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Walking Spain's Camino de Santiago, part 1
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Crossing the Pyrenees from France to Spain. These sheep will need their coats when winter hits. .
In 2001, my husband Ralph and I walked the Camino de Santiago, which is a 500-mile path across northern Spain. In this first installment, follow us as we begin our journey on the ancient pilgrimage route.
"The ride from Pamplona to Roncesvalles was beautiful. The road became increasingly curvy as it wound its way through many hamlets on our climb into the Pyrenees. The houses were well cared for, two storied, with their plaster exteriors freshly painted white. Their curved red tile roofs, crisply painted flower boxes, and pots filled with red geraniums were picture-book perfect."
We arrived in the tiny hamlet of Roncesvalles after our long day – five p.m. The bus stopped near the dark Gothic church that has welcomed pilgrims since the twelfth century. We knew there was a refuge in the monastery of the church."
Everyone began scrambling out of buses and getting in a long line. For what, we had no idea. We followed the crowd. No one was speaking English; we had to piece together overheard bits of conversations. It turned out that the line was to get a credential – the folding paper document that we were to carry with us to indicate that we're pilgrims on the walk to Santiago. Though we knew we were in the correct line to obtain the credential, I was still anxious – we had no idea whether or not we had a place to stay that night."
We waited outside the dark-colored, closed doors of a large room. We watched as groups of about sixteen at a time were invited in. When we were admitted, we filed in, took a seat at a long table, which had forms in place and pens fastened with cords to the table. The woman in charge rattled off instructions first in Spanish, but then in English when we asked. 'Bed by ten p.m., out by eight a.m., order dinner ahead of time to eat dinner at the nearby restaurant at eight-thirty,' she sternly announced."
After everyone in line was registered, the real chaos began. The woman took everyone into the refuge in an adjoining building. Dark, old, flights of stairs, numerous rooms. As she was giving directions, people started grabbing thick mats from a stack to sleep on – the first room filled quickly. Directions continued, other rooms filled up.
Even now, years later, I remember the knot in my stomach… to be continued.
©2003 Susan Alcorn from Chapter 2, "On Foot in the Pyrenees" Camino Chronicle: Walking to Santiago
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