Setting Out

Morning dawns cool and misty, the light taking its time to come in. This is something I have a hard time getting used to--how dark it is in the mornings here, even by 7 or 7:30 a.m. In Colorado, the sun is well up by then, even with daylight savings time making it actually an hour earlier by the sun. I guess that's the advantage of living at a highter altitude and at a lattitude just a bit closer to the equator. I take my last morning shower, dress, and pack my backpack. I make one final circuit of the room, making sure nothing is left behind other that what I have given up for the trip. These items, I leave on the chair just inside the door. I hope the housekeeper will find a use for at least some of the things and be happy with the windfall. I leave that sweet little room, and head back to the restaurant where I need to turn in my key. I've munched on a few almonds and eaten a couple of squares of dark chocolate, so now I need my cafe con leche, and then I can set off.

The bar is crowed already. Pilgrems leaving, pilgrims arriving, locals having breakfast and watching TV (side note--the Spanish seem to be addicted to TV. No matter how small the village or hamlet, no matter what time of day you go into a bar/cafe, there will be a TV blaring, usually with some kind of sports event.) I catch the eye of my host from yesterday, give him the key, and order coffee and a bocadillo (sandwich) of jamon (ham) y queso (cheese). Again, this is not what an American would think of a ham and cheese sandwich. In Spain, jamon is most likely Serrano ham, which is cured, and is more like proscuitto then the sweeter ham we are used to. I like it, because it reminds me of the country ham from the South, but in Spain, they serve it like proscuitto, meaning shaved transparently thin. So, a bocadillo consists of an entire baguette of bread with maybe 3 or 4 paper thin slices of jamon and a couple of equally thin slices of cheese, either Provolone or Manchego, which is a Spanish cheese. Additionally, there are no condiments. Dry bread, dry, cured ham, and dry cheese. I aske for it "para llevar", literally "to carry away". It's wrapped in foil, and now I've got this whole loaf of bread to figure out where to put it on my pack. I wedge it in, get the pack situated on myself, with water holder handy, and finally, I head west out of Roncesvalles and onto the Camino proper. As I walk on the road out of town, I see a road sign that reads "Santiago de Compostella - 790 KM". I get a little shiver in my stomach--will I make it that far? And what awaits me in between?

But for now, very shortly, the trail leads off the road and onto a wooded path a ways off the road. In front of me is an older French couple, talking softly to each other. They are walking at about my pace, and I feel no need to try to pass them, so just trail along after, happy to be in lovely surroundings for now, and not walking up a hill yet. However, I know more are to come. The wooded trail goes on for perhaps half an hour, then we come out, and into the first little town, Burgette. I know that the Irish ladies were going to try to make it there from Orisson yesterday, and I am sure they have already moved on. The sun is up now, burning off the early mist, and it's going to be a beautiful day. I walk through Burgette, trying to figure out if I want to stop for a "real" breakfast--there are signs for cafes, or if I just want to keep walking. I decide on the latter, and follow the arrows to the right, and out of the town towards the surrounding fields. By then, I have passed the French couple, and am walking well. The path is wide and well marked. It leads past fields of cut hay and other crops, and at one point, coming up a slight rise, I see a large draft horse standing right by the fence, his head over, looking my way. As I pass him, he turns and looks back behind me and I get the distinct feeling that he enjoys standing here, watching the pilgrims go by. I'm sure he gets an apple or two out of it now and then! After clearing that rise, the trail dips down again, and heads into woods, where it is cool and moist. By this time, other pilgrims are catching up to me, as I am pretty much meandering, just taking my time. I see Mirren from dinner last night and greet her as she passes. I stop for a little more chocolate and think by the time I hit the next town, I will look for a place to have coffee and some of my sandwich. The walk through the woods comes out on a paved road, and as I round the curve, I can see the next village, Espinal, down the hill. The woods are beautiful, already a few leaves are falling, and again, I am reminded so strongly of North Georgia and North Carolina in the fall. This place is so different and so familiar at the same time, it's hard to process at times.

As I walk into the town limits of Espinal, there is a park bench off to the right, and who should I see but my German ladies, Ingeborg and Rita! Rita waves me down, and gives me a big hug. I am so happy to see them! It's a big reunion, even though I just spoke to Rita the night before at the Mass. Still, I am learning that on the Camino, every familiar face is a gift. We agree to have a coffee together, and shortly find a cafe that's open and settle down at the outdoor tables with our drinks. I take this opportunity to change my socks and add some more foot creme. I am using a concoction that I made before I left home, which so far, has kept me from getting any blisters. The ladies pull out a little food and snack as well. We talk about the Road, the night before, etc. Then Ingeborg asks if I would like to walk with them today, and I think it's a good idea, so agree. I ask where they are planning on stopping, and she tells me a town called Lintzoain, which is about 13 KM away. Apparently, "Miam-Miam, Do-Do"tells her that there are several places to stay there. And what, I ask, is "Miam-Miam, Do-Do" (pronounced "mee-yam, mee-yam" "dough-dough")? She is surprised that I have never heard of it. Apparently, it is THE guidebook for every place to eat and sleep on the Camino. Translated literally, it means "Eat-eat, Sleep-sleep". She shows me the book, and it's great! Each page has the map of a stage of the camino, with coded markers, and then the following pages have the information regarding cafes, restaurants, hotels, hostels, albergues, etc., with phone information. Wow, I didn't even know there WAS such a thing! She shows me the places listed for Lintzoain, and we're pretty sure we'll be able to get a place. Sounds like a plan, and we finish up, find the WC and head out. It's a glorious day for walking. The terrain is not too bad, rocky still, of course, but fairly level. We pass through farmland, then back into trees again. Around noonish, we reach Viscarret, where we stop for a "menu", which is a set-price meal consisting of a choice of starters, a chocie of main courses, a dessert and a drink. Rita has trouble finding consistently acceptable food, as she cannot eat gluten, and there's some difficulty in translation. I try to help out, and eventually we find a soloution--ensalada mixta, and lomo (pork loin), and, of course, fried potatoes. We ask if we can eat outside, as there are tables, but no, that's not allowed. We sit at a table for six, and end up sharing with Mirren, who has found a bed, and will stay here tonight, and with 2 brothers from Quebec (that's biological brothers, not monks) who are traveling together. They are both in their 60's, very soft spoken and so cute! I think of my grandsons, Charles and Elijah, only 2 years apart and hope that they will be close enough later in life to maybe do something like this. It's a very convivial group, especially when you toss in a couple of bottles of wine, but we must move on to Lintzoain, so after we are done, we go outside to "saddle up" again. The tables outside are now filled with local folk having a glass of wine, and they ask us where we are from. Germany and the US. When I say I'm from los Estados Unidos, one man asks me about President Bush (I will get that a lot here). I certainly don't want to get into any political hot water in my host country, so I just roll my eyes and state that he is no friend of mine. Apparently, that's a satisfactory response, and one woman says he is no friend to the whole world. I agree with her. They wish us well, and we are on our way. It is now siesta time, and aside from that one cafe, every other place of business in Viscarret is closed up tight and will be until 5 p.m. I think, how nice it would be if things just closed up at 2pm and didn't open again till 5. How much more enjoyment would we get out of life if we could just take three hours a day, in the middle of the day, and just STOP? Maybe the Spanish are on to something!

Again, we pass through woods, and I am glad of walking in the shade as the temperature has risen. Shortly after we leave Viscarret, we see a field off to the right through the trees. At one end, are some girls lying in the grass, talking and laughing. Suddenly, Rita goes off the trail through the trees. I think she is looking for a pit stop, but she keeps going until she is in the field. Ingeborg tells me they want to have a siesta, too, as it's probably pointless to get to our destination much before 4pm, as that is usually when the places start letting people in. So, we find a place in the barbed-wire fence, and work our way down the hill to the field. I find a shady place, and pull out my rain poncho for a ground cover, take off my boots and socks, and using my backpack for a pillow, lie down and relax for a while. There's a soft breeze blowing, and I feel my sweaty clothes start to dry. It's quiet here, virtually no traffic, just the leaves whispering and an occasional bit of laughter from the girls at the other end of the field. I want to doze off, but I am just enjoying being here too much. I think, feeling my pack under me, this is all that I have right now, everything I own in this country I am carrying on my back, and it feels great. I could get up now and move on, or I could stay here and let the others go ahead. There's no set schedule, nothing. Within the range of my feet and what cash I have on me, I can do whatever in the world I damn well please. I'm not sure I've ever had this feeling before. It's amazing. I lie, content to stare up into the sky and watch the clouds, more content and at peace than I've been in a long time.