2004: Camino Week 1

Pilgrim’s haircut in morning. Arrived in Biarritz by Ryanair just in time to miss the last train to St Jean, but there were some clear pilgrims around so persuaded them to share a taxi. Sat in front practising my best schoolboy french with the proud Basque driver.

Got first stamp in my Pilgrim´s Credencial, felt very proud of this minimal achievement. First night in private refuge run by Dutch couple, all Gregorian chants and candles at breakfast. First experience of massed snores – wax earplugs worked a treat.

Self-consciously put on full rain gear and set off in steady downpour at 8, stopping at ancient church by river to light huge candle like 00000s before. Tough day – steep 25 km in cold rain, except when above the snowline when it turned into a small blizzard. But it felt fine, and I was wandering along bellowing out ´He who would valiant be´, when I was overtaken by a french woman in open sandals, who had already walked from Le Puy. We carried on to join shivering queue for the refuge at Roncevalles in Spain – some of the later arrivals seemed to be suffering from minor exposure and we heard one man had to be almost carried down. Last year 2 pilgrims died on that stretch.

Bedded down in huge stone barn with 50 bunks in rows, like a prison camp. Cheap pilgrim’s meal and then to mass to be all blessed in many languages by some priests straight out of Father Ted. But it still felt moving, as many people had really suffered during the day, as the poor old pilgrims must have. Lights out at 10, and like a cover over a bird’s cage we all fell asleep. Did not need ear plugs as exhausted.

Lights on at 6, and out into the dark at 6.30. Walked with a French ex-pilot on and off all day, through forests and country paths – only overtaken once by a rather odd German who had walked from Hamburg in full medieval gear – staff, cloak and so on, doing around 50 km a day. Warm welcome by the famous mayor and as I had stopped early got good lower bunk and first sock-wash. Slightly boozy evening in only restaurant, serving the same ‘Pilgrim’s Menu’ (7 euro all in) and same jokes all season.

It isn´t supposed to be a race, so a gentle day into Pamplona. Beautiful entry to city, treated myself to a hotel, and spent afternoon wandering around, watching a wedding in the cathedral, impressed by enthusiastic display of folk-dancing by cool kids. But won’t stop like this again, as already want to be back in the companionable flow along the path.

A long hot day. Wanted to catch up a bit and so stomped up the Sierra Del Perdon with its crowning cluster of wind turbines and sculpture.

Admired view, then walked with P to Punta la Reina and its fine 11th century bridge. Rashly decided not to stay and slogged on through massive and muddy roadworks. Wonderful stretch of Roman road outside Cirauqui, and then more infuriating detours, cursing the EU for funding Spain’s obsession with huge roads. Shoved head into fountain in Lorca, and collapsed into clean private hostel.

As all walking is west, a sun-burnt left arm and neck is a sure sign of a pilgrim.

Spent a couple of hours walking with S from San Diego, self-proclaimed slowest person on the Camino, and refreshed ourselves at the free wine fountain outside a bodega at Estrella, sat and listened to the birds, admired the flowers and so on.

Then pressed on over fine empty stretch until the medieval approach to Los Arcos. Pastures in the Basque country give way to brown vineyards in Navarre. Blessed again at a pilgrim mass, which is very nice, but I sometimes feel that a true pilgrim’s mass would dispense of the kneeling and standing, and just let us sit there, preferably with our feet up.

A fine morning for walking, my favourite time is one hour after breakfast, feeling fine and marching along singing hymns and 1st world war songs, loudly and badly, provided noone else is around.

Ugly entry to Logrono, large but excellent Albergue staffed by Belgians. Picnic in Albergue courtyard, drinking fine Rioja and admiring storks nesting and circling above us. Some seriously bad feet around though, and feel very fortunate. Packweight and not rushing are the crucial factors.

Raining hard as plodded out of Logrono at 6.30 past the Matamoros (Moor-slayer) statue, showing St James crushing Moors under his horse, famous for the size of its private parts (my guide book describes it as a “spirited stallion”). Hundreds of stick crosses threaded into fence by motorway.

Breakfast in cafe in Navarette crowded with dripping pilgrims. In Najera came across the ´snail fiesta´, and ended up eating snails and chorizo cooked in a huge trough. It was pouring with rain and we joined the locals to dance in the square.