2018 Spanish Camino

September - October 2018
Our 2018 European Adventures will mostly take place in Spain & Portugal. We start with a walk along the Camino pilgrim route to Santiago, followed by a ride in Portugal. We finish with some time in Amsterdam and the Swiss Alps.
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  • Packing in Pakenham

    September 16, 2018 in Australia ⋅ ⛅ 8 °C

    I can't remember exactly when I first heard about the Camino walk. I think it was several years ago when I met some walkers who were training on the 1000 steps in Ferntree Gully. It might have been unknown to me at that time, but over the past few years it has cropped up in conversations, books, movies and pictures so many times that I decided that it was something I needed to do for myself.

    The word "Camino" simply means "path or way", but it has most often been associated with the walking path to Santiago de Compostella in northern Spain. This path has been walked by pilgrims for over a thousand years, ever since the remains of the Apostle James were apparently discovered there.

    In ancient times the true pilgrim would start from their own front door and walk the entire way to Santiago. This means that there are multiple Camino paths that start from locations all over Europe and all converge on the Cathedral in Santiago. When travelling in Europe you often come across these various walking routes, all of which are identified by the symbol of the scallop shell. The radiating lines on the shell all converge to a single point and that represents the destination at Santiago.

    Although there are many variations of the Camino, the most famous is the so called "Spanish Camino". This is a 700 km walking route from the Pyrenees to Santiago. When most people refer to the Camino, it is this path they are referring to.

    Of course, to walk 700 km takes a significant investment of time - about 40 days in fact. The other factor I took into consideration was that much of the traditional route has now been taken over by busy roads. The prospect of walking for hour after hour on hard bitumen with cars flashing past at high speed is not so exciting. That meant I looked for another option.

    The final answer was to complete a "modified" version of the Spanish Camino over a period of 17 days. This would allow us to still follow the full route, but we would skip sections that were busy or boring, concentrating on the parts which offered the most enjoyable walking experience. Although some might regard this as some sort of cheating, I figure that you are only cheating if you claim to be doing something you are not. Since we will still be walking up to 20 km each day and, since we never claimed to be walking the entire 700 km, I believe it will still be a very worthwhile achievement for every participant.

    About 18 months ago I shared these plans and soon had a keen group of 12 who wanted to share the walk with me. Since it is a long way to travel to Europe for just a two week walk, I have also combined the walk with an 8 day bike ride in Portugal. I have never previously visited either of these countries before so I still don't know exactly what to expect.

    With previous adventures I have developed a reputation for being very well organised. I prefer to have all details covered long before I leave Australia and to have my bags packed and ready at least a week before departure. Unfortunately this has not been the case this time.

    Due to several circumstances outside my control, I seem to have had about a hundred matters that kept requiring my attention. My travel bag has remained empty in a spare bedroom, with a few random items scattered around it. It has only been in the last 24 hours that I was finally able to throw myself into packing. I furiously worked through my list, grabbing clothes, shoes, chargers, cables, batteries, etc and sorting them all out. By last night the packing was almost completed and I could finally begin to feel in control again.

    Tomorrow night I will be meeting several others of our team for our Emirates flight from Melbourne Airport. I don't know whoever thought that 5 am was a good time for a flight, but that is what my ticket says. Of course the long wait at the airport in the middle of the night will be easy compared to the ordeal of 24 hours in transit between Melbourne and Madrid in economy class. I can hardly wait.
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  • Day 1

    From Melbourne to Madrid

    September 18, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 17 °C

    Once in a while we have probably all had one of those "plane flights from hell". You all know the type. It's the type of flight that gets off to the wrong start by being delayed multiple times, while you are sitting crammed onto a metal seat on the departure lounge. It's the type of flight where you find that the only set available was in the middle of the central row, where there is not a single empty seat on the entire plane and your fellow travellers on other side immediately take sole ownership of the respective "arm rests", leaving you no option but to try to cram your elbows into your own rib cage.To make matters even worse the oaf sitting in front of immediately reclines their seat to take away the remaining 3 cm of personal space that was left to you. And when the sad looking airline lunch finally arrives, the bun promptly jumps from the tray and disappears somewhere down into the dark space under the seat in front of you, never to be seen again for the duration of the flight. The real irony is that the little bread roll was the part of the lunch that, for some reason, you had been most looking forward to.

    Fortunately for the four of us that were departing on the early morning Emirates from from Melbourne to Dubai, that was not our experience at all. Apart from the fact that someone in the Emirates hierarchy had thought it was a good idea for a flight to leave at 5 am in the morning, the rest of the story was about as good as an economy flight from Melbourne to Europe can ever become.

    After the long wait at the airport we entered the huge A380 right on time. Allan and I had chosen to pay a little extra for exit row seats, hoping that our knee caps would not get fractured before our Camino walks had even begun. It was worth the extra few dollars.

    We both made ourselves comfortable, stretching out our legs as far as we could. It was almost heaven in a biscuit. When we looked around the vast cavern of the plane's interior, we were very surprised to see that there were empty seats everywhere. The plane was probably only 50% full, possibly even less. The story got better and better. I started to think that I had dozed off in the waiting lounge and would soon awake to the real horror. But it never happened.

    There is no gilding the fact that a 14 hour flight to Dubai is always going to be a LONG time, however this was almost certainly the best long haul economy flight I have ever had. I even managed to watch a couple of movies, listen to part of a talking book and get a few moments of sleep along the way. It was also such a delight to be able to stand up and walk around the plane any time I felt like it. There was also NEVER a queue at the toilet. All flights should be like this, even the hostesses were friendly and chatty.

    After a short 90 minute transit at Dubai (it was over 40C outside - but then that was probably a cold day by their standards) we were ushered into another huge A380 for the second leg from Dubai to Madrid. If the first plane was only partially full, then this one was absolutely deserted. There were only a few scattered heads poking above the seats when the announcement came to lock the doors. It never gets any better than this.

    After take off the few passengers on board moved around to secure some personal space - 5 or 6 seats each would be about right. I flipped up a couple of arm rests, jammed a pile of pillows under my head and pretended that I was in business class. It worked, because I managed to quickly doze off into a restful couple of hours sleep. It was only when I awoke and discovered that the pillows had slipped out, that I realised that the back of my head had been permanently imprinted with the shape of the armrest.

    The entire flight experience was so wonderful that I have now been spoilt for all future flights to Europe. We arrived at Madrid, right on time at 8 pm. The sun was just hitting the horizon and we were about to see the wonderful end of a long day.

    It's always a relief when you see your own luggage on the carousal and you know that you will not have to wear the same clothes for the next six weeks. We were soon out of the airport and at the taxi stand. I had previously done my homework and knew that a genuine taxi would charge exactly 30 Euro for the trip to the centre of Madrid. This is good value when we were able to fit three people in the same taxi.

    I exchanged my three words of fluent Spanish with the driver and we were soon speeding on our way through the (now dark) streets. It was the first time any of us had been to Spain, but the passing kaleidoscope of illuminated buildings looked like any one of a hundred other cities that I had been similarly sped through.

    About 20 minutes later we arrived at our hotel and were checked in. My room is about 2 metres wide by 7 metres long and the sole window is tiny. But it was clean, the air conditioner worked and the bed was comfortable. Good night everyone.
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  • Day 2

    A Hot Day in Madrid

    September 19, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 25 °C

    It often amazes me how a city that looked completely alien just 24 hours ago can start to feel familiar. All it takes is a few landmarks to help you feel at home. The hotel entrance that looked strange last night when we arrived at 9 pm, already feels like a welcome refuge from the heat and crowds.

    I guess everyone has their own way of exploring a new city. For many, their orientation consists of trying to see as many of the "tourist attractions" as possible in a limited amount of time. Judging by the number of people we saw with their selfie sticks, the aim is to take your photo in front of each and every attraction, presumably to prove that you were actually there.

    My own way of exploring a city is to largely ignore the recommended attractions, after all there are only a limited number of cathedrals and art galleries you can really appreciate. I have always preferred to just wander the streets and see where my legs take me. I find every new street and alleyway an exciting place to discover and learn about the city and its inhabitants at the same time. After all, you do not go all the way to a place like Madrid, just to surround yourself with fellow tourists, Surely it is the locals you went to see.

    And as for the selfies ? Anyone who know me already knows that I never take selfies.

    After a reasonable night's sleep I met Allan and Douglas for breakfast at the (much later than usual) time of 9 am. I was very pleasantly surprised with the standard of the breakfast, especially considering we are staying in a "budget" hotel. The scrambled eggs were so good that I just had to go back and have a second serve.

    Thus fuelled up with eggs in my engine, the three of us headed out into the city. Overhead the sky was clear and blue, and you could already feel the heat starting to build. A short walk from our hotel we discovered the Plaza Mayor (Main Plaza). Every Spanish city has a Plaza Mayor and this is usually the place that is regarded as the heart of the city. It seemed like a logical place to start.

    I had not know what to expect to find in Madrid, however I did think that the buildings would be rather knocked about like they are in Italy. To my surprise I found the buildings to be in excellent condition. Madrid is filled with a lovely variety of strikingly beautiful examples of architecture, some of which reminded me of those you find in Paris. The streets were clean, the pavements in good condition and the traffic flowed freely. I immediately started to feel comfortable here.

    After some time in the Plaza we wandered our way through the city towards the Parque de El Retiro. This is a huge park,right in the central part of the city. It seemed like a great place to spend a hot day. As we entered through the impressive gates an illuminated sign told us that the temperature was already 34 C. Shade seemed a logical idea.

    By this time we were feeling like lunch. We found a nice cafe in among the trees and enjoyed a leisurely chat while we ate. The next couple of hours were spent wandering the gardens and watching the people pass their time. There were a myriad of activities available, including rowing boats around the large central lake. Many others were exploring the park on electric scooters and bicycles.

    When our legs started to weary we felt it was time to head back towards our hotel. A late afternoon siesta seemed attractive, however when I reached the bed, the sleep would not come. I watched a little Spanish TV instead. I never knew that Jimmy Stewart could speak Spanish, but here was one of his old movies and his Spanish was surprisingly good. It was a pity that it really didn't sound right. Why don't they use subtitles I wondered ?

    Much later in the day we walked a short distance to find a place to have dinner. We found a suitable place and were soon happily enjoying our meals while an unlikely looking muscle bound clarinet player did a very good job of playing Acker Bilk classics. His playing was excellent but of course it was not free. At the end of his set, he went around the tables "requesting" money for his efforts. We paid him, but we did not pay the very loud (and not so talented) piano accordionist that followed him.

    It had been a lovely start to our brief time in Madrid.
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  • Day 3

    We Visit the King and I Get on TV

    September 20, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 31 °C

    The sun rises quite late here at this time of the year. At 8 am in the morning it is still quite dark and the air is fresh and cool. This makes the early morning the best time of day to do your exploration.

    We had already decided that today we would head off towards the Plaza Mayor and then continue to the Royal Palace and the nearby Madrid Cathedral. After another lovely breakfast we donned our walking gear and headed off into the city. It was amazing how quickly we were beginning to feel at home in this place and we were beginning to feel more confident in wandering the central part of the city without losing our bearings completely.

    At 10 am the large Plaza Mayor was almost deserted, apart from a few young tourists posing for their selfies. Allan and I decided to sneak into the background and photobomb one couple's carefully staged picture. We both put on our most stupid looking faces and looked over their shoulders into their camera. Surprisingly we did not get a punch in the face from the guy as they both seemed to think it was quite funny.

    Continuing on past the plaza we soon came upon the distinctive white buildings that are a feature of the palace precinct. Our first glimpse of the imposing Royal Palace reminded me a little of the Palace of Versailles. The area outside the place was still largely empty, although a few eager tourists were beginning to form a queue outside the ticket office. Since none of us had any real desire to pay money to view the inside of the palace, we decided to walk around the corner to have a look inside the huge Cathedral of Santa Maria instead. At least the entrance was free.

    Our journey then took us past the Egyptian Temple of Debod. In case you were wondering whether the Egyptians actually made it all the way to Spain - they didn't. Apparently the temple was dismantled stone by stone and then reassembled in this unlikely location. Another example of the theft of Egyptian artefacts and monuments by the wealthy European countries.

    Our final stop was the lovely Parque del Oeste (Park of the East). The shady trees provided some relief from the heat that was rapidly building up and we indulged ourselves in some people watching. By this time our tummies were telling us that it was time for lunch and we eventually found a lovely little outside cafe where we enjoyed a delicious lunch. They even gave us a plate of free paella. A pity about the jackhammers that were relentlessly pounding away at the street pavement a few metres away.

    After lunch we wandered back to the hotel (our bladders could not last out all day). After a brief rest I ventured out again on a short walk and it did not take long before I found a well dressed guy with a microphone in his hand. He was standing next to a very mature lady with MUCH too much make up on her ageing face. This looked interesting I thought. As the camera man manoeuvred about trying to get the best angle, I also managed to work my way around to behind the couple. After all I now considered myself an expert in the abstract art of photobombing.

    As the interview started I managed to walk back and forth in the background. It's not everyday you get the chance to star on Spanish TV and I had nothing better to do with my time. I thus felt that I had made maximum use of my brief stay in Madrid. Tomorrow afternoon we take the train to Bilbao where we will meet up with the rest of our team.

    I can honestly say that we have really enjoyed our all too brief time in this city.
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  • Day 4

    The Slow Train to Bilbao

    September 21, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 16 °C

    The distance from Madrid to Bilbao is only about 400 km by car. When I found out that the "high speed" renfe train would take us over 5 hours to complete the trip, you can understand why I was slightly confused. Douglas and I had lashed out the bargain price of only 22 Euro for First Class (Preferenta) seating,whereas Allan had, for some unknown reason, opted to settle for a standard seat when he made his booking. When we found out that we had all paid the same amount for our seats, the situation became even more mystifying. But this is Spain after all.

    We had previously spent our last morning in Madrid having a final wander around the streets of the central city. We had elected Douglas to be the tour leader as he seemed to have spent the most time learning the major landmarks. All he was missing was a selfie stick with a yellow flag on the end.

    He soon had us frogmarching up and down a series of hills (mostly up) and through a number of gift shops. He has been on a quest to find a charm for his wife to attach to her charm bracelet. His quest seems just as forlorn as that of the legendary Man of la Mancha. After three days in Madrid, all he has managed to buy is a brightly coloured dress, and I am not convinced that it is even his size.

    By midday it was getting hot again and I was starting to get hungry. I asked Douglas if lunch was included in his tour, but apparently it wasn't. The first place we considered eating at was about as quiet as the main runway of Tullamarine during take off time. The combination of jack hammers and other heavy equipment was enough to make my ear drums bleed. We went on a quest for quietness and finally found a much more peaceful pedestrian only area, with a likely looking outdoor eatery.

    We picked up a couple of menus and could not believe the great prices of the food. A lovely looking baguette, filled with chicken, cost only 1.2 Euros (about $1.60 AUD). There was even about a 100 different combinations to choose from. We ordered our baguettes, paid our Euro 1.20 and waited for the feast to arrive. What nobody had warned us was that the photos in the menu must have been taken through an electron microscope with a 100,000 x magnification. The baguettes were actually perfect miniature reproductions - each about 4 cm long. I ate mine in two swallows and still felt hungry. We learned that you are meant to order quite a few of them to make a lunch. At least the drinks were cold and cheap also. Next time we will look for a proper tour guide who would have clearly explained such local idiosyncrasies.

    On the other side of our planet there was a football match going on in Melbourne. It was the preliminary final between Collingwood and Richmond. To our shock and horror, Collingwood was actually winning. We could only imagine how horrible it must have been at the MCG with all those toothless and tattooed Collingwood supporters belching their delight. I really was glad I was a world away at that time.

    By 2 pm it was getting hot and it was time for us to check out of our hotel and catch a taxi to Chamartin Station. We had ordered and negotiated a special rate for the taxi and were impressed when a shiny black limo arrived to chauffeur us to the station. We felt like pop stars as we were silently gliding through the streets to the large central station.

    After a short wait we made our way to the allotted train and took our seats (Doug and I in First Class and Allan in steerage). Right on time the train started moving and was soon smoothly making its way through the rolling hills to the north of Madrid. According to my GPS we were moving at around 150 kph, so there was no way the 400 km trip could take over 5 hours. Or so I thought.

    Over the next couple of hours the speed of the train varied between 70 kph and around 150 km and the landscape slowly became more hilly and interesting. We passed a succession of picturesque villages, each with its obligatory large church in the middle. Rather than travel in a straight line, the route of the train started to curve and wander around large hills, sometimes passing through extended tunnels. The time slowly passed. The outside grew darker. Unfortunately Bilbao drew no closer.

    With over two hours still to go, Bilbao was still 100 km away and the light had almost gone. It was only when it was completely black that the train entered a spectacular mountainous region. Well I am sure it would have been spectacular if we could have seen anything. I was watching the screen of my GPS which showed just how circuitous the route was. At times the train almost completely doubled back to where it had been 20 minutes earlier. The route that was being drawn on my screen began to resemble a snake in its death throes. All this time the speed of the train had slowed down to what seemed like walking pace. Now we understood why the journey was going to take so long. It was just a pity that we saw none of it.

    The train finally rolled (very slowly) into Bilbao Abando Station at about 9. 20 pm. The journey seemed almost as long as our flight from Australia a few days earlier, but we were here. We were also very hungry as we had not eaten anything since that microscopic baguette, about 9 hours earlier.

    Outside the station we climbed into a taxi and asked to be taken to the Barcelo Hotel. He didn't seem excited. When we arrived at the hotel, about 500 metres from the station, we understood why. It had taken him longer to pack our luggage into the boot than the actual journey itself. I felt we had to reward him, so I gave him a smile and a generous extra 3 Euro. Considering that was twice what I had spent on my lunch, I reckoned it was pretty good.

    The luxurious Barcelo Nirveon Hotel was a rather pleasant surprise. Sometimes it is nice to be spoilt and this was a lovely surprise after the long train trip. Even though it was well after 10 pm, the restaurant was still open and the 15 Euro set menu was great value. It was also delicious.

    Back in my room I was thrilled that my room had a real window and the bed was soft, clean and cool. By tomorrow all of our team will have assembled and our adventure will begin in earnest.
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  • Day 5

    This Guggenheim Certainly Isn't Crazy

    September 22, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 30 °C

    There are some cities that you just quickly dislike from the start and there are others that immediately make a favourable impression from the moment you take the first step out of your hotel door. I am pleased to say that Bilboa is definitely one of the latter. In fact I would go as far to say that it is a beautiful, beautiful city - a place that I could quickly get to love.

    With its modest population of 300,000 it is big enough to feel like a substantial place, but small enough to feel personal. It is also helped by the fact that it is situated in a natural amphitheatre with a line of hilltops surrounding the central part of the city. The lazy River Nervion wanders through the centre of the city, making it so easy to never get lost. When you want to find you way back to the hotel, just follow the river bank.

    I must admit that the day did not get off to a great start. When I checked my computer for the football score in the second Preliminary Final, I could see that Melbourne was already ten goals behind and it was not yet half time. So much for the dream result of a Grand Final between Melbourne and Collingwood. Somehow I could not feel disappointed as it really had been a good year for the Demons, and we had finally had a few reasons to feel heart after 54 years in the doldrums.

    At breakfast we met up with Allan and Lorelle who had arrived in Bilbao the previous day. .John Wilcock had also made it safely from Barcelona without having his pockets picked. That brought our team up to 6, meaning that we had reached the half way point. By this evening all the team should be here and we will be able to share our first meal together.

    Speaking of breakfast - it was superb. I am a little ashamed to say that I somehow spent two hours there, although I was not eating the entire time. We did do a lot of talking, laughing and catching up.

    After breakfast Allan, Douglas and I wandered out to see more of this wonderful city. Once again the weather was perfect. Although every day the temperature is in the mid 30s, it is not as tiring as you might expect. The low humidity helps to keep you comfortable (and it really helps your washing to dry also).

    Baby boomers of the 1950s and 1960 might remember the Jackie Gleeson Show on TV. It featured a guy with a funny hat called "Crazy Guggenheim". (In case you are thinking that is a funny name for a hat, it was the guy that was called Crazy Guggenheim, not the hat). His real name was Frankie Fontaine and he had a superb singing voice that somehow he got to feature at the end of every comedy skit.

    A short walk along the river from our hotel there is another Guggenheim - the Guggenheim Museum of modern art. Although I had seen pictures of this amazing building, nothing can prepare you for seeing it the first time in the flesh. I am not an expert in architecture, but this place really is a work of art in its own right. In fact I would have been happy to just stare at it from different angles for hours. Although I am proud of our Sydney Opera House, in all honesty I would have to say that this place is far, far more beautiful.

    It would be hard for me to describe the building, other than to say it resembles a fluid collection of shapes and angles that seem to dance before your eyes and play tricks with your sense of perspective. The entire exterior is covered with what must be hundreds of thousands of titanium panels which reflect the shapes and colours of the landscape and sky.

    One of the iconic features of this building is a large, spider like object between the back of the building and the river. It reminded me of some alien creature from War of the Worlds. At irregular times the entire riverfront area is obscured by a mist of water ejected from concealed jets. I suspect that this feature is especially welcome in the middle of summer.

    Tomorrow we will be exploring the interior of the Guggenheim, so I did not enter inside today. I wandered back along the riverfront, somehow losing Allan and Douglas in the process and later found myself in the centre of the old city. This is a region of tiny alleyways, old half timbered buildings and an imposing cathedral. It was this type of old city that we had felt was missing from Madrid.

    As I sat down for lunch next to the cathedral I took my hat and sunglasses off. The sunglasses immediately snapped right in half. So much for taking them on the Camino. It was just as well I had not paid for them. Actually I found them a couple of years ago in the glove compartment of a rental car in the UK, so I don't suppose I can complain.

    I arrived back at the hotel at around 2.30 pm and felt that it might be time for a siesta. You know the old saying about "when in Rome".
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  • Day 6

    In the Footsteps of the Pilgrims

    September 23, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 14 °C

    Today has been an extremely long and eventful one. It began with another glorious breakfast at the Nervion Hotel followed by a meeting with our local guide. She introduced herself as Ann and then explained that her main responsibility was to take us on a tour of the inside of the Guggenheim Museum.

    Our group formed itself into a walking peloton and followed her along the riverbank as she explained how Bilbao had indeed been a city with a lot of problems and all too little beauty. The building of the Guggenheim had transformed an especially ugly area of disused shipyards into a work of art that thousands come from all over the world every day to admire. I was especially amazed that such a building could have been made for only 90,000,000 Euro. Considering the money it now attracts to the city, that must have been one of the biggest bargains of all time.

    The interior of the building is just as stunning as the exterior, although some of the displayed works by Picasso, Van Gogh and others left me a little underwhelmed. Maybe I am just a Philistine after all.

    After a couple of hours inside the building I joined Allan for a ride up the funicular railway to the top of one of the mountains overlooking the city. It not only provided a sensational view of the city, but the air was cooler and fresher as well. Although the hilltop location was obviously a tourist mecca, the price for the delicious hamburger I ate at the restaurant was a very reasonable 7 Euro (about $10).

    By 3.30 pm it was time to return to our hotel to meet Carlos, the young guide who will be accompanying us for the next two weeks on our Camino walk. He explained that he had actually been brought up by Spanish parents in Germany, thus giving him the ability to speak both Spanish and German without an accent. He later learnt English at school and spoke that very well also. I guess that is one advantage that kids raised in Europe have.

    It was time then to load our gear on to our bus, driven by a young, baby faced Spaniard called Raoul.W e then set out on the long drive into the Pyrenees to our starting point at Roncesvalles, just 5 km from the French border. It was a wonderfully scenic drive, especially the section from Pamplona onward. In the winter this whole region is blanketed with snow, but at this time it consists of green steeply sloping hills, interspersed with a succession of small alpine villages.

    At around 7 pm we finally pulled up outside the ancient Beneficiados that was to be our home for the evening. This city dates back over 1400 years and you can feel the antiquity seeping from every ancient chapel and monastery here. We also caught our first sight of other pilgrims on their own personal journeys to Santiago. Tomorrow morning we will be taking our first steps along this ancient path. Our first day's walk will be a very hilly 19 km, so I wonder just how well our feet and legs will rise to the challenge.

    Although our building dates back hundreds of years, the rooms have been extensively modernised for accommodation. My room was actually quite enormous and the evening meal we were given was almost as big as the room. I think that must have tried to fuel us up for the entire walk to Santiago in just one meal. The only dark shadow hanging over the start of our walk is the forecast for long temperatures and steady rain. Oh well, I guess it was not (always) meant to be easy.

    As for me, I am exhausted already after the very long day, and since the hour is late I am heading for bed. The internet connection here is very slow so the pictures will have to wait till I get a better connection. Good night all.
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  • Day 7

    Our Long Walk Begins

    September 24, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 15 °C

    Q. When you are spending the night in a centuries old Beneficiado, high in the Pyrenees, what is the sound that you most don't want to hear ?
    A. If you answered that it would be the sound of the ghostly pilgrim, endlessly wandering the corridors on their eternal walk, you would be wrong (although I did hear the ghost several times outside my room in the wee small hours of the morning). The actual answer of course, is the sound of steady rain on the roof. Even worse when it is the ceaseless sound of heavy rain. We well knew that, in the morning, we would be facing our first real test of the trip when we begin our personal journeys with a walk of 20 km.

    When my alarm went off at the very early hour of 5.30 am, it was still pitch black outside. Of much more sinister relevance was the fact that the rain was still pouring down. When I poked my head through the window I could also feel that the temperature had dropped significantly from the previous evening.

    I started to sort my gear for the day. The first step was to place every vulnerable item in a plastic bag. In went my wallet, phone, camera and GPS. I began to think that I should be looking for a bag big enough for me to climb inside.

    By 7.00 am I was dressed and ready for breakfast. Our experience of the previous evening showed that food servings on the Camino are of biblical proportions. In spite of all the walking involved, it is already unlikely that any of us will actually lose any weight. Breakfast was no exception. There was a vast offering of options to choose from and most of us availed ourselves of the opportunity to "fuel up" before facing the elements outside.

    After securing our first stamps in our Camino passports we were finally ready to get underway. Fortunately the rain had slackened off to a much more gentle drizzle and I was glad that I had dispensed with the thermal fleece that I had originally worn under by rain jacket.

    We posed for the obligatory group photo, had a final look around Roncesvalles, and walked out of the town in the direction of Santiago.The sign on the outskirts of the town said that we had 790 km to go. Of course we will only be walking about a quarter of that as we had already made the very appropriate decision to leapfrog some of the less interesting sections along the way.

    When I had begun planning this trip I had no real idea of what the actual walking paths would be like. I had pictured in my imagination that we would be wandering through idyllic forests and beautiful villages along quiet paths with fellow pilgrims. In the back of my mind I could not help but fear that the actual walk might be far different. To my utter delight it turned out to be even better than I had hoped for. Much better in fact.

    Although the first few kilometres were walked in a light drizzle, it actually seemed perfectly appropriate for the location we were in. We walked through a succession of lovely birch forests, interspersed with rolling farmland. Along the way we shared the paths with a succession of fellow walkers from a variety of diverse countries.

    As we made our way steadily along the route we had plenty of time to examine our thoughts and to absorb some of the incredible history that was steeped into every footfall. How many hundreds of thousands of other pilgrims had walked these same paths over the past thousand years ?

    The sky above began to lighten noticeably and the drizzle ceased. With the steady series of uphills and downhills, people started to remove layers of clothing. The temperature was actually perfect for this type of walking and the scenery in this part of Spain is simply breathtaking.

    At one point on the walk I noticed a rather rotund guy struggling to make his way up a steady climb. Now some of my more unkind friends might refer to me as "stout", but this chap was positively a real rolly polly type of fellow. We walked in behind him and started to chat. He told us that he was from Montreal and he had allowed himself 8 weeks for the walk. He was now three days in and was already struggling badly, especially on the hills. In spite of his struggle, he was still moving ahead and we met up with him several more times during the day. I had to admire his courage and I really hoped that he would succeed in reaching his goal.

    When we finally reached the end of the first day's walk, my GPS told me that we had covered 20.25 km. I suppose that was why most of us were quite relieved to finally sit down for our final transfer to Pamplona - the city famous for the annual running of the bulls.

    On the way to Pamplona we stopped at a small village to finally have lunch. The meal was excellent but somehow there was a mix up with the payment of the bills and it looked for a while that we would be subjected to a full scale inquisition in order to pay for the infamous glass of sangria and cheese sandwich. The mystery was finally solved and we were free to leave without having to wash the dishes and mop the floors.

    We arrived at the lovely city of Pamplona around 5 pm, tired but thoroughly proud of our efforts. If the rest of the walk is even half as good as the first day, we will be in for an amazing time.

    Unfortunately the evening meal at the Hotel Maisonnave was not up to the high standard of the previous two hotels. The cafetaria style offering of a chicken leg and some chips was almost completely devoid of character and effort. At least the room was comfortable and we can only hope that the breakfast will not also prove to be a big disappointment.
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  • Day 8

    Pamplona to Logrono

    September 25, 2018 in Spain ⋅ 🌙 16 °C

    It is easy to fall asleep after you have walked 20 km. In fact I have made an art form of falling asleep just about anywhere in no time at all. Although the evening meal at our hotel in Pamplona was rather disgusting, the bed was comfortable and I was soon far away from Spain in the mythical Land of Nod.

    I was awakened at 5.30 am by the sound of my alarm rudely interrupting my slumber. It was time for another very long to begin. Fortunately the breakfast was much better than the previous night's evening meal, leaving us even more mystified as to why they could not even put the minimum of effort into that important meal.

    When we rolled our luggage into the street we could already see that the chances of rain (or even clouds for that matter) was absolutely zero. The sky was blue from horizon to horizon, promising another hot day in the Spanish sunshine. Even at this early hour the Camino Path was already populated by a steady procession of early pilgrims making their way out of Pamplona.

    We soon joined them on the steady climb up to the Siera del Perdon. We were told that the top of the climb was clearly visible because of the long row of wind turbines along the summit ridge. They didn't look that far away, but they also never seemed to get any closer. All the while the path wound ever higher, affording us amazing views down to the rolling plains below us.

    After about 10 km of walking we were finally nearing the summit and we caught the first sight of the line of steel pilgrims that form one of the most famous sights on the entire Camino Path. We gathered in front for a group photo, to prove to those at home that we had actually made it this far.

    There were also a couple of entrepreneurial guys seated at a small table offering the most impressive Camino stamps we had seen this far. Every pilgrim carries a Camino credential (passport) which is progressively filled with stamps at each significant location along the way. This documents provides evidence that the pilgrim has completed a certain distance.

    While most stamps are a simple rubber stamp, these guys went a lot further by adding a dob of hot wax to which a small token and seal were attached. I had to admit that it really did look impressive, even if it did cost me 3 Euro.

    The descent from the summit was quite treacherous as it was down a steep slope covered with loose round stones. It would have been very easy to fall, but somehow I stayed upright and managed to reach the safer sections where it levelled out somewhat. The sun was now high in the sky and the wind was almost non existent. It really felt hot. My back started to ache. The life of a pilgrim is not an easy one.

    I have noticed that people approach the Camino in widely different ways. Some seem determined to just get to the next point as quickly as possible. They look straight ahead and have no time to chat, meditate or do anything. They are on a mission to pass everyone in sight.

    Others prefer to take their time and enjoy the journey. They are always looking about and consciously soaking in the surroundings. These people often smile and are happy to chat with their fellow pilgrims. Stories are shared and, for a very brief time, friendships are made.

    From time to time we also encountered those who were riding bikes. These were even more determined to get past as fast as possible, often offering a shout to scare the walkers off the trail in front of them. I would not be surprised if they are recording their efforts on Strava, to try to better the time of the last rider to come this way.

    I have to admit that I feel the closest affinity for the slower walkers as I think that they best en capture the true meaning of what the camino should really all be about.

    The end point of our day's walk was the famous bridge at Puente de la Reina, just over 20 km from our starting point at Pamplona. When we finally arrived I was very happy to stop walking and give my sore back a bit of a rest. After a late lunch in a local cafe we climbed aboard the bus for our short transfer to Logrono. A look around the bus showed that many pilgrims had fallen into a deep sleep.

    We are now happily arrived at the Gran Via Hotel in the centre of the city. When I found that my room had a bath tub I promptly filled it with hot water and proceeded to soak my sore back for over 30 minutes. It certainly felt good. When I met up with the others for dinner I found that several of them had also done exactly the same thing.

    Speaking of dinner, it was served in a much nicer room room than the previous night's dinner, but we were not so happy to discover that the main course was, once again, a chicken leg and some potato slices. It was almost the same as the last hotel, albeit it had been cooked better. The desert was also a very disappointing little container of icecream, obviously straight out of the freezer section of the nearest supermarket. The only thing that was supplied in abundance was copious quantities of wine - not much use for those of us who do not drink it. If you want anything other than wine, you have to pay for it. Strange but true.
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  • Day 9

    Logrono to Burgos

    September 26, 2018 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 18 °C

    "Today will be a much easier day", Carlos assured us. "It's only about 15 km of easy walking and will only take about 3 hours". Of course we later found out that this was a bald faced lie.

    The day began pleasantly enough. I awoke long before the first light of sunrise and decided to look out my window. Although the hotel was situated in the commercial centre of Logrono, I was somewhat surprised to see a steady stream of pilgrims were already out walking. Each of them was labouring under the weight of their heavy backpacks. I looked about my comfortable hotel room and could not help feeling a little guilty. But not for long.

    To walk the entire length of the Spanish Camino, especially for those carrying all their own luggage, certainly requires a huge degree of perseverance and dedication. We had only walked around 40 km so far and most of us were already feeling the effects of the repetitive walking. I was certainly glad that I had a clean and comfortable bed to look forward to each evening and very, very glad that our luggage was being transported each day in the bus.

    Our day began with a bus drive to the town of La Guardia (just like the famous airport). In this La Guardia there were no planes in sight, just a collection of very old buildings and a large church. We had been booked into a large winery for a tour of the premises and a wine tasting. Since I have us much interest in wine as I do on the history of the dung beetle, I did find the couple of hours we spent there rather tedious. The underground tunnels, however, were quite fascinating.

    The bus then transferred us to the start of the walk at Montes de Oca. The first 4 km of the walk were through lovely green forests and the relative cool of the morning made it quite easy to do. Since rest stops were in short supply along this section, we stopped for lunch at a large cafe. I ordered a beef casserole which was quite delicious.

    We then came back outside to find that the temperature had climbed a few degrees. The Spanish sunshine made it feel even hotter than it probably was. At this stage we were still under the delusion that we only had about 11 km to walk. How hard can that be ?

    Almost immediately we were faced with a steep and prolonged climb. Not the thing you want after you have been resting for the previous hour. It did not take long for the usual culprits to speed away from the front of the group, leaving about 8 people to make up the remainder. At this point I must mention Douglas for the incredibly patient way he stayed back to ensure that everyone was OK. Although he could have easily outpaced everyone, he was content to put other people's well being before his own wishes. This takes a very special type of person and demonstrates something of the true spirit of the Camino.

    The path itself was often very rocky and unstable , making the walking quite tiring. The first climb was the most significant, however there were several more steep pitches that we encountered along the way. For many kilometres we walked along a somewhat monotonous path through a forested area. Unfortunately the path itself was exposed and the trees offered little shade.

    Although we were making steady progress, the hours started to tick by. By 5 pm we were still walking and there was no sign of the Monastery that was meant to mark the end of the stage. It was very clear that the original promise of "15 km" was hopelessly inaccurate.

    Just as the heat was starting to really take effect we cam e across a carload of people offering cold drinks and snacks for a donation. I suspect that, at this isolated location, this was actually a clever way to gain maximum revenue. I am sure that most people donated much more than the drinks would normally cost.

    It was only at sometime after 6pm that we finally arrived at the day's end. My GPS said we had walked over 18 km and it certainly felt like it. We all took the opportunity for a rest and a drink before boarding the bus for the final transfer to Burgo.

    Our hotel was situated right in the middle of the city and we were rather excited to discover that it was a 4 star hotel with enormous rooms. In fact it was probably the best hotel we have had so far. The evening dinner was also well received (no chicken), although I still cannot understand the practise of providing unlimited wine without charge, but if you want anything else you must pay for it. Not only does this seem unfair to me, but it also encourages drinking to excess. That seems to have become an unfortunate part of life on the Camino.

    As I retired to bed for the evening I could not but wonder how the portly fellow from Montreal was progressing. We had met him two days earlier and he had been having a hard time of things. I really hoped that he was still moving towards his own personal goal.
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