Letters To

The next morning, we wake in darkness and begin to get ready for the day's journey. We know we have a walk ahead of us, over a "hill" called the Alto de Perdon. Our goal is Uterga on the other side. As you can see from the map, it will be quite a climb both up and down. Ingeborg, Rita, Doro, and I have had a good night at la Casa Paderborn, with the exception of Rita taking a tumble in the middle of the night when she got off the top bunk to go to the bathroom. I am feeling very guilty about that because she gave me the bottom bunk yesterday, and I was going to go into another room so we could all be on the bottom and they INSISTED that I stay there with them and Rita would take the top. She said he rides her horse in Germany every day, so is used to climbing, and she had put a chair by the bed to help her get down, and in the night, her footing slipped. I feel so awful that a 71 year old woman had to give ME the bottom bunk because I fear that I'll pull the whole be...

Here I am in Pamplona, with my walking companions Ingeborg (in red plaid) & Rita. I'm in the hat, and you can see the sunburn I got that first day walking up the mountain backwards. We left Trinidad de Arre in the morning, walking out from the church after eating our breakfast all together in the kitchen, and saying our good byes. Our walk was through city streets, as Trinidad is really almost a suburb of Pamplona. The ladies wanted to change out the SIM cards on their cell phones so that they could make calls in Spain without having to roam through Germany to do it, so we inquired at a few mobile phone stores until we found one that could do it. Our bartering arrangement of my better (though not by much) Spanish skills for use of their phones to make arrangements, etc. is working well. We have agreed to stay at a private alburgue in Pamplona, La Casa Paderborn, and have an easy, touristy day to recover from the longer day yesterday. It seems odd to be walking along sidewalks a...

Once back in the hostel, the first thing I want is a Coke, so I head to the vending machine and get one--cold and delicious. My companions are sitting in the lounge, so I join them on the couch and we discuss what to do next. I definitely want my shower, then to wash my clothes, and Ingeborg wants to see if there is a grocery store around, and I agree. Rita is pretty tired from the walk, so opts to rest before dinner. We all go back to the bunks, and start our rustling, unpacking, and re-arranging. The shower is wonderful, and then I'm off to the sink to wash clothes. I get done early enough to hang my wet clothes up in the sun, so there is an actual chance that they might be dry by the morning. WhileI am going about these chores, I notice that everyone in the place is being very quiet, there is no rowdiness or loud talk. I think that the spirit of this place has rubbed off on all of us. It's quite interesting to watch. Soon, Ingeborg and I head out of the doorway and into the ...

We knock on the heavy door, which, like most churches we encounter, is quite large, with another, smaller, average "door-sized" door put into it. The smaller door opens and a young woman, who looks very much like Sarah Jessica Parker, sticks her head out. "Hay camas por esta noche?" I enquire. Are there beds for tonight? I am thinking this woman is a "hospitalero" or one of the volunteers who help in the refugios. Turns out, she's a fellow Pilgrim, a Spanish woman who is walking with her boyfriend, who is German. She speaks both languages fluently, it seems to me. We follow her just to the left of the door into a small, narrow reception room. At the end of the room is an old man at a desk. He has the most wonderfully kind face, and he is waiting to check us into our place for the night. We hand over our Pilgrims' passports for stamping and sink gratefully into chairs. This gentleman speaks to each of us individually, first to me, asking ...

In the morning, we agreed to meet outside our respective refugios at 8 a.m. I am there (as always) a little early, and Ingeborg and Rita are there promptly at 8, and we set off. The way goes up over the little bridge I was on last night, and then off (and up) to the right. We pass through an area of houses, very quiet, no people about even at this hour. I wonder if everyone has already gone to work (doubtful, since this IS Spain after all), or sleeping in. The sun is coming up, but it's still cool. After walking briefly by these houses, the way leads off through some woods, and then behind a vast industrial area, a mine, or a mill, or something similar. The property is posted and we are warned to stay only on the marked path, but we are also wished a good journey. As we walk, I am struck by the contrast of the industrial ugly view to my right, and the forested, autumnal, lovely rural view to my left. The two halves collide right on the path, and when I walk, that is how I feel. I a...

Paco the taxi driver roars off in a cloud of smoke after dropping us off at our respective places. Ingeborg, Rita, and I agree to meet for dinner at 8:00 at a cafe/restaurant around the corner that has a sign outside for a menu. It's currently about 6pm, so I go into my alburge, pay for the night, get my credential stamped, and get a tour from the host. The place has a coded lock on the door, and she gives me a TEEEENY piece of paper with the code on it. Knowing that I will lose that piece of paper immediately, I write the code down on the front of my credential, which I will NOT lose. Thus, I am safe from being locked out. Directly as you walk into the main room, to the left in a tiny little cubby, is a computer with Internet access. I ask what the charge is, and she says none. Very nice! I'll email later. The rest of the room is a combination of kitchen, eating area, and laundry room. Yes, there's a washer/dryer, but for me, it's too late in the day to wash much, beca...

So, after probably 45 minutes or an hour, Rita, Ingeborg, and I get up, repack everything and get back on the trail to Linzoain. We emerged out of the woods, the trail took us up close to the highway, and then away again. We arrived at Linzoain at around 4 p.m., by this time, hot, sweaty in the afternoon sun, and ready to set the packs down for the night. The first thing we notice as we walk into the town is what looks like a 2-sided open air handball court. There is a stencil of 2 crossed raquets on the wall, but none of us can figure out exactly what kind of sport it is. Across the street is a small playground, so small, in fact, that at first I think it's just somebody's yard. We continue on into the town which seems shut up like a ghost town; however, there is the always-present construction crane, and many of the builings seem brand new, though uninhabited. Also, there are "Se Vende" (For Sale) signs everywhere. Shortly, we begin to go up a hill which loo...