Linzoain to Larrasoana

You win some and you lose some. I certainly won some last night at the Posada El Camino in Linzoain. Tonight at Casa Tao in Larrasoana is not looking so promising.

At the Posada, I was well looked after by Carmen and Luis. Not much English was spoken, so I definitely added to my Spanish word count. They made me an early dinner at 7.00 pm ( veg soup, pork slices w  pasta, followed by strawberry mousse), plus a good breakfast w scrambled eggs, toast and jam. This was all for the bargain price of €40. The place is not well publicised and Senor Luis was looking for a contact to get himself included in my guide book.

There was a steep climb out of Linzoain, but the real challenge of the day was the long descent down to Zubiri. There were two heavy downpours and the path soon became a fast flowing stream, such as I last encountered in Tasmania. Over there, the guide told us not to try to avoid treading in puddles. It just slows you down, she said: you have to splosh through and if your feet get wet: tough!

It was really too wet to take many photos without putting my phone at risk, but I did manage a few wildflowers;

Lenten Roses 

Jelly Fungus

Bracket Fungus

?

I took my time on the descent to Zubiri, as I didn’t want to slip and fall on the muddy rocks, so by the time I crossed the bridge it was time for an early lunch:

Enjoyed with a big glass of shandy to replenish my liquids!

I also perused a Camino website and found this photo of a rescue up in the Pyrenees: a woman suffering from hypothermia taken off by the Bomberos. I’ve heard that pilgrims who ignore warnings have to pay for their rescue.

Roncesvalles to Linzoian

Congratulations are in order!  I’ve now crossed the Pyrenees on foot three times. Not many can say that. But I think this is my “last tango in Paris”.

The albergue in Roncesvalles was full last night and they were turning people away with no reservations. They checked in 300 pilgrims when they were expecting only half that. No one could explain the surge. One girl, the paid official, was the only one allowed to operate the check-in desk and she also had to answer the phone. The volunteer hospitaleros could only show people to their beds and commiserate.

In front of me in the queue was a friendly Italian chef, who had worked all over the world. He suddenly remembered he had a hip flask in his backpack, which reminded me I had a tiny bottle of medicinal whiskey disguised as a vitamin drink. We were able to put up with the dire conditions (cold, wet and tired) by having a little drink, to the amusement of everybody else in the queue. Of course we were unable to share because of COVID.

I was a bit alarmed when I found they had given me a top bunk with an absolutely vertical ladder. But beggars can’t be choosers and I just had to manage. The other occupants of the cubicle were Spanish and I think they arrived too late for dinner. I enjoyed some delicious vegetable soup followed by trout w. chips, served next door at Casa Sabina. I slept well in spite of some snoring, soon fixed with earplugs.

Traditional photo of leaving Roncesvalles with only 790 kms ahead of me.

The good news was that the rain had gone and a perfectly clear sky greeted us. Here are some pics of the monastery complex:

Leaving town, I looked back to the mountains and could see that there was still snow on the tops:

My digs in Linzoain:

They have a dog which barked loudly when I arrived, but soon became my friend and followed me for a walk round the village.

Valcarlos to Roncesvalles

When I woke up it wasn’t actually raining, but it soon started again. I made myself a big bowl of porridge with banana in the microwave and then tried to understand the 8.00 o’clock news on TV. After Ukraine, the big news was the unseasonal snow in various parts of Spain, including the Madrid Segovia road, and I think I recognised the castle in Ponferrada.

I was on the road as the church clock struck 9.00 am. I had a tough walk ahead, made worse by the wet conditions. After we left the road, the forest tracks were very muddy. Everybody overtook me and eventually started asking if I was OK as my pace got slower and slower. It was uphill all the way. Who said this route was easier? It’s a long time since I walked all day in the pouring rain: maybe in North Wales? On such a day, the damp eventually penetrates even waterproof clothing and then acts like a diver’s wetsuit, warmed up by your body heat. Or so it seemed. It’s also hard to sit down to eat your lunch. There’s nowhere to rest anyway: just keep going!

On arrival at Roncesvalles, there was a terrific queue to check in. It took over an hour! All the hospitaleros in this albergue are Dutch volunteers, but they seemed unprepared for such a crowd.

SJPP to Valcarlos

First, a recollection of the last time I was in SJPP: I was walking around town looking at the shops. I started chatting to a couple of women who were about my age. One of them was wearing a skort: a garment I had wanted to buy but could never find. She told me it had come from a golf shop. Now, it turns out that this same woman (Sally) has recently moved into my apartment block at Burswood. We both remembered this conversation even though we had forgotten each other’s faces. Amazing!

Back to the present.  My room at Izalpea had a skylight and I could hear rain falling on the glass all night long. This photo is my version of the famous bridge at St Jean, showing the height of the swollen river after all the rain. When I have time I’ll look for another pic in normal times, for comparison:

We heard that the Napoleon Route was closed and this sign confirmed it. However, many pilgrims were taking no notice and going that way. It was apparently very windy on top, with snow flurries.

I sent my backpack with Express Bourricot. It cost 2 x €8 but worth it to me. When I arrived in Valcarlos it was there waiting for me at Mendiola:

I couldn’t check in till 2.00 pm, but the Senora advised me to go and have lunch in the bar up the road, and then to buy a few provisions from the supermarket as everything in town is closed in the evenings. The bar served me with a slice of tortilla with green capsicum and a glass of red. Other people were having tiramisu so I had to order that as well. At the supermarket 1 got bread and cheese, a small bottle of Mateus and some fruit. This will have to last me till Roncesvalles as there is nothing else on the way tomorrow.

By the time I got into my small apartment at Mendiola, I was pretty wet through. My top quality Rohan jacket,  Rainbird waterproof trousers and Ecco boots were no match for the constant downpour of today. How pleased I was to find the place had 4 radiators and a heated towel rail! I switched everything on high, put on my down jacket and went to bed for a siesta. I was tired but not exhausted. However, I wouldn’t have wanted to walk over to Roncesvalles all in one day as most people seemed to be doing.

St Jean Pied de Port

When I woke up early this morning, it was pouring down. Bugger! (Pardon my French). I had to get out all my wet weather gear and abandon all hope of good views in the Pyrenees. Wearing a mask means steamed up glasses, especially in the rain. I saw on the TV news that from tomorrow Spain will only have masks mandatory on public transport and in hospitals.

My first task was to find an Orange store to buy a Spanish SIM card for my phone. It was very close to the hotel, but there was quite a crowd there as it had been closed over the Easter weekend. I paid €20 for a month, which I can then renew for a 2nd month.

Then I made my way to the Bus Station (also in walking distance) to catch the ALSA bus to SJPP. I was expecting a smallish vehicle as I knew the road over the mountains was full of switchback bends. In fact it was a full size coach. The driver was quite a petite woman, but I have to say she knew the road like the back of her hand. By good fortune, I was sitting on the side next to the hill, as opposed to the side of the bus dangerously near the drop-off on the valley side. I just hoped there would be no mad drivers coming too fast in the opposite direction.

The driver made an unscheduled stop just before Burguete. There was apparently a leak from the engine coolant. She sought help from the “Bomberos” at a fire station and two hefty guys came to her assistance. We were on the road again, but soon hit the cloud as we passed Roncesvalles. A French girl sitting in front of me had walked over the mountain in perfect weather during the weekend and was now on her way back home in Avignon: “Sur Le Pont…”. She must have heard that too much! When we arrived in SJPP, I saw her thumbing a lift. She had to get back to work, she said.

SJPP in the rain is pretty miserable: too many tourists walking about with nothing to do. I was annoyed to get a message that my hotel would only open at 5.00 pm so I had a bit of time to kill. I tried to pass some of it by having lunch, but it was now 3.00pm and all the restaurants had stopped serving. Finally one agreed to make me Croque Monsieur.

This was an interesting shop that sold spices and dried fruit. All the sacks on the right, as far as the woman in blue, were full of different varieties of pepper. I bought some crystallised orange for energy on the Camino.

Pamplona

Four hours on the train and I’m in Pamplona. I took a taxi from the station to Hotel Europa. The receptionist was pleased to inform me that we had the same birthday (Christmas Day). In all these years, this has never happened to me before. Is this a good omen, or what?

It was already 2.00 pm and I was pretty hungry.  I walked across the square (Plaza del Castillo) to Cafe Iruna. This had not changed one iota since my last visit and probably very little since it was a haunt of Hemingway, for which it is famous. Sitting at the next table was an American women who asked if I was walking the Camino too. It turns out her name was also Margaret. Talk about coincidences!

Many art nouveau touches in Cafe Iruna.

I ordered Calamares followed by Roast Lamb,  wine and sparkling water included, but I couldn’t manage dessert.

Pamplona felt quite chilly after Barcelona, so I was happy to return to my hotel for a siesta:

Evening stroll to the Cathedral:

It’s Spring in Pamplona!

Barcelona

On arrival in Barcelona, it was a relief to be off that crowded plane. Maybe Easter was not the best time to be travelling. At Passport Control, the man seemed as if he’d never had an arrival from Australia before and told his colleague. They were even more excited to hear I was about to walk the Camino de Santiago and wanted to know where I was starting and how long it would take me, asking if I spoke Spanish. A little, I said modestly.

Then I had to pass through a big area set aside for Health Control, where I had to show the Spanish Govt QR code. This linked to the online form and I’d filled in before leaving Perth which showed my vaccination record. I sailed through as it was quiet. I realised that all the EU citizens had been chanelled off and they comprised most of the passengers on my flight. Those foreigners arriving without the special QR code probably had to be tested for COVID. There was a station in the centre of the room with a group of nurses in full protective clothing, but with nothing to do.

I took the Metro from the airport to Barcelona Sants Station. A kind young man carried my bag up the many flights of stairs and even as far as the taxi rank. I recognised the entrance to Hostal Oliva on the corner of Passeig de Gracia and rode the tiny elevator up to the 4th Floor. My single room is very small and overlooks a light well, but the price is a bargain for this part of town. The Senora gave me a chocolate bunny.

It was a lovely sunny afternoon and the street was alive with visitors and locals strolling about on Easter Sunday, even though the shops were closed. Across the road from Oliva,  I had previously eaten at a typical Spanish pavement cafe. Now it has become a fast food restaurant called Five Guys. They make a big thing of their “fries” and announce each day where their potatoes have been sourced:

The bags in the second pic are full of potatoes. The boxes contain cooking oil!

Later I walked further afield and discovered proper tapas restaurants: next time I’ll know where to go.