Camino Journal Day 4
April 5th
I’m up early again, but this time around 6:30. The sun is already giving light to the valley. I go down and take a Coca-Cola from the vending machine set up in the sunroom. I roll a spliff and down the coke in one go. I put a few more coins in and order another one, this time a coke zero. I pace back and forth in the courtyard and periodically check the beautiful scenery around me. The sun is slowly coming up. a little puppy dog runs around. You can tell he’s getting used to being an outside dog. He’s so sweet and friendly. I pet him, pick him up, snuggle him and set him back down and snap a picture.
Johnny comes wandering out of the hotel. It really is a beautiful place. Johnny and the Englishman Dave had booked private rooms before arriving. Smart. I slept great as well, and the cool air is a welcomed blessing. Part of the reason I chose to do the Camino del Norte a second time and starting April 1 is the cool weather. The rainy cold conditions are terrible to walk in, but if it’s dry, sleeping at about 65 degrees Fahrenheit is a pleasure. The hotel had nice made beds with three layers. The pillows were soft and the top layer a woolen blanket. It really feels amazing to crawl into and out of a fresh made hotel bed after even one night in an albergue.
If it’s not clear what an albergue is, it is basically a hostel exclusively for the pilgrims. What’s a pilgrim? A pilgrim is any person walking the Camino de Santiago for more than one day and who must seek lodging in order to continue their hike. A Compostela is a certificate awarded for completing at least the last 100km (62mi) of the trail. The way they track this is through a pilgrim’s passport, or credential, which is stamped at each place of lodging. Even the hotels and cafes have stamps if you need one. And you can always go to the police station or tourist office for a stamp as well. During the last 100km it is said that you need to get two stamps a day to prove your journey.
Johnny has the same boots that I do. Keen Waterproof. His are the low tops, and despite my raving about the quality and comfort, Johnny shows off a deadly blister forming in the middle of one of his feet. Damn! He also walked 47km the first day from Irun to Orio, but it was his first day out. He’s been regretting his nearly double marathon of a first day while walking this whole second day. A blister can be a real deal breaker.
We chat about our old shoes, and I tell him about my old blisters. Slowly everyone starts to wake up. I head back upstairs to the room and gather my pack and get ready to start walking. We walk fast and Johnny and Micha are way ahead. For a while Toni, Mira’s dog, keeps running back and forth from the front of the pack to the back trying to keep the group together. You can tell Mira doesn’t like this and a change is immanent.
Heiko stays walking with me and pulls me onward. He too is getting into shape and likes to take smoke breaks. We stop at a church and have a break outside and then carry on toward Deba.
Heiko and I continue to talk philosophy as we walk. I brag about how much my life has gotten better in the three years since I did my first Camino. It’s difficult to talk about my success without talking about God, but then again, it’s also difficult to talk about God with others. "Be careful not to do your `acts of righteousness' before men, to be seen by them,” it says in the bible. But it’s inevitable that every person in a deep talk starts to come around to some idea of a higher power. Most people refer to it as the Universe, which I get. The word God is so weighted and has a lot of baggage, and I for one believe in a god that is bigger than just any ‘ol word. I think people use the word Universe as if to describe “the all”. But truly, the Universe prefers to be called God. Alas, a rose by any other name does smell as sweet.
My Camino in 2019 served as a springboard into daily prayer and intentional thought. Or thought monitoring, rather. I learned to hear the negative, and separate myself from these thought processes. Granted, I’m still very amateur with this practice to this day and often attach my emotions to fleeting thoughts and hold on to them. I react to these negative thoughts. Like we all do I suppose. It’s great to be able to recognize it. I think that’s the key to the change in my life. It’s nice to share the hope I have in walking. I’ve vowed to do the pilgrimage every few years to keep up the health in my spiritual, mental and physical life. I turned 35 in 2019 and the trip was somewhat of a new path for me, so I don’t die of obesity and boredom. Overall, I’m excited about the Camino and the further thoughts down this road of life. The space to think and the objective conversations are a real gift.
The others we had been walking with took a coastal route and had already made it to Deba. I was proud of myself. I wouldn’t stop in Deba this time and would carry on to a place called Itzarbide. It was the only place open just yet. Being early April and with the mask mandate in full swing, there was still a sense of the pandemic and Covid and an eerie air that the pilgrims might be bringing the new strains of the disease through already hard-hit towns. Regardless, the shops, cafes and businesses were open and happily ready to serve not only the pilgrims, but once again, the locals as well.
The trail took us up into the mountains in a never ending up and down of hills and valleys, despite its beauty and the soft dirt trail, the mountains really sucked the energy out of me. Standing on the overlook of Deba before taking some stairs down into the plaza I had Heiko snap a picture. I was feeling better. My heart rate was leveling out and I thought maybe I could lose a couple pounds during the walk.
Deba, 2022
Coming into Deba, Basque Country where the trail meets the pavement.
I was still sweating every ounce of water from my body and still hadn’t had a good bowel movement since I left home. I also wasn’t peeing very often and when I did, I could tell I was a little dehydrated. My shirts and pants and underwear were soaked all the way through. I was grateful for the sunshine. In the tree covered trails it didn’t matter and the more layers I took off the colder I became. All my shirts were nearly 100 percent cotton and made for the dry Texas summer workdays. My wool socks and great shoes at least kept my feet warm and dry. I considered ditching my shirts and flannel and heading into town to buy some wool stuff. The flannel when soaked with sweat weighed a good 2lbs more. It was incredible. Heiko bragged on his wool shirt, and when I heard the cost for some good wool clothes ($110 for the t-shirt alone) I decided I would tough it out a few more weeks and see how it went.
I kept the scarf on most of the time to keep my throat warm. It does help in preventing a cold coming on. I was happy I was out of Texas and putting in exercise, but my satisfaction and joy stopped there. I kept checking my watch and comparing it to the app and calculating how much longer I had to go up and up and up. It was miserable. I had considered mailing my pack for the next few days, but the Camino has a way of giving you the relief just when you need it.
Coming into a coastal clearing from the trail and down those steps we were greeting with sunshine and much needed warmth. I ditched my down jacket and when I got to the plaza, I swelled with delight to see it filled to the brim with sunshine. Heiko and I ordered some coffee and a snack, and I noticed the sign on the window “HAY CALDO”. ‘There is broth’ is what it means translated. I ordered myself one after my coffee and took it out to the plaza, ditched my flannel hanging it over the bench to dry and sipped the caldo from the bowl warming my insides and bones which were now simply blocks of ice.
Deba 2022
The view of the plaza as I sipped my caldo.
We got word that the rest of the group was at a cafe more into the city and so we headed off to meet them. When we got to the cafe the others told us how Suzanne couldn’t carry her pack and was all but stuck on the trail, until out of nowhere a Spanish fireman came and carried her pack for her the rest of the trail (about 5 miles) and escorted the group to this plaza and cafe. I was worried about walking very much farther with her. This news was no good to me. I like to stay positive and at least move ever onward. Walking with a pilgrim who was already having to ask for so much help was not a good idea.
I stayed out in the plaza and order a zurito and rolled a spliff. I’d wait for all of them to come out and see what their plans were. Plus, the sun was still pouring down and I was feeling great getting to warm up and dry my shirts a little. I decided to change into my dryer set of pants and shirts and even changed my socks right there on the plaza. This is totally frowned upon in Spain, but it was so much more convenient that trying to work my way into the crowded cafe to use their restroom.
small beer and hash spliff
This is an Anchovy with a peppercini and olive. Known as a Hilda.
I decided to get rid of one set of my pants, they were too big anyway, and a couple of other things I brought with me. I gave Micha the brimmed hiking hat I’d brought for his sunburned head and left the pants there in the plaza. That was at least a half of a pound in weight I didn’t’ need. Getting rid of the pants opened up a lot more space in my pack as well. The group began to gather outside but continued to order larger beers and talk. I knew I’d never make it the next 10km if I had anymore to drink. I had another coffee, rolled another spliff and had a little more to eat before heading off alone. I knew if I started now, they would all eventually catch me. I was also looking forward to walking alone and finding my own rhythm.
Plaza in Deba, Spain
I started out alone for the first time since Irun and it felt good. I immediately challenged myself to walk faster thinking about my looks. I didn’t like to be around people when I was trying to better myself, and I quickly notice how much more I can think about myself and who I am without the others around. I check the watch, my heart rate is still rising to the upper 160s on steep inclines, but that’s much improved. I’m breathing deeper, my stride is stronger, and I think back to the times in my life living in Barcelona, Eugene, OR, and Toledo when I didn’t need a car and walked every day at least 5 miles just out of necessity. I don’t really walk in Texas. Not really at all. I do drive about 100 miles a day, though.
After a little walk on the highway, due to a bridge being under construction, I end up back on the trail and see the coast again as I enter in to Matriku. The official stage for this stretch of land is to go from Deba to Markin in one go but remembering how steep and hard the mountain that lay between these two points is, I opted to go up 250 meters to Itzarbide and stay in an albergue where I had stayed back in 2019. It was the only option at this point anyway as all lodging in Deba was closed or sold out.
We’d made plans to hit the last grocery store on the way into the village and cook another meal together at the albergue. The hostelera in Orio gave us all a little map and told us where there was a kitchen and how far it was between the stages. She was great. I walked on and thought about how I was going to market these new songs I had coming out. I’d brought some business cards with QR codes on them and some stickers and had already given them to all the people I’d met so far. Through the pandemic I’d put all my money and time into recording songs and just knew one of them was going to hit sooner or later. I joked before setting off to Europe that I would hopefully come back famous. That’s the way things are these days, one day your hot and then you're not. Jerry Reed sings in my head, “When you’re hot you’re hot. When you’re not, you’re not.” One day no one knows you and then the next you’ve got a million hits on a song and Usher, or Willie Nelson are sharing your name.
Out on the trail.
I figured I could at least start setting up my business in Europe the way I have it going in Texas. It would take a while and isn’t very glamorous, but interest in live music is growing over there as well and even in Spain, I could work a few nights a week for a couple hundred a night. So, I figured at the very least, I’d be planting seeds along the way and who knows, maybe I’ll meet the right person to help me out.
I came into a nice tree covered part of the path leading up to the last hill into Itzarbide and was happy for myself. I had money to pay for this whole trip. I thought about leaving my little guitar behind and continuing but kept convincing myself I would want to have it to write some songs. I’d also brought along a book of scales to practice and that was another pound of weight. If I shed the guitar and the book, I was looking at about 7 pounds of weight I could lose from my pack. The Camino myth that weight loss is in direct proportion to the weight you carry ultimately convinced me to suffer and carry the 20 pounds I had brought with me.
After getting groceries all of us pilgrims started to meet up again. After 16 total miles for the day, when we got to the albergue we learned that it was closed and that the smaller one was already completely booked up. That was a bummer for the 7 of us traveling in our group. After some convincing they opened up the other Albergue and let us stay there. Turned out there was no kitchen there so we couldn’t cook after all, but with some more persuasion one of us was allowed to go up and cook in the nicer albergue. David, the Englishman, had again booked himself a private room long before arriving. I was starting to think this would be my strategy from now on.
With everyone happy to have a place to sleep our jolly little group goes out to a beautiful mountain meadow to enjoy our dinner. Suzanne even brought along dessert and the albergue owners were selling us bottles of wine from the closed bar. We sat out and enjoyed conversation and good cheer. As the sun was setting and the warming rays retreated from our table Suzanne confessed, she was feeling low and despite taking Lithium had been drinking a little too much. This all came out as I passed around a hash spliff at her request. She then felt strange for asking and didn’t partake. A few of the others had a drag or two. It was awkward and I regretted sharing with them. It was harmless after all. I worried traveling any further with Suzanne could be risky, but I also hoped she would find what she was looking for.
“Take you yes in ate or I see black for you” -Dinglish saying.
Suzanne had sold her houses and was living out of her backpack at the moment while she is waiting for her 1960’s VW bus to be restored. She showed pictures of it to us and shared that she had more than a million in savings. She was planning to finish the Camino and then go get her bus and travel round the world. I wondered how a millionaire could have a need for Lithium. I figured if I were rich, mental illness would vanish completely from my life.
Micha’s sense of humor proved to be that of the highest quality. He made me laugh a lot, and it all culminated here with this conversation. He had the table floored laughing as he and Suzanne went over old Dinglish sayings that don’t really make sense but sound like they should. Their laughter was so contagious, and I was hurting with so much laughing before the dessert was over.
We had made a nice fire inside the common room but would be sleeping again in the cold of the common dorm, so I went into make up my bunk. I chose a bed in the back corner by a window I could open. I was still a bit worried about Covid. Heiko and Suzanne bonded over some conversation and then he and Johnny tried to help her better fasten her backpack in order that her body and legs carry the majority of the weight. So far, she was relying only on her shoulders.
As the sunset another group of pilgrims without reservations arrived and coaxed their way into a bed. They order some pizza, which was delivered up to the mountain and everyone was happy sipping beers and wine out on the patio as it got dark. I smoked a couple more spliffs and went back into lay down. I put Paco’s album Live In Paris on in my earbuds and drifted off to sleep. I planned on getting up early and heading away from the group, maybe walking alone for a few days.
Itzarbide, 2022
2019