Day 3: Espinal to Zabaldika

It was an early morning.  Pierre was awake and up since 4:30 am... still not adjusted to Spanish time. I woke just after 6 and we began walking in the dark around 6:20 am. It remains one of my favorite times to walk in Spain.

The down side is that nothing really opens that early, so we were 14km in, at Zubiri, before coffee and breakfast was an option. But ahhh, fresh squeezed juice is wonderful and there is something quite spectacular about watching them push oranges into the machine and putting your juice directly into the glass! It was accompanied by coffee and fresh bread with ham, cut right of the leg in front of you.

Sunrise was a highlight too, in case you thought I was here just for the food.

Stopping in Larrasoaña, we took the time to shake our tired and now swollen feet from their boots. A supermarket  (think tiny 7-Eleven) looked like the most likely place for coffee and a snack, so we entered. The owner, about 60 years old, was taking a break from stacking a large pile of fire wood. Pierre asked him if he needed help, but he was quick to say "no thanks" and explained that he worked slowly due to semi-recent heart surgery.  Moments later he brought us out a complimentary plate of warm bread, chorizo and cheese, to thank us for offering. Delicious! Turns out his name was Angel. Really? Really! Perfect.

12:55pm and we had just 8km to go today. Through the woods, over a river (another medieval bridge) and we hadn't seen another Pilgrim all day.

My app told me I had walked 43,315 steps and almost 20 miles when I reached the Alburgue  Parroquial. This catholic run hostel provides a clean, serene stopping place with communal dinner, all for a donation. It is staffed by volunteers and run by the "5 sisters".

Pilgrims, if you are reading this, please don't think of these type hostels as free. If you have money, you should donate generously. The money that today's pilgrim's donate, feeds the pilgrim's who stay tomorrow. That's just how it works.

The adjoining church had an amazing bell tower, if you made it up the steep spiral staircase. One sister (nun) invited me to ring the bell gently, once, after offering up my prayer. Perhaps I could have been more gentle... but my prayer was definitely given wings!

After dinner with 11 of my new and newer friends, we returned to the choir of the church for a brief time of meditation and sharing.  Others had some seriously heavy stuff they were working through on Camino.  For me, I realized that I'm grateful to live in the moment every step of the way and for the opportunity I have, that is only possible with the help and support I have at home. On top of being happy to be here, I acknowledged that I'm very happy with the life I have created/co-created at home. Being on Camino, with its daily challenges and slight hardships, is the perfect reminder to be grateful for my home, it's amenities, cuddly pets, clients, job I love and man I love even more.

My legs hurt and I left my soap in Espinal last night... but life is good!

Day 2: Orisson to Espinal

The app said 18 km to Roncesvalles. That would be a 700 meter climb and steep descent into Spain after that.

I walked mainly with Pierre.  He kept the same  pace and many things about him reminded me of Charles Thabault! Pierre and I didn't stop for breaks, in fact between Orisson and Roncesvalles, we only stopped for pictures. Mostly we walked about 2.5 mph, which was impressive considering the steepness up and extra steepness of the downhill.

At Roncesvalles we braked for our first stamp. It was here we met the stamp Nazi! She was absent from the room when we arrived, so I helped myself to the stamp laying on the counter.  About that time, she emerged and demanded in Spanish that we get in line and fill out paperwork.  Pierre stepped forward to explain we are not staying the night and just wanted the stamp.  She yelled at him to get to the back of the line! As I approached the desk, with all my demographics filled in, she saw that I had the stamp already.... oh, what a glare.  Once outside, Pierre said do you remember that Seinfeld episode about the soup Nazi? I about wetted my pants. She was the stamp Nazi!

Roncesvalles was also the place we stopped for a Pilgrim blessing at the local cathedral... and for coffee at the local cafe, before hitting the trail once again.

Through Burgete we sailed and with 25km under our belts, arrived at the Haizea Alburgue.

Legs tired but in good health and spirits. Ready for my Pilgrim meal.

7:30pm? Kinda late in my opinion! I'll be asleep by 8pm!!!

NOTE: App says I walked 40,802 steps and 21.41 miles.

Day 1: Saint Jean to Orisson

Technically only 8km. But I apparently walked 22,320 steps and 11 miles today.

Every journey of a million steps, starts with one and this was mine.

I had forgotten how steep and exhausting it was!

I'd left Mark in Saint Jean, following his orientation tour. There were tears.  Acknowledging that you'll give up everything on Camino is very different from the feeling you get when you actually give up hugging your sweetie, seeing him daily and bring able to chat about your day together over a casual dinner.

I left my love in a car park, blew him a kiss and started my ascent of the Pyrenees. For the next hour I was either alone with my grief or passing people who didn't speak English. My late start @ 10:35 am meant most people were ahead of me.

Then I was joined by a young basque guy. Danny spoke English and had lived in Durango, CO! I enjoyed hearing his perspective as a Basque... the fact that his native language had been forbidden by Franco and now the government was playing a significant role in the preservation of the Basque language and culture, was fascinating to me.

In Orisson, I met Allen from Australia, Pierre from Montreal and Victor from Spain. Discovering that I was in a 6 bed dorm room with 5 retirement aged men, had me almost reach for the Ambien right there and then! What were the chances of no snoring?  (Not great!)

I took a walk up the road for pictures and some quiet time and found my escape on a steep grassy area dotted with ferns. Grasshoppers frequented me and their chirping, and that of the cow bells, drowned out the multilingual conversations driving down the road.

The familiar feeling of the Camino routine, has returned. Arrive, check in, make bed, shower, laundry... relax and put feet up.

I climbed 800 meters today, but I feel good... relaxed, content, warm and clean. There's barely a cloud in the sky but the forecast is for thunderstorms tomorrow. Lucky I'm not made of sugar! Besides, I have "snackies". (The French have learned that word weirdly) and rain gear. Last year I traversed the Pyrenees in sunshine, the photos were amazing.  This year I can only assume they will be amazing in a different way.

There lived a princess...

#2 on the list of fairytale castles... Ussè
This was the one that inspired Sleeping Beauty.

After an hour on 'D-roads', winding through quaint French villages, we arrived at Ussè. The parking lot was small, few cars were in it. We entered through a cottage - a rose covered cottage with geraniums in the window boxes.

Before us; turrets, 3 stories of majestic château, pointy roofs and all. I did feel like is stepped back in time...to a medieval fairytale, complete with old witch, Prince Charming, spells, romance and destiny.

Following the spiral staircase up the turret, we found small rooms, secret passages and views to take your breath away. This castle was different though.  Each room was a painstaking recreation of a moment in time.  The witch casting a spell, princess pricking her finger on a spindle and falling into a 100 year sleep, Prince Charming braving 100 year old morning breath to kiss her awake!

Then there was the attic in all its dusty, cobwebby glory. Chests overflowing with rolled documents, furniture, mirrors and clothes.  The Disney movie theme song to Sleeping Beauty played in a loop and I found myself with the need to dance like I had a pretty gown on. Me... Princess Aurora!

We explored the gardens, stables, Chapel and caves. Inside the caves, traditionally a pave for wine making/fermenting/storing, there were more mannequins! This time though, it looked more like the 1980's had arrived and 3 of their finest were up to no good. Shenanigans involving drinking that wine, I think! Hahaha.

It was hard to leave this place, it's village and general area but we really wanted to be in Bayonne by tonight.

Ooh, don't forget lunch! We stopped in a random village and entered the local bar/cigarette shop. The menu was in French, which is difficult enough.  On top of that it was written in European style cursive and the owners spoke not a word of English. Charades were not cutting it! Starving little foreigners that we were, we put a finger on the menu items and apparently ordered a couple of things.

Out came Marks cold salted fish with veggies, salad. Mine was more suspicious. There was meat for sure. It was mostly cooked and luke warm - shiny and fatty with arteries or something, through out.  Was it chicken giblets??? If it wasn't, then it was poultry organs of another variety and honestly, it doesn't matter too much, the small differences, at some point.

I ate it. Partly to be polite, partly because it was that or nothing.

Something our host called Tiramisu was served next.  It was not Tiramisu! The cream was that delicious heavy whipped sort - with creamy lumps. The lady fingers were missing and instead I found poached pears or similar and a chocolatey sprinkle on top. It was yummy but it was NOT Tiramisu.

We ended in Bayonne. The sun setting over the river as we ate pizza on the patio and washed it down with chocolate cake and wine.

Tomorrow I begin my solo Camino. Today my head and heart filled with an anxiety- excitement mix .

Once upon a time, in a castle far away...

Leaving Paris is apparently just as complicated as arriving.

We threw the key on the counter and pulled the door closed behind us. Our stay in a delightful studio apartment in Paris was over. Thanks Airbnb and our hosts Elise & Laura, for helping us feel right at home this week!

For the last time, we rode the Metro and the train (RER) to Charles de Gaulle Airport and picked up the rental car... A sweet little Peugeot that had somehow made it's way into the "big car" category.  It was in fact, only just big enough to squeeze a suitcase into the trunk, the backpack onto the back seat and Mark and I, upfront. Luckily we had opted for the built-in GPS, because cell signal was abysmal and getting data to load on the phones was a nightmare. Truth be told, we would never have found our way out of the airport, let alone to Versaille, without the nav. system.

The Palace of Versaille. In a word; Overstated.
The ginormous building, surrounded by impressive courtyard and more impressive gardens, was more than any family would need, let alone one that was listening to the French people starve and watching their country go into bankruptcy. Gold gilded and ornate, it boasts apartments for the king, his queen and a couple of their 10 grown kids. (They had 10 kids, but only the oldest was found a match and married off. Apparently when you are raised Catholic and most of your ultra-wealthy peers are Protestant, there comes a problem in the spouse department. Since your life expectancy was around 30 years, you also don't have long to get it together and breed either.)

Don't get me wrong, there was much to like about the Palace of Versaille and my goodness, I learned a lot from the audio tour. But, I wasn't super comfortable amidst the thousands of people bumping and bustling to get a glimpse of the bed King Louis might have slept in and all that gold leaf, marble and priceless art, is not where I'm at home either.

We headed back to the car and began a 250km drive to the Loire Valley. Ever heard of it?
The Loire Valley is of Paris and winds its way along the Loire River toward the west - the Atlantic side of France.

For as long as I can remember, I have been held captive by Hans Christian Anderson style fairy tales and that castle at Disneyland that was designed for Sleeping Beauty. The Loire Valley is where the inspiration for these castles comes from. Luckily for me, I had stumbled upon a "10 best fairy tale castles" website some time ago which had planted the seed in my brain about visiting. My time was here and with Mark in mind, I selected my top 2 fav's and added them to the list of things to do in France this year. Today, we ticked off the first one;

Chenonceau Chateaux
Unless you enter the lush grounds and walk through the garden to get to the castle itself, you are unlikely to see the splendor that awaits. Chenonceau spans the river with a handful of graceful arches and 3 stories of sunlit rooms above. I felt right at home here. The overall size is much smaller than most, the rooms are intimate, flowing, cozy and peaceful. Each has a view of the river, or gardens or the woods that you walked through to get there. Hardly any gold in sight, but instead the tiled floor beneath your feet is worn smooth, the pattern and color gone after years of stomping around and dragging 10 layers of lace and dress and bustle behind you.

The kitchens are located on the lowest level and are pretty awesome. I could almost smell the bread straight from the wood fired oven, the pig roasting on the substantial spit turning in front of an 8 foot open fireplace. Shiny copper pans hung on the walls and pigeons coo'ed gently outside the windows. Magical. I was transported into my own fairy tale and didn't want to leave.

All good things must come to an end though and it was time to find a hotel and food... When was the last time we ate properly???

Sounds simple enough but really, this is what happened:
1. I used Booking.com to find a hotel about 12km from the castle - that apparently is not open after 6:30 pm or doesn't exist. It was 7:30 PM.
2. Google maps took us to the area, told us to turn right (into a field, since no road was there!) failed to turn up a hotel at all and left us in some poor Frenchmans driveway.
3. We finally found a hotel after following a sign in a field... But it was COMPLETE. The hotel owner assured us that just 5 minutes down the road, in Montrichard, there were plenty of other hotels.
4. In Montrichard we struggled to find an open hotel and it was now 8:30 PM.
5. Found the only hotel in town that was open, but were told their restaurant was closing for the night  Not to worry, they said... There are tons of places to eat in the Centre Ville.
6. Centre Ville was almost dead! Most places were closed and we thought for while that supper might come from a local gas station.
7. Found an awesome Italian place, settled in for Osso Bucco, Tiramisu and wine. ONE waitress was doing everything. Bussing, serving, seating and ringing up the bills!!! She was awesome!