Days 19 and 20 – The ‘Big Decision’, grit and grime.

Approaching the half way point and agonising over the Big Decision. Whether to carry straight on or to turn left.. To remain with my companions or to strike out alone.  To finish the Camino del Norte or transfer to the Camino Primitivo. There were pros and cons for both scenarios, but ultimately it turned out to be an easier decision than envisaged. 

Parting of the ways

 

I’d originally planned to do the Primitivo as it goes more into the heartland and hills of Northern Spain and offers greater solitude. But that was at a time when this was likely to be my one and only Camino. It won’t be. One day I’ll return and take on the Primitivo. This time around I’ll finish the Norte. 

I think my companions were happy with the decision… I daren’t ask them (!), but it does make booking accommodation easier as a ‘four’.  My fear was that walking as a small group restricts the opportunities to meet other peregrinos, and this is true when we book private accommodation such as tonight, but not when staying at albergues. Anyway, we’re not exactly falling over each other on the trails and respect each others’ need for private time. 

Tonight’s accommodation is fabulous and cheap. A 3 bed apartment for just 60 euros for the 4 of us, we really needed somewhere special to stay, ideally with a washing machine after yesterday’s endeavours, and this ticks every box. 

Yesterday was the worst day by far and not one to be repeated.  The route between Gijon and Alvilés passes directly by the industrial grime of the heavy industry prevalent in this part of Spain.  Fifty chimneys belching clouds of smoke in 50 shades of grey. 

In the morning the wind and light drizzle were hitting our faces as we walked straight towards these massive plants. The acrid smell stuck in my lungs and breathing was uncomfortable. Buildings, roads, even the flora and fauna seemed impregnated with a ferrous coloured grime. Many houses were empty and derelict. It was almost like a post apocalyptic movie set. 

On a serious note, it is no surprise that this area of Spain was recently designated one of the pollution hot spots of Western Europe and male life expectancy in the region is the lowest in Spain. 

As we approached Alvilés the story was similar. It’s amazing these plants still operate. I’m sure they’d be shut down in th UK, there was no sign of modernisation anywhere. 

Yer even during as foul a day’s walking as this, there were high points. The local population in Asturia really seem to embrace peregrinos and cannot be more helpful in showing us the way, even walking with us to make sure we’re on track.  In the heart of the industrial mire, we came across this little ‘aid post’ for pilgrims.  Incredibly thoughtful and kind, which uplifted our spirits during this dire section of the Camino.  

Free supplies for needy peregrinos

Our lodgings for the night were surrounded by high rise apartment blocks in the outskirts of Alvilés: we hardly ventured out after checking in and were glad to be on the move today. We were surprised what a pleasant contrast the centre of the town was in comparison with its surrounds and that helped set up today’s much more pleasant walking to our excellent accommodation tonight. 

Alvilés centre

We’ve so far been unable to find suitable accommodation for tomorrow night… Oh well, another day, another challenge! 

Days 15 to 18 – Snails, slugs and ear worm

During the early days of the Camino, my rucksack weighed heavily on my back. Although it’s packed weight is only 9kgs, with water, food, extra meds and the essential  purchase of a new pair of sandals, it’s total weight is closer to 12kgs. 

It was my cross to bear, always conscious of its presence but carried without complaint, accepting that’s how it is supposed to be.  Yet after 2 weeks on the Way, it no longer feels like a burden. 

We have morphed into a small ‘escargatoire’ of snails, carrying our homes on our backs.  No longer do rucksacks weigh us down, they have become an integral part of us, our life support system containing all we need to survive. 

At nighttime we shed our homes and become slugs as we meander into town for dinner, fatigued with aching limbs, searching for nourishment. 

30 km days have become the norm and with feet that are much better managed and our loads feeling a part of us, it is easier to take in all the fabulous sights and scenery around us 

We’ve been roaming much deeper into Asturia, flanked by the Picos de Europa mountains to our left and the Atlantic to our right, and after 7 days and 210 more kms in the legs, we have halted for a well earned break in Gijon.

There is plenty of time for solitary walking during the day, and I’m being repeatedly attacked by a condition known as ‘ear worm’ , a blight that affects all peregrinos. Ear worm is highly contagious and once caught is virtually impossible to remove during the Camino.   It can best be described as the song that never leaves your head, that marches in time with you. 

For me, it is Tony Christie / Peter Kay’s ‘Is this the way to Amarillo?’ Or rather: ‘Is this the way to Santiago?’, which has a great cadence when walking on flat terrain or downhill, but doesn’t work so well when plodding slowly uphill. 

The Proclaimers’ ‘I would walk 500 miles’ works too and has a certain significance, being just short of the distance of the Norte.  And somehow the Beatles ‘Eight days a week’ remains stuck in my head.

We are still broadly following the coast and our arrival at the Albergue Juvenil in Ribadesella was a revelation. In this impressive building, set right on the sea front, we had a private room – or as private as a shared room with 4 former strangers can be! On opening the bedroom door we were greeted with the view below. “Wow!” was the collectice exclamation.  We had a great evening in Ribadesella. 

After 2 weeks of walking we’re pretty good at finding the route signs but somehow we still managed to end up lost in a field the other day. We strode on in a general westerly direction and several fields later I looked behind to see a trail of peregrinos following us. The blind following the blind. Gamely pretending we knew the way, we confidently carried on and sure enough, after a few kms we reassuringly found ourselves back on track.  We never let on that we’d no idea where our trail would end up! 

Yesterday was a tough day as shortly after leaving our delightful private Albergue near the small hamlet of Sebrayo, we had a sharp 400m climb in the sun. Near the top, a female Peregrino was walking unsteadily, holding her leg.  She reassured us that she was ok but our new American friend from the previous night, Cher, didn’t believe her and seconded a car and driver (and his wife!) from a nearby village to whisk her away for medical attention.  

It can be easy to feel that asking for assistance is a sign of failure, but there is no ‘failure’ on the Camino. You’re not letting anyone down if you walk slowly or even take a break for some time to see the sights or recover from an injury or illness, and recognition of this is a positive learning experience for many peregrinos. 

One of the benefits of many of the privately owned albergues is their small size and the armosphere created over the pilgrim’s dinner prepared by the owner. Such was the case at Sebrayo with a mix of English, German, American, Lithuanian and Austrian guests around the dinner table. Brexit is a standard topic of conversation and I’ve adopted standard answers to please all nationalities, except the Germans of course. They’re still very sensitive over Volkswagen..😀

After an overnight stop outside Gijon, we wandered lazily into the city this morning, dropped our rucksacks off at the centrally located private Albergue and went off to explore, just like proper tourists for the day. I like Gijon very much. It feels alive, with a big heart. We ate well, watched on tv Sporting Gijon being thrashed 5 – 0 by Barcelona, the match was being played live just down the road from us, before retiring to our rooms around 10:30pm, just as the  city starts to come alive on a Saturday night.

It is now midnight and in an adjacent apartment a noisy crowd are enjoying themselves. I can’t see them stopping for some time. Memo to self to not deliberately bang doors when getting up at 6:30am tomorrow morning.  On the other hand…

Days 12 to 14 – Bed bugs and broom sticks

We could never have imagined how day 12 would end up. Setting off early from our hotel, Santillana deal Mar looked even more attractive in the early morning without the huddle and bustle of tourists. Feeling relaxed after an exceptionally good breakfast with ham, cheese and fresh fruit, rather than the normal bread and jam, we took the opportunity to make up our lunches from the remains, as the shops don’t normally open on Sundays in Spain. The weather outlook was promising. 

The overnight rain soon spluttered out and the next few hours were pleasant and solitary as my walking buddies went off ahead.  I am becoming quite attached to these guys and in turn they seem to have accepted me as 1 of the Gang of Four.  

Jannik: 27, an engineer by trade, on his first Camino. Mature and wise for his years (he reads this blog so I’m not going to say he’s dumb – which he certainly is not!) and very good company except when tired and grumpy, then aren’t we all?  I spend more time with Jannik because of his good English. 

I sometimes wonder why Jannik like to walk with 3 old men with combined ages of almost 200, but he seems to enjoy it. 

Max: 67 and retired. I could imagine Max as quite a ladies man in his younger days and certainly he has a keen eye for them. A good sense of humour and always keen to try out his limited English.  He and Anton have been walking their Camino in stages over several years, originally starting in Germany, and will have covered over 2,000 kms by the end. 

Anton: Anton and I struggle to communicate at times but we get along just fine and my German’s very slowly improving. His daughter is married to Max’s son and they share two grandchildren.  I imagine Anton as a kindly grandfather who allows his young grandchildren to tug his beard as he smiles benignly. 

So all was good as we walked the undulating Cantabrian hills on our way to the municipal Albergue in Camillos. 

About Camino Albergues: The albergues  are  rather like the UK youth hostels, but split between privately owned and municipal, the latter mainly run by volunteer ‘hospitaleros’ and only for peregrinos. They cost just 5 euros per night and provide a bunk bed in a dorm that could hold from 2 people up to 100 and usually offer very rudimentary facilities. . 

The private albergues vary enormously in standard but the online Camino forums and guides help us select the best ones. Typical costs 10 – 15 euros a night. Some of them are very comfortable, almost like hotels, others are less attractive. 

We decided to stay in the municipal Albergue in Camillos, formerly the town jail. Arriving late we were lucky to take the last 4 places. I had a mattress on the floor in a small room crammed with 2 bunk beds, but so what? – I’ve ear plugs and it was only 5 euros!

Camillos is an attractive seaside resort and we went into town for a meal and to savour the atmosphere. On returning, we found most of our fellow residents, mainly German, sitting outside chatting excitedly. 

One girl had been contacted by a friend who was a few days further down the Camino to say they had received many bed bug bites, caught from this Albergue.  We went inside and looked under the mattresses and most of them were infested with them, including mine. Fortunately I’d only put my sleeping bag out that had been given a hefty dose of anti bed bug spray back in the UK, but others had put their clothes out and had been lying on the mattresses.

Those little black dots are bed bugs!

Bed bugs are a massive issue on the Camino as an infestation in one albergue can easily be transported to other albergues down the line and they need a full scale fumigation to get rid of them. 

So at 9:30pm we wondered what on earth to do. Yannik suggested walking through the night and we didn’t discount that idea.  Fortunately a search on booking.com found a hotel nearby with 4 single beds in a large room so we rapidly packed and decamped there.

We booked a hotel for the next night in Colombres; we were now moving out of Cantabria and into the Asturias, with their more brightly painted houses and richly adorned churches, benefiting from the gold plundered from the Incas and Aztecs. It was a good day’s walking although too much spent on roads for my liking, but some wonderful views and locations. 

Our hotel was slightly out of town but peaceful and this morning we moved towards Llanes, following the coast for a period along the cliff tops with some gorgeous beaches below us. 

This was our fourth successive 30 kms days’ walking and I was glad to reach our private albergue. Probably the most chilled place on the Norte, close to the beach and also used by surfers. The 9 euro pilgrims’ evening meal was delicious,  home made by the owner’s mother. A Spanish girl sang and played the ukele and guitar in the garden whilst we ate. At present the thought of a further 30 kms tomorrow has no fears. My feet are patched up and enjoying the TLC they’re receiving although still quite a mess. 

The biggest dilemma now is whether to continue on the Norte in 3 days time or to turn off onto the Primitivo and head inland earlier. I’ve no idea whatsoever what the outcome will be and actually, it doesn’t really matter. 



Days 10 & 11 – Best foot forward (gingerly)

Buses are the main form of public transportation in northern Spain and the Bilbao bus station was heaving with travellers meeting and greeting, boarding and alighting, zigging and zagging across the concourse. I found a quiet spot on the floor near the cafe and ate a home made baguette, watching the world go by whilst awaiting my own bus to Santander. 

Buying a ticket was ultimately an unexpectedly painless experience. The queue must have been a good hour so I patently settled into it but within 5 minutes my patience had eroded as it had not moved an inch. In desperation I tapped away at my iPhone and within 5 minutes had purchased a ticket online. Smugly I stepped out of the queue of less e-savvy passengers, which had at least progressed a few metres by now.

The bus left on the dot and as it sped along I wistfully surveyed the countryside, hoping to see signs of the Camino, maybe a peregrino determinedly trudging along a parallel path. 

We reached Santander in rain and I made my way through the back streets to my pleasant hotel for the night. To my immense pleasure and surprise, there was a marked improvement in my feet, I was no longer wincing at every step. There is definitely hope. 

Stepping out the hotel in the morning, the first thing I noticed was a Camino sign high on the street wall… I was elated, it felt like coming home. To add to this, my 4 companions soon arrived in town and we met up at our accommodation for the night, another enterprising local converting her 3 bed apartment into a 12 bed pseudo-Albergue.  It was a tight fit, to say the least, but friendly and we were greeted by our host Isabel with a bottle of local premium beer!

Whilst envious of my friends 3 days walking from Bilbao. I at least missed out on the downpour they suffered today, all totally drenched through.

In the late afternoon we went to the cathedral to have our credenciáls stamped.  We were greeted by a rather large adrogynous worker with a pronounced hunch – I’m sure he was on secondment from Notre Dame – who beckoned us into a side room whilst chattering away to whoever caught his eye. Even Spanish speaking George couldn’t understand a word, but there did feel some significance in 5 pilgrims getting their credenciáls stamped in a cathedral that would have provided refuge to so many true pilgrims on their Way to Santiago many centuries earlier. 

George and Quasi

It started to pour with rain again so we ate our last supper in a cafe adjacent to our Albergue before George departed in the morning to walk the Camino Inglèse, aiming to complete his 5th Camino

By 7:15 the next morning, George had departed and we started out in darkness through the wet streets of Santander. I was back on the Camino again and couldn’t have been happier, twittering away like a blackbird at dawn in springtime. I felt for my long suffering companions. 

The best that could be said about today’s route is that it got us through Santander’s long industrial corridor and we arrived 34 kms later at our bargain price hotel in the stunningly picturesque tourist town of Santillana del Mar. Twin room en-suite comfort and breakfast, all for £18 per person, only slightly more than our cramped accommodation of the previous night. 

There are so many dogs along the Camino, fortunately locked behind high garden fences, barking profusely in protection of their territory. Except this one….

He looked formidable, especially as he wasn’t barking, as though he was waiting for us to pass in front before leaping into action. On reaching him, he didn’t move and we realised he was looking soulfully at an unreachable bone on our side of the fence. We threw it into his field, only for him to pick it up, run to the end the field and throw it back onto the road again before adopting his previous position. He was playing with us all along. Dogs get easily bored in Santander 

Back in the hotel, I checked my feet, toe by toe, joint by joint… No new problems. Alvaro.you really won’t be forgotten if I make it to Santiago. 

We ate well in town and are now settled for the night….. Or we would be if an outdoor rock concert had not just commenced close to our hotel at 22:20.  Only in Spain.  Just love it!

Day 9 – Road to recovery

Had I been a tourist coming to Bilbao for a few days break, I’d not have been disappointed. It’s a vibrant city, both the old and new, with plenty of wonderful eateries, bars, historic churches and museums, including of course the magnificent Guggenheim.  Now that is some building and as many have said before me, it’s more spectacular on the outside than the inside.  

If it looks different from every angle that’s because it is very different from every angle, an amazing architectural wonder. 

Yet I was not meant to be a Bilbao tourist however fascinating the city, and the pain and discomfort in my feet are a constant reminder that I screwed up big time by not listening to them earlier in the walk.  Ok, let’s do something about it. 

A Google search gave me 3 podiatrists details close to my apartment. I picked the one on a street I knew and limped there. Nobody spoke English and I was struggling to explain my problems. Then an older clinician made a call and handed me his phone. That was my introduction to Alvaro, my foot saviour. 

Speaking good English, he told me to return in 2 hours. I handed the phone back to the man who turned out to be Alvaro’s father, and went out for some lunch. 

Back at the foot clinic, Alvaro sat me on the treatment chair, shoes off. “I bet you see many peregrinos with blisters” I suggested.  “Not as bad as yours” was his response. 

Alvaro is in his late 20’s, has a 13 month son, another due shortly and had walked 2 Caminos. He was the total opposite of the doctor at the hospital in Gernika who said nothing could be done except rest. “I’m going to get you back walking” he assured me.   Over the next hour he cut off the dead skin, gently removed the dirt with tweezers and cleansed the wounds before applying fresh dressings. 

“Come back tomorrow and I’ll prepare your feet so you can finish the Camino” he said “I won’t charge you”. 

I was overwhelmed by Alvaro’s care, kindness and generosity. Of course I insisted on paying him properly. He didn’t just repair my feet, he gave me back the belief that I would complete the Camino, which at that moment was of greater worth.  I must remember to send him something for his new baby on reaching Santiago. 

True to his word, he saw me this morning, re-dressed my feet and gave me a bag of clean dressings that he said should last me for the remainder of the Camino. Now to catch the bus to Santader for the next stage of the journey, back on two feet again. 

Days 5 to 8 – Ecstasy to agony

Sitting in the waiting area at Gernika hospital on the morning of day 6 said it all.  In the end I walked 28kms the previous day but clearly tried too hard for too long and the price was unbearable pain on the ball of my left foot and my large right toe. The pain in the other 5 or 6 blisters is relatively bearable.

Blisters are a part of many peregrinos’ Camino experience, although not one I’d recommend.   Searching for an upside at being forced to take time out from walking is not easy but here goes.. a) it has been too hot at times for walking (up to 39c), b) the next 2 stages include long, boring sections through the industrial outskirts of Bilbao, c) Bilbao itself is a fascinating city for a short break

I should have stopped walking a day earlier but my thinking was that it would be easy to bale out at any time on day 5 if my feet gave me too much trouble and take the bus to Bilbao.  That didn’t happen as I was enjoying myself way too much despite the pain. We passed some beautiful monasteries and churches as the Camino took us more inland.  In retrospect, it was a big mistake to keep going. 

Back at the hospital in Gernika, I received the worst of news.. No more walking. “For how long?” I asked the doctor, who must have treated many similar cases and showed little sympathy. He said up to a week.. “A week?  You can’t be serious!  Should I see a podiatrist?” He told me they could do nothing. He said compeed blister patches, open toed footwear and complete rest is the only answer. 

I left the hospital feeling totally dejected and hobbled to the chemist to top up on medical supplies before boarding the bus to Bilbao. 

Warning – page down to avoid gory toe photo

It would be good to say it looks worse than it is, but that’s unfortunately not true. It is sore, painful and at risk of infection.  I decided to start a course of Metronidazole, the antibiotics in my medicine kit brought along for such an eventuality. 

On to the positives…. I’m spending 3 or 4 days in Bilbao. The first night I stayed with my 4 German friends in a Pension in the old quarter.  Full of charm, with its narrow streets, bars selling all sorts of pintxo (Basque tapas), artisan shops and boutiques. We ate well in the picturesque Plaza Nueva. 

In the cities the Camino signs are often built into the walls or streets, such as this one in Bilbao’s old quarters. 

Yesterday morning it really hit home when my walking companions of the last week put on their rucksacks and prepared to leave for the next stage of their walk. We said our goodbyes but promised to catch up in a few days somewhere between here and Santander. 

Booking.com found me an apartment for 2 nights, in the smart commercial centre of Bilbao, on the other side of the river. Way over budget, but I thought sod it, let’s make something good out of this…..

And that’s where I am right now.. From living the life of a humble pilgrim, sharing dormitories, washrooms, feeding areas etc with up to 40 other people, to staying in a modern apartment with space, all modern appliances, big tv, large bed etc. 

And how I miss the company of my fellow peregrinos and the simple, basic life on the Camino. Right now I’d trade any of this to be with them, even sleeping on a bed bug ridden mattress in a grotty Albergue with Max snoring loudly on the bunk above. 

But one thing’s for sure, just like Arnie, I’ll be back, and meanwhile there’s no time for moping.. Off to visit the Guggenheim!

Days 3 and 4 – lessons learned

I left the fabulous Albergue Agote Aundi in cloudy and clear conditions with very sore feet, but still able to walk in reasonable comfort. The morning was relatively quiet and for a period I found myself walking alone through the vineyards and smiling inwards. This is my Camino. 

Then George and the others appeared ahead debating whether to take the longer inland route or the shorter coastal way to Deba. We chose the latter – the paradox being that the route through the hills is often easier as there are periods of level walking along ridges and in valleys, whereas the coastal walk goes up high and drops down into every bay. And the Deba trail was steeper and tougher than most. But rewarding too. 

We arrived at our albergue up in the hills at Anope after a beer and bocadillo in Deba, and initially it seemed fine. It had two mixed lodging rooms each holding 20 people in a glorified cow shed. Actually, it was hardly glorified, but I claimed a lower bunk that was comfortable and the showers were hot. 

Dinner was a choice of pizza or a sandwich. Having already had a bocadillo for lunch, we went for pizza. It was dreadful.. Grilled on top only, the dough was soft and they were half burned. I asked to pay and the owner said it was 10 euros. “But I didn’t have wine…”  No matter, wine is extra she said.  For the first time on the Way, I felt ripped off. Compared with last night’s 3 course 10 euro Pilgrims Menu with wine it was terrible value.  

I have a huge concern. My feet are falling apart. The worst blister is the pad of my left foot, along the length of the 3 middle toes.  It is absolute agony to walk on despite Compeed. “I never get blisters, I couldn’t walk with blisters” says George. Good for fucking you George, I exclaim under my breath. Goodness knows what happens tomorrow, but I so regret not treating them when they started getting sore. 

Somehow there followed the best night’s sleep. Ear plugs are my new best friend. 

This morning my feet felt much better, an illusion that lasted for just a few hours before the pain kicked in.  The walking today was pleasant and hilly, and the sun was my constant companion. Despite the ibuprofen masked blisters, I was enjoying the day. 

We reached our private Albergue in Markina-Xemein by lunch time, so we had the Pilgrim menu in the restaurant linked to the albergue – actually an apartment kitted out to hold 14 people in its 3 bedrooms. Still comfortable though, and only 12 euros.  The food was fabulous, the best meal for days. 

Once again a good night’s sleep, but I woke early and limped into the kitchen to finish this update and not disturb my sleeping roommates.  I have no idea whether I’ll be able to commence walking today. Actually, at this moment I really don’t care

Camino – Days 1 & 2

OMG this is tough… Not writing a blog, but doing the walk. I started out at 7:30am from Irun just as the sun started to peek from behind the hills and by 8:00 I’d met George, a German 4 Camino veteran, who knew the score. He soon became my guide and mentor and I appreciated he wasn’t over fit as well. 
To say the route was beautiful is an understatement, but it was a killer in 37c heat.

Walking down the hill to Pasaio, we met 2 pilgrims, one burly guy was lying on the ground next to an enormous rucksack, clearly in some distress. Our offer of help and to get him a taxi was refused, he assured us that he’d reach San Sebastián on foot. After the afternoon’s tough trek on the high coastal path, we knew that he wouldn’t. 

Another lesson well learnt is that the second half of the day’s walk is much tougher than the first, regardless of the terrain. On the beautiful but undulating coastal path to San Sebastián, we were desperate to see the town around the next headland, but it seemed to get no closer, despite the distance signs. The fact we missed the fountain didn’t help as we eked out every drop of water in the searing heat. 

But finally we arrived and rushed to the nearest bar for a ‘Clara’ – a beer with a lemonade top followed quickly by a second… The first is for the thirst, the second for the pleasure!   San Sebastián is a majestic resort, but we were shattered and desperate to reach our albergue juvenil (youth hostel) for a well needed shower. 

This morning, George and I had arranged to meet at 7am in the lounge (he was in another dormitory) but at 7:15 he sent me a 2nd WhatsApp’ message to say he was on starting out as I hadn’t turned up. His dormitory had all cleared out by 6:45am ready to walk, but there were other no ‘peregrinos‘ in mine and nobody was in a hurry to get up , so I’d overslept!  It had taken me 3hrs to get to sleep – it’s been many years since I’ve slept in a room with a bunch of strangers from many nations. 

Eventually I got away at 8:15 after stopping at a bakery for a pastry as I was told there were no shops or eating places for 13kms on the Way, but plenty of water.  It was a wet and solitary day, trudging along muddy paths up and down hills, of course! “Rain is part of the Camino” someone told me.  My boots filled with water but there was no point in emptying them, they’d only full up again.

 I caught up with 3 other Germans who I met over dinner last night, 2 retired men, Max and Anton who were on the final stage of their Camino from Germany, and a young lad Jannik who took all his annual leave at once to do the walk.  He speaks good English whereas the other two speak virtually none, though Max was prone to exclaiming “Fuck it” on seeing a steep climb ahead of us, I felt perhaps for my benefit!

Eventually the rain eased and we trudged to our albergue in the tiny hamlet of Askizu, naturally at the top of a steep climb.. the Camino appears to enjoy its pilgrims suffering.  It only holds 15 people and I’m sharing a twin room with George.  This albergue deserves its excellent reputation and is relatively luxurious. And they served up the traditional pilgrims 3 course dinner (wine always included) plus breakfast, all for 25 euros! 

In the first two days we’ve covered 58 kms. Tomorrow we’ve elected for an easier day, just 21kms, so a later start and earlier finish.  I have 3 enormous and painful blisters on my left foot, a result of it swimming in a rain filled boot all day so I am not complaining about a shorter day.  We know that the day after has some very big hills, as we move a little inland towards Bilbao..

Camino Day 0

The last few days have been total contrasts. The elation of seeing my beautiful niece Jemma get married on Saturday, followed yesterday by the sadness and disbelief of the funeral of one of my loveliest and closest friends, Fong.  

Sitting in the departure lounge at Southampton airport smiling at Jemma’s photos, then the tears silently welling up whilst listening to the lyrics of the Squeeze song ‘Some Fantastic Place’, Adrian’s moving address at the funeral. 

Now sitting in the plane, waiting for take off and thoughts move to Biarritz.. How to get from the airport to my hotel in Irun tonight.  It will be fine… ‘The Camino provides’ they say.  I sure hope so! 

And of course it was fine… The bus went from outside the airport directly to the border; a short yomp into Spain in 30c heat and now in my Irun hotel room.  

Felt strangely resentful paying 59 euros for a room when on the rest of the walk the ‘albergues’ cosr between 5 – 20 euros… Ok, they’ll be bunk beds in hostels and no en-suite but… 

Two highlight today were being recognised by a beggar in the street as too poor to ask for money, and the first stamp on my Camino Passport or ‘Credenciál’…. I am officially a pilgrim ….‘Un Peregrino’!

Pete’s Camino blog

Camino del Norte, Day -5

Why am I doing a 500 mile walk, on my own, in a country whose language I can’t speak is a question often asked, by me as well as others, and so hard to answer.  I’m not unhappy with life, nor frustrated with work, in fact I love both.  My brother Pete was planning to walk some of it, and a very close friend who died last week was a keen walker, but it’s not just that although they certainly provide inspiration  The best answer I can give is “I’m tired and need a Long Walk”, but that doesn’t say it all.

There’s a great book about this route by Jean Christophe Ruffin,  The Santiago Pilgramage.  He reached a point after a few weeks when all thoughts had left him – no thoughts of the past, nor of the future.  He was living in the moment.  How amazing it would be to reach that state.  Maybe that’s the reason?  Who knows!   Maybe it will become clearer by the time I’ve reached Santiago de Compostela around 5 weeks or so from now.