Solitude

Cizur Menor to Puente La Reina (Queensbridge for Anglophiles)- Monday, May 31st. A really good day of walking. There were still hills to be climbed and descended - and I´ve given up really trusting the elevation charts that they first gave us when we started back in St. Jean Pied du Port. They seem to give false impressions about how difficult or easy days or going to be. Or perhaps our abilities and expectations have changed?

For once, I am not with a walking companion during a good bit of the day, although there is almost always someone within 100 or 200 yards ahead and/or behind me on the trail. I was just talking with someone else today (June 2) about this and she agreed, I have never once felt afraid or even alone. It´s sort of like the Communion of Saints, for those of you reading this who are familiar with that phrase. I see the footprints in the dust or mud of those who have gone before and know that mine are being left for those behind me. God knew my pack was too heavy and I somehow managed to leave my copy of the guidebook behind early in the trip (probably in the Atlanta airport), so I look at Stella or Mary´s most mornings and then just go from there. But the trail is so well marked that I have not had to worry.

Anyway, it is a gorgeous day on the trail. Out of Cizur, there is a nice flagstone trail for a while, across relatively flat fields with low bumps of hills. Loads of wildflowers line the walkway, and occasionally pilgrims "a bici" pass me by, some at higher rates of speed than others. The red poppies are prolific here. At one point, I glance up to my right at a hillside where there appear to be two ruins of buildings and one looks for all the world like a stone jack-o-lantern looking back at me. Up on the hill to the left is a village but we end up bypassing it.

Then we begin to climb the side of a ridge leading up to yet another peak, Alto de Perdon, though now, relative to the mountain, none seem so bad. The path has changed to gravel. All along the ridge are wind turbines.
The guide book describes their sound as an eerie whoosh. Personally, it just sounds like wind to me. They are lovely, like ballet dancers. There are very dark clouds closing in and I am sure I am going to get caught in a storm on this side of the ridge, but the rain stays off in the distance. Finally reaching the crest, there is a wonderful, two-dimensional sculpture, kind of life-size, of weathered sheets of inch thick metal. It is a Canterbury Tale like parade of pilgrims, modern style, done to commemorate the Camino. There's even a dog! As I arrive at the top, there are lots of people there and I think that they are all pilgrims who have have stopped to celebrate. Then I realize that a bunch of them are simply on a bus tour! There's a refreshment stand taking advantage of the trade, so I get a granola bar and pause, enjoying the vistas in all directions, then head on.

I descend another steep and rocky descent into fields and I feel like dancing in the fields, ala Maria in the early scenes of Sound of Music, which I do, kinda, but restrain myself a bit. It is lovely! There are a number of small towns, including one that has a special octagonally shaped church, but I decide not to detour to it. There is a church with a stained glass windown with a scallop shell in it, though. Then, I reach Obanos, which goes out of its way to welcome pilgrims. It begins with a welcoming walkway, complete with inlayed bricks and six inch, bronzed or copper scallop shells in relief. They form a path along the Camino as it wends its way through the town. If you´re not looking at shells, you´re not on the right path. In the middle of town is a church with an interesting crucifix and (I think) an outdoors baptismal font. Then you go under an arch (marked with the scallop shell symbol) and out of the town. As you exit, still on this nice path, there is a sign from the Ministers of the town to all pilgrims wishing us "Ultreya!" which means "Onward!" and something else which I couldn´t quite translate. Not all the towns are quite this welcoming. Many of the communities along the Camino exist solely for the purpose of the Camino, sort of like railroad towns in the States. This town knows it and is grateful.

I reach Puente la Reina by a little past noon which is wonderful - I have plenty of time to get settled into the alburgue, cleaned up, wash clothes and explore the town! Puente la Reina, another town which exists solely for the Pilgrimage, is an important point on the Camino Francese. Three main routes through France all merged to come through Roncevalles and on to Pamplona, but a fourth, the Aragonese route, now joins the other three here in Puente la Reina.

The alburgue isn't bad - I claim my bunk in one of the rooms, take a shower, wash out my clothes and go hang them up on the very colorful tendedero (clothesline) outside. There are already a number of pilgrims relaxing on the sunny lawn. I walk down the Calle Mayor (Main Street) and see the sights. I marvel at the gardening people can do in their walled backyard gardens. The sidewalk is higher in some places, so I can see over! Their gardens are so neat and well tended, and the soil looks so rich. One building has red geraniums across the length of every balcony from top to bottom! Not much is open at this time of day except a few cafes.

Centuries ago, the town was renowned for bandits which plagued the pilgrims who crossed the Arga river on a ferry at this point. So a queen (they aren´t quite sure which one of two) gave the town this beautiful stone arch bridge so the pilgrims could cross safely. We will use it as we leave tomorrow. After exploring the bridge, I find a pharmacy and get a support for one knee that is bothering me after all the rocky, steep descents. Then I look for a place for lunch. There is a nice little cafe with tables and chairs out by a tree-lined esplanade, so I settle in there. As I'm enjoying a salad with the local white asparagus on top and a glass of the local wine, thinking about how amazing it is that, here I am, sitting in this neat little town in Spain, all by myself, someone calls my name! It´s Paul, a young man from Chicago, who will be going to Roman Catholic seminary this fall, and three young women with him, Therese, Taryn and Dana who are doing the Camino. They wave and call "Buen Camino!" as they walk by and I return the cheer. The German and French men in a group at the table behind me, who have been discussing the running of the bulls in Pamplona in English, now switch to a discussion of the Camino and why people do it. Eavesdropping can be interesting! (And it isn´t as if I had a choice ;)) Then, right after that, I get a phone call from Mary´s other niece, telling me about the arrival plans of Lexi and Josh who have finally managed to catch a flight the night before, albeit to Barcelona. It feels very surreal to at one moment be thousands of miles from home by myself in Spain and the next moment have my name called by someone walking by and then get a telephone call. This is the 21st century!

At last, I end my wonderful little lunch and make my way back to the alburgue. Stella and Mary have arrived. In the evening, we wander back towards the downtown, stopping into the church next to the alburgue. There are storks nesting in its dome. The crucifix there was carved and given to the church by a German pilgrim. We stop in another church in the center of town, and there is a statue of St. James inside which is covered in gold leaf. More stores are back open now after the afternoon siesta, including some little touristy ones, catering to pilgrims. We come back to the little cafe where I had lunch and have a nice dinner. Ed and Terry from Rochester and Laurence from Montreal end up joining us, as does a woman from Florida. A delightful evening in a delightful little town!