On the other side of the pond, I walk towards destiny

Getting there is half the fun.

Landing in Pamplona, ​​Spain is surreal for me. As the plane approaches, the Pyrenees mountains rise to the east. Only about 3,000 feet, but they seem like the challenge I had been warned about. We would find out how discouraging it would be in a few days.

I can’t believe we’re here. I have never been to Europe and until a few years ago I never thought that at my age I would go. I’ve enjoyed a lifetime of traveling around the United States, but I didn’t start thinking about hiking in Europe until I returned home from my Te Araroa adventure in New Zealand. (See previous blogs).

After checking into the Albergue de Plaza Catedral (the Spanish word for hostel is hostel), Ed and I strolled through Pamplona’s Old City, the place Americans most associate with Ernest Hemingway and the famous bull running.

I slept 14 hours straight and got up ready to take a bus to the start of the French Way in St Jean Pied de Port. Ed figured out the logistics of the bus station and we were soon crossing the winding roads of the Pyrenees towards France. I was so excited when we arrived that I want to start walking right away, but instead we enjoyed the rest of the day and night, meeting and dining with other pilgrims.

and we go

Lorenzo, our host at Borda Gîte (rural house means hostel in French) welcomes us with good food, wine and an apology for his country’s strategy of starting the French Way at the foot of the Pyrenees. The first day is easy and very challenging. But the reward is spectacular views and we have the perfect climate to enjoy them.

The second day we are not so lucky in the weather department. We walked in a misty rain to Roncesvalles. Our accommodation houses 183 pilgrims in a renovated monastery. It is an incredibly organized operation made up of volunteers from the Netherlands, all of them former pilgrims.
Days three and four bless us with beautiful weather and some of the most rewarding hikes yet. The trail eventually takes us to Pamplona, ​​where we cross the Puente de la Magdalena, a stone bridge that has crossed the Arga River since the 12th century. Almost nine hundred years of pilgrims have crossed these same stones, and standing there among them, I find it almost impossible to take it in.

Pintxos in Pamplona

Rest days aren’t always about resting, they involve exploring. Ed and I do our part of that while still being mindful of limiting our walking to save our tired legs. We took a self-guided tour of the famous Plaza del Toro, had coffee at Café Iruña, visited the Cathedral of Santa María and consumed many pintxos, also known as tapas, also known as tasty sandwiches, in the old town. Zach, a fellow pilgrim we met at the beginning of our trip, joins us on our culinary adventure and helps us translate the menu. We have met many people on the Camino. Tomorrow we return to the track, bound for Santiago!

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