Winter's Way Part 2 - Follow The Yellow Brick Road.

Next to my first yellow arrow was a church. And next to the church there was a tour group. The tour group was lead by a bilingual Spaniard and was being conducted in English. I listened in, hopeful for free information. I soon realised the group was American. 'They're everywhere', I thought to myself. The group were quicker to realise I was a pilgrim. A real, live pilgrim. This was good news for the tour guide who had just reached the 'pilgrimage' part of his routine. I happily told them what I was doing, where I was going and presented them with my 'credencial'. They were all extremely interested, though they clearly thought I was nuts. They wished my all the best of luck. And then a couple came up to me and said they'd walked a section of the camino last year and promised me I'd love it. It was with these heart warming sentiments that I then began to trundle along the ancient Calle Major of Pamplona, which is famous for sending bulls down the very same street. Fortunately not at the same time as me.

I walked through and out of the city. It took ages. I sat down to drink some water. Stood up. Walked for a few minutes. A thought occured to me. I turned around and went back to the bench and picked up my walking pole which if it had a head would surely have been shaking it at me. I then retraced my steps. This became a comedy/tragedy routine throughout the entire 4 weeks (I should have attached it to myself surgically) culminating in a wonderful moment where I wasn't quick enough to get it out of the taxi in Madrid last Thursday, and the taxi driver drove off with it in his trunk/boot. Well, it was trying to get away from me all that time and it finally succeeded. I wouldn't mind only it's damn expensive and I'm going to need a new one now.

I continued walking for a mere 90 minutes until I saw a castle with a flag.



I thought that was rather interesting and carried on walking after taking the above photo. A little further on, I saw a sign for an Albergue. It was 12.30pm, about the time to check in to ensure getting a bed. I felt a bit silly, I'd only walked about 7 or 8 km. However, I was tired from buses and everything so I took myself in. I was the first one there. That decision changed everything for the following four weeks. For a start, there were supposed to be five and a half weeks. But wonderful things unfurled.

The kindest man in the entire world took me in and put me in a room exclusively for women. This was the one and only time that was possible or an option. Ironically, the snoring was louder that night than on any other, thanks to a skinny Danish lady. Snored like a motorbike.

The Castle belongs to the Order of St John - the Knights of Malta. Incredible stuff. The man was a knight himself. The order has worked giving humanitarian aid since the 12th Century. They avoided slaughter (unlike the Knights Templar) by keeping a low profile that should be the awe of every under-cover operator in the world. Their story is exceptional and you should look it up. Please follow this link. Those with less time will perhaps be satisfied simply to know that St John's Ambulance is just one of the remarkable things they have given the world.

http://www.orderofstjohn.org/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knights_Hospitaller

It was also a nice touch that it's Malta, where my Mother spent some of her childhood.

That afternoon, I had a short sleep to make up for a weekend of worrying about my luggage, and later wondered into the kitchen. The charge was 5 euros for a bed, showers, and food for lunch, dinner and breakfast. Bit of a deal. But the best bit was when the Knight ushered us into the church/castle (see below) and gave us the history in English. That was my first day. It was an incredibly magical start.



Later that day, I met friends who I would meet again and again. Perhaps even friends for life. The following is a breakdown:

A Kiwi, Simon
An Irishman, Daire
A Kenyan (British Colonial fond of tea) Chexie (pron. Checkie)
A German (Christian)
An American (Jesse)

Three of us tried to cook Spaghetti Bolognese and did OK, though it was a bit Heinz. I quickly learned that bedtime was anytime from 8pm, and the electricity shuts off at 10pm. This meant that the conversation I was having with Jesse had to end rather abruptly, but as time would tell I was unable to lose him quite so easily! At 9.45pm I went to bed and was startled to find that the lights were off and everyone was asleep. I hadn't brought a torch with me so I rustled all my stuff until I climbed under a couple of blankets and tried to ignore Miss Motorbike 2007.

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The following morning, we (myself, Simon and Daire) took off about 7am or so, downing a coffee which the chaps assured me would be essential, and we took off out of the town and into a field. Now, I know I've complained about the rain a great deal since being in Spain, but I have to say, it worked wonders. The scenary was stunning. All the better for green, rather than parched yellow. We had a nicely paced accent towards mountains with windmills on them. They make a beautiful relaxing noice when you're up-close. Some people have called them eyesores. Personally, I'm always happy to see human beings trying to work with the Earth rather than against it. We trailed upwards, seeing various 'pilgrim alters' on the way. People often create crosses, and leave a stone or some other token such as a flower or a note covered with plastic, as a memorial to a love one, for instance. I hadn't known about that so I never had anything to leave. I therefore always found a flower or a pretty stone to place either by a cross or on one of the hundreds of mile-stones. However, I never went into a church or cathedral where I never lit a candle for my Mother, or other loved ones. And sometimes, they were real candles rather than those awful electric things. How soulless are they????







Once at the summit, there were one or two monuments for pilgrims, including an iron 2D depiction of pilgrims making their way.



After this, it was pretty much downhill. We stopped at a cafe on the way and re-loaded with coffee and bananas and cake. We walked a little further and ate our stale bread sandwiches (we had to buy the bread the night before because we left before the shops had opened). Everything was rather idyllic. I wanted to keep walking so I went on ahead - on to a famous church called Eunate..

"Santa Maria de Eunate - "the jewel of the Camino". This unusual octagonal Romanesque church stands in the middle of cornfields, between Enériz and Puente la Reina. It is surrounded by a free-standing colonnade.

Its origins are obscure - some believe that it was a church of the Knights Templar, and that the octagonal design came from the East, being based on the Templar church of the holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. Whatever its origins, it is a place of great calm - one of the places where one feels a great sense of unity with all those pilgrims who have gone before." - www.santiago-compostela.net

There was so much beauty and wonder that first day, I couldn't take it all in. Gradually, the heat increased and I pressed on, meeting up with the boys shortly afterwards. We arrived that night in Puente de la Reina (Bridge of the Queen.) It is most famous on the Camino for being the town where several routes meet up. (I did the Route Francais, French Route, the most famous) I met up again with Chexie and Christian, and met a lovely young woman called Elaine who came from an island near Fiji. My toe was hurting a little bit but I didn't think it would become an issue (hahaha).

I relaxed on the beautiful green lawn of the hostel and later we all went out for dinner together to experience 'Menu The Pilgrim' as it had been translated, much to my amusement. I will save a full on attack of the poor quality of the food on the Camino for another blog. It deserves an blog entry all to itself. Something I shan't forget, was Simon selecting 'Fruta del Tiempo (fruit of the season)' in an attempt to be healthy when we had all selected the icecream. What arrived (and the Spanish have a way of practically throwing plates and glasses onto the table so it was also delivered with the grace of a shot-down duck) was a saucer, a teaspoon and one markedly sorry looking apple. We all laughed at him. Until our choc-ices arrived. I promptly informed my new friends that the pilgrim menus were a total rip-off and we should avoid them if possible. You can have a better meal for far less money if you select from the normal menu! Shame on every restaurant and bar on the trail currently making money out of pilgrims by feeding them utter crap! And grow some friggin' vegetables!!!!!!

So that was my first day. It lasted a lifetime. I spent that night under a man of about 70 who trod on my face when dismounting from the bunk in the night. He didn't snore though, so I forgave him.

For an impressive photo of the bridge, click here.

That was my first day. Elaine had by this point persuaded me to join her in her attempt to cover 45km (30 miles) the next day. I was totally up for it. Little did I know, the little pinky-toe was at that very moment plotting against me....

PART THREE