Waiting for Ingeborg, Finding Eunate

As written below, we are all ready to go for the day when we realized that Ingeborg had left her very nice jacket in the restaurant the night before. Of course, per Spanish rules, nothing is open yet, even though it's nearly 8 am. Rita decides she can't wait and heads on to the next town. Since she and Ingeborg both have cell phones ("handys" in German), I don't worry too much. We'll catch up with her soon. I wait with Ingeborg for a while, and completely understand why she does not want to leave that jacket behind--it's very nice, lightweight and windproof. But soon, I get the "itch" too, and let her know that I'm going ahead and will see her later. Our goal is Puente la Reina, at a private alburgue there. Plus, Ingeborg wants to take a slight detour to Eunate, the site of a church that is supposed to be one of the last ones built by the Templars. Agreeing to meet up whenever, I head up the path, keeping the yellow arrows in sight. It is still not quite full light yet, a bit cloudy, and undecided as to whether it's going to be sunny or shady.

The path quickly leaves the town of Uterga, and soon I am walking through farmland, down a slope, behind a hill in the shade from the morning sun, but then climbing up a small ridge again, to where now, at last, morning has overtaken the land. As I am walking along a relatively flat place that looks off west down a sloping plowed field, I see Rita sitting at the side of the path at the foot of a couple of overhanging trees. I wave her down and explain the situation with Ingeborg, and we agree to walk ahead together. But first, she stops me, and as we stand with the sun behind us, looking out over the beautiful morning scene, she sings a song in German in her strong, unwavering voice. I am not sure if it is a hymn, or just a hiking song, or what, but it is beautiful, and even though I can't understand the words, I certainly get the meaning behind them. Once again, I am struck to the heart by this whole experience, by this 71 year old woman who speaks virtually NO Spanish or English, yet seems completely fearless about going anywhere. I feel so blessed to have encountered her and Ingeborg on this journey--it's as if they are to be examples for me of how I can be in 1o and 20 years. What a great thought! We stand for a moment after Rita finishes her song, and then walk on. At the top of the ridge, the terrain is flatter, and we pass almond groves (almendras), fields of fennell, lavender, and thyme, all growing right up to the path. We crack a few windfall almonds and munch on them, and I pick some fennell seed heads to put in my pocked along with some lavender sprigs. They will definitely improve upon the aromoa of my much worn shirt!!

Soon we are arriving into the next little town, Muruzabal. The path fades into a paved street, and we are walking along the outskirts. At one point, there is a sign with a bench next to it, so Rita and I stop for a moment to decide what we want to do. We don't want to get TOO far ahead of Ingeborg, so she can't catch up, yet we, the morning people, are pretty much "rarin' to go". Come noon, I'd rather be laying my pack down for the day, than slogging on in the heat, but we'll take one step at a time and see what happens.

As we sit on the bench, Rita says she's hungry, and we look down the street that leads up to where we are. There appears to be a bar opening--a man is bringing out folding chairs and putting them around tables, so I ask Rita if she'd like a coffee. She says yes, and also that she hopes for eggs. So, off we go. Unloading our packs outside, I go in, and yes, they are open, and yes, they have huevos y jamon (ham and eggs). Great! I tell Rita, who is overjoyed, and wants 4 eggs! So, I go back in and order 2 plates, one with 4 eggs, plus 2 cafes con leche. At last! A REAL breakfast! We are both very happy to sit here and wait for Ingeborg while consuming our food. But, we think, we're off the path, and so we need to let Ingeborg know where we are. Rita gets the brilliant idea of going back to the sign by the bench, and putting up a piece of paper with "Ingeborg" written on it, and then an arrow to the left, to show her where we are! That done, we soon are digging into our wonderful breakfasts, thanful for the delay since it brought us here.

This is the biggest breakfast I have eaten since I left the US, and it's great. I love the Spanish serrano ham because it reminds me of the Southern "country ham" that is so different from the sugar-cured ham that most people are familiar with. Serrano is saltier, and in Spain, sliced thinly like proscuitto. Right now, it's just good.

Shortly after we eat and decide to have another coffee, we see Ingeborg coming down the road. She found Rita's sign and is laughing as she comes up to the table. We tell her of our lovely breakfast, and of course, she wants the same, so we settle back with our coffees and just enjoy the morning. The town is small, there's a car every now and then, a few delivery vehicles, etc, but again, that quiet "ghost town" feeling, except for the immediate vicinity of the bar where we're eating. Soon, we are done, full, and ready to go. Ingeborg's pack is complete with her jacket, and we are off through the town to find the way to Eunate. I leave it all up to Ingeborg who, armed with her German guide book that defines the directions of this Way down to the inch, and "Miam-Miam, Do-Do" just can't go wrong!

It does not take long to get through the town. Towards the edge, I fill up my water bottle at a fountain, as it is getting hot already, and we look south, and can almost see the church at Eunate in the distance. It doesn't LOOK that far, but we have already learned that, when walking, looks can be very deceiving. No matter, off we go!

The walk from Muruzabal to Eunate is dusty, dry, boring, and hot, most of it past already-harvested fields. I begin to regret the big breakfast, and see the wisdom of early morning walking on a relatively empty stomach, nibbling in between, and having the heavier meal after you're done walking for the day. Too late to do anything about it now, however, and I just keep on going. As the church gets closer, I admit to feeling little twinges of excitement. Visions of "The DaVinci Code" and other similarly-themed books run around in my head. This church is thought to have been built by the Knights Templar! Its octagon shape is very rare and completely different from the other churches and cathedrals that we have seen so far. Plus, this one is out in a field, completely removed from the surrounding towns. Apparently there is an alburgue, or at least a place to stay here, but Ingeborg's guidebooks don't say much about it, and anyway, it's too early yet to stop. We want to reach Puente la Reina first.

As we approach the church, once again, I get "that feeling". I just don't know what it is about these places, but I feel such a weight of reverence, a desire for complete silence and respect, I can't explain it. In fact, I have a hard time talking in a regular voice as I come close to it, as if the ground itself wants quiet, wants footsteps to be lighter on the ground, and voices to be silenced. We go through the gate into the outer portico and shed our packs. Inside, the church is very primative. Here are no ornate, gilded altars, just simple stone, rising up to a vaulted ceiling in the middle with a plain stone altar just on the opposite side of the entrance door. I make my way about to the middle of the pews and sit for a while, head bowed. As has been my habit on this whole trip, I first give thanks for having gotten this far, and hope to go forward as far as I can. I also try to stop any verbal-type thoughts and try to just soak up any messages or feelings I can through the soles of my feet on the ground, and through the pores of my skin just being in this centuries-old atmosphere. I open my crown chakra and have a moment of disorienting dizziness, but nothing painful, or related to any kind of health problem. There is a definite temporal "dimensionality" here. I can't say that I see shades of Knights Templar floating in the background, or Moorish characters lurking around the door, but it would not surprise me if I did. There's just a strong feeling of "otherness" in here, and I feel quite blessed to be able just to touch the edge of it.

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Breathing my prayers into the air, I get up to leave, and see that the candle altar has been replaced by this funny little electric candle thingie where you put in your coins, a little flickering bulb ignites on an electric candle, and it burns, I suppose, for maybe as long as a votive or tea light candle would. Ah, modern times comes to the church. Regardless, I light an electri-candle for my daughter, my grandsons, for G. waiting at home, and for my mom, who is with me every step of the way, and leave feeling an odd mixture of mystery and low humor.

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Ingeborg comes out shortly, and then we are ready to go. We climb up a small hill behind the church to a small cemetery with various markers, some of which pertain to the Camino. I fill my water bottle again, and then we make our way down the hill, and along a road that runs by a small river. We are looking for a place to stop and rest as the heat is getting more intense, but can't seem to find a place, even though we would all love to sit by the water. It seems too difficult to get to, so we keep walking. We cross the river, cross the same highway we did earlier to get to Eunate, only this time going in the opposite direction, then begin a slow climb up a hill towards the next town, Obanos. Just before we actually get into the town, off to the right is a paved area with some nice shade. We walk over there and drop the packs before we realize it's a cemetery. Oh well, the cemetery is fenced off, and the concrete is cool and shady, so here we decide to have a short siesta. Any time is a good time to rest the feet, right? So thinking, we all lie back with feet up on our packs and have a nice little snooze. Puente la Reina will still be there, after all!