My twice thwarted Camino, or travelling small towns of Spain that are on the Camino Frances - the day before the day before.

 In 2020, Covid derailed my intention to complete the French Camino.  It took 3 years to get back on track, and 2023 was going to be the year that I walked from St Jean to Santiago and then onto Fisterre.

Everything was on track, with 3 weeks to go before my flights.  I was training regularly on the weekends getting the kilometres into my feet, trialling shoes, socks, strapping and blister control measures.  One Friday I decided to park at the local shopping centre, bus it to work and then walk home, so I would have 3 days of walking in a row over the weekend.  I’d walked 3 days the previous weekend, so it was just consolidating with some multi-day feet conditioning.

The walk back to my car was only 8km, along footpaths from work to Carindale.  I began to feel some pain in my right foot at the 6km mark, and experienced debilitating cramps in both calves at the 7km mark.  I didn’t think much of it, as I knew that the walking on concrete wasn’t the best option given that I was wearing my hiking shoes, and figured that a night’s rest would see improvement.  By 9pm that night, I couldn’t weight-bear on that foot, and was using crutches to mobilise around the house.

First thing next morning I took myself to an acupuncturist - which was the only thing that had managed my plantar issues after my first schoolies trip with Jordan.  I spent the next three weeks having acupuncture 3 times a week, with nothing really taking the edge off, until my final session, when my therapist tried a different technique and I felt the tension in my foot ease.  Suddenly there was hope that this was all going to work out.

As described in a previous blog, the first four nights were spent in London, then three nights in Paris, before we began the trek to St Jean Pied de Port.  Ok, it’s not really a trek - it’s a fast train ride to Bayonne and a second train ride to St Jean, except when it’s not!  

At Gare Montparnasse in Paris, Rach and I realised that I had booked a first class ticket, while she was in economy.  Our train rides were very different - hers involved rude travellers pushing her over while mine involved the luxury of a single seat, plenty of leg room and a cute puppy travelling with her owner.

We arrived in Bayonne and used our limited French to understand that we would be catching a coach to St Jean instead of a train.  The journey wound up and around gorgeous mountains, and would have been relatively peaceful if not for the mandatory warnings that sent every traveller’s phone into a cacophony of sound as we were alerted to a significant storm warning in the region.

On arrival to St Jean train station, we walked about ten minutes to our accommodation, Chemins d’Elika.  The hotel was a beautiful old house set on the high point of the Rue de la Citadelle, only a short walk to the start of the Camino.  The only drawback - I had to carry my suitcase up 3 levels to get to my room!  But what a view I had from the top - the most beautiful gardens, looking up to the Citadelle, with large French doors opening up onto a deck.  While laying in bed, I could see the gardens, the mountains and the sky beyond - such a wonderful way to start this adventure.

Our first night’s dinner was at Comme A La Maison - a pilgrim’s meal of three courses with a glass of wine.  I know I had the carbonara pasta and a nice dessert, but I can’t for the life of me remember what my main meal was!  I do however remember that the wine was good!

In bed that night, I lay listening to the storm breaking outside.  My room was not air conditioned, and it had been a 30+ degree day, so I had the French doors (are they still called French doors when they are in France, or are they just doors?) wide open, but with the shutters closed to prevent any rain blowing into the room.

Spoiler alert - tomorrow I’ll be exploring St Jean!

MTTC - the day before

 St Jean Pied de Port is such a beautiful village, set in the hills on the French side of the Pyrenees mountains on the banks of the River Nive.  It is one of the cities where many pilgrims commence the the French Camino.

We spent the morning exploring the Citadelle (which has been converted to a school) and its surrounds, a short walk along the river and out to the road where our camino would begin the next day.  We visited the pilgrim office to get our passports stamped (as you progress on the Way, cafes, hotels and visitor information centres, along with other businesses, have stamps that they use to mark the passport to show your passage).  We registered our intention to walk to Santiago, checked the weather forecast and visited the grocery store to get some supplies for the next day’s walking.

Lunch was a simple fare of local cheese and baguette, as we had decided to splurge a little on dinner at a small, family-run restaurant just down from our accommodation.  Le chat perche was everything we could have hoped for, delicious food, local wine and a rude customer who was shown the door for her behaviour.

After lunch we explored along the river and walked to the Y in the road where the Camino separates onto the two routes to Ronscevalles.  The upper route, that takes you to through Orisson and over the Pyrenees - approximately 18k of uphill walking followed by 7km of downhill into our first night’s stop.  The lower route (Valcarlos), while longer, is less hilly, not as picturesque and the option taken during winter months when snow and weather on the mountains close the upper pass, rending it impassable.  We are here only 4 weeks prior to the closure period, and the weather, while hot and sunny can turn bad quickly.  We have already had many alerts about storms and warnings about the hot weather.  The next day’s forecast is for rain so the wet weather gear is packed at the top of our bags ready to be taken out as soon as it is needed.

With another hearty dinner under our belts, we returned to our rooms and began the preparation for the beginning of our long journey. Tomorrow will be the day!

 

It’s been a minute - checking in on the trail

To say it has been an interesting couple of weeks is an understatement.  I had always thought of myself as quite self-aware and self-observant, however it took flying 17000km across the world, dropping myself in a non-English speaking country away from my nearest and dearest for life to give me a good hard slap upside the head and let me know there was something going on.

It has been a hard slog since that day.  I have been regularly doing some mindfulness exercises and following a strict night time routine so that I am getting the sleep my body needs to recover.  These little routines also help with the positive self-talk and orders my thoughts.  While my brain hasn’t completely allowed itself to shut down, it is quieter and in a more enjoyable space than it was.

Initially my brain was in free fall.  I couldn’t concentrate, wasn’t taking in anything around me, and was just subsisting from minute to minute counting down the days, the minutes, the seconds until I was flying home.  But then a wise little chicken (Jordan), gave me a good stern talking to from afar, and recommended an app that had helped her through some dark times.  It’s such a simple technique, reflecting at the end of the day on three positive things that I had noticed, and how they made me feel.  Initially a lot of those things were related to home - calls from the kids, talking to Brendon, messages from friends on all the socials, but that has evolved to the beauty around me - roses, people, all manner of things here in real time.  It has been so effective and now I find myself noting things that I’m grateful for, without having to spend much time thinking about it at night.

The dark cloud that was following my every move is lifting, and I have started enjoying my time here in Spain, exploring with my camera, taking photos of all of the unique little things that catch my eye, and enjoying the culture and the food.  Especially the food!  I have a list of Spanish dishes that I am going to try to cook when I return home, with pulpo (octopus) at the top of the list.

The people here are so generous and friendly - and I have to remind myself that even the grumpy looking old men have the most beautiful countenances when you ask them a question.  While being immersed in such fast-speaking Spanish-speakers has not improved my listening to Spanish, I was chuffed to be able to answer some basic questions today when I visited the tourist office here in town.  “A donde esta” Australia.  “Que lugar” Brisbane.  There is that brief moment of processing and then it comes easily enough to answer without too much lag!

We have had some absolutely beautiful hotels, a few middle of the road, the occasional “hostel” accommodation, but always friendly and helpful hosts.  I have been making notes as I go, so there will be something about them all no doubt in later posts.

But until then, for those who have been a bit concerned, I am ok.  I have a week until we arrive in Santiago, a few days there, then my 4 days in Finisterre, where I have a couple of day trips planned, and then 4 days in Madrid before heading back to Brisbane.  I am looking forward to the rest of the trip and while still missing my family, am keen to see the rest of Spain that is ahead of us.  My foot is still not up to much walking other than around the local villages and towns, but my camera keeps me occupied and there’s always a church, castle or cathedral to be visited.

There is still plenty of work to be done, and it will be some time before I think I will have processed this holiday, but as they say, the camino will provide a cure, if only you listen.

Spain - some interesting observations and talking points

I have since re-branded My Camino Adventure, to My Tour of Small Towns of Spain following the Camino Frances.  I am adapting to catching buses, cabs and trains, and am practicing my Spanish with the locals, who, like most native speakers in their country, both appreciate the attempts, but delight in the misuse of their language!

Life in Spain is a little different to back home.  For a start, everything starts later.  We are staying in hotels,  so our breakfasts are a little earlier than traditional Spanish breakfasts, which begin around 10am - which is when all of the cafes and shops open in the towns.  They stay open until about 2pm and then close for 2-3 hours and reopen at 5pm, usually with only drinks and pinchos - pre-made delicacies served on bread.  Dinner services start around 8pm, so you can always tell the businesses that serve tourists as their kitchens open at about 6.30/7.00pm.

The Spanish culture appears to be based around community, with beautiful squares that cities and towns are built around.  The squares are surrounded by cafes, bars and restaurants, the kids play in the square while mum and dad enjoy a drink and food, and they are a bustling hive of activity.  This is where I find myself most days after I’ve travelled to my next destination, and it’s an excellent place to people-watch as I wait for my room to be ready.

Public toilets are not a big feature in every town.  The larger places (Pamplona, Logroño, Burgos) have all had readily available public services.  But the smaller towns do not, which means that you are usually obliged to buy something from the local eateries to use their toilets.  On the other hand, water fountains are found freely around the city, and they are accessed by tourists and locals alike.  The irony is not lost that there is plenty of free water with no easy access to loos!

The cities have narrow streets that allows small cars and delivery vans right into the heart of the squares, which are all shared zones with pedestrians.  Drivers here are much more patient, and will give just a light toot on the horn to get walkers to move aside, and pedestrians are pretty good at moving over.  It is something to see with the courtesy and respect shown - something that I can’t imagine seeing in Australia.  

The same can be said for cyclists.  Some of the roads between towns just barely have room for two cars to pass.  The bus drivers will wait patiently behind cyclists riding two abreast until they can clearly see it is safe to move to the other side of the road to pass, there are no horns involved and no anger from the drivers.  It really is something to see.

Speed bumps are merely a suggestion here - I’ve seen drivers barely slow down to approach them, and speed limits are also really only a suggestion on the highway - but if you are in the towns, you will be pinged if you speed, as the streets are so narrow you need to be able to correct quickly if there is pedestrian around a corner or a truck coming the other way.  In some towns, I’ve seen cars have to back 200m back down a street as the bus is as wide as the street and there is only about 20cm each side of the bus to buildings, which come right down to the edge of the street.

The Spanish people are so friendly - they all want to help (even if they have no English), and I love that when I speak haltingly in Spanish, they speak quickly back with the expectation that I understand everything they say!!!  At our hotel in Carrion de Los Condes, our host had no English and I had to order a cab for the first time.  Cue “Yo necesito tomar un taxi manaña” “ah si, a que hora” “a los diez por favor” and then there was a string of questions where I looked confused until he said “Donde?” and I could answer my destination.  

The food here is absolutely amazing, and while you can get relatively Western fare (burgers fries etc), they all come with a Spanish twist.  I particularly loved Burgos, as the food there was next level.  Pulpo (octopus), seafood pizza, marinara ensalada, bocadillos (subs with tuna and anchovies), and the pinchos - oh my.  One of them was a salmon mousse topped with squid tentacles and prawns - it was just the most amazing burst of flavour.  However if you’re after fresh vegetables, they are few and far between.  Most dinners come with fries or peppers, we have only had broccoli, carrot or cauliflower once so far, but it tasted fantastic after so much bread with every meal.  

Even breakfast is very different to home (god I miss Vegemite).  Lots of sweet options - croissants, pan au chocolate, cakes, heavy breads with butter and jam.  Then the savoury options - cheese, ham, turkey, salami, sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs.  Occasionally cereal, and always coffee and orange juice.  It’s quite a spread each day to choose from.

There is a real distinction between supermarkets, convenience stores and food stores.  You won’t find many supermarkets with pre-made sandwiches or rolls, or cold drinks.  If you want food or drinks like that, you go to a cafe or bar.  Convenience stores will have a small store of cold drinks, usually not the whole range they stock, and let me tell you, Coca-Cola has an absolute monopoly in this country.  I am yet to find a cold bottle of Pepsi Max anywhere in this country.  I have to buy it hot at the supermarket and hope that the next hotel has a fridge to get it cold.  So far I think I am about 4/18 on fridges in hotels, so it’s not good odds!

Tomorrow we head into the big smoke - Leon (that’s Lion in English), where I have a rest day which coincides with my beloved Brisbane Lions playing in the AFL Grand Final at 6.30am local time.  I’ve scouted out some librerías (book stores) that have an English language section, so I can stock up on a couple of books for the beach in just over a fortnight.  I’ve been doing some work for my mental health, mainly some meditations, getting a sleep routine in play (thanks Auntie Liz for the suggestion), and some positive thought affirmations, and gratitude work to build some resilience when it all goes pear-shaped.  And I’ve been doing all I can to try to rehab this foot of mine, but it is proving stubborn.

Until next time, enjoy just a small selection of pretty things I’ve seen or eaten over the last couple of weeks.

The time has come, my friends…

It’s 9.17am on Saturday 23rd September and I need to put some stuff into the universe.

Yesterday was my first day on the bike and while I was hoping the foot would cope, it did not. 50km of mtb riding up hill and down dale, pushing up some of the steeper sections and wash outs with panniers on my bike and wearing bike shoes has inflamed it further.

It started as a beautiful ride - winding out of the city of Logroño with a final destination of Santo Domingo de la Calzada.  The head wind wasn’t too bad at 9am but it was constant all day, topping out at 20km/h making for a mind-challenge all day - it was relentless.

My lack of prep on the bike was evident (and the fact that we should have opted for e-bikes!) and after another horrible night’s sleep, I left the bike at the hotel and found myself with the other injured pilgrims on the bus.

They say that the Camino provides answers for those who seek them.  I am not in a good place either mentally or physically and I know that that is the Camino telling me to step back and work on myself to get to a place of peace.  

My anxiety has been rampant the last three weeks, I am not sleeping well, find it difficult to eat in the mornings after my brain has been churning all night, stirring the anxiety further - and I know I am putting a load on myself having failed to find the joy in this adventure I thought I would.

My preparation has been well less than what I had hoped, injury has hampered me further and I think the last few years of trauma that was pushed down as far as it could go is beginning to manifest in my body.  My back is out, one hip is aching, both feet have their individual issues and my shoulder that was reconstructed last year is throbbing.  My brain won’t switch off at night and I spend every night tossing and turning and not getting enough quality sleep.

My idea of walking and riding the Camino is at an end. My idea now is to find transport between towns for the rest of the journey, in the hopes I can salvage something from this mess. I am still in Spain, seeing new sites and having a break but I am counting down the days til I reach Santiago and then instead of walking to Finisterre I have booked a bus to take me there three days earlier where I will spend four days by the beach, reading books, eating sea food and cheering on my walk/ride buddy Racheal, who is smashing her goals every day.

I’m going to be ok and I’m hoping by putting this out there I will be able to manage some of the anxiety that is ruling my gut. I have some Plan Bs and Cs if this doesn’t work and I am fully supported by our on-site travel coordinator who finds me buses and taxis to get from place to place.

The irony is not lost on me that I brought a shirt with me that promotes my friend’s foundation promoting mental health.  The slogan (from memory - my luggage hasn’t arrived yet for me to check), is “Mental Health starts with a chat.”  I wish I had started this conversation a bit earlier. 

Social media is so often about the highs and not quite so much about the lows. Well, I need to share the lows - it’s not always sunshine and lollipops.

Pamplona to Logroño - I need to write a book

To say that this is not what I pictured for my Camino adventure is an understatement.  It’s got me thinking I need to write a book - “My Camino, My Way - the tale of a middle-aged woman’s twice thwarted Camino.”  Along with quirky anecdotes and observations, I will give advice on the best buses to take, where to loiter until it’s time to check in to your hotel and how to make the most of being the first into town every day!

On the Sunday we left Pamplona, I was determined to walk.  It was a 24k day, my foot had settled somewhat into a dull throb with each step, so Rach and I set off at 8am ready for the day ahead.

With my dodgy tummy, I had only been able to stomach 2 slices of watermelon for breakfast, but I took 2 bananas for the walk, and had plenty of hydrolite on board should I need some further sustenance.  We would also pass through a couple of tiny villages on the way, where there was usually a “tienda” open for pilgrims to purchase food and drinks.

The walk out of Pamplona took us through the University of Navarra grounds along concrete paths and onto roads that eventually took us off-road and walking through the rural countryside.  Our half-way point today was the Alto del Perdón at 750m, so over 12ish km we gained about 310m.  Not a hard slog, but a good uphill walk the entire time.   

The countryside is peppered with old manor houses and castles at what feels like every turn.  The foot was holding up ok until about the 8k mark, when the heel went rock hard and each step is like weight-bearing into a heavily stone-bruised heel.  A quick rest, more anti-inflammatory meds and magnesium on board, and just before the crest I stopped for another drink.  There was a lovely American, Julie, a speech pathologist, resting on the benches who complimented my hair, and as happens constantly along the camino, we got chatting.  I told her about my foot, how much I was struggling with missing my family and not walking like I had intended and she offered me some really sound advice.  She said to let the feelings flow, to set an intention each day, and work just to fulfil that intention.  Her intention that day was to think of her husband as she walked.  She acknowledged the toll of the last few years on healthcare workers and their families and we talked about doing what we can with what we have.

At the top of the hill, as we approached the iron sculptures of pilgrims set along the ridge, Julie made a point of taking my camera and snapping some pics of me.  She said you may not want those photos now, but you might in future, and she of course was right.  On the ridge above the trail it is dotted with wind turbines - there are so many of them across the country, it’s great to see them embracing this alternative fuel source.

At the summit we also had the chance to see the forecasted storm and rainy weather that was starting to roll across the countryside.  The descent back down to our starting altitude was done in just 2km, with some steep downhill on loose stones (not gravel, big rocks!)  The wind began to blow and the rain set in, making it a slow descent to ensure ankles remained intact.  Some sections had oversized step-downs that were actually more difficult to manoeuvre than the rocks themselves.  Add in the rain, and it made for a challenging couple of kms.  

The last 9km was relatively uneventful, making our way through 3 villages before finishing in Puente La Reina.  I walked the last 5km in my sandals in the hope of easing the heel spur and plantar (no luck) and walked the last 2km with a nice Canadian named Vincent.  It is always interesting to talk to people along the way about their camino, their motivation and how they are finding the journey.  And it is so easy to share our stories - there are many fellow pilgrims along the way who have learned about our family’s journey over the last 2 and a half years, and I’ve learned about some of the hardships that others have faced.

We had a lovely hotel in Puente La Reina, built in one of the old buildings.   It was cosy buy comfy (think a monk’s cell with ensuite!) and after a visit to the market (a daily occurrence to get supplies for the next day of walking), we had a walk around the town, including the medieval bridge out of town that was the start of the next day’s walk.

Dinner was the absolute highlight of the day, eating at La Conrada.  We have found in Spain that traditionally there are three courses offered for a set price, with multiple options for each course.  This meal we decided to order off the menu and we chose Patatas Bravas (Spicy Potatoes) and Ensalada con Atún (Tuna Salad) to share, and I chose the Pulpo a la Plancha (Octopus) and Rach had a spicy sausage dish - Chistorra a Navarre.  

The pulpo was the best thing I have ever eaten - a tender, smoky-paprika seafood dish with the consistency of chicken breast, but smooth and easy to chew.  The suckers had been baked to the point that they were deliciously crunchy.  While Navarre isn’t the traditional home of the pulpo recipe, they did it proud, and while I’m a bit worried about trying it again and having it disappoint, we have been assured by our fellow walker Benjamin from Hungary, that the pulpo in Galicia is next level.

No walking for me after that long day for three days, so I’ve become an expert bus-taker, and have had ample opportunities to practice my very limited Spanish, including a last minute check that made sure I got off the wrong bus that was headed back to Pamplona from Estella!

Estella was a lovely city, and we have been fortunate that all of our hotels are either on the Camino or a block from, so there is always a flow of pilgrims walking by, making it relatively easy to work out where we are walking.  We stayed right next to the Iglesia de San Miguel.  The one thing you get used to very quickly in Spain is a ringing bell on the half hour and chimes on the hour.  Just like traffic noise in the city, you leant to tune it out pretty quickly.  Dinner in Estella was pate, pan and queso (pate, bread and cheese) from the local supermarket, as I had eaten a restaurant meal at lunch and wasn’t hungry.  Followed that up with a local-made ice-cream (roché flavoured).  

The Spanish can pick the foreigners pretty quickly, as they are the ones eating early, in bed early and up early.  They are also the ones foraging around for something to eat right in the middle of siesta.  Our host in Los Arcos (actually we were in Mues as there were no hotels available in Los Arcos), had us scheduled for a 6.30pm dinner (we have been eating at 8/9pm most nights), and chuckled as she told us that the Spanish eat at 10pm.  This was proven pretty quickly as our hotel was the only bar and restaurant in the town, and the locals were partaking of the hotel’s wares until about 11pm last night.  To be fair, it’s daylight until 8.15pm, so its easy to see why you would eat later.  And the sun doesn’t get up until about 7.45, so breakfasts earlier than 8am are also rare, and are usually only set up for pilgrims leaving hotels to get on the road.

Today’s bus brought me to Logroño, which is right in the middle of the San Mateo Festival.  Fireworks tonight are at 11.00pm and there is a concert that begins at 12!  I lined up in one of the main squares today for approximately 45 minutes for the chance to buy a Chistorra y Jamón en Pan (sausage and bacon on bread) and a bottle of celebratory wine for 3 Euro - I’ll give the Europeans one thing, they know how to queue.

So while the walking has been limited the adventure continues as I eat my way across the countryside.  We are on bikes tomorrow, and leave Logroño on Friday, covering two stages most days to get us across the country a little faster.  I figure I’ll treat this just like I would a Cycle Queensland (without Russell telling me where to go, or Phoebe’s smile at the end of the ride) and it should be all good.

Until then, adios y hasta luego.

St Jean Pied de Port to Pamplona - the Camino Gives and the Camino Takes Away.

It was four years ago that my walking buddy, Rach and I decided we wanted to do the Camino.  We were all booked for September 2020 when that virus which will not be named threw a spanner in the works and forced a re-think of the world.  Fast forward to 2023, and we are finally here in France ready to embark on our Camino adventure.

I never thought undertaking this would be anything other than a walking adventure for me.  I’m not religious (more atheist leaning than agnostic) and never really thought of myself as particularly spiritual.  This was all about the walking for me.

I was being organised with my training, spending weekends out on local trails getting the hours under my feet, testing different setups with shoes and equipment to give myself the best advantage as we crept closer to our September starting point. 

Three weeks out, a routine training walk (8km from PA Hospital to Carindale Shopping Centre) completely derailed any further training, with a heel spur and plantar fasciitis wreaking havoc on my right arch and heel.  I was doing everything to get it right, rolling with a frozen bottle of water, rolling with a spiky ball, TENS machine, acupuncture, physio - scouring the internet for things that worked.

It seemed to be coming along slowly, and by the time I landed in London, I felt like I might be able to continue on this adventure.

Our first night’s accommodation was the Chemins D’Elika in St Jean - a gorgeous old home converted to hotel rooms - mine being on the 2nd floor up two gigantic flights of stairs, now I know why the tour agency said to pack light!  The room was absolutely magical, with a beautiful big set of doors that opened onto the gardens, a balcony, shutters - everything you could imagine of a medieval building with the added bonus of running water.  At night it was so silent you might think you had gone deaf - with nary a noise to be heard.  Waking during the night I looked out to a sky full of stars - no light pollution here to mar the celestial map overhead.  

The morning that we began our walk in St Jean, I confidently elected to take the longer, harder Napoleon route, a mistake I realised within the first hour of walking.  In that time, my heel began to tighten, then throb and then spasm, with waves of pain on each step.  As I limped into the albergue in Orisson (8.3km into a 24km day), I realised that that was the end of my first day, there was no way I could continue another 12km uphill then the steepish descent into Roncesvalles.  As I waited for Jean-Paul to collect me in the shuttle to take me onto the first night’s hotel, my foot was throbbing in time with my heartbeat, and I couldn’t help feeling like a failure.  Day 1 and I hadn’t even made it half way.    In my mind, I kept thinking I could have pushed on, but being the hero on Day 1 could also have ended my entire Camino.  If only I had taken the Valcarlos Route, I may not have been in this jam!

My walking buddy kept reminding me to be kind to myself, my best bud back in Brisbane was giving me pep talks, Brendon was talking me off the ledge and the irony wasn’t lost on me that I was wearing my Silver Fox Foundation shirt which proclaims that “Mental Health Begins with a Chat” on the back.  

I did find a couple of friends as I waited at Orisson, Giselle, who was from Puerto Rico and Diane, a fellow Aussie who was ready to give her body a rest after the hard start to the day.  I added her to my booking and we sat chatting while we waited to be picked up.  Getting the shuttle wasn’t all bad - we drove up to the cross on the Camino to collect another traveller and then back down the mountain to Roncesvalles, complete with a stop to give a mountain pony a rub on the nose as he approached our car.  Honestly, I felt sorry for Napoleon’s troops who did this trail across the Pyrenees - it wasn’t a walk in the park by any means!

With the hopes of restrapping and rehabbing my foot for the next day, I began to feel the first signs of my anxiety reaction kicking in.  Nauseated, gut churning, appetite lost - all bad signs when you need to be loading for the next day’s walk.  Dinner at Hotel Roncesvalles (seated next to Marv, a delightful nurse from Canada) was delicious though and I managed to partake of all three courses - scallop gratin, baked salmon and brownie with ice cream before turning in for a reasonable night’s sleep.  The rooms were lovely and roomy, with their own ensuites and a bonus lift!  The building is a restored medieval hospital that was next to the monastery (which is now an albergue).

Highlight of the afternoon was watching both Friends and Big Bang Theory dubbed in Spanish.  Safe to say that that 3 years of Duolingo was not enough to understand the shows, and there were no English captions, but fun to watch anyway.

Woke up with no noticeable difference in the foot, so bit the bullet and caught the bus to Akerreta.  I’d given myself a good talking to, cut myself some slack and realised that a lot of my anxiety is not only based on what others think, but what I think of myself, and I realised there is only one of those narratives I can control.  So my new mantra is “My Camino, My Way” so if the foot is bad, I listen to my body and I take the bus.

Which turned out to be a bit of a blessing, as I saw so many others who opted to do so as well, for many reasons - injury, time available to complete the journey, skipping sections that were more difficult or long between towns - and not one of those people was sitting in judgement of anyone else.  As my walking buddy noted, this is all unfolding for a reason, and this may well be what I need to do to find my way.

I got off the bus at Larrasoaña, a small village in Navarre and only a short walk up the hill to Akerreta.  Being 10am, it was far too early to check in, so I sat at the albergue in Larrasoaña for a little while before a short walk around the village looking for a shop - which did not open until 1.30pm.  So I took myself over the medieval bridge, and up the hill to Hotel Akerreta, a stately old home built in 1732.  It featured in the movie “The Way” starring Martin Sheen and Emilio Esteves.  As I opened the gate, a head bobbed out of the window and questioned “Si?”  All of my Spanish disappeared and I stumbled through “Yo tengo una reserva para esta noche”.  She responded with yes, check in is 2pm, so I hurriedly asked if I could just sit in the garden, which was met with a smile and a nod.  

As 2pm approached, Josef, the host came out and apologised that the floors were still wet, could I wait.  He gave me the wifi password and was accommodating and friendly for our whole stay.  I checked in and then ventured back to the “supermarket” in town, which was more like the convenience store you would find at the caravan park as a kid - but run by a friendly gentleman who asked where I was from, asked me how I could sleep there (to which he noted that our Beds are Burning) and then serenaded me with “Never Tear Us Apart” by INXS.  I asked him if he had songs for every country and he said he tried!  He served the customer in front of my speaking with a German accent, and I asked if he had an Aussie one for me. Try as he might it wasn’t quite right, and he told me about these bush Aussies who had visited recently - “I couldn’t understand them at all, they spoke a different kind of English.”

Dinner at the hotel was another 3 course affair with a delightful Spanish red included in the price.  Tonight’s menu - pasta carbonara (divine), slow-cooked steak in a red wine jus with potatoes and cheese and quince paste.  Truly delicious, and only available to those staying in the hotel - those pilgrims in the albergue were sure missing out!

A lovely conversation over dinner with Rob and Libby from Melbourne, and then a good night’s sleep before once again my walking buddy was off on the trail, and I was down to the bus stop.

Now this is where the story takes a turn.  After a stilted conversation with a couple of women who wanted to know where the bus stop was, I was able to convince them that the bus did indeed stop at this place at just before 10am.  However with 20 minutes to go before it was due, a white bus/van pulled up and the women asked if they were going to Pamplona.  When the driver confirmed, they jumped on and he asked if I was going with them.  Told him no I would wait for the bus.  Two reasons - I had no idea what company he was from and no idea how much it would cost, but pretty sure it would be more than the 2 Euros that the bus was going to cost. 

Shortly after, two more peregrinos suggested that that was the bus and I had missed my opportunity.  I assured them I caught said bus yesterday, and that that wasn’t it. They insisted it was, and I began to doubt myself (Why? Who knows?) That doubt stayed for quite some time as the bus ended up being about 25 minutes late and I did have a panic moment.  There was also another incident which I’m not quite ready to share yet - nothing major, just majorly embarrassing and I need to be in the right mood to share.

So onto the bus, and into Pamplona, where I have spent the morning wandering around, taking in the sights and getting a feel for this beautifully huge city.  Of note - there are not a lot of immediately obvious public toilets here.  After a drink and a snack, I spent about 15 minutes trying to find a bathroom to no avail.  So at 12pm I rushed as fast as my dodgy foot would let me, to the hotel, where I told them I had a reservation, knew I couldn’t book in early but could I use the bathroom.  Thankfully they agreed, my room was ready, so I killed two birds with one stone.  Now sitting on my balcony watching the world go by, journaling and blogging.  Dinner joint has been chosen, and a rest day tomorrow to explore.  Seems a bit trite to have a rest day after two rest days, but I don’t make the rules!

Hasta Mañana (until tomorrow).