That is the mantra of the Camino. It is what myself and my fellow Peligrinos do every day on the Camino. Walk. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. It is life reduced to the most basic elements. It’s a difficult, for the Way is not a meandering flat path from tranquil village to tranquil village. It is steep. Very steep. Lots of ascents and descents on loose rock across rolling hills that test the fortitude, energy and endurance of its travelers. The Camino goes straight up and down, often at 20-30 degrees with no switchbacks, so the descents are hard on your calf, knees and crams your toes into the front of your shoes. Not exactly what the guidebooks showed!

Perhaps Denise from Palm Springs, put it more aptly: “They just lied!”

Of course, some portions are idealic and shaded and incite a meandering pace, such as this section:m, from day two.

But these have been rare. Today though, we were on a farm road for several miles. Until the hills, that is.

Many paths have looked more like this (old Roman road). Historic,yes, but hard to walk on. And most with just loose rock, making the downhills tenuous to negotiate.

I only went 11 miles today. Sunny. Hot. More strenuous ups and downs. Most others pulled up after 11 miles also.

The downhills have my left calf tight like a coil that with every step turns tighter and tighter, sending shooting pain down my leg into my ankle. It’s been doing this for 3-4 days now. I thought it would subside once I got my Camino legs. Maybe tomorrow…

Anyway, it is a physical test–especially for those in their 60s and older. So far I think I’m the oldest I’ve come into contact with. Two of my Japanese friends are 70 and 69 and are grandfathers, so we call ourselves the Three Grandfathers of the Camino.

Someone told me today that 80% who start out with the goal of reaching Santiago drop out. Which means only 20% make it. I want to be in that group.

Two nights ago in Estella I went to Mass in this 14th Century church, built on the side of a hill. What keeps the ground from caving in I have no idea. It is stunning inside.

Afterwards, the priest called all the Peregrinos to the front of the altar for a special blessing. Strange that the priest is illuminated… The church is dark inside…

He called out different nationalities and gave each of us a card in our native tongue, saying, “When you get to Santiago, remember us here in Estella in your prayers.”

I intend to do that.

I need this prayer if I’m going to be one of the 20% who reach Santiago. I read it each morning.

The Camino provides.

It has been a couple of days since my last post. Too busy walking and then too tired when I’m through! Averaging around 13 miles a day and it’s been in some pretty steep up and down mountain passes with slippery rocks–think 20+ degree slopes. And no switchbacks, just about a straight shot up and down. And it’s the downhills that kill you: toes jammed into the front of your boot. My outside calf muscle feels like a coil of tight steel. Pain everywhere. 

Whoever thought this would be a leisurely stroll from village to village (me).

The countryside is stunning though. And the people I’m meeting among the Way are amazing. New folks every day, but some Ive been connected with since day one.

Here’s a sampling.

My two “cell mates” from Japan.

Amelia and Cholie from France. Perfect French names for two girls from France.

Karen and Thomas from Sweden.

Francois, a mathematician from Belgium, two nurses from Belgium and a nurse from Virgina in the one time it’s rained!

Dan, a retired physician from Ohio, who looks and sounds just like Richard Dreyfuss!

Elena from Chicago and Sebastian, a physician from Germany. Two great spirits. Ah youth!

Madge (Scotland) and Denise (Chicago) taking a break–and then along comes a haybaler!

The whole gang from Orisson together again in Los Arcos!



I’m in Pamplona now, running with the Bulls…

Well, I’m not that dumb.

I’ve not had Internet access for two days, so unable to blog. Catching up now.

Weather forecast for the Pyrenees was for heavy rain. Almost went the valley route, but decided to chance it and glad I did! No rain, miraculous days, above the clouds!

Steep ascents, mostly on narrow Shepard roads and hard 8k descent through beechwood forest with slippery footing that pushes your toes through your boots, your knees out your body and your leg muscles turn into jello. Much more difficult than the books made it out to be–at least for folks my age. But then, I seem to be the only one my age on it!

My friend new friend Dan, sloughing down the slope, above the clouds.

Spent the night in this auberge: pilgrim living, communal style:10 men and women in bunk beds–I don’t have to extend my arm to touch the ceiling. One toliet. Snoring competition at night. The Big American is a snorting walrus, the Japanese make quick grunts like Kung fu fighting, the Korean sounds like he’s walking on hot coals. The Korean girl in the bunk under mine calls me “hi-bed.” So I call her “lo-bed.” She’s very shy. But it makes her smile.

Most pilgrims–myself included–take only 2-3 pairs of everything: t-shirts, socks, underwear, and all quick drying. Laundry becomes a daily ritual.

Some of my fellow “bunk mates” the next morning just before we hit the Camino. Two Koreans, one Japanese, one German.

My half-body close to the ceiling. 

Leaving the next morning in dense fog. Cattle, sheep and horses dot the mountains and they all wear heavy bells, creating a symphony of sounds.

Water! Hmm: the horses are drinking upstream from it!

The border between France and Navarra–Spain. Fastest Customs ever!

Everything aches: legs, feet, back. But made it over and to village of Ronvesvalles and to rest.

After Mass in Ronvesvalles that night, the priest called all the peregrines to the altar for a special blessing. I need it.

Tomorrow we do it all again: Walk. Drink. Eat. Sleep. Repeat…

Next stop: Zubiri. And I thought we were out of the mountains and steep slopes for a while.

Surprise!

One can take the low road in the valley around these mountains…or the Napolean Route over them. Yes, the same route Napolean and Charlemagne and Roland took. Well, that’s for me! Or at least the me that’s thinks he’s still 20 years old.

They said it was steep, but it’s like walking up an incline that if you didn’t lean forward you feel like the weight of your pack will cause you to tumble over backwards! It took me over 3 hours to go just 5 miles. It’s a little more strenuous than I bargained for-/especially since it’s hot and sunny. Where’s the overcast skies the forecast called for? Where the body that I used to have?

Staying overnight at a Mtn refuge. Ten bunk beds in a tight little room. More like a jail cell. I have a top bunk and it’s like being on a submarine. I can touch the ceiling without extending my arm. I hate tight places. I have to see horizons. Even at night. I almost turned around and walked back to St. Jean…but I want to go over the top tomorrow, and Inerd to learn to play the hand Indealt–and to trust in the Camino. So I’ll stick it out. After all, one of the purposes of this trek is to get out of my comfort zone. Check, doing that big time today. And tonight, men and women together in a cell 20×10 maybe and generous. Hmm. Three Japanese men straight out of a kung fu movie.A German woman, a Korean woman, a Japanese woman, another American (I think–he’s passed out on his bunk). And who knows who else will appear. One toliet, a token-taking shower that cuts off after 5 minutes. Ah, is this the life or what?

But the countryside is simply stunning. Green, lush, steep rolling hills nestled in the larger mountains. Takes your breath away. So does the climb. Little did I know that this was just the beginning…

These photos are just from the start of the climb–the first 5 miles.

St. Jean Pied du Port, France is the jumping off place for many pilgrims. I overnight in Bayonne and was going to catch a train to SJPDP, yesterday morning but when I got to the train station I found this protest going on:

Sounded like the French Revolution–fires, cannon-like firecrackers going off. Hey where’s the barricade and singing? I thought I was in a modern version of Le Mis for a moment. Turns out the trains were on strike. Great. I guess this is what is meant by the saying, “the adventure begins when what you planned on doesn’t work.”
On top of that my hiking poles and knife didn’t arrive. I knew I shouldn’t have checked the poles and left the knife at home. British Air promises to get them to my hotel in SJPDP the next day.

St. Jean is stunning, quaint, old, steep, cobblestone ancient. Terrific inexpensive food–not a fast/food joint in sight–the most pleasant people, and wonderful, green countryside and mountains towering over it. And a river runs through it. What more could you ask?

This morning I head to the Pryenees. Over them I hope. Will take 2 days. Rain is forecast. Great. 

British Air sent My hiking poles and knife to Paris, so I hope someone there enjoys them. Darn. That knife has gone everywhere with me. Jack called it the “bear knife” when he was little.

To the mountain!

In London, the weather would affect me negatively. I react strongly to light. If it is cloudy and raining, there are clouds and rain in my soul. –Jerzy Kosinski

Flying business class kinda seems counter to the pilgrim experience…Don’t know if St. James would approve, but surely he would have accumulated lots of Apostle miles and used them when thise were on the edge of expiring…
LHR is a huge airport shopping mall. All the big names. Wanted to get Barbara a little something here:

But didn’t know if she’d like it, so I went next door…

Souvenirs! Now that’s more like it. A shot glass of the Queen Mum, perhaps? 

It’s 5:00 am my time, 5 hours until my flight to Biarritz, Fr. Gotta find a place for some shut eye. Lottsa luck. I’m told 50,000 people a day go through here. I think half of ’em are right were I’m sitting.

Well, departed Barbara and my family and my dog and am now in DFW on board British Air for London.

Am I nuts? How can I be gone 45 days and walk 500+ miles, carrying a way too heavy 20+ lb. pack???

They just handed me the dinner menu.

Well, I guess I’ll stay on board. All my years of travel (some 2 million air miles) are paying off in World Club benefits!

Pushing back! Too late to deplane now…

We need to travel. If we don’t offer ourselves to the Unknown, our senses dull. Our world becomes small and we lose our sense of wonder. Our eyes don’t lift to the horizon; our ears don’t hear the sounds around us. The edge is off our experience and we pass our days in a routine that is both comfortable and limiting. We wake up one day and find we have lost our dreams in order to protect our days.

— Kent Nerburn

My grandson Henry designed the above logo and came up with my Camino name: Don Qui-Joe-te, de La Mancha. Pretty clever lad, that boy! And my grandson Jack helped with the technology to get me started on this blog, otherwise this wouldn’t be here, so thank you Jack, and thank you Henry!

Will spend the rest of today finishing packing–trying to keep my pack to under 20 Lbs.– and taking care of last minute  details, then tomorrow I hit the friendly skies of AA and British Air.

The Apostle James put down his fishing nets and followed Jesus. I am putting my mower in the shed and following in the footsteps of James and thousands of others who have walked 800km on the Camino de Santiago.

Siempre Adelante!

And look who doesn’t want me to leave..,