Alto de Perdon

Again, we are climbing. The grade is not as steep as it was going from St. Jean, but the terrain is much rougher. As we walk, I am so thankful that the ladies took their chances and adjusted my pack. It truly feels pounds lighter, and I realize that I am actually keeping up with them. What a difference pulling on a few straps makes! The wind has picked up, and it's quite chilly, but this is the kind of weather I'm used to walking in in Colorado, so I actually feel invigorated for a change. After my little meltdown earlier, I feel so good inside, I don't mind the cold, the wind, the stark scenery. I am just enjoying walking, putting one foot in front of the other. Still, I'm not the fastest walker, and from time to time a person here or there will pass me. This trail is not crowded today, however, and I'm also grateful for the solitude.

After a bit, we pass into the small village of Zariquiegui. It's cold, and cloudy, and we would welcome a cafe con leche, but the place seems to be a ghost town. The first place we come to, of course, is the church to the right, and there is a small playground with a fountain and a bench. I refill my water bottles and decide to check my feet again. Then we stretch our legs and move on. All the houses are shut up tight, behind the metal "hurricane shutters" that all the more modern buildings seem to have. Again, I wonder if everyone has gone to work in Pamplona, or if the whole village is still asleep. We pass quietly through and keep climbing.

As we leave the village, the hill gets steeper, and we notice that all along the ridge of these hills/mountains are huge wind turbines.

They line the top of the ridge for as far as we can see. Of course, I think of Don Quixote, tilting at the windmills. He would have a field day today! As I climb closer to them, I hear people behind me, and when they catch up, who should it be but Carlis and Ariana, the young couple I met in Roncesvalles! I am amazed that I have gotten ahead of them. They recognize me, and we chat for a moment. They had gotten sick with bad colds and had rested for 2 days in Pamplona. Now they are feeling better, and in a few moments have left me far behind. It was good to see them again. The path gets steeper and narrower. At one point, part of it has crumbled away over a steep edge, and a newer path has been created by previous pilgrms, but it's very steep and there's not much to hold onto. Again, I am totally grateful for my hiking pole, especially when climbing down, which can be much more treacherous than going up. As we near the summit of the ridge, I see that there are large fields of sunflowers planted at the base of the peaks. This intrigues me. I can't figure out why they would plant sunflowers here, especially since it seems as if they were not harvested, but just left to dry up in the fall weather. I think maybe it's to draw the birds away from the turbines, but even after feasting on sunflower seeds, they would still fly off somewhere. Then again, maybe it's just for the beauty of it. I just enjoy the large, nodding heads, and try to picture them in their summer glory. We continue climbing, up, up, ever up, and then, once again, the terrain begins to flatten out, and we are, finally, at the summit of Alto de Perdon, the Hill of Pardon.

After I catch my breath, I realize that there is a completely marvelous metal sculpture here, a parade of pligrms captured in steel or bronze, showing men, women, donkeys, and dogs, all headed for Santiago. We stand in the brisk wind on top of this huge hill, admiring both the God-created view and the man-made art and architecture of the windmills. Except for the big "whoosh" that the turbine arms make as the turn slowly in the wind, and the sound of the wind itself, it's completely quiet. The wind pretty much takes the sound of any conversation right out of your mouth.

Now that we are at the top, the sun comes out and even through the wind, we can feel the warmth. There's a road along the ridge of the summit, and across the road, the way down, and an information board where some people have gathered, reading. We decide to have our lunch, sitting on the lee side of the summit, basking in the sun. Protected from the wind, it's quite warm and pleasant. We happily take off our packs and boots, wiggling our toes in the welcome sunshine after the chilly morning's climb. I bought some kind of tuna salad in a can at the Supermercado in Trinidad de Arre, and I pop it open to see what it's like. It's a complete "salad", but very different from what we in the U.S. think of tuna salad--it has peas and carrots in it, and is in some kind of vinegarette dressing. I dig in with my little spoon, and realize how hungry I am with each bite. In no time, it's all gone and I'm nearly licking the can for the rest of the juice! The ladies share out small tomatoes that we bought, and of course, we finish up with some chocolate. While we eat, we see a number of folks that were in Pamplona with us. They cross over and head down the steep slope on their way. We smile and wave. Maybe we'll meet them again, maybe we won't, but it's enough that we shared a few moments together on this road. Fortified with lunch, we decide to take a short nap before tackling the descent.

There's time enough for that, and we want to be rested. Uterga waits ahead, but we want to arrive safe and sound. Next, the saga of the clicker beds...