We Are Pilgrims on a Journey…

“…We are Travelers on the Road…”

After our stay in Barcelona, we left early in the morning for France and our new adventure – Camino de Santiago. Our train from Barcelona ended in Pamplona and the bus awaited us. While waiting for our bus to leave, we stopped in the Spanish post office, Correos, to forward most of our luggage to Santiago. Because we are carrying our clothes for 6 months and for various seasons, we needed to forward our luggage to the end so we didn’t have to carry it on the Camino. Basically, no one has any business carrying much with them on the Camino.

An hour plus later, with the help of four non-Inglés speakers, we managed to pack up a box and a large suitcase to send along to the finish line. Once everything was packed up, and by packed we mean wrapped in plastic wrap and taped up, we realized that we forgot to include the unnecessary binder full of travel paperwork. It was missed in the shuffle and with the amount of tape used to secure our box and luggage, the 2+ pound binder would have to travel some 500 miles on Clay’s back.

No big deal of course because we had decided to carry only what we would need for the trip in our packs. Of course, for some reason, Clay needed a hardback book and a paperback around 400 pages.

Now we know what you are thinking: “Clay, they make this thing called a kindle/nook. You should have invested in that instead of real books for this trip.”

And Clay’s response would be that he also has a kindle in his backpack. Now you know why his pack weighed around 30 lbs when it should have weighed 20 at most. He carried things he wanted and not just what he needed. The motto in Elizabeth’s family has always been “If you can carry it, you can bring it.” Clay may have taken that to the extreme.

But back to Pamplona. We walked around a little in the rain with not much success and headed down to the bus station to make sure we were in the right place at the right time.

We had not eaten yet and were hungry. Luckily the bus station had several restaurants. But only one open due to construction.We ordered a hamburger and suffice to say Elizabeth refused to eat what was ordered due to the odd color of the meat.

I (Clay) ate it instead with her looking on in disgust, anger, and concern. Disgust and anger that I told her that for what we paid for the burger someone between the two of us was going to eat it. Concern because she was certain that the burger was going to make me ill.

I took every pill from the collection given to us by my mother that I thought would be necessary to prevent me from dying. Thankfully it worked. That or the burger was not in fact poisoned.

Once we got on the bus, things cooled down. We were pleasant and amicable and then worried about our decision to begin the Camino.

The bus ride is 2 hours of winding mountain roads leading you into France while crossing the Pyrenees mountains. While sitting in the bus, trying not to get too queasy, we were passing pilgrims walking along the road. These poor souls were wearing the best weather protection they could find and were still soaked to the bone, having walked for hours in the rain. And that is what we had to look forward to the following day.

Once we arrived in France, we headed to our first albergue. An albergue is a type of hostel where only pilgrims are allowed to stay. We were the only people spending the night in ours. That’s because it was not supposed to open until the next night. I guess we missed the sign somewhere. It would be our last good night sleep for many days.

We settled in our albergue and headed to the city office assisting pilgrims starting their journey from St. Jean. An adorable French woman, Charlotte, assisted us and let us know, in French, that only one route was available for hiking tomorrow. The Napoleon route was closed after a couple of pilgrims had to be helicoptered off the mountain after getting stranded. Instead we had to take the Charlemagne route, a shorter, but much steeper climb.

Once Charlotte sent us on our way, we headed to find full length ponchos. We had brought rain jackets, but after seeing those lost souls earlier in the day, we knew we were going to need something more robust to protect us and our packs (filled with books).

We didn’t know what to do or where to go after all this other excitement, so we walked around the city, taking pictures in the rain of old stuff. And to celebrate France, we headed to any pastry shop we could find still open.

We found a single place open and ordered dinner, and apple tart and a raspberry torte/cake.

And while trying to find some sparkling wine to celebrate France, we encountered what appeared to be a female biker gang. These women were all dressed in black, looking terrifying, with one of the women having face tattoos and short spiked hair. An ominous looking group, we made it a point to walk across the street to avoid bypassing them a second time.

However, they chose to leave the bar at the same time we were walking by and they crossed our paths again. Elizabeth and I awaited the worst: hateful comments in French, possible assault, something else nefarious. Once the face-tattoed woman got closer though, we realized things were not as we assumed.

The hair was a wig. The face tat’s were temporary, taken probably from a cracker jack box or a quarter machine. The women were no longer looking scary but silly, laughing and wildly gesticulating and wearing matching shirts with a picture of an adorable four year old from 1986. The pieces came together and we realized it was a bachelorette party.

You can’t be to careful in France though.

We headed home, enjoyed our pastries and went to bed, ready (or so we thought) for the next 30+ days of walking through Spain.