I tend to be an 'in the now' sort of person. What's in the past usually doesn't have a long half life in my brain. Since I don't know how to access my 2015 posts from Facebook any descriptions I use now will not have the freshness or immediacy of those. In fact they may be totally wrong. Oh well, here goes:
flew into Biarritz. Spent the night there. Next morning took the 2 hour bus ride to S. Jean Pied de Port where I would pick up my Passport and spend the night.
Passport office. 2015 was the year of the Americans. More typical were Canadians, Australians, Europeans
No shoes in the shelter
View from my room.
This is the port. on my way. Photo taken by Darn Tough Linda (her brother owns the Darn Tough Sock company)
A short day since the walk all the way to Roncesvalles is too far for one day. I was lucky to get a reservation.
The border into Spain
lunch break. I believe that is a shepard’s hut. this is a super nice former nurse who was very helpful when I strained my knee.
Sometimes there would be a sign at a diverging path saying, ‘alternate route’…. take the alternate route. I didn’t and ended up hurting my knee. the mountain bikers really whizzed by even though there were huge boulders on the path.
nice accommodations in Roncesvalles.
I usually left at first light. the moon was always before me in the west. This is Basques country.
So much beauty.
a good place to cool ones feet.
This Korean man carried his 4 year old son on his back. They were very popular. I lost track of them as they were faster walkers than I was.
I have a feeling this is the gate into Pamplona. I foolishly decided to carry my very heavy pack from Zurburi (sp?) to Pamplona, not realizing Pamplona is a HUGE city. getting to the center and to the hostel – thought I would die. so hot, so tired, so thirsty. Back and knee….ugh.
Spent 2 nights in Pamplona.
A Pamplona hostel where I didn’t stay. very nice though.
I think I have left Pamplona.
I believe this is Puente la Reina. The queen had this bridge built so pilgrims would have an easier time crossing the river on there way to Santiago.
loved the flat sided spoon for eating yogurt.
Yellow arrow is the Spanish one pointing to Santiago. White over red indicates this is the French Way to Santiago
some excavation was being done in this grave yard so headstones were all higglety pigglety. I wonder if they ever got put back right.
nurse Vicky from England and Darn Tough Linda.
This place was huge, so many beds, communal bath. Had some trouble communicating with the manager. i was fortunate to get a bed that night. I believe it is called Anfas.
free Wine unless, of course, they are out for the day…..
a family business
so many churches, so much gold…. or gilt.
looking back at the sunrise
shrine to people who died on the Camino
Notes of encouragement
Hiking get-up. I wore a hiking skirt. started off the morning in wool long underwear and two wool tops but by 10 am or so stripped off the wool and wore a long sleeved linen shirt. It’s amazing how easy it is to strip in public when you don’t know anybody. I shared this apartment with two women who came in later than I did. So in the morning I was especially quiet leaving. Outside the door the stairwell was dark so i pushed the button to turn on the stair light…. it was the door bell. So much for good intentions.
Early morning: the Moon, in the West, showing the way.
This municipal hostel had a kitchen for the pilgrims use. they made use of every square inch here. even had cots in closets.
so much gold
reproduction of a capital in the church at Santo Domingo de la Calzada
view from a window
I don’t remember what the miracle of the Cock and the Hen was but this church keeps live chickens.
Many routes. Mine included getting lost.
decommissioned church. used for meditation.
possibly the outskirts of Burgos. Not all paths a pretty.
a festival means few rooms available. this had me nervous. found one but my spirit felt cramped and rushed.
no time wasted cleaning up after
Cathedral in Burgos. this is the town El Cid left for the Crusades
Early departure from Burgos
a peaceful place for a rest
some kind of wine pressing screw. spent the night here. tried my hand at turning the screw.
quite the story teller. later we toured the wine cellar.
in the Castillo/Leon area. an artist’s hostel. quite the accommodation. I didn’t stay in this particular building on the property.
a canal in the early morning.
locks on the canal
a room and a bath all to myself! not feeling well so this was welcome.
bodegas de Moratinos – food and wine storage
super posh monastery where I spent the night. fine dining room, too.
I did not carry my extremely over packed and heavy pack except for the day’s walk to Pamplona. I think I only carried it then because I felt guilty because a trio of Canadian women about my age were carrying theirs. and they were suffering. I was not there to suffer. I was there to walk.
Chocolate and churros! too rich in the end. Astorga?
If it’s Gaudi it must be Leon.
came to this chapel for evening vespers. A man who was staying at the same hostel as i wanted to engage in an argument about the Catholic church. I had nothing for him though since i was only there for aesthetic reasons. He was nice though. He was biking the camino. Started up at S. Vezelay in France. So impressive.
You were supposed to bring a stone representing your burdens to lay down here. I carried my stone from almost the beginning of my journey but when time came to lay it down it was nowhere to be found. I guess I’m destined to continue carrying them.
Town of one
glad I had my sticks with me
rainy Sunday. not much open
Not HOPELESSLY lost but I went a ways out of my way. chestnuts.
wild fire the year before
People kept opening the door thinking my room was the bathroom. In reality the bathroom was down some narrow spiral stairs to the floor below.
entering the Celtic area of northern Spain. O’Cebreiro
i used this app to book rooms when I could.
Those mushroom shaped supports keep the rats out of the stored grain.
I don’t envy these cows. I met an old man in one of the tiny villages who asked me if I was married. said I should be walking with a man.
one of many small chapels by the road. the doors are kept locked. no glass in the windows.
a very old, well worn road
Sarria. getting close
At an old monastery searching for someone to stamp my passport. Pull that handle all you want. nobody answers.
Microwaved veggie lasagna. nice atmosphere.
the least satisfying breakfast ever. Cafe con Leche is THE BEST coffee in the world and I so looked forward to it each day.That drip coffee and store bought pastries were a pass for me.
an Horreo for grain storage
I had hoped to take a bath.
Spanish tortilla – potatoes and eggs
nice. celtic knots
SO MUCH RAIN! my shoes never did dry completely. boy did they smell.
Buy the Brierly Guide and rip out the pages to use daily. then toss them to lighten the load.
There it is at the end of the road!
getting the passport certified.
headed to Finis Terre this river flows directly into the atlantic.
Finis Terre – Hello North America!
Muxia. Where Mary in a stone boat appeared to some saint
a church dedicated to Mary at Muxia
Shoes, dry by now donated to a shelter.
unfortunately, I do not know how to insert a video. the video of the sensor swinging over our heads was pretty neat.
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