Well, it has not been my intention to go so long without writing something here.  Mainly because I knew that the more time passed, the more there would be to write about, and I was not wrong.  So many wonderful and amazing things have happened in such a short time on this journey.  There is so much to share, the places we’ve seen, the people sharing this experience with us, and the mental and physical aspects of walking the Camino.

This evening we find ourselves at the municipal albergue in Estella.  It is Friday, five days from when we started on Monday, April 1st.  I mention the day of the week more as a reminder to myself as it has become more and more difficult to keep track of what day it actually is.  Starting on the 1st has made it slightly easier to keep track (i.e., it is April 5th today so we have been walking for five days).

Jen and I spend a considerable amount of time each day recounting our experiences, more adventures really, from the days before.  Like an old retired couple out for a walk in the morning we say things to each other like, “remember when Ulli said this,” or “wasn’t it funny yesterday when this happened to Henrique?”  To which the other person will say, “that wasn’t yesterday, that was the day before.”  “It was?” comes the response.  “Yeah, remember?  That happened when we were at Albergue San Nicolas.”  “Oh, yeah, you’re right.  Now I remember.”  And so it goes.

At this moment, one of those experiences is happening right now.  I am sitting at a large table in a communal kitchen at the albergue while people from at least seven different countries cook meals for each other: Italy (who are singing Italian songs), France, Germany, Korea, England, Canada, and us Americans.  There’s spaghetti, sushi, salad, fried eggs and pasta, and, of course, wine.  We’ve all gone shopping separately to cook for ourselves but we share the kitchen, the giant table, the wine, and though we don’t all speak the same language, we share the stories from our time on the Camino so far (the wine helps with this part).

Only five days ago, we were sharing a meal with fellow pilgrims in Roncesvalles.  Everyone, though exhausted, was in good spirits and celebrating crossing over the Pyrenees.  From St. Jean-Pied-de-Port to Roncesvalles was 24.7 km of brutal climbing over the pass at 1429 meters.  It was overcast and raining in the morning.

The steep switch back before reaching Orrison, only 7.7 km from St. Jean, had young and old questioning their life choices.  But a hot cup of coffee at the cozy café and some bread with jamón and cheese rejuvenated us for the rest of the climb.  After Orrison the rain abated but the temperature dropped as the altitude increased.  Above the clouds moving through the valleys, we marveled at how high we had climbed in such little time.  Soon, sooner than we thought, we were crossing into Spain, walking through snow and thick piles of leaves, pushing on to the last uphill climb before our steep decent into Roncesvalles.

We left St. Jean at 0730, stopped in Orrison for café and just before Croix Thibaut for a picnic on the side of the trail, and descended into Roncesvalles by 1500.  There were a good number of pilgrims ahead of us in line when the albergue opened and many, many more that trickled in as the afternoon wore on.  At 1900 we all converged on the local restaurant serving the “pilgrim menu” to replenish the carbs we burned over the pass.  Though we all started about the same, and finished within hours of each other, the stories we told varied wildly.  So we shared, and we toasted, and we ate, and we toasted, and when the wine ran out we asked for another bottle, and continued sharing and toasting as before.  We had completed, arguably, the hardest part of the Camino and, though we were exhausted and in physical pain, we were proud, verbally patting each other on the back because we were too sore to actually physically pat each other on the back.

And now it is day five.  Roncesvalles seems like ages ago.  Since then we have walked to and stayed the night in the small village of Larrasoaña, Cizur Menor outside of Pamplona, the city of Puerto la Reina, and now Estella.  We have kept pace with some pilgrims whom we see every night at the albergue.  Others we have left behind only to find them on the trail days later, greeting them like lifelong friends returned from the sea.  The days have been spent telling stories of home, work, your “real” life.  You share our physical pains, mostly foot pain of some kind, but also some mental pain, which is why we walk the Camino in the first place.  We are strangers in a strange and marvelous land.  We are pilgrims.  We are familia.

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This is only day five.  All going well, we have thirty more days with our new family.  What will this be like then?

Buen Camino!

P.S. – Sorry, no pictures on this post yet.  The free WiFi at this albergue does not like the file sizes I’m trying to upload.  I’ll try to update later with pictures.

P.P.S – Day 6 and the WiFi at Los Arcos is much better so I’ve updated this post with pictures.  Enjoy!