner, Neil has had a family cabin for more than sixty years.  We spend the month of June every year, and the setting is magnificent . . .

Our Cabin near Ouray

Our Cabin near Ouray

The view of Dallas Divide, between Ouray and Telluride

The view of Dallas Divide, between Ouray and Telluride

However, I did not do much training for my Camino.   Reading seemed to be more necessary, and sitting.  Quietly.  On the cabin’s front porch.My few hikes, which began at between 8100 feet and 9100 feet above sea level, were predictably exhausting and short. One hike was specifically for the purpose of scattering Marley’s ashes with the rest of his doggie friends who died before he did. Neil always took the dogs on a particular hike when they were with us at the cabin, and Marley was my last of four Golden Retrievers.

Marley, the last of the great Goldens in our household

Marley, the last of the great Goldens in our household

As each dog succumbed to cancer, we took the ashes to a point high above Ouray, Colorado, atop a cairn of rocks and a beautiful view.   Mr. Marley was lucky . . . he lived to be 13-1/2 and died of old age, not cancer, but this is the first year since 1998 without any doggies at all, and it feels pretty empty here without at least one of them romping in the lake or through the ditches.

So on a beautiful day, his remains joined those of his sister and his two older playmates.  At least this year I won’t have to say goodbye to him as I begin my Camino.

Cairn with doggie ashes in lower center, overlooking a beautiful view

Cairn with doggie ashes in lower center, overlooking a beautiful view

At this point, I’m reading the almost-daily blog of a young woman named Nadine (Begin With A Single Step), as she walks the Camino del Norte. Because of her, I’m getting my own personal rundown of what the Norte might be like when I get there, and I get twinges of concern  about my readiness to do this particular walk, in some places  much more challenging terrain than the Camino Frances.

But walk I will, just as I did two years ago, with perhaps less training behind me, but with as much determination and much more comfort with the entire venture. My gear is all set in a little box, ready to be properly packed in my backpack. No agonizing over what, how much, whether it’s enough, whether it’s the “right” stuff. I know my pack will be lighter, because I won’t be taking about 10 lbs. of things I shipped home from Pamplona and beyond last time. And I know that if I put one foot in front of another, I will move forward. I know I have 47 days if I need it, and I think that will do nicely, with some time to spare.

Having returned from Ouray one week ago, I am swamped with a month’s worth of mail waiting on my desk, doctors’ appointments, medical tests, visits to a friend who has received a serious medical diagnosis, paying bills, unpacking from our trip while getting ready to leave in two days to begin my solo drive to New England for a month. If it stops raining there, I can walk every day . . . a nice six-mile loop with a relatively heavy backpack, just to move myself closer to the Camino zone.  Surely after my-usual-life-in-overload, I will be ready for some time without mail, e-mails,  phone calls and too many appointments.  I definitely look forward to the quiet.

I have to conjure up my trust, trust in myself, in my packing choices, in the notion that choosing the Norte this time is a good decision. And the ultimate trust . . . that no matter what happens, I have options. I’ve learned at least that lesson in nearly sixty-nine years.

Seven weeks until my departure. Ready or not, here I come . . .

Posted in Animal Ashes, Body readiness, Camino de Santiago, Colorado, Hiking the San Juans | Tagged , , , , | 8 Comments

And You’re Going Again Why??

Posted on May 18, 2015 by Woodswoman

Last week I had breakfast with my former husband, to talk about some family business regarding our three grown children among other things,  and when the subject of my upcoming Camino walk rolled around into the conversation, Mike looked at me with a wry smile and asked, “Have you figured out the source of this madness?”

I slowly said, “Nope,” then turned to my Santa Fe Huevos Rancheros and speared another bite of eggs, black beans and pork green chile.  Mike has a right to be amused . . . in our 14 year relationship, I never aspired to be a long-distance anything.

It’s been 19 months since I walked into Santiago de Compostela after my first Camino journey on the Camino Frances, and have had this next Camino in my sights since then. I didn’t need to know why I walked the first time, and I guess I’m happy with not knowing why I’m going again. I was never a hiker or backpacker, and to tell the truth, I’ve done very little training since I returned in October 2013.

All the reasons are just excuses, I guess . . . a very sick dog for three months soon after I returned last time, some long-time stressors rising up and down like recurring tsunamis, intermittent travel to Italy, Indonesia, New England, New York, and all the rest of the things that interfere with a dedicated training program. See, I have said over and over that I was never THAT person, the one who was always in training for something . . . a half-marathon, a bicycle race, scoring points at the health club for number of reps recorded on an exercise machine, etc.   Not a “let’s backpack in the canyon for a week” type either.  Just wasn’t ever me.

Point Reyes National Seashore

Point Reyes National Seashore

I did spend two weeks at Point Reyes National Seashore last October and loved hiking there.  I even spent a lovely hiking day with my friend Spencer Price, whom I met a week into my first Camino.  The Way allows you to know people from all over the world, and even if you only see them once or twice, your shared experience anchors you forever, I think.

But what drove me toward the Camino the first time, and what calls me back again, is the promise of being in my own space for weeks at a time . . . walking in my own bubble, thoughts wrestling with one another until after about two weeks, I just break wide open and let things be. The physical challenge was first so difficult and then became a habit, culminating in a huge surge of self-back-patting when I reached the top of O’Cebreiro and thought, “This day’s walk was my biggest fear on the trail, and here I am!”

Rolling out of a bunk bed in a room with anywhere from six to one hundred fellow pilgrims, earlier than I typically rise, knowing I have to put that pack on again and walk for another day, becomes very much like a meditation, believe it or not.  And I hunger for that again.  I just hope it doesn’t become a bi-annual habit, this Camino walking.  I’m not sure I want to be doing this when I’m eighty.

So though I’m pretty slack about the training, I’ve packed and re-packed in my mind a hundred times, have everything I need in two drawers, and will do a dry-run with my Gregory backpack in the next two weeks. And of course I will walk, hike, walk, hike before I leave on August 27 for Spain.  We’ll be at Neil’s cabin in Ouray for a month, and then on my annual trip to New England I will have plenty of time and space to walk the country roads that surround Stone Walls, my retreat property in southern Vermont.

As I heard on my first walk, “You don’t train for the Camino . . . the Camino trains you.”  I have several elements this time that I didn’t have on my first journey.

Sunrise on the Meseta

Sunrise on the Meseta

The biggest one is true confidence that I have done this and can do it again. Another is a familiarity with the walk, though I will begin in Irun, Spain, rather than St. Jean Pied-de-Port, France, and walk the Norte, rather than the Frances.  But “the walk” encompasses the paths, the people, the albergues, the architecture, countryside, sunrises and sunsets, and the rhythm of my feet, my breath, my hiking poles, and the hum inside myself.

Psychologically, I’m ready. Physically? Well, I’ll get there. I will be carrying 10 pounds less on my body, and perhaps nearly 10 pounds less weight in my pack than last time.  Walking into Santiago in mid-October, a month before my 69th birthday, will be an early birthday present to myself.  And the best advice I give myself as I go through the next journey in my mind is:  Take your time. Take your time. Take your time.

Double-packed, both turtle and kangaroo . . . just outside Santiago de Compostela, October 13, 2013.

Double-packed, both turtle and kangaroo . . . just outside Santiago de Compostela, October 13, 2013.

Posted in Body readiness, Camino de Santiago | Tagged , | 21 Comments

It’s Not Camino Weather Yet

Posted on February 28, 2015 by Woodswoman

Saturday, February 28, 2015

I hate to start with the cliche, “How can February be over already?”, but it’s what’s on my mind.  Yes, it’s a short month, but still time is flying by, and this year, we actually have winter interspersed with a few days of January and February summer.  Bouncing between 0 and 70 degrees takes its toll on our body temperature adjustments, and though I love all four seasons, I prefer to experience them throughout the year, rather than throughout one week in February.

I’ve been corresponding with some people on the American Pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago Facebook page, and I see that some of these pilgrims are walking the Camino now, rather than during the warmer months of the year.  Courage . . . but I am only beginning to plan for more outdoor training, walking short and then longer and longer stints on the Cathy Fromme Trail near my house, and perhaps a practice walk to Loveland every week or so.

I hope I’m not too cavalier this time around . . . I have no worries about what I will take with me.  Everything I took last time is in a small space in my bedroom closet, and I go through in my mind those items I won’t be packing this year.  Sleeping bag, headlamp, perhaps even my old boots, if my newer trail runners work out the way I hope they will.  I have to shave off about eight pounds from the stack of belongings I will put in my Gregory Sage pack.  I’m trying to weigh (no pun intended) the merits of taking my MacAir again this year, vs. buying an iPad with a keyboard and case.  At first I thought the latter would be best, but after investigating a bit, and weighing (actually weighing) the items, I might be just as well off with the MacAir, which I already have, rather than the iPad and all its adaptations for my needs.

But I am confident I will make the right choices, take my time at the beginning of this planned path, the Camino del Norte, rather than the Camino Frances, and that I can accomplish my goal again . . . finishing the walk in one piece . . . no broken limbs. In the meantime I’m re-writing my Camino material, preparing for various publications in the future, and I will definitely let you know when you can look for something new from me.

I already appreciate all of you who follow this website, and know that as I begin the actual walk, you will have my back.  That means a great deal to me.

March is upon us, and I will use the title of this next month to give my feet some orders . . . prepare for the long haul, consistently, carefully, joyously.

Posted in Camino de Santiago, Equipment, Preparation | Tagged , , , , , , , | 15 Comments