I still cannot sleep well. Maybe it is the solitary hostel, or it’s too hot or too cold. A lot of thoughts are free at night, being relieved from the concerns on the road and the aching signals from the body during the day. So a new thought came out clearly. Why insisting in carrying with me things that hurt, instead of letting them go? Likewise I though how times we keep holding on situations and relationships that only hurt us? I took the decision almost immediately: I will leave my boots behind in the hostel for anyone that might need them. They only hurted my feet and caused many blisters. I will continue with only the sneakers that are two numbers bigger and very comfortable. So I left the boots near a serious pilgrim stick that was also left behind by some other pilgrim before me.

Then I continued packing and was very pleased with the lighter weight and ventured out to the new day. As said, I had to skip one stage that was not planned for originally, so I went to the bus stop not before having bought a croissant and a cafe au lait. Need to admit that breadmaking is a serious business in France no matter where. It is always super delicious.

The bus stopped me in St.Jost Ibarre, from where I could reach St.Jean in just 22km instead of 40. At the bus stop I was pleased to meet a guide that walked along me for the first half hour.

The “chien”, I could not find a better name for him, has been the happiest creature on earth, and for some time kept me company showing me the way. When he seemed to be reassured that I did not get lost, he barked once and then he turned back fast as the wind till he was out of sight. This encounter put me in a very good mood.

The stage was hard as the previous ones with steep hills to climb and then fast descents into valleys often to pass water streams. My body was responding well and I marched happily whenever there was some flat terrain. Even if it is tougher to climb, I feel much better to walk on crests rather than through midway paths. I enjoy the unobstructed views and make me feel more closer to the natural scenery. So I managed to spot a fox and several hawks over the rounded hills. Unfortunately I was not quick enough to capture them on a photo.

At last my destination appeared in the distance.

Along the way there were thorny bushes of delicious blackberries which reminded me of my younger days when with the family we were picking them and carrying home baskets full of fragrance to prepare a yummy jam.

Still within the last kilometer from St.Jean I could not see any other pilgrim except myself. As soon as I reached the City gate, they all appeared at once, hundreds of them, of all colors and nationality. They all gathered at the information office forming a long line. I was thankful for having placed a reservation a l’Auberge du Pelerin, and went straight to settle in.

At dinner in the hotel I met Annie, an Irish lady who told me about herself and her motivations. She is a gardener by profession and an Irish music busker for passion. She raises the money for the trip playing the Irish fiddle or the flute along the roads of the main cities, and she would like to find enough strength from this experience to relocate definitely to Spain. A very touching story. So long for the many more personal stories I am eager to learn throughout the way.

Here are some pictures of this very cozy and quaint village.

As I woke in the magic atmosphere of St.Blaise with its yellow stones painted gold by the morning sun, I felt very good and extremely energized. Another day, another stage!

By reading some documentation at “la Gite” (French for refuge) however I learned that most pilgrims reach St. Jean in three days from here. I only planned for two, since on Monday I wanted to start the tough crossing of the Pyrenees from St.Jean to Roncesvalles. In the enthusiasm of the morning, I thought about doing an additional half stage more today and the other half on top of tomorrow’s stage.

As I reached the start of the trail I got a slap on the face for my cocky arrogance. The village of Odiarp is rated for more than 6 hours, and by right I should have gone another 6 km to reach Garabye, that is the mid point of the following stage.

Knowing already that the timings posted on signboards are calibrated on the sturdy pace of the villagers, I got a sudden bad feeling. The trail started immediately with an endless steep climb in the forest, cutting short all my scarces resources, and I had to fight the demon of failure a few times.

As comfort, I acknowledged the grace of a sudden breeze that came in just at the right time, or a small bird flying low in front of me as to show me the right path. Few times a yellow spotted butterfly touched my arm in sign of encouragement. I figured these were the tangible signs of your prayers. The countryside is amazingly beautiful and helps to refocus the mind from the painful feet and the scorching temperature. 

In the continuous climbs and descents, I made the decision to stop in Mauleon to rest for the day, and to take a bus tomorrow to reach St Jost Ibarra, the last stop before reaching St. Jean. This decision elated my spirit, but I had again to fight the laughing demon of failure. Would now St.James be angry with me for cheating? Anyway, despite the shorter distance planned, I still walked for 7 hours and by the time I reached Mauleon I was in pity for myself.

La Gite des Pelerins of Mauleon is hosted in a school, and the keys are managed by a bar owner who agreed to let me have them in exchange of 10 euros. Another pleasant surprise as I climbed the fly of stairs to the upper floor. Another very neat place, yet deserted, full of supplies with fresh linen on the beds.

Actually, I am carrying 3 kg worth of night supplies, which so far I never used. I am wondering if these are just excellent examples of pilgrims’ refuges or they will be always the same. I need to consider mail back home half of my pack, in case. The fridge has a few leftovers from the previous occupants, so I have to take a mental note to do the same on my next stop.

Finished my laundry and after a short nap, I ventured out to see the village and to look for a restaurant. The village is already considered part of the Basque region, which the Spanish still call Upper Navarra. The village, as many others so far is built high on the banks of a river with a quite picturesque look. High above an old medieval fort is overlooking the quiet village underneath, with the proud Basque flag on the high mast.

Looking to try another Assiette du Pelerin, I entered a restaurant near the river, where they asked me for my pilgrim credential before serving me a combo entree with green and tomato salad, eggs, charcuterie, and white asparagus, followed by a pasta Bolognese (with beef ragout) and two scoops of sorbet. All for 12 euro, isn’it amazing?

Financially, I am running over my target of euro 1.5 per Km so far, due to the choice of hotels of the first days. As I proceed with hopefully longer distances, and many more pilgrim menus, I may have a chance to make it.

Last amazing surprise for the day, has been the visit of André, while I was wolfing down the pasta: André is from the Amis du Chemin de Santiago Association, and came to meet me at the restaurant to welcome me and provide any information I needed. He proudly stamped my passport again with a green stamp and organized with a little shop nearby to sell me food tomorrow before I leave.

I was humbly grateful for all this attention and care and I have a growing desire to give back somehow, sometime all these attentions. Perhaps my inner discovery started today.

This stage was done entirely on the Camino trail, which means that the straight line is not the most obvious connection between two places. Still I have hard time to remember that the trail goes from church to church and at each road junction there is a mark often in the shape of a cross or a small chapel to indicate the correct way, which in most cases is useful for thanking God for being still alive with a short prayer. In those times with no GPS, the home beacon was the church bell tower, and no other building wad allowed to be taller than the bell tower, so that wanderers could see it from afar.

The trail has been partially on flat land, growin corn as far as sight can go.   The trail is on a paved commuting road between rural villages and was relatively easy to keep a good average speed despite the fierce sunshine and hot temp (31 degrees!). The tough part came later when the trail continued on a forested hillside with continuous up and downs. Even if the highest hill was probably not more than 300m, the total elevation done recorded in my GPS was more than 1700m!

Even if it was killing my legs, the wooded path was very charming through magnificent trees and with plenty of quiet streams.

I had almost finished my water supply, and despite the fact that I usually do not drink much water, I felt my determination falter in few occasions. I kept repeating to me that every minute was taking me closer to the destination. In facts, as soon as the beautiful church of St-Blaise appeared after one last turn of the path, all my strength came back at once.

This church is dated back to the XII century and was rapidly becoming a key resting place for pilgrims on the road to Santiago. The “hopital” was in facts the refuge for the pilgrim and probably at that time it was at a building situated on the side of the church.

I entered the church and sat down thankfully. Probably I was not smelling of flowers, since a couple of other visitors moved off two benches from me. Nonetheless, the charming and pretty village hostess, who was managing the reception desk in the tiny church offered me a big smile and the passcode to access the new and modern hostel situated not so far away.

I slowly dragged my bones for the last 100 meters to find a surprisingly neat accommodation, including fresh water in the fridge and some food the hostess prepared for the guests, all for a meagre 13 euros.

So far I am the only guest, so I could use the whole facility for a long overdue shower, and for washing my laundry.

Now I am sitting at one of the two restaurants waiting for l’Assiette du Pelerin, consisting on a potpourri of salad, fried egg over a pork cutlet, fries, and rockmelon. Probably pilgrims are so hungry they can devour anything the cook decides to prepare. Honestly I was quite happy about the look and the taste.

Unfortunately there is no WiFi available anywhere, so the gentle hostess offered me some time on her desktop PC to update at least the Facebook status. This chronicle of the 4th day, will be stored on my phone and will be published at the best opportunity.

I found out that Oloron is a crosstown of two main pilgrimage routes of ancient times, la rue du Piemont (GR78) and la route Arlesienne which goes south and crosses the Pyrenees to Spain at le Col du Somport. The GR78, that I have been trying to follow since yesterday, goes instead parallel to the mountains and goes further west to St.Jean.

During my hectic trip planning I totally missed out the GR78 itinerary which is not charted on Google maps. My itinerary for today was supposed to take me on a SW direction towards Montory. I finally got a GR78 map and I learned should have walked NW instead towards L’Hopital St. Blaise. This is going to be a real pilgrim’s hostel and the place as seen on the Internet is a promise of spirituality and inner peace.

To conclude my recounting of Oloron, the hotel I stayed in (Hotel de la Paix) is not worth both the name (plenty of traffic all night long) nor the hospitality offered in a quite rude and kindly manner.

Throughout the day several other blessings need to be noted:
– a few angels disguised as a couple of peasants walking along the road, an old woman at a window in an unnamed village, a pretty young lady in a bicycle, that stopped to greet me while I was having breakfast barefoot against the walls of the church in Buzy. All popped in at the right time to redirect my lost steps on the correct direction,
– the realization that in a pilgrimage you need to think like one of these ancient travellers. The path goes fr church to church, and often passes nearby the cemetery,
– as I developed serious pain in the feet, I thanked my Superior Power for having suggested me to pack also a pair of snickers. With sudden relief the change of shoes proved to be the most significant blessing of all.

Hope I will find again a wee-fee connection tonight for continuing the postings.

But let’s go with order, since today’s blessings were abundant and significative.

This morning the chef-owner of the hotel in Sevignacq, Jean- Pierre Paroix, shyly offered me the breakfast for free not to mention the car pickup service. I took a picture of him to remember to leave a stone along the road for him too.

Not long after I left, I bumped into the first sign of the Camino. I felt burst of commotion for being part of such a grand movement of people, which for hundred years before me were checking the same road.

The problem with trails is that it us very easy to take wrong turns, and therefore being forced to long detours. I shall continue tomorrow since now I am really super dead tired. Just to mention that tomorrow I shall check in a real pilgrim’s hostel a L’Hopital Saint- Blaise. The road is there for me tomorrow to take.

Here are some random pictures of Oloron where I am spending the night.

Waked up at 6 am to find out that day breaks in only at 7 am at this longitude. So I waited a bit before hitting the road and in the meantime trying to upload the summary of the day to my blog with disappointing results. The bandwidth of the connection all of sudden dried up and the update could not get through for several attempts.

Never mind, I was eager to start the day’s walk anyway, and by 7:25 am I moved on in a brisk cool morning, skipping breakfast figuring to have some later on in a couple of hours’ time. The direction chosen the night before was on secondary paved road towards St. Vincent and Nay. The road almost immediately started to climb and the effort was rewarded by a magnificent panorama of the valley still covered by the morning mist.

At a junction near Nay a woman in a car asked me for directions, and made my day! I was surely a foreigner but I have to say I was also the only living being around. Because of my typical habit of memorizing the road map of the surroundings, I actually knew how to direct her correctly : the problem was still to make myself understood in my rusty French!

Nay is a beautiful town with a well landscaped riverside worth another visit some day. Across the river, a central promenade lined with cafes and bistrots, was too inviting to resist. I had a double espresso, in a corner table still very conscious about being a mature man with a huge backpack and dressed like a bum. Still I could not meet yet any other pilgrim on these roads, and the blending in with these nicely dressed people was not so easy. After a short while, I followed the road towards Arudy and the destination of the day near Sevignacq.

The road narrowed a bit and the indications suggested another 3 hours of solid walk, before reaching the planned overnight stay at the Hotel du Thermes au Secours. The road climbed furthermore and unrolled like a grey ribbon on the crest of a hilly range, dotted with rural mansions and farms.

The hotel was not located on the main road where I though it should have been, and I could not get directions over the phone for the lack of references that made sense to me. The hotelier, who later introduced himself as Jean-Pierre, as soon as he finally understood I was coming in on foot and was heading to Santiago, insisted to come and pick me up with his car. He also shared with me that he was a pilgrim once and did himself part of the Camino de la Plata from Seville to Salamanca, and was planning one day to continue to reach finally Santiago.

I was grateful of the courtesy since the road to the hotel was a diversion of more than 5 km from I was and the direction I wanted to go the following day. The diversion was well justified as soon we reached the place: a quintessence of French hospitality with all the must haves such as the flowers at the balcony, the ivy on the walls and an incredible peaceful landscaping. Not to mention a private bathroom with a bathtub! I slowly simmered in the hot water and fall asleep for some thirty minutes, with my heart pounding of joy for these simple gratifications.

While allowing myself with the pleasure of a cold French beer, I enjoyed also the company of a charming British couple, Jean and Alec Jessups, in a holiday trip to visit friends in France and Spain.  We stayed in contact for some time during my trip as they wanted to get my news and whether I managed to reach Santiago in one piece. Since they live not far from Canterbury, I made also plans to visit them in the UK if and when I shall embark on the journey along the via Francigena, from Canterbury to Rome.

At dinner, Jean-Pierre authored an exquisite beef composition, which I devoured in very good spirit and with a glass of excellent Bourgogne. For my foodie friends, the dish was a combination of beef filet with mushrooms and a reduit of beef stewed in red wine sauce. Delicious.

Worth mentioning the first signs of the Santiago pilgrimage: the lid of the dustbin in the room has a motif inspired by the St. James shell.

All in all the stage was 28.6km long which I covered in 6:18 hours of walking and 2 hours of rest. First lesson learned during today’s stage: never underestimate the distance especially if you are taking side roads. What was supposed to be an easy stroll, turned out to be the longest distance so far. Google Maps indicated 23km but I ended up with about 30!

Before landing, I made a mental note to buy some water at the airport, to get the first stamp on my pilgrim passport, to buy a French 3G SIM, and also some maps. None of these items could be even considered: the Lourdes airport is so tiny, that there were no shops, or any other offices for that matter at the arrival hall. Perhaps there were some at the departure hall but I was eager to start the walk at once, and to subtract me from the curiosity of the other folks ready to board on the buses directed to the city center, so I went off on my own. It was 12:50 pm on Sep 4. The first steps…..

The road was well indicated and so I moved on towards Ossun making a big detour around the airport. There is a peculiarity of airports of being designed only for people arriving by car or by other public transport: walkers do not represent a business target and therefore these odd people need to manage their balance on curbs and road rubbish to avoid the incoming vehicles and the questioning stares of the drivers. Around this rural airport there was evidently no reason to open amenity shops you could reach on foot. None of the shortlisted items I wanted to do were taken care, but I resolved anyway to reach Ossun first and then look for shops there. Maybe the midday timing was not the most appropriate, and most likely the simple fact that Ossun is not Paris, but I was barely the only human being around. I just managed to get my first stamp on my brand new pilgrim’s passport at the local post office and take a photo of the cozy village.

The first acknowledgement greeting came from a couple of bicycle riders that yelled me:  “Buen Camino!” and moved on quickly. I felt quite happy and encouraged. I also felt proud of being recognized as a Santiago pilgrim . Perhaps the two bikers who were carrying large bags and backpacks were also travelling to the same destination. So I yelled back something similar and continued my journey sidelined by green pastures and with the Pyrenees in the far background. Such bike pilgrims, I learned much later, are called “bicigrinos” and unless they travel on paved roads, are quite annoying when they appear all of sudden from behind at great speed on narrow trails and yelling to give way.

The only signs of life were horses and cows: both a bit surprised to see this strange guy walking by. All other humans in facts were either driving cars or tractors. The landscape is definitely rural, totally silent in the slow natural cycles. After a short while, I reached Pontacq, my first stage.

I have plenty of time to settle down and start counting my blessings but also my aches and pains. So far so good. The spirit is high and I start appreciating the small pleasures of a decent shower, a change of clean clothes, and sitting down at a cafe in the small village which was founded in 1630 by a local landlord.
Happiness was to find also a small shop selling wanderers’ maps and some fruits and chocolate to carry along the next day. Dinner at the hotel with a filet de poisson avec les haricot verts et fries.

At 8:30 I am ready for bed. Tomorrow’s stage is a long one through Nay and towards Sevignacq-Secours.

I am at the low-cost airport of Orio al Serio, near Bergamo, waiting to board the plane towards Lourdes and the adventure.
Determined to start the journey under the best auspices to learn the privilege of time against speed, I decided to go  through the motorway toll gates queuing patiently to pay cash instead of using the automatic cashless system. Nonetheless I made it perfectly on time to this tiny airport.

Ironically for someone starting on a long walk, the car rental return parking is located about 1.5km from the airport with no transfer shuttle. So I had my head start already, and by the time I reached the departure hall I was panting and worried on how would I be ready to walk my targeted 25 km per day for 42 days consecutively.

The temperature is a bit chilly with no sunshine. Will see when I land. Today the walking schedule calls for a short check-out stage of only 13.5km with the overnight planned in Pontacq (France).

Emptying the backpack of its content to familiarize with the process of repacking in the dark and to ensure nothing is left behind unintentionally. My guess is that at least 30% of this stuff will never be needed, and likely also a good share of the total weight. Difficult is to know upfront what exactly is it.

On the right two pairs of convertible long-short pants, 4 microfibre t-shirts and 3 underpants, socks with lining, rain coat and a long sleeved and hooded sweater with front zip. Covered in an orange sleeve bag, a pair of walking sticks, a present of my good friend Massimo. In the center, my sleeping gear, a pair of gloves and a poncho, a dirty laundry bag with a hanging line and pins and a small lunch box with a spoon-fork and a Swiss army knife, a quick-dry towel and toilet paper. On the left all the toiletries, first aid kit, slippers and sandals, torch light with spare batteries, electric and solar chargers, and the ultra light backpack. In addition I shall also use a belt pouch bag with few other amenities.

Near the towel there is also a clear bag with the stones given to me by my family and other dearest friends and to be left behind during the Camino to symbolize the letting go of the troubles of the soul.

Hope God will provide the real other necessities along the way.

A dear friend visited me with a bagful of essays, booklets, pamphlets and other random pieces of information on the Camino and it’s historical and spiritual significance. We talked about my purpose, my fears, and a little also about my expectations. I am shy about talking about my enthusiasm, and dreams, and so I opted to listen mostly to his shared experience and readings from all that immense knowledge scattered on the table.

“The Camino is for everyone: not for superheroes. The Camino is the sole teacher: through the first two stages, one will learn already much more than what any guidebook can tell. Trust and have faith. The Camino starts with the first step and you only need to keep walking. No one else can tell you more than your own ability to see and observe, your grateful  appreciation of the respectful silence of whoever listens, of the humility of whoever asks, and more than anything else of the patience that shall grow within.”