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Your wonderful words take me back to August of this year. Kia Kaha (Be strong in Maori)!Pamplona dropped away to the East as I began the arduous ascent West. Giant wind turbines barely turned along the crest of this mountain. My Way marks stood silent like frozen sentinels in the distance.
Day 3 on the Frances’ began reluctantly, gloomy grey sullen. Mud clung to my shoes as if it were my long lost hiking buddy on this pilgrimage.
Having hiked a fair bit in the past, I sensed my energy draining, much like my cellphone and always at the worse possible time! I was only 5k in with more to climb, not to mention what I dislike most…long arduous descents!
Quitting isn’t in my vernacular, so offered up my go to prayer in times like these. “Please give me strength to continue forward on this challenging day…” I offered this unspoken to The Source of all things, that ethereal energy surrounding our world.
Shortly after, I entered the quaint village of Zariquigui. Empty, not a soul in sight like a modern day ghost town. Then, seemingly out of the fog, there was a person just ahead! In my limited Spanish,l called out, “Pardone, supermercado?
I thought she was too far away. To my surprise, she gestured in a way that told me nothing was open. My expression said what I could not. Nearly imperceptibly , she was before me. She reached out and gently rested her hand on my shoulder …”How uncharacteristic of a stranger?”, I thought.
She nearly whispered , “You’re chilled and soaking wet. Please come and warm yourself .” I wondered, “Where?!” Politely and I thought ,understandably, I thanked her and begged off, expressing my gratitude. She looked contentedly into my eyes, as if I were a longtime friend, her hand now warm on my shoulder. In that moment, it was if she were searching my Soul. She smiled in a way I’ll remember forever, stamped on my heart! I felt Grace and began to feel that emotion deep within my heart was touched, as tears welled up.
I turned away so she wouldn’t see the first tear falling. A few steps further, I turned to thank her one last time. But this beautiful angel was no longer there!
A foggy rain seeped from the sky, as if crying for me.
Continuing along the Way, I soon became aware a quiet energy subtly lifted my Spirit.
Perhaps, Angels are there when we fervently pray…
I may get a shirt with that on it! Buen Camino KiwiYour wonderful words take me back to August of this year. Kia Kaha (Be strong in Maori)!
I'll walk the road in both directions down to/up from Uterga from now... Too old for that heap of rocks...FWIW the climb up there is a bit more difficult in the other direction.
I had a nice stop in there on my way up (assuming we are talking about the same place), great coffee in a cool little place, and a really friendly old lady who runs it who I chatted with for while. I vividly remeber the sound of the birds just across the road at the church, there must have been thousands. I don't recall it been any more expensive than any other places.The lil shop there is horridly overpriced, even IF it's open
I'll walk the road in both directions down to/up from Uterga from now... Too old for that heap of rocks...
Ah, come on, dear @nycwalking! You are no chicken. You can do it.Wait.
What?
You don’t have to walk down rocky way on downside of Alto de Perdón?
Sorry about doubling up on nyc's post, I haven't bothered to learn how to multi quotePamplona dropped away to the East as I began the arduous ascent West. Giant wind turbines barely turned along the crest of this mountain. My Way marks stood silent like frozen sentinels in the distance.
Day 3 on the Frances’ began reluctantly, gloomy grey sullen. Mud clung to my shoes as if it were my long lost hiking buddy on this pilgrimage.
Having hiked a fair bit in the past, I sensed my energy draining, much like my cellphone and always at the worse possible time! I was only 5k in with more to climb, not to mention what I dislike most…long arduous descents!
Quitting isn’t in my vernacular, so offered up my go to prayer in times like these. “Please give me strength to continue forward on this challenging day…” I offered this unspoken to The Source of all things, that ethereal energy surrounding our world.
Shortly after, I entered the quaint village of Zariquigui. Empty, not a soul in sight like a modern day ghost town. Then, seemingly out of the fog, there was a person just ahead! In my limited Spanish,l called out, “Pardone, supermercado?
I thought she was too far away. To my surprise, she gestured in a way that told me nothing was open. My expression said what I could not. Nearly imperceptibly , she was before me. She reached out and gently rested her hand on my shoulder …”How uncharacteristic of a stranger?”, I thought.
She nearly whispered , “You’re chilled and soaking wet. Please come and warm yourself .” I wondered, “Where?!” Politely and I thought ,understandably, I thanked her and begged off, expressing my gratitude. She looked contentedly into my eyes, as if I were a longtime friend, her hand now warm on my shoulder. In that moment, it was if she were searching my Soul. She smiled in a way I’ll remember forever, stamped on my heart! I felt Grace and began to feel that emotion deep within my heart was touched, as tears welled up.
I turned away so she wouldn’t see the first tear falling. A few steps further, I turned to thank her one last time. But this beautiful angel was no longer there!
A foggy rain seeped from the sky, as if crying for me.
Continuing along the Way, I soon became aware a quiet energy subtly lifted my Spirit.
Perhaps, Angels are there when we fervently pray…
Ah, come on, dear @nycwalking! You are no chicken. You can do it.
Sorry about doubling up on nyc's post, I haven't bothered to learn how to multi quote
Your post, @TiedyeAT , struck me as poetic. It was your expression of your experience. Others tell you that there is another way.
In Irish Gaelic, there is an expression for this - Slí Eile.
I have chosen to walk the traditional way on a few occasions, when staying with friends in Pamplona - ie slowly up the slope, and carefully down the stony path - just because I love it.
There may come the day when even my walking poles will not help, but till then...
Here, I just want to say this: traditional path? Prove it. The traditional pilgrims followed the skies towards their goal. Today's paths are approximations, and have been captured by commerce. I have no difficulty at all, at all (Hiberno-English emphasis) with that. We know, and serious students know best, that since the beginning, yes, hospitality was the bedrock of the pilgrimage, but we also know that likeable and less such crooks were on the que vive!
Anyone still awake?
To the Op, ie @TiedyeAT I wish you safe travels, buen camino.
Just follow the road down from Alto del Perdon. Check details on Google maps/Earth.Wait.
What?
You don’t have to walk down rocky way on downside of Alto de Perdón?
Congratulations, you just experienced the true meaning of the Camino. We have done 3 so far, each with An “angel story” . It restores your faith in humanity.Pamplona dropped away to the East as I began the arduous ascent West. Giant wind turbines barely turned along the crest of this mountain. My Way marks stood silent like frozen sentinels in the distance.
Day 3 on the Frances’ began reluctantly, gloomy grey sullen. Mud clung to my shoes as if it were my long lost hiking buddy on this pilgrimage.
Having hiked a fair bit in the past, I sensed my energy draining, much like my cellphone and always at the worse possible time! I was only 5k in with more to climb, not to mention what I dislike most…long arduous descents!
Quitting isn’t in my vernacular, so offered up my go to prayer in times like these. “Please give me strength to continue forward on this challenging day…” I offered this unspoken to The Source of all things, that ethereal energy surrounding our world.
Shortly after, I entered the quaint village of Zariquigui. Empty, not a soul in sight like a modern day ghost town. Then, seemingly out of the fog, there was a person just ahead! In my limited Spanish,l called out, “Pardone, supermercado?
I thought she was too far away. To my surprise, she gestured in a way that told me nothing was open. My expression said what I could not. Nearly imperceptibly , she was before me. She reached out and gently rested her hand on my shoulder …”How uncharacteristic of a stranger?”, I thought.
She nearly whispered , “You’re chilled and soaking wet. Please come and warm yourself .” I wondered, “Where?!” Politely and I thought ,understandably, I thanked her and begged off, expressing my gratitude. She looked contentedly into my eyes, as if I were a longtime friend, her hand now warm on my shoulder. In that moment, it was if she were searching my Soul. She smiled in a way I’ll remember forever, stamped on my heart! I felt Grace and began to feel that emotion deep within my heart was touched, as tears welled up.
I turned away so she wouldn’t see the first tear falling. A few steps further, I turned to thank her one last time. But this beautiful angel was no longer there!
A foggy rain seeped from the sky, as if crying for me.
Continuing along the Way, I soon became aware a quiet energy subtly lifted my Spirit.
Perhaps, Angels are there when we fervently pray…
You bet ,Pamplona dropped away to the East as I began the arduous ascent West. Giant wind turbines barely turned along the crest of this mountain. My Way marks stood silent like frozen sentinels in the distance.
Day 3 on the Frances’ began reluctantly, gloomy grey sullen. Mud clung to my shoes as if it were my long lost hiking buddy on this pilgrimage.
Having hiked a fair bit in the past, I sensed my energy draining, much like my cellphone and always at the worse possible time! I was only 5k in with more to climb, not to mention what I dislike most…long arduous descents!
Quitting isn’t in my vernacular, so offered up my go to prayer in times like these. “Please give me strength to continue forward on this challenging day…” I offered this unspoken to The Source of all things, that ethereal energy surrounding our world.
Shortly after, I entered the quaint village of Zariquigui. Empty, not a soul in sight like a modern day ghost town. Then, seemingly out of the fog, there was a person just ahead! In my limited Spanish,l called out, “Pardone, supermercado?
I thought she was too far away. To my surprise, she gestured in a way that told me nothing was open. My expression said what I could not. Nearly imperceptibly , she was before me. She reached out and gently rested her hand on my shoulder …”How uncharacteristic of a stranger?”, I thought.
She nearly whispered , “You’re chilled and soaking wet. Please come and warm yourself .” I wondered, “Where?!” Politely and I thought ,understandably, I thanked her and begged off, expressing my gratitude. She looked contentedly into my eyes, as if I were a longtime friend, her hand now warm on my shoulder. In that moment, it was if she were searching my Soul. She smiled in a way I’ll remember forever, stamped on my heart! I felt Grace and began to feel that emotion deep within my heart was touched, as tears welled up.
I turned away so she wouldn’t see the first tear falling. A few steps further, I turned to thank her one last time. But this beautiful angel was no longer there!
A foggy rain seeped from the sky, as if crying for me.
Continuing along the Way, I soon became aware a quiet energy subtly lifted my Spirit.
Perhaps, Angels are there when we fervently pray…
I have found my angels have yet to not help when needed. We must remember to always thank them.Pamplona dropped away to the East as I began the arduous ascent West. Giant wind turbines barely turned along the crest of this mountain. My Way marks stood silent like frozen sentinels in the distance.
Day 3 on the Frances’ began reluctantly, gloomy grey sullen. Mud clung to my shoes as if it were my long lost hiking buddy on this pilgrimage.
Having hiked a fair bit in the past, I sensed my energy draining, much like my cellphone and always at the worse possible time! I was only 5k in with more to climb, not to mention what I dislike most…long arduous descents!
Quitting isn’t in my vernacular, so offered up my go to prayer in times like these. “Please give me strength to continue forward on this challenging day…” I offered this unspoken to The Source of all things, that ethereal energy surrounding our world.
Shortly after, I entered the quaint village of Zariquigui. Empty, not a soul in sight like a modern day ghost town. Then, seemingly out of the fog, there was a person just ahead! In my limited Spanish,l called out, “Pardone, supermercado?
I thought she was too far away. To my surprise, she gestured in a way that told me nothing was open. My expression said what I could not. Nearly imperceptibly , she was before me. She reached out and gently rested her hand on my shoulder …”How uncharacteristic of a stranger?”, I thought.
She nearly whispered , “You’re chilled and soaking wet. Please come and warm yourself .” I wondered, “Where?!” Politely and I thought ,understandably, I thanked her and begged off, expressing my gratitude. She looked contentedly into my eyes, as if I were a longtime friend, her hand now warm on my shoulder. In that moment, it was if she were searching my Soul. She smiled in a way I’ll remember forever, stamped on my heart! I felt Grace and began to feel that emotion deep within my heart was touched, as tears welled up.
I turned away so she wouldn’t see the first tear falling. A few steps further, I turned to thank her one last time. But this beautiful angel was no longer there!
A foggy rain seeped from the sky, as if crying for me.
Continuing along the Way, I soon became aware a quiet energy subtly lifted my Spirit.
Perhaps, Angels are there when we fervently pray…
Actually, when on top of Alto del Perdon., just before crossing the road, in stead, go right, on the road, and then keep left whenever, and you will soon end up in Uterga. Those downward stone heaps are disgusting for this gentleman's dignified age and knees these days.Just follow the road down from Alto del Perdon. Check details on Google maps/Earth.
A local advised me emphatically to not bike down that path. I took his word for it and used the highway.You don’t have to walk down rocky way on downside of Alto de Perdón?
I can believe it. On my first Camino Frances there were a number of times when I walked three or four days without seeing another pilgrim. Walking it again in January this year was not quite so quiet but still a very long way removed from the peak season hordes. Some days when I saw only one or two others. Enjoy the solitude!Imagine leaving Estella, stopping to sip full bodied wine then walking toward Los Arcos and not seeing one other peregrino until the he outskirts of Logroño! If you’re unfamiliar with the Frances, that would be like going to the Statue of Liberty and being the only one there! Even though it’s winter, it’s simply unbelievable.
I really enjoyed hiking on my own, now and then interacting with fellow peregrinos!Imagine leaving Estella, stopping to sip full bodied wine then walking toward Los Arcos and not seeing one other peregrino until the he outskirts of Logroño! If you’re unfamiliar with the Frances, that would be like going to the Statue of Liberty and being the only one there! Even though it’s winter, it’s simply unbelievable.
Dawn had just awakened clawing at heavy grey clouds but to no avail. Today’s sun seemingly went back to sleep. Throughout my miles, clouds settled in valleys and all along the distant escarpments. With each new summit I sought a glimmer of sapphire peeking through a never ending gloom. Low laying shrouds draped across lowland valleys like a revenant haunting my path.
I really enjoyed hiking on my own, now and then interacting with fellow peregrinos!
Go well!
Imagine leaving Estella, stopping to sip full bodied wine then walking toward Los Arcos and not seeing one other peregrino until the he outskirts of Logroño! If you’re unfamiliar with the Frances, that would be like going to the Statue of Liberty and being the only one there! Even though it’s winter, it’s simply unbelievable.
Dawn had just awakened clawing at heavy grey clouds but to no avail. Today’s sun seemingly went back to sleep. Throughout my miles, clouds settled in valleys and all along the distant escarpments. With each new summit I sought a glimmer of sapphire peeking through a never ending gloom. Low laying shrouds draped across lowland valleys like a revenant haunting my path.
You’re most welcome!Your writing, even more than the photo, evokes old dreams and future thoughts vividly. Thank you.
I too have had days in December that I saw no pilgrims on a given day on the CF.I can believe it. On my first Camino Frances there were a number of times when I walked three or four days without seeing another pilgrim. Walking it again in January this year was not quite so quiet but still a very long way removed from the peak season hordes. Some days when I saw only one or two others. Enjoy the solitude!
Oh my goodness, what wonderful pictures you create with your words. What memories you have brought back for me.Imagine leaving Estella, stopping to sip full bodied wine then walking toward Los Arcos and not seeing one other peregrino until the he outskirts of Logroño! If you’re unfamiliar with the Frances, that would be like going to the Statue of Liberty and being the only one there! Even though it’s winter, it’s simply unbelievable.
Dawn had just awakened clawing at heavy grey clouds but to no avail. Today’s sun seemingly went back to sleep. Throughout my miles, clouds settled in valleys and all along the distant escarpments. With each new summit I sought a glimmer of sapphire peeking through a never ending gloom. Low laying shrouds draped across lowland valleys like a revenant haunting my path.
Solitude, stillness, hushed whispers among stoic sentries in grove after grove of olive rows. Harvest is here. Nearing Lograno, there is a family of four generations bringing their crop to the harvest. Women, teenagers, children work in unison laying down mesh tarps around each tree, readying it for husbands to vibrate branches laiden with dark olives. Afterwards, grandfathers slap those same branches with a long thin stick, clinging olives submit finally falling.
A feint aroma wafts on the gentlest breeze.
My Way strings out before me, my walking companions are old memories, lost loves, tomorrows dreams and near silent footfalls like a pendulum keeping our rhythms in sinque. Alone, content, certainly at peace with my world…
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Your compliments are so kind. Thank you from the depths of my creativity.The images and energy aroused by your wonderful writing are deeply moving. I was floating in the way your carefully selected words and finely crafted sentence construction brought this deeply ingrained stretch of the Frances, filled with so many memories, right into my very soul. Thank you.
The tradition of placing the crosses must be quite old. My mother was raised on a sheep ranch in Pendleton, Oregon, 100 years ago. She remembers that the Basque sheepherders who worked on her dad's ranch would put the crosses on fences there.As you come up over one last rise; Logroño stretches out before you. Not very impressive and looking modern, box like, industrial… not the least bit inviting.
But don’t judge this book by it’s color.
It slowly begins to reveal it’s particular charm. Cross the river and dare to go inside those busy streets and you’ll discover an excellent mixture of the old and new.
Camino markings are plentiful but there’s an app or ten if you’re directionally challenged! My favorite place was the avenue immediately beside the cathedral. Come here just past dusk and become a Spanish denizen , strolling , chatting, people watching or enjoying a little bite with wine.
You’ll be rewarded by the experience and may even try ordering a glass of wine.
Tomorrow you’ll continue west leaving your new favorite town behind. This next segment is a walk in the park, literally. A paved, nearly flat trail, calls out “go west, peregrino, go west.” Built for green space, it traverses nearly half the distance to Naverret, on past the duck filled reservoir, until naked rows of vinyards escort us toward the lake not uphill today.
As you crest it’s summit, what I call “the fence of a thousand crosses”, greets you .
Similar in it’s own version of leaving a remembrance, there are myriad twig crucifixes woven into a forelorned chain link fence! Like bridges with locks left clinging, these weathering bits of branches are faded in Spain’s torrid sun.
I can’t help wonder who wove the first cross? Among the thousands, a particular mirrored cross catches my eye. On it is a plea to help someone confined to a wheelchair, accomplish a dream. To make their own pilgrimage a reality!
He gave you good advice.A local advised me emphatically to not bike down that path. I took his word for it and used the highway.
I agree with the other comments. I see you are a new forum member and I will look forward to hopefully seeing new posts from you as they are a refreshing change. Your writing style is wonderful...thank you for sharing your thoughts as you walk.Your compliments are so kind. Thank you from the depths of my creativity.
Was that on the descent from the Alto de Perdon? I measured my length on that section in January when loose gravel on one of the wooden retaining boards acted like ball bearings under my boot. Not much damage except to my pride. One of the trickiest parts of the Frances to cross safely.She had broken her ankle, severely, it turned out!
Combination of the two factors I think. I left SJPDP on 2 January this year. For much of the way there were about 12 - 15 people walking each stage daily. With so few places open you did tend to see the same faces a lot as we met up in albergues. In the later stages people were more thinly spread as there were more places open. I'm not surprised you are finding it quiet though the numbers you mention do sound remarkably low. All the better in my opinion but I prefer solitude to company most of the time.However, I’m beginning to think there are so few on this Camino because of winter?
The other possibility is hardly any albergues stay open this time of year.
It is possible to avoid it by walking on the road. More info here.Was that on the descent from the Alto de Perdon? One of the trickiest parts of the Frances to cross safely.
Such a compliment! I hadn’t planned on writing a book. In fact, based on many of the initial responses I’d received to my query regarding the initial climb at the start, I didn’t think I’d write anything at all, just some photos now and again.I agree with the others. Your writing is magical! Please let us know when you write your book. I will buy it!!
Thank you, TiedyeAT.
Thank you, Chrissy. I’m humbled you appreciate my thoughts put into words.I agree with the other comments. I see you are a new forum member and I will look forward to hopefully seeing new posts from you as they are a refreshing change. Your writing style is wonderful...thank you for sharing your thoughts as you walk.
Agreed. It required all my attention to make it down safely. Happy to have the support of my poles.Was that on the descent from the Alto de Perdon? I measured my length on that section in January when loose gravel on one of the wooden retaining boards acted like ball bearings under my boot. Not much damage except to my pride. One of the trickiest parts of the Frances to cross safely.
No not on that descent… day 3 in Georgia along the Appalachian Trail. She flew into Atlanta, bought everything under the sun for hiking and camping, had prepared in advance for mail/food drops to be mailed from British Columbia, literally spent several thousand dollars and an intense year training and forfeited all that looking for a piece of gum in her pack! SadWas that on the descent from the Alto de Perdon? I measured my length on that section in January when loose gravel on one of the wooden retaining boards acted like ball bearings under my boot. Not much damage except to my pride. One of the trickiest parts of the Frances to cross safely.
Thanks for explaining that - I had assumed that it was on your current walk.No not on that decent… day 3 in Georgia
Judging by the number of very positive comments above I am far from alone in being grateful that you DID decide to write. I initially thought that I had missed something when a couple of people said that they'd buy your book when it came out; perhaps it is something you should actually seriously consider.Such a compliment! I hadn’t planned on writing a book. In fact, based on many of the initial responses I’d received to my query regarding the initial climb at the start, I didn’t think I’d write anything at all, just some photos now and again.
Everyone experiences a pilgrimage differently. But, my impression of what has already been written by fellow peregrinos seems sufficient. I’m just a little more “flowery”, perhaps ?
Buen Camino
Excellent tip!Sounds like there are fewer pilgrims than last December -- even so, the Winter pilgrims do tend to come in "waves" as I saw last year walking to SJPP, so that in the easterly parts of the Francès and in December, I would sometimes stay in places with only 1 or 2 others, even alone a few times, whilst in other places I could be one among 15-20.
One tip -- it can be worth calling some places that appear closed, as some of them are closed for normal business but do accept pilgrims.
Relatively few pilgrims, maybe 15 or so since Pamplona 8 of whom are from S. Korea. Not much to compare to any of the Triple Crown trails in the U.S. Virtually all of Castillo y Leon has been on what I’d call a one lane gravel road! It’s fast hiking and flat as a pancake. The biggest thing is fog all day long and no sunlight, just endless grey!Good to know you're still out there. How do you like it compared to your US hiking experienced? Are you seeing many other pilgrims?
This is the new camino - crushed gravel paths wide enough for a car to drive on. Galicia is the same. I am not an expert in trail maintenance, and I understand that the government wants to have a path that is transitable by hundreds of thousands of people, but it does detract from the “camino mystique.” Yet another reason, IMHO, to go to less traveled caminos, where you will still find penty of off-road walking through forests and in mountains.Virtually all of Castillo y Leon has been on what I’d call a one lane gravel road!
No worries…I expected some of this. There’s no perfect path anywhere, I’ve found. Even if there was, Mother Nature can make short work of an otherwise good hike.This is the new camino - crushed gravel paths wide enough for a car to drive on. Galicia is the same. I am not an expert in trail maintenance, and I understand that the government wants to have a path that is transitable by hundreds of thousands of people, but it does detract from the “camino mystique.” Yet another reason, IMHO, to go to less traveled caminos, where you will still find penty of off-road walking through forests and in mountains.
Having made those grumpy comments, I am hoping and assuming you are still finding plenty to love about the Camino Francés in winter!
The Camino Mozarabe. Or at least one branch of it.I don’t know if that Way has a name from Almeria?
Seriously! I had no clue either!Wait.
What?
You don’t have to walk down rocky way on downside of Alto de Perdón?
As @Bradypus says, it’s the Camino Mozárabe. From Almería to Granada, there are albergues that were built and are maintained by the Almería Association. You DEFNITELY want to get in touch with Nely, because the Association will help you tremendously.I plan to head to Almeria and hike from there through Cordoba and Grenada eventually to Santiago and then hike to “the end of the world “! I don’t know if that Way has a name from Almeria?
When do you think you'll start? I start 1/17 from Almeria.No worries…I expected some of this. There’s no perfect path anywhere, I’ve found. Even if there was, Mother Nature can make short work of an otherwise good hike.
I’d assumed the paths were maintained by local volunteers. The homemade benches going into Astorga were definitely a work of locals, I think
All in all, I’ll continue to take each day as it comes. After Santiago, I plan to head to Almeria and hike from there through Cordoba and Grenada eventually to Santiago and then hike to “the end of the world “! I don’t know if that Way has a name from Almeria?
Correct. Short, easy and much better. Same with the walk from Cruz de Ferro to Molinaseca. Take the road if your knees/legs are not up to walking on very tough and steep rocky paths like these.Seriously! I had no clue either!
After your pizza in Foncebadon?Edit: But I always like to take a beer break in El Acebo on the way down...
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