Crossing the Pyrenees
Trip Start
Aug 25, 2008
1
2
24
Trip End
Oct 02, 2008
Roncesvalles (Orreaga),
Navarra,
Spain and Canary Islands
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Right from the beginning it's a steep ascent. Being one of the native mountain people of Austria, I immediately feel at home. The sky starts to clear as I ascend higher. Although completely untrained and therefore not in perfect physical condition, I am still fresh and quite energetic. I pass people who prefer a slower pace. Passing the refuge of Huntto and feeling exhilarated, I miss the painted yellow arrow which marks the route all along the Camino. They say that if you don't see a yellow arrow for 50 meters or so, you have a good chance of going the wrong way. Remembering this piece of advice, I trace my steps back until I reach the missed waypoint
View from the Alberge d'Orisson
. This time, I take the right turn.The air is humid and thick; mist hangs in the trees and on the meadows. Sometimes the fog rises just long enough to reveal glimpses of a blue sky. A Spaniard is in front of me, as I pass him, we start some small talk. Soon we are joined by another pilgrim, a Galician called Julio. After walking like 15 minutes together our ways part, as Julio and I walk a faster pace than the other guy.
I stick with Julio and soon a girl called Iria joins in. She's met Julio before and we continue as a group of three. We meet the Spaniard again; this time I learn his name is José-Maria. Julio and Iria don't like breaks. José joins in once more and we continue our trip. This way, we arrive at the Lepoeder pass in less then six hours. By this time I am exhausted and I definitely need a break and something to eat. Julio and Iria march on while José-Maria and I fall to the ground and rest.
Afterwards, feeling somewhat refreshed, we start the downhill. We make our first acquaintance with the Spanish way of motivating pilgrims: Putting up signs that don't tell the truth about the distance yet to go.
Julio, Iria and my backpack
We arrive in Roncesvalles (Basque: Orreaga) at 3:30 pm, half an hour before the refuge is opened. Quite a lot of pilgrims are there already, and there are more to be expected. So we sign in, enter the dorm and find out that we are all accommodated in one big sleeping hall. Free to choose whatever bed I like, I opt for the top of a bunk bed at the far end of the hall. A good choice, as it turns out later.
As there are only six showers for 120 pilgrims, we have to stand in line. Waiting for my turn, I start talking to long-haired, sympathetically looking Max who turns out to be a fellow Austrian mate. We also meet the Samurai, a Korean warrior on his quest for Santiago. What he expects to find there remains unknown to us, for his knowledge of European languages appears to be rather limited.
After having washed and hung up my clothes, I sit down at the side of the refuge to reflect on what happened today. I unpack my rations and have dinner with myself, feeling calm and happy.
Sleeping in with 120 fellow pilgrims is an experience of its own. As a rule of thumb, it's always the snorers who fall asleep first. Soon the hall is filled with a totally improvised concerto grosso, probably consisting of 25 different voices or more. Impressive. Other pilgrims start to complain, but to what end? You just have to bear with it. My ability to fall asleep under almost any circumstances comes in handy here, and being exhausted from today's walk, I quickly drift away to dreamland.
