Camino Journal Day 2
April 3rd
Wordless devotional music wakes the hostel for my second day of walking. Surprisingly, I sleep very well this first night. Must have been from the time-change and the all-night-drinking I did in Mora. I wake up feeling fresh and adjusted to the Spanish schedule. In the albergues lights are out at 10pm and then we are woken up at 7am and have to leave by 8am. This is pretty standard at any municipal hostel supported by the Association of The Way of Saint James, but the private albergues can set their own policies.
The music filtered through the room like the cool morning air, and I had to force my body not to spring up and out of bed. I quickly gathered my things and headed down that long flight of 70 stairs one last time to smoke a spliff in the plaza looking out at the natural port door formed by the two massive land masses on either side. I’d be hiking up the other side today and if my memory served me right, it would be a tough climb.
April 3 -Heiko coming down the steps from the first albergue.
The most important adjustment over the first couple of days to any hike is getting used to where the wallet is now kept. For me, I buy pants that have a zip pocket on the same side I normally keep my wallet. This is almost fool proof to any pickpockets and since it is in the same place, I usually keep it, now with an added zipper, I felt confident I wouldn’t lose the damn thing. I did have to go with a larger wallet that could fit my passport, and so a whole new slew of automatic muscle memory must be learned. Thus, I continue to check for my phone, wallet and tobacco every 15 minutes or so by tapping each of my pockets.
I wonder if anyone notices, but then figure they all are going through the same thing, but likely have their belongings in some secret under-the-shirt zippable pouch so they can feel it every second and don’t have to do the idiotic tapping routine every time a dreadful thought of wallet or phone loss came into mind. I’m satisfied with my North Face pants. They have a couple cargo pockets, a Velcro back pocket and a zip-up back pocket. They dry fast and the bottom parts of the legs can zip off, but I assure you, I’ve never yet been hot enough to bare my white legs to the world.
After a few photos of the port and the last drag on my spliff, I see a couple of the pilgrims coming down the steps. Heiko and another German named Micha join me for breakfast of pan tomate, fresh squeezed orange juice, and cafe con leche before we three take the small ferry boat across the water to the other side to begin the days hike. Over breakfast there is a lot of chattering and talking among the pilgrims. Most of the first days’ talks consist of little personal inventory check-ins. The pilgrims talk about their level of Spanish speaking, the gear they’ve brought, if they have done a Camino in the past, the reason why they walk the Camino and small stuff like what their job is back home or where they live. With Instagram and Facebook people can show photos of their lives back home, and although forgotten just as quickly as any ‘ol conversation, seem to serve to heighten the quality of the chat.
Toast with tomato spread & olive oil.
A cafe con leche
I fall into an old roll quite rapidly and begin translating for all around. Micha speaks well enough to fend for himself, but I go about helping anyway. I can come off as pretty rude sometimes. I realized back in 2019 my need to incessantly help others even when it’s not needed or asked for, is a way for me and my mind to keep the focus away from self. Away from my problems and social grievances. I’m so good at alleviating the burden of small logistical problems and language barriers, that despite my overzealous know it all attitude, my help is almost never turned away. Lucky for me, I reflect a little on my previous trip, finish my coffee, pay my wares and step out for another spliff. Ah, yes. forever and always hiding behind the veil of smoke.
View of the port of San Juan while crossing the ferry
Getting across with the ferry will cost you a 2-euro coin, and the cafe owner is polite and kind enough to assure each pilgrim has exact change before they head off into the morning. These simple small kindnesses are what make me love the Camino. They don’t know exactly where you’re going or why you’ve decided to do this journey, but they want to help with the things they do know about. In many ways I see the Camino as a blessing to some of these towns. Tourism is the main industry of Spain and has been for decades. They export hospitality, love, kindness and culture, and they do it from without ever having to leave or sell anything abroad. Being a part of the Spanish rhythm and way of life even for just a week or two is well worth the trip.
It’s about 9am when I start up the big stairs that connect the path to San Sebastian with the ferry stop. My heart is racing and I’m checking my Apple watch again. I’m well into the 170-bpm range. I wonder how I got so fat and out of shape again. In just 3 years since the last Camino, and I’d even gave up drinking a while back. But onward, and despite the thoughts again questioning why I had undertaken this venture yet another time, I put one foot in front of the other. My kindness and jolly disposition turned out favorable for me as the group of people I met at the first albergue had started to solidify as a Camino Family and my two German compatriots of the trail were slowing up and waiting on me.
2022
At the top of the first big climb on the way to San Sebastian
2019
At the top of the first big climb on the way to San Sebastian
The north camino is just one hill after another, up and down. Most of it through the woods and on dirt trails, but some like that first set of stairs are paved, kept and used by the locals. Despite it being cold and with a chilly wind constantly whipping your hands, ears and face, the scenery and overall weather couldn’t have been better. They strenuous climbs and overwhelming workouts are constantly rewarded with another breathtaking view. Stopping and admiring the landscape is a great excuse to fit little breaks in here and there. I think it was around this time that our Camino family had its first motto: “The Camino gives you what you need, not what you want.”
I knew I needed a good workout. And apparently some nice pilgrims to pull me through the first few stages. As there were many albergues still closed due to covid restrictions the next place to sleep would be about 30km away.
View from trail somewhere between San Juan and San Sebastian
San Sebastian is a beautiful city. In 2019, during my first camino, the warm beaches and cold salty water were so very welcomed to my blistered feet. The thought of walking even a step more after only the 5 miles from San Juan meant death for me. I sat on the meandering pier and took little walks out to the sea and let my feet soak. Before covid, having pilgrims coming through the cities was a norm, and so every city, especially big ones like San Sebastian, had multiple places for pilgrims to sleep that were included in all the guidebooks along with a plethora information at every tourist office. With blistered feet me and a few other pilgrims walked the streets of San Sebastian sampling the finest wines and tapas the city had to offer. We’d arrived on a night in which Pintxo Pote takes place. Pintxo Pote is like a pub crawl with discounted wine/tapa combo. Each place takes pride in their special tapa and so it makes for a great night of eating and sampling for under 10 bucks.
2022
Approaching San Sebastian - View from the trail April 3rd
2019
Approaching San Sebatian - View from trail
Both times the sun seems to appear with the city itself. Feet drying up, bodies and bones warming with each new ray of sunshine. After our first 5 miles of hiking my feet were in excellent condition. No one in our walking group even considered stopping in San Sebastian. I did, however go to mass at the big cathedral and when I got out Heiko was waiting for me at a cafe with a couple of beers. Must be valley weather. Despite the tempting beach, I had no intentions of getting in nor dipping my feet. The thought of a morsal of sand getting lodged somewhere in my boot or sock and causing a blister terrified me.
The organ inside the Cathedral in San Sebastian
I smoked a spliff and we headed out. Because it was after 2pm, everything was closed, and it would be about 5-10 miles before the next bar of cafe. Animals up and down the trail are a welcomed addition to the continuous hiking. They seem to greet you with wonder and love and all the empathy and patience you could ever need.
Just before reaching the next bar for a much-needed rest and beer, Heiko and I see Mira and his dog Toni for the first time in a while. The four of us were tired and parched and while Toni took to rapidly lapping up water from his hiking bowl, Mira, Heiko and I enjoyed playful conversation, a couple beers and a spliff or two in the 80-degree afternoon. We are going along at rapid pace and Mira, who had told me he was in a transition period of life, seem to be in good spirits. He’s bad English and no Spanish at all had to be making for an interesting time for him, but he was taking it all in stride. People are kind, in the end.
Beer, Water and Kikos (trail mix). This snack here will cost you about 5 euro these days.
Since Mira was traveling with his dog, it complicated things more and more along the way. From my point of view, sticking close to Mira and his dog would only force me to help as much as possible with translations. If Mira were on his own, then he’d be forced to navigate the situation by himself. Mira also didn’t want to push Toni any more than 15km (about 10 miles) a day. Because of the situation with the albergues, he was pushing onward, and it was starting to tire them both out. Everyone has to find their rhythm on the Camino. Because of this we hadn’t seen Mira at the hostels but only on the trails. We checked in with him through WhatsApp and let him know if we saw a public place to camp along the way. The main difficulty in trying to camp in Spain with a dog is that camping is illegal outside of designated areas. Pilgrims tend to get away with sleeping at churches, but even then, the authorities could be called pretty quick. Mira was having a lot of luck due to the same reason we were having bad luck. Covid restrictions had closed the churches and so there wasn’t a lot of vigilance going on at any moment. Being one of the first waves of pilgrims, Mira had lucked out so far with easy camping.
Mira and Toni (the dog) and Heiko heading on down the trail.
After 18 miles of up and down walking our group of three has grown to about 6 and we are staggered on the trail in groups of 2 or 3 about 50 meters apart. Out of nowhere a woman comes flying by. Her pace is incredible, and we could all hear her coming up on us from behind when she was about 100 meters back. It took her all of no time to pass us and disappear over the horizon and into the albergue. The three of us look at each other and laughed. One made a joke that we could use the woman and walk faster by pretending we were donkeys and she was the carrot. We all laughed. Would there be love on this Camino? Some people definitely find it. Others lose it and others are just walking away from it as fast as they can.
One of the many animals along the path
When we got to Orio, Spain, the hostelera was sitting outside waiting for us. She was tending to the other pilgrims who’d arrived before and so we treated ourselves to a few canned beers from the vending machine while we stood around in our bare feet talking and greeting the others we’d not met.
Left to Right: Heiko, Micha and Johnny in front of the albergue in Orio, Spain
In 2019 it took me three days to make it to Orio, to this very hostel. I was glad that my new walking mates had pushed me on to do almost 20 miles my second day. Still no blisters, still no pains or problems. High heart rate though. I hoped that would take care of it self in a few more days. I read the book In Praise of Walking on the flight over to Madrid and hoped to visualize some of the things talked about. I could already see the cholesterol dropping, my brain eating on a new surplus of fatty acids and endorphins. I envisioned my blood pumping faster and with more ease as each pass kick a little of the clogged-up grease from my arteries.
I got checked in. No heater again. It was gonna be cold. I made my bunk the same way as the night before and grabbed a wool blanket to use as well. I hadn’t brought anything to eat and walking into town was out of the question. I found some toast and hot coco and had a snack, smoked another spliff and grabbed the guitar from my pack. I played a few songs. The other pilgrims made some videos. The woman who passed us like lightening was there eating. She’d been walking since Jan. 1st and from her home in Holland. She’d walked for three months and just arrived in Spain today, doing 47km. From Irun to Orio, what took me three stages to accomplish. Everyone was in awe of her, and we all asked her questions until she went back off to her bunk. Everyone was super exhausted, and I was dead tired and wondered off to sleep before 10p.
View from trail somewhere between San Sebastian and Orio