September 6: On our way

Day 1 was all about being grateful for how this year’s day 1 was different from last year’s. And we were. Now, it is time to let go of comparisons, and trust this Camino to be itself.

Day 2 was walking to Akerreta, which is where much of the 2012 movie “The Way”, (Emilio Estevez, Martin Sheen) was filmed. “The Way” tells the story of a bereaved father, who comes to Spain to collect his son’s remains and, having been told that he planned to walk the Camino, walks it in his stead, picking up a dysfunctional Camino family along the road. It is both romanticized and a powerful movie that captures much about the Camino experience. It also is credited with the resurgence of pilgrimage among North Americans, suddenly made aware, by Hollywood, that such a thing exists.

Akerreta is a hamlet, perfect for filming. It acted as a self-contained set; its buildings being dressed and repainted to present as different “stops” along the way. Our hostel is the primary building there: beautiful, white-washed with deep eaves, thick cooling walls, creaky wooden floors. It is every bit as lovely as we remembered.

Most of the people we are meeting so far are Anglophones – Americans, Australians, New Zealanders and Canadians. And older. The Spring Latin student crowd has returned to careers and family, leaving the hills and villages to mainly Anglo-seekers, like us.

The fields are often populated with Charolais cattle, beautiful, horned, creamy-coated animals, who produce a rich milk that makes for notably tasty café de leche and rich yoghurt. In the foothill farmlands, the sheep are fluffy and white, not the goat-eyed, piebald bruisers that graze the slopes of the Pyrenees.

In the first couple of kilometers each day, I pray “my triplet”: the Anglican Prayer of Preparation, the Gloria and the Lord’s Prayer. I like the ritual, and I am truly grateful to have time and strength to be on this walk, and to be here with Carey. Although at times familiar, neither of us feel a sense of repetitiveness to be on the Frances again. It is truly a new journey. I am very conscious of how much more resilient I am: stronger, more hardy, some of which is, no doubt, about now having an instinct for the right pace to set.

We made Pamplona early. Day 3 is short, around 15km. As befits a border city, old Pamplona is a walled fortress, entered over a wooden drawbridge. Their Beltza festival is in full swing. The streets are lined with stalls, selling crafts, local tisanes and cheeses; crowded with strollers enjoying the hubbub. Folks in Medieval dress are parading (or rather weaving through the crowds) along the cobbled streets, supported by fife, drum and a rocking brass section. We enjoyed the lunchtime procession from the window of a splendidly air-conditioned bar, where we drank large beers from frosted glasses. It registered 31 degrees today. We are grateful to be done and out of the heat.