My first hostel stay in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port was so nice. It was a little uncomfortable at first getting in the rhythm. Laura, the host, showed if I wished to be in a smaller room with just women. I gratefully accepted. My rooomie’s were Brigit (polish or German?) and two Spanish women – Rosa and Emparo (I think). The Spanish gals some English and eventually struck up conversation with me. Rosa teaches history in London and Emparo is from near Barcelona where she does administrative jobs, but is currently between jobs.
They had stayed an extra day in SJPDP before starting and had heard about a wine festival and asked if I wanted to go. This was French wine and food, straight local! It was delicious! The wine was definitely stronger than at home. For less than the price of a Quiktrip Hot Dog I was eating an octopus salad on a black roll. It was delicious!
My plan was to do 30km on Day 1 and they thought I was crazy. Everyone raised their eyebrows when I mentioned going to Espinal. If my stubbornness wasn’t so in control, it may have been a sign for what came later. I had also booked a room in Espinal, so it felt like I had no option to change my plans. In planning my initial week I had panicked on not having a place, so I booked rooms through Pamplona. Here was a great example of my need to control things… I hope my therapist reads this, she’ll laugh. I had also made the fatal flaw of letting my ego determine this first day would be easier than… well you’ll find out. My thought was “How hard can 3/4 miles elevation gain be over 7 miles?” Ha ha ha… (spoilers sweetie)
I started at 6am to get an early start. I woke up, felt ready, and was rearing to go. I got coffee and a croissant then hit the road. It was great at first. I saw the sun rise as I hiked out of the valley and above the clouds. From the moment I left SJPDP it was uphill. The city sits in a valley surrounded by the Pyrennes Mountains. The Pilgrims Office had given me a walk through of the trail, only offering the elevated route. It’s the one I wanted, but it is weird they didn’t offer the lower route.
The higher route is called Napoleon. There are two towns on this side of the mountain, Honto & Orisson. Honto barely gets a mention as it only has Albergues. Orisson was about 7km up and was the last stop for food before another 17km. There was also not another watering point till near the top, except for a “food truck.” I’d been told the food truck barely had anything and was near enough the water that there was no need for it. In Orisson I stopped for a cafe and basque cake (there is pudding in the middle). I also bought a bocadillo para llavar (sandwich to go). I used their toilet and then hit the road. I didn’t fill my water, which ended up being a bad idea. It was only 9am and the sun wasn’t fully up.
The view on the trail was so beautiful it made me cry tears of joy, at least for the first 12km. About 4km before Orisson my heel had developed a blister that got quite large before I stopped to treat it. I patched it up, but between the incline and my sweaty feet, the bandage kept sliding. I kept replacing it, but eventually the blister popped and tore. I went through most of my supply fixing it over and over. My whole body was also feeling the incline and the weight of my pack.
Around 11am I came to a beautiful lookout point. There was a statue of the Virgin Mary on top of large boulders. My legs were jelly and my sunscreen had stopped being effective. I dropped my pack and rested. It was extremely hot and the sun was high in the sky. I’d walked out of tree cover near Orisson. I aired out my feet and soaked socks. I knew i needed to go faster to reach Espinal before midnight. My feet weren’t happy though. I tried some yoga, but couldn’t find my balance. I threw on my flip-flops to walk a while and let my heel dry out.. i got about 3km before I started tripping on rocks. It was like I was drunk! At the food truck I put my hiking shoes back on and bought a coke and water. I had run out of water at this point and was afraid of how far the fountain might be. They said it was close, but this was nothing like I was expecting. It was a good decision as the watering point was several more kilometers on and up another ascent. I enjoyed my bocadillo, which had become a ham and cheese panini in my bag through the heat, with the coke. I drank the water in small sips as needed, just in case. It felt like being stranded in a desert. At one point i considered drinking the water from a creek, but it was all pasture, with a lot of sheep… so a lot of sheep poop in the creek I’m sure.
By this time my adventurous spirit was quickly being overcome by sunburn and exhaustion. I was so glad I was walking solo. This wasn’t a misery that wanted company. My self-talk turned for the worst and I was not at all kind to myself in my stubbornness and fear to finish the day.
At the fountain I was able to feel some renewal of my spirits as I drank deep. The water was refreshing and cold. My body still hurt, my soul felt renewed.
I picked up and kept moving, hoping I was getting close to the top. I figured, especially after this, that the downhill would be much easier. As I moved I began, or more often the sheep.
I pulled out the Lego man given to me, named him Boomer and proceeded to build his story.
Eventually even that couldn’t entertain me. I was back to this miserable place with a few “oh beautiful” moments mixed in. I had no choice but to keep going. my peace was getting slower and slower. I’d been lapped earlier by Rosa and Emparo. I reached a sign at the top of a hill which showed the different routes. I thought it was the top, however anticlimactic. It wasn’t. It was followed by a soft path through trees, which I thoroughly enjoyed. I saw no one on this path, but for some sheep and I started to wonder if I had picked the wrong path. In my exhaustion had I gone off trail? Getting actually lost when I’m trying to get lost is the story of my life. However, when I usually get lost I’m rarely this exhausted, resourceless, and in the French countryside.
My fears were alleviated as I rounded a bend to find horses frolicking (yes, frolicking) across the path and a handful of pilgrims taking naps in the shade. I too took a break, though there was no nap in store for me. In the words of Robert Frost: “These woods are lovely, farm, and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.”
I didn’t know if I would ever reach Espinal, but I needed this brief respite. It was like an act of grace, so green and friendly. The oasis in the desert. The horses were beautiful, playful, and free. There were several foals in the mix just enjoying being alive. I couldn’t have kept myself from smiling.
I had to go on though. When i reached the actual summit of Lepoeder, I couldn’t even bring myself to walk the 100ft to the very tip of it. I just wanted down off this fucking mountain. The descent was easier on my heels, but never ending. I knew I would never reach Espinal walking. I reset my expectation to stay upright and moving till Roncesvalles, another 7km yet.
My mental state was also exhausted. It had tried so hard to keep me motivated. It sang songs, did math, told stories, and even planned things for the nonprofit I’m building. Though I can’t recall those ideas now, lol. It even tried to clear itself and mediate while walking. All of these things started to get jumbled in my mind. Spanish words started to get mixed in, and I kept mumbling to myself. I debated how to ask and call for help in Spanish. I wondered if I was suicidal, but no, I only wanted to go home. I’m not the same person I was when I bought these tickets, desperate to find something to hold on to. I wanted to give up. What was so important that I needed to be here and not with the on ness I love?
I kept picking up one foot after another. A French girl said hello and that we only had 3k. To Roncesvalles. I told her I was going on to Espinal. She asked why looking concerned and I blurted out “BECAUSE I’M DUMB!” She looked shocked. I had to keep moving, or I felt I may never move again. I felt the breakdown (definitely not a spiritual awakening) coming on. I was too tired for it. I just needed to get off the mountain. I lost the trail at some point and ended up on a road. It was descending, so I kept following it. I think it added an extra kilometer. I didn’t care anymore. Everything in me had turned off and my feet were using all the energy I had left. Well my feet and the fact I’d needed a toilet for 7km. It wasn’t the act of going in the woods that was the problem, it was the need to pack out my refuse, I hadn’t remembered to get baggies. You can’t bury or burn your bathroom trash.
I finally reconnected with the path and could see the Monastery in Roncesvalles through the trees. As I cleared the trees it was like walking into a different world. There were clean happy pilgrims hanging laundry and lounging about. I imagine my relief was selections to that off people traveling long distances before technology. The sweet release of connection. I entered the monastery and they offered me a bed, which I was gladly hoping to accept. Then I realized I did not have enough Euros and right then they ran out of beds anyway. So in a confusion of people, language, and expression I called a taxi.
They’re was no public restroom and the taxi was an hour away. I sat outside and tried to silently cry it out. This isn’t what I expected. I thought I was better prepared and had failed those expectations of myself. I even looked up how to change my flight home. The Taxi call had forced me to turn my cell service on, so I made the best of that connection. I did not change my flight. I did check in with home, to remember that I’m not alone. My people still exist!
Taking the Taxi to Espinal speed 6km of the trail, which doesn’t bother me in the least. This was self-care. Hostal Rural Haizea was very welcoming. It was a perfect place to be after such a hard day. After a shower I napped and felt a little better. At dinner none of the pilgrims spoke English, so it was a silent night for me.
I had walked 18.27 miles according to my phone. The map said it was 24km (roughly 14mi). The thing I learned last year was the inconsistency in the distances from different sources.
I will have better takeaways and lessons when I’m not in the midst of exhaustion. I know this was important and I’ll keep trying, but for now, today just needs to end. Day 1 complete.
Buen Camino
