Monday, May 20 - Canfranc Estación to Jaca

Six a.m. and the morning 'plastic bag packing' begins; putting everything into an individually labelled bag, squeezing out the air to create a squished vacuum seal and then stuffing them into the backpacks. Pretty noisy task but at least here we have our own room so we are not disturbing anyone else. When there are no bags left and; hence, nothing left in the room, we are good to go. Despite this, about ten to fifteen minutes down the road, I always experience 'packing paranoia' and I fight the obsessive compulsive urge to stop and go through my pack to ensure that my money, my iPad, my glasses are indeed in the bag. So far they have been but you just can't let up...just ask John about his orange shirt that got left in Cizur Menor or Dayton about the legs of his zip-offs that are beside the fireplace in the gîte outside of Auch.

The reason this town is called Canfranc-Estación - the longest train station.

The two British gentlemen, Tony and Peter, were also staying in this chambre d'hôtes so we all headed down to the local bar for dinner. We had asked earlier until what time they served dinner and were told until 8pm but for once we were wise enough to know that 8pm could mean 6:30pm and we got there early. The meal was pretty good and the wine was excellent. For a starter, Dayton had huevos con gambas (tiny shrimp) while the other guys had a garbanzo soup or tortellini and they all had a rather unspectacular meatball entree but, as I said, the wine was so good. I stuck with what will most likely be my vegetarian staple menu here.. ensalada mixta sin atún y sin huevos (salad without tuna or eggs).

 

The weather app on the iPad does not have encouraging news for us this morning. Zero degree temperatures and snow showers so we will bundle up and have hope that we get to Jaca before the snow does. The thing about the weather here is that no matter what you see at one moment you can only count on it being like that for maybe another 37minutes at most. The weather here changes that quickly, from dry and sunny to cloudy and rainy or sleeting or from clear and warm to freezing.

Following the Rio Aragone

 

So now it is 6pm and we are in Jaca after a good day of walking. We decided to chance the Camino route despite some warnings that with the recent wet and snowy weather it was washed out and dangerous. It turned out to be an okay choice; the route was very rocky but dry, a lot slower than taking the highway but all in all it was good. We stopped for a midday break in Casteillo de Jaca and Dayton had his first Spanish bocadillo lunch on this trip; a huge baquette the length of his arm with slabs of fried bacon and queso (cheese), no butter, no mustard, no mayo... just big and dry. Dinner in Jaca was a take away vegetarian pizza. As Dayton says, he can get tapas and raciones any where any time. There might be a hint of sarcasm in that comment.

 

The weather is always a major concern but today, despite the forecast, it favoured us. We were a little like Goldilocks; it was too cold at the start, then a little warm, then it was starting to rain, then it stopped, then it got cold again, then it was hot....oh my goodness layers of shirts and jackets, neck scarves and gloves were off and on all day. However, any day you are not wet and muddy all day is a good day on the Camino.

 

I must admit I have to make an attitude adjustment for the rest of this Camino. I saw the end in sight and somebody moved it! I miscalculated and thought we would be finished the Arles/Aragon route this coming Friday but I missed a stage!!!! AAAArgh. It is like coming to the end of the half marathon and the finish line is moved 31 kms further along. Tomorrow will be Day 31 of walking which is the number of days it took us to finish the Camino Frances. I am already way over 1,000,000 steps on this route.

 

Camino Waymarkers embedded in the streets of Jaca

 

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Sunday, May 19 - Urdos to Canfranc-estación

• Amazing walk, wonderful day. Tough but so good. This was a perfect example of 'plan for the worst and hope for the best'. I think we came as close to the best as possible. None of the rain or snow or freezing temperatures that were predicted materialized so even though the climb was relentless ( my new favourite word) I just kept thinking " The sun is out. There is no rain. This is tough but this is good". On a difficulty scale this rated a little higher than expected, maybe a seven, but on a misery scale maybe only a one or two. Four of us started out together, Chris Slater, Greg, a young French pilgrim and Dayton and I. We left before 8:00am and headed up the mountain road. Interestingly, on the first hour of the walk out of Urdos, before the cut off for the Somport Tunnel, hundreds of motorcyclists passed us. It made me think that we were on the road into Port Dover on a Friday the thirteenth. (For the non-Ontario readers, every Friday the thirteenth every biker within hundreds of miles descend on the Lake Erie town of Port Dover to meet and greet, show off their bikes and maybe have a beer to two). There is a tunnel that one can take to go eight kms straight through Canfranc-Estación but then one would miss the spectacular climb and the equally spectacular views and what fun would that be?

The higher we climbed the more snow we saw on the ground and the cooler the temperature became but we never got too uncomfortably cold. Any chill was from the exertion and perspiration of the climb. After about three and a half hours we reached the Sol de Comport and the Spanish/French border and enjoyed a well-appreciated tea and cafe con leche at the mountain top cafe. Our Dutch friend had arrived a little while before us. He had taken the Camino path not the road and so had had a much tougher and more treacherous time of it. We had followed advice and stuck to the road. It was enough. Kit was also trying another variation of a cafe courageux but we stuck with a tamer non-alcoholic version.

After our break we walked gently down for a couple of hours into Canfranc-Estación where we had another beverage break before Chris and Greg went on ahead to Villanúa. This is when I have to be careful not to fall into that 'comparison is the thief of joy' trap. It is so easy to start to think, "Oh, they are going on another 8kms farther than us", so we are kind of so wimping out, not doing as well. Actually who cares?Just focus on a the joy of a good day's walk, be happy and satisfied with our decisions and don't get caught up in comparison. This is the same sentiment we talk about in every fitness and yoga class, "Let go of comparison and competition, with others or even with yourself and enjoy this moment". And I am.

 

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Saturday, May 18 - Bedous to Ordos

A wet, wet, five hour walk along the mountain road this morning took us into Urdos. At one point, around 11am, the road divided and we choose the route going up... and that made all the difference (Robert Frost?). The lower road took you into the village of Etsaut and the upper road took us into Borce, a village cuddled into the base of the mountain where we had an interesting twist on the morning coffee break. Instead of the expected café au lait it was 'café au cognac' or more aptly named 'café courageux'.

 

Urdos is the last stop before we cross up and over the Col de Somport and into Spain. Those mountains we've been following the last couple of days are definitely intimidating as is the weather forecast. We may not have an unreasonable number of kilometres to Somport but it is going to be all steeply uphill and probably all in the rain and snow. At Somport it is expected to be

minus 3C and snow. I can do this. It might take a couple of café courageux but ...whatever it takes. I think my backpack will be lighter because I'll be wearing everything I own to stay warm.

 

A whole afternoon with nothing to do but sit in the hotel bar, visit with other pelerins and drink wine, tea, wine, tea (Dayton had a few beers - just to be sociable). The rain never let up and, rather than raining itself out, it seems to be getting into a real wet groove.

 

Dinner was an interesting mix of really good food and really good company. We had two British gentlemen, the Dutch man from our gîte in Lacommande, Chris Slater from Asheville, N.C. and Hans from Switzerland. As we were chatting throughout dinner, it came out that Hans, a mountain climbing guide in Switzerland, has led expeditions to Mt. Everest, to Mt. McKinley, a more difficult climb in Pakistan and several other climbs in South America and Africa. It kind of makes our obsessing over the impending snow on the pass tomorrow seem a little ridiculous in comparison.

 

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Friday, May 17 - Oloron Sainte-Marie to Bedous

Breakfast at our chambre d'hôtes in Oloron Sainte-Marie was a continuation of the excellence of this charming place. We had freshly made crepes with peach yogurt and all the other usual French breakfast treats, pain and confitures. Even with this sumptuous petit-dejeuner, we were able to be on the road by 8:10am.

 

We choose to follow the road all day rather than the GR route in order to avoid the mud but also to be able to really see the mountain views. The chemin route took you along the wet river bed and up into the forest trails and you know what they say about not being able to see the forest for the trees.....it may be a nice walk but the views would be limited.

 

Just after noon we came into the lovely little town of Sarrance nestled in the foothills of the mountains and were happy to find a restaurant busy with lunch time diners. We joined them. Dayton had a wonderful mushroom omelette with salad, fries and an amazing roasted red pepper salsa. These are some of the surprises that make your day on the Camino. No rain also makes your day and fortunatley the rain held off until just an hour before we arrived in Bedous, so all in all a good day's walk.

 

 

In the Bedous Tourist Office we met up with Chris Slater again and, after finding our chambre d'hôtes we cleaned up and went back into town to have a drink with him and Eun-Hyung, the South Korean girl we shared a gîte with in Lacommande. The municipal gîte where they are staying tonight is a little suspect, not exceptionally clean or inviting. Our chambre d'hôtes is interesting. It is just a kilometre past the town and boasts an amazing vegetable garden. The house itself appears to be in a stage of transition. The hosts are very friendly and welcoming and accommodating; I have hot water for tea delivered to our room and they are making a vegetarian lasagna to suit me.

 

Bread delivery to your door.

 

We really are guests in a family home. Dinner was served to us to eat by ourselves but with our host sitting to talk with us, the hostess flitting in an out, the belle-mere coming in for an introduction and the two year old boy entertaining us with his portable toy massager. Quite the opposite to last night's sophisticated hopspitalitié but okay nonetheless. We tried to burn off some dinner calories with a short walk up along a very fast moving mountain stream to see some ponies and donkeys roaming on the steep hills and some pretty impressive cascading falls and then back for an early night to bed.

 

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Lost in the Camino

Rising sun soft on my shoulders

Step by step........by step

I am lost. Lost on the Camino.

Lost in the rhythm of my breath and my boots

In the music of the silent mountain.

Lost in the chill of the morning mist

And in the haze of a clear blue sky.

Lost in the magic of a glorious day

I am lost. Lost on the Camino.

 

High noon sun blazing hot on my head

Step by step.......by step

I am lost. Lost on the Camino.

Lost in my thoughts and the spaces between

In reflections, hopes and pipe dreams.

Lost in the footprints of a million pilgrim souls

And the stories of those yet to come.

Lost in the heartache and joy of a life fully lived

I am lost. Lost on the Camino.

 

Setting sun beckoning me on

Step by step........by step

I am lost. Lost on the Camino.

Lost in the ache, bone weary and tired

In the rain and the snow and the mud.

Lost in the moments, the hours and the day

And days blurring on into days.

Lost in a journey without any end

I am lost. Lost on the Camino finding my way.

I am lost in the Camino.

 

 

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Thursday, May 16 Lacommande to Oloron Sainte-Marie

Kit, our Dutch gîte mate was up, packed and ready to go at 6:30am this morning. He had multiple carabiners on his pack with a canvass food bag hooked up from one side to the other, his camera dangling from his neck and with his rain pants and hiking pole he set out. He looked like a travelling salesman (tinker-man?) with all his goods hanging from his clothes.

Bruno, true to his word, drove up at 7:25am with his big black Newfoundland doggie, Must. I don't know what 'Must' means in French but I think it means massive slobbering machine. Bruno and Must led the way for two hours through the forest (this is a familiar morning walk for Bruno and his dogs) with Must coming back to me every now and then to express his drooling wet affection for me. I appreciate his gentle loving nature but Yuck. I hope our chambre d'hôtes has a washing machine tonight. My clothes need it.

Bruno, Must and I

I always refer to how weather is adjusted to a 'feels like' factor, higher for humidity and lower for wind chill, and kilometres have their own 'feels like more' when adjusted for elevation. Today we had five hours of climbing and descending - repeat and repeat and repeat. Now I think we should add another adjustment for muck and mud. Twenty kilometres sure feels like a whole bunch more when you are mud maneuvering and puddle jumping. Then, as if to imply walking up and down hilla with a pack on wasn't enough of a work-out, there was an exercise circuit along the trail..."please take time to stop and lift weights."

Fortunately, the rain held off until we were enjoying a lunch in Oloron Sainte-Marie. After lunch we took time to visit the Tourist Office to have them book rooms for the Saturday and Sunday. I phoned and booked us a room for Friday and I think we have a chambre with demi-pensionne if I interpreted "d'accord, d'accord" correctly. When I don't know what the heck is being said, I just nod my head knowingly and repeat "d'accord, d'accord" like the French and hope for the best. Finding our chambre d'hôtes for the night was little tense for me. The area looks sketchy (my favourite descriptive word for 'what have I booked us into this time' and, just as I was warning Dayton that if this place is suspect we are moving on, we came upon a very inviting entrance to our chambre d'hotes. Once again we have lucked out and we have a truly charming spacious suite in a really really old house.

The Pyrenees have been getting closer and closer, close enough to see the new snow on the top. For the next three days we are moving into the Pyrenees, up the valley floor, up to the Somport Pass and over into Spain and the forecast is so not good. However I guess we just have to 'keep on keeping on'.

 

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Wednesday, May 15 -Pau to Artiguelouve to Lacommande

The Camino lost a little of its charm today and, by a little I mean a lot, as the rains came and came and kept on coming. Talk about dampening yesterday's enthusiasm. We sloshed our way from Pau to Lescar where, after visiting the tourist office, we misplaced the camino. A wet, frustrating forty-five minutes latter we were back on track and just a wee bit testy. Surprisingly, we arrived in Artiguelove by noon hour and found the expected epicerie so we could stock up as tonight's gîte in Lacommande has only cooking facilities, no demi-pensionne, no restaurants or cafés.

Did I mention it was a little wet?

The first week, when we were walking with Julia, we met a French pilgrim, Bruno, who lives in Artiguelouve and who asked us to call him when we got to his town .....so we did. We still had two to three hours to walk so we didn't really have time to visit but Bruno insisted on coming to get us and to take us to his house, a huge country house with a spacious backyard and garden. When we saw his two Newfoundland dogs we could see the need for that huge yard. Those dogs are massive. I thought Bebop, my brother's Bearnese Mountain dog was big but these two dogs could be his big brothers. Bruno piled us back into his car to take us back to the Camino or so we thought but he turned the wrong way and it seems he was graciously taking us all the way to Lacommande. No way was I going to correct him. Bruno left us after making sure we were set up in the gîte and promised to return with his two big dogs tomorrow morning at 7:30am to walk with us for an hour or so,

Lacommande is definitely a gîte but thank goodness a small one, only four beds. There is a two burner hot plate and a pot to make dinner but we operated an albergue in Estella, Spain with this same lack of appliances and we had to feed 32-45 pilgrims a night so I think we will be able to make do tonight.This little town may not have much other than a couple of houses, a church and this gîte, but it has a winery and tasting and sales begin at 4pm. Yay, Lacommande

So two Canadians, two Dutchmen and a South Korean stagger into a gîte......sounds like the start of a joke and in a way last night exemplified the basis of a well-repeated joke. What do you call a person who speaks three languages? Trilingual. What do you call a person who speaks two languages? Bilingual. And what do you call a person who speaks one language? An American. Last night everyone else was multilingual but they all spoke English to suit Dayton and I. We pooled our meager food resources and the wine we bought at the winery and had a very hearty meal with good conversation.

 

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