First Steps...and a Slight Hiccup

Although the crepes in Bayonne were a rich taste sensation, they exacted a terrible vengeance against Kelsey's digestive system. I myself only slept for 4 hours due to nerves, but Kelsey was up most of the night hugging the porcelain throne. Pale and exhausted, she soldiered on through on 1.5 hour train ride (shared with other pilgrims and exuberant teenage schoolchildren), but it was pretty apparent that we needed to delay our first day. Certainly as we received our first stamps in our Credencials de Peregrino, our pilgrim passports, at the office of El Camino in St. Jean, we were disappointed, but we realized the wisdom in our decision as Kelsey struggled throughout the day. Waiting behind us for stamps, was a girl literally bouncing with energy, smiling openly and with a great big flop of hair. In two seconds she was introducing herself, Julia from Australia and we made our first Camino friend. 

In the Oficina de Peregrino in St. Jean. We are following the blue line. 

After the three of us received our stamps, map for the following day and a briefing by one of the international Camino volunteers, we were on our way exploring. First stop, food. Humbled by our experience with rich food and aided by Julia's  knowledge of St. Jean (she had arrived the day before, and was awaiting a post from Australia with her orthopedics), we went to a small market, loading up on nectarines, pears, avocados, tomatoes and rice cakes. Walking along the river running through St. Jean, we found stone steps leading up to the citadel overlooking the town to break our fast. 

Julia is a girl of motion. Loud, unabashed and wildly confident, she is two months into her European exploration holiday, typical of many Australian young people. She had learned about El Camino from a cook at the cafe she worked at in Sydney, and decided it sounded like a fine thing to do.  So here she found herself, coming from a surf camp in Portugal, full of endearing naïveté of El Camino, and we three fell into a Camino trio. After wandering through town, lying in the sun, and sitting quietly in the cathedral in town, we checked back into the Camino office to receive a bed for the evening. 

A vista from the Citadel in St. Jean. The Pyrenees are in the background. 

It is a foreign concept, getting used to the lifestyle of a pilgrim. Checking your bunk bed for bed bugs, all the crinkling sounds of people unpacking their packs, making their beds and attending to their various rituals and routines. Maybe because we are at a starting point for many people on the El Camino, and we must strip away our shyness, but we are all in our own world even as we share a dormitory room. After settling in, it is back to a larger market, to a pharmacy where Julia ingeniously suggests ginger pills for Kelsey's stomach, and back to the albergue, or pilgrim hostel, to prepare dinner. 

Elephants in St. Jean. A universal good omen. 

It is over our communal dinner that we meet Edward from Germany. Earnest, with blue searching eyes, and curly thinning hair, Edward set out from Germany five weeks ago and has walked mostly barefoot to St. Jean. He is, in his own words, completely free. No job, no lease, no relationships. He walked El Camino Frances 5 years ago at age 21 and was profoundly changed. Edward wanted to speak, and I wanted to listen. He described the humanity of El Camino, the necessary two weeks of adjustment before the ceaseless loops of thoughts in your head finally leave you in peace to be in the now. He spoke of the deep connection amongst pilgrims, the mystical way in which the violence and strife of the world outside the pilgrimage slips away. It will make each of us yearn for peace within ourselves and with each other. He left us with three pieces of advice for our walk: 1) take your time, 2) love the Camino, and 3) let go of your goals. Do not rush your walk, embrace what the Camino gifts to you, release all expectations. 

After a deep restful sleep in our bunks, we stirred with the rest of the pilgrims, and prepared for the day. Thankfully, Kelsey was feeling, refreshed, energized and hungry. I was able to eat my totally unnecessary, but delicious, chocolate peanut PB2 packet with bread for breakfast. Julia, Kelsey and I said "buen camino" to Leon, the gentle giant Russian we befriended, and the two American girls, Emily and Ann (Kelsey and I renamed them the Brontes). Due to our false start the day before, the sense of jittery rush I had felt had given way to simply surreal excitement at what was unfolding. Stepping out into the still dark night, the rain already falling softly, we followed the first Camino blazes along our 490 mile journey.

First El Camino blaze, steps from our albergues. 

Kelsey and Julia, very first steps of El Camino. 

Within minutes of ascending out of St. Jean, Julia realized her credit card was missing. Sadly, she turned back to find it, and Kelsey and I continued on. I wondered if we would see her again. We had repeatedly been warned of the difficulty of this first leg of our journey. According to almost everything I had read and seen about El Camino, this is by far the most challenging day due to the newness of walking with weight, and the cumulative 1,390 of ascent into the Pyrenees. The wind, rain, and surprising cold (although I shouldn't have been surprised considering our altitude and the past few days of weather) weren't altogether charming, but I was grateful for the cool temperatures as opposed to stifling heat. My choice of shorts for attire was most definitely not smart, but se la vie. Climbing steeply from St. Jean, the only point of refuge along the 27 km route is at Orisson, 8 km in. Other than that, the walk through the mountains is isolated and altogether beautiful. Passing right by goats, sheep, and cows (I almost reached out to touch a huge heifer on the road, but was shy in front of other pilgrims), rolling pastures, Sleepy-Hollow-esque woods draped in fog, and endless vistas, it all felt very otherworldly. 

Sheep in the fog!

Kelsey in the woods. 

Walking later on and practicing my Spanish with Guillermo, he non too subtlety reprimanded me for not walking alongside Kelsey. As we had set off that morning, Kelsey and I agreed we would walk together, and when we naturally separated, that is fine and to wait for each other at obvious resting points. Guillermo thought I should be alongside my friend, encouraging her. So as Kelsey and I rejoined and began walking together, we came across Dave, his sixth time walking the Way, who advised we spend time apart in order to not run out of things to talk about over the 4 weeks. It seems most people have advice on how to do El Camino.  I will listen to everyone, and also listen to myself.

Dave, has proved himself to be somewhat of a trail angel for us. He stopped us from our gabbing and pointed out a stone slab announcing our distance to Santiago once we had crossed into Spain. As we crossed paths with him later, he gave us advice on continuing to Larrasoana the next day, as it was smaller and less busy than the closer town of Zubiti. He told us stories of his past Caminos, all the while deftly handling the steep, muddy terrain.

765 km to Santiago. Photo courtesy of Dave. 

All day, Kelsey and I found only things to be grateful for, nothing to gripe about. My pack, although heavy, did not encumber me the way I feared. We were grateful for our added day of rest, for a sign to be more diligent about what we eat, for Julia, Leon and Edward, for our packs and the shelter they provided us. All day long, we passed dozens of pilgrims. To each, I gave a "buen Camino," or "buenos dias." Something so simple can mean something so significant to the contentment of your soul. 

Seven and a half hours later, we were in Roncesvalles, put up in a gigantic 140 bed albergue inside a monastery. Eating a communal (more Spanish practice!) pilgrim's meal of soup, Spanish omelette and salad, sitting for a quiet moment of reflection (despite the two men loudly praying next to us) in the Church, we popped some ibuprofen and gave ourselves to a deep sleep. Oh! But only if it had been so. After a synchronized night of fitful sleeping, checking our watches every 20 minutes for hours at a time, we climbed out of bed at 5 to begin packing in the dark. 

With our sights set on Larrasoana, 27 km away, we began to walk. As we were leaving, Dave gave us advice on where to stop for our breakfast, "a little cafe, behind a courtyard with trees in Viscarret." We were only the second pilgrims to be leaving the albergue, so it was quiet as we walked in total darkness, following the light of Kelsey's headlamp on the yellow scallop signs of the trail. 

A sign in the darkness after leaving Roncesvalles. Funny, since the stone yesterday said 765 km, 15 km ago. 

We walked through woods of medieval witches covens, through small towns of wooden doors and red flowers, past countless cows and sheeps with their clonking bells, and up and over many a hill. 

Our bodies definitely felt the strain sooner than our first day, and the physical toil of the pilgrimage was readily felt. Eating our first pilgrim meal in the town of Viscarret, a Spanish omelette with baguette and cafe on leche, we carried on. Later, I came across Guillermo within minutes of walking separately from Kelsey. Immediately he asked me where my amiga was. I explained to him in Spanish that she was meditating, except I didn't know the word for meditate, so I substituted English. He replied and asked me what illness she had. He thought I had been saying "medicated" when I said "meditated," explaining his concern that I had not been by her side encouraging her. Ahhhhh. Pushing through the town of Zubiti to keep with our goal of reaching Larrasoana, we finally rounded a last bend and found ourselves in this classically European town. Two top bunk beds at the municipal albergue are our home for the night, and we begin our routine of settling in true pilgrim style. 

Wonderful Dave, our trail angel, is weaving us fabulous tales of El Camino, and really life in general. As I write this, Kelsey, Dave and I are sitting in a cafe in Larrasoana. His animated hands fly through the air, eyes lit up with such life, and I find myself hoping so much that we find ourselves in his presence along this walk. Hilarious, yet profound. Now he is speaking of the search for meaning on El Camino, and the inability of people to vocalize their issues, next of the bad luck of a Spaniard who sideswipes pilgrims along the highway. Tonight we are eating a Pilgrim meal at the cafe, and I see Kelsey and I sitting here for the next hour listening to Dave. Tomorrow we are onwards to Pamplona, tapas, and more Camino tales.