28/09/12: Gernika

Perhaps if I spell Gernika in Castellan: Guernica - you'll realise where I am. In fact there is a large ceramic wall mural of the famous painting which I plan to visit once I've posted this. But to recap:

Not so much in the way of food last night. Basic would be accurate. While the albergue was decent, it was minimal facilites. Still, it was cheap (donation) and comfortable. I managed to cook myself fresh pasta, and added a couple of yoghurts. A basic but sufficient meal.

No breakfast save an orange (bad planning on my part) but a lass at the next table who I'd spoken to the night before offered some of her biscuits and some chocolate. Never mind, today wasn't an especially difficult walk.

I set off around 08:00, just as the lights were still on in Markina:

The walking was easy - no climbs, just following a leafy stream. The sky was overcast, around 16 degrees, no wind. Another dry day, thank you.

My first sight shortly after I left the town was this odd looking chapel:

I was soon up above the town and away from roads:

Next to come was the village of Bolibar.

Now, perhaps I should have realised - what with the variations of the alphabets and the use of "b" for "v", but I soon realised. I passed a building (closed, unfortunately) named "The Museum of Simon de Bolivar". Gosh! Having now looked it up on Wikipedia I see that this was the village where the aristocratic parents of Simón Bolívar were born.

I find it a bit frustrating that places such as this, which could yield so much to the curious passer-by insist on opening for such restricted hours. Oh well, on I went. Past the church. I note that there is once more a consistency of style in this area:

Next sight was the ancient monastery of Bolibar, accessed via another very old, well worn cobbled path:

Here's the monastry, which I wandered through. I thought I'd take lots of pics, so here you are:

After this is was really just a day of enjoying the walk. Gentle climbs and descents, more old hermitages, and of course the ever changing scenery:

The trail took me over an old stone bridge. I could tell it was old because of the way the old stones had been disrupted over the years. Hidden beside it was a plaque (only in Basque!) explaining that it was 15th century. The photo isn't particularly great, but I wasn't about to walk another 100 metres to try to find a better view:

The day continued well, it was barely midday, and I was taking it easy, having had no real breakfast to speak of. Still, I didn't have too far to go.

The last village to pass through was Marmiz, with its church and with some masons building a new stone wall. Nice to see local skills still alive.

Here's someone in the village drying peppers:

I also confirmed another common feature for this area, namely that the road that leads up to the church (which I was descending) is lined with crosses. I imagine there would be twelve of them. I've seen this in other places around here:

As I crossed a stream at the bottom of the village my eye was caught by this shabby old building. It turned out to be an historic water mill (the panel has diagrams and explanations). For some reason the upkeep seems to have been abandoned:

And here we are: Gernika.

I arrived shorly after 13:00 and found the albergue five minutes later. A bit of a shock when I discovered that the prices were double what it said in the guide, but there was a reduction for pilgrims (defined as carrying a credencial) and I've paid for dinner and breakfast. It's a beautifully run place, and I get sheets (again) and wifi!

I'm just off now to look at the large ceramic mural of Guernica, and the Basque Gothic church.

27/09/12: Markina-Xemein

Last night's meal was very good. I felt sorry for the one of the French chaps who had joined us, when he explained to the hospitalero that he was allergic to tomatoes! Something of a staple here. He got an omlette instead.

There were three French and a young Spanish couple at the table. They were walking for their first time, and had taken the train to Irun to begin. Since none of the French spoke any Spanish, I found myself caught up at times in having to simultaneously translate from French to Spanish and vice versa. I resigned my new post immediately after desert. My brain needed a rest! Mind you I did speak with the young Spanish couple. I could understand their point of view regarding the 'crisis' in Europe. They told me that "all of us" feel the same way, that there is no future for them in Spain. Here were two young, intelligent people both with Masters degrees and special disciplines, and they're telling me that there is nothing for them. They said that they are looking to leave Spain to try to find a life somewhere else. How sad, and what a problem is brewing for the future.

Moving onto the morning: first thing in my day I was reminded about some of those endearing habits the Spanish have ;0)

The nice hospitalero at our inn had asked the night before at what time we'd like breakfast. I thought I'd be a bit louche and suggest 07:30. She agreed.

So at 07:29 I went down the stairs and around the corner to the dining room and was accosted from above by our landlady, smoking a cigarette on the balcony. "I'm coming now" she said.

Five minutes later, after standing in the dark, she opened the doors and I entered to discover that nothing at all was ready. Not a problem of any sort, I rather smiled inwardly as I remembered that unlike France this was not a country that ran to strict timing.

Anyway the breakfast was great - especially the "cafe con leche" which was a most wonderful reminder of something that I have greatly enjoyed.

I set off in daylight, no pink skies today. The suggested stopping point was Deba, just 15km away. It was a fresh but dry morning with moderate cloud.

Almost immediately came Zumaia, which I passed quickly - a pretty looking town and port.

 After Zumaia I headed onto the hills.

Gentle rolling countryside, much like yesterday. Pleasant views and lots of green, and the sun breaking through the clouds. It was going to be another nice day.

Crossing the motorway:

I passed a number of hermitages of which there seem to be many dotted about the countryside, most of them ancient looking. This one (which I actually passed in the afternoon) had a grille in the door so I was able to peek inside:

 In Itziar, the next village after Zumaia, I saw a large, square church of a different design. It didn't look spectacularly old but since it was open (!!) I thought I'd pop in and take a look. Oh my! Quite a shock from the quiet restraint of the French Romanesque!

I did get to see their Madonna though, which is a subject I find interesting because of the cult of the black Madonnas, many of which were 'cleaned' by the church over the years. I wondered if this guilded vision had once been a Moorish queen also. No idea but it was worth a photo.

It wasn't long before I arrived at Deba. I cropped this shot at the harbour - it reminded me of Antigua!

The town is on the very edge of the hills and the path down into the town drops steeply. I managed to miss just one small arrow pointing the way and which small act had a larger effect on the course of my day. I continued down into the town via the footpaths. A town of this size it's always going to be an easy task to pick up the trail again.

I passed Eroski - Spain's answer to Tesco. Since Spain (technically I'm still in Pais Basco, they don't consider it Spain) has proved thus far to be almost as expensive as France for accommodation, I was determined to start saving money by cooking my own food. So I popped in and bought a few supplies. I then headed on into the centre of town carrying my small bag of shopping. A bit of asking around and I was in the Tourist office enquiring about the local albergue. I was told that it didn't have a kitchen. Oh dear, and I've just bought my supper.

I enquired about anything other possible local accommodation (for pilgrims. NOT a hotel or chambre d'hôte). There was nothing.

So, as a result of missing the small arrow above, and of then passing a supermarket and buying my supper, I decided that the best option was to head on to Markina - a mere 22km away and over a couple of reasonable climbs. Hey - I never said I was sensible!

I went towards the harbour wall where a very friendly policeman pointed out the precise way out of town and up the opposite hill, and then sat down to eat some of the food I'd just purchased. LIghten the load and have lunch at the same time. And hey - why not just bung a couple more kilos in the rucksack, just in case it wasn't heavy enough?

The sun stayed out, and feeling refreshed from my short break I headed off towards Markina. The hill went straight up and climbed for the next couple of km. It leveled out somewhat and I walked through another lovely old, peaceful forest. I tend not to post photos of them because perhaps trees look like trees look like trees. But in fact all of these places have their own feel and atmosphere. I come to enjoy a new forest. New trees, different paths, all very shady and great for walking.

I also passed a few of these much older waymarkers. No idea how old this one is - there was some form of script below but it was too damaged to read. I imagine I was now walking on a genuine ancient section of the camino:

The next climb came - a gentle one. Up it went and on. And on. And on. And on. I thought maybe it was uphill all the way to Markina! It wasn't especially high (just 350 metres or so) but the climb went on and on.

Finally it levelled out and I found some distance marking. Just 10km left of my day. I had been determind when I left Deba that I would get a bit of a move on, to avoid arriving here very late (when one basically has just enough time to shower, wash clothes, eat and then sleep).

I pushed on and arrived in Markina-Xemein at 17:00, passing on my entrance this old church and adjoining hermitage. I hadn't realised it was open but wish I had. I found out later that this singularly square church was built over two enormous rocks that take up most of the interior and provide a setting for the calvaire. Oh well never mind - can't see everything I guess.

A four and a half hour slog to cover 22 hilly kilometres. It was worth it. I found the Albergue and it is another 'donativo', which means that I confirmed my financial gain by being able to make just a small donation. I'm hoping to find a few more places like this on the route. Thus far (with two exceptions) the prices for accommodation have been on a par with France which I tend to feel, while not hugely expensive, does risk making the camino an expensive undertaking.


Markina has some of the old town left (just):

Anyway, all is well. I'm comfortably installed, have eaten my fresh pasta and yoghurts, and am now going to settle down for a couple of hours with my book. Tomorrow is a reasonable stage of just 24km.

26/09/12: Azkizu

I almost can't believe it! Not the walking, but the fact that for a second consecutive day I have found wifi :0) It makes the task of maintaining the blog so much easier, plus it makes it feel somewhat more relevant than to be posting three or four days after the facts.

Anyway, enough preamble from me, let's get on with it.

Shall I start by commenting on last night? Shall I? Should I go on to explain how, after having found the cheap restaurant around the back of the youth hostel and paid 6.80 for two courses and wine, and got back to my room and, after reading for a while, dozed off happily into a peaceful sleep? And should I then go on to say how, despite the entire dormitory being asleep (22:00hrs) we were woken by four louts who came in after midnight and - oh my goodness - spent what felt like an eternity crashing about, taking things out of plastic bags, dropping things on the floor, opening and closing cupboards repeatedly, going in and out of the main door and letting it bang... I trust you're getting the picture. And FINALLY!!!! when it all settles down again (and I'm thoroughly awake) they start TALKING. Not whispering, but talking. And then on goes the portable music player that can be heard through the headphones.

I was/am determined to not let such crass behaviour spoil my day (or night). I resolved to turn over and go back to sleep. I think I was even on the point of dropping off when... when.... Go on - guess. The snoring started. But this wasn't simply a rogue operator. This was three of them! Together! Synchronised snoring.

I put up with it as long as I possibly could, but in the end decided I had to do something. Deciding that what might satisfy me more wasn't necessarily the best course of action, I headed down to reception to see if there was anyone about. I found a chap down there who was very sympathetic to my plight and he changed my room for me and put me in a smaller dormitory. It was 02:00am by now, but I crept gratefully into the new room, hugely relieved to find it as silent as the tomb in there. Of course that didn't stop the person in the next bunk from beginning to snore the instant my head hit the pillow, but I did get some sleep.

And while I accept that the following behaviour was somewhat childish of me, I awoke at 06:00 to hurry back upstairs to my original dorm, where I had left my rucksack and other gear, and, as soon as I sensed others rising, took some pleasure in the full suite of noises available when one is packing a rucksack. There were plastic bags to be taken out and repacked. There were things to be placed not so quietly on the floor. There was in fact a good ten minutes' worth of noisy packing to be done!

Anyway, this seems to have become rather a long beginning and I'm not even into my day yet!

They served a great breakfast at the Hostel and I dug in. I left San Sebastien around 08:00 and the camino passed just 50 metres from the door, so it was out and up - ten minutes after breakfast and I'm climbing stairs.

I feel like mentioning the weather at this point. As you know, the weather throughout this trip has been largely great. A bit too hot at times in France, but the worst I've really experienced (in terms of walking in it) has been very light drizzle for about an hour.

Well of course down on the Bay of Biscay things can be a little more unpredictable. For the past few days now there have been scudding clouds and passages of threatening looking weather. And more than once now we've been warned of impending storms that threaten to last for days. But as yet, no such thing has occurred. Last night, some time after arriving and doing all the necessary, the heavens opened. It absolutely tipped it down. There was talk around the hostel of the rain lasting well into the morning. As it turned out, no such thing happened. Once again we have dodged the rain and I climbed gently out of San Sebastien under cloud but with blue sky visible. I have to say that I'll take the snoring for the weather.

It was gentle going. The early morning was into the forest, and I quickly caught Jost - a Dutch pilgrim who, I was soon to learn, has done some remarkable walks in his life, not least of which was to have walked from his home in Holland to Santiago - 2400km in 100 days, as well as his tales of pilgrimage around a Japanese island to visit all the 88 shinto temples.

So, it wasn't long before the views started appearing. We're now almost in Cantabria and it's very, very green up here, especially when the sun comes out :0)

And not the very least of things, the signposting seems to have sorted itself out:

We ended up walking on what looked like a very old paved trail - I'm certainly no expert but I feel it could have been there for centuries - possibly from the middle ages when the pilgrimage took millions per year to seek cures and forgiveness from Sant Iago:

As if it might have been just a little too easy to forget mankind's sins, the motorway thrust its way into the green hills:

It didn't take long however before we were back with just mother nature for company (even though the motorway can be heard from miles away):

The walking was easy, the gradients mild. We dipped down the hill into the old town of Orio. Some surprisingly old buildings, not least of which was this small hermitage on the hill before the village. The plaque informed me that it was built in the 6th century and restored in the 13th:

Orio has an old town and a busy port. Today was a general strike in Spain (I imagine that if one follows the news, this fact would have been impossible to miss) and as a result there were people out everywhere, taking the dog for a walk or sitting chatting in the midday sunshine. It was around 20 C now, with a slight breeze - once again perfect weather for walking :0)

All of the houses in one particular street had plaques attached to explain their histories. This one caught my eye, as I know there is at least one of you reading this blog who is proud of their Irish ancestry (you may have to expand the photo to read the plaque):

Jost, being Dutch, needed his coffee fix so I left him to find the bar and notice André heading off - presumably after a break (André likes 05:00am starts, although today he left in daylight). I caught him up and we walked together pretty much the rest of the way. First off was to walk around the port before retaking the coastal path:

After passing under the motorway we were off again uphill and into the countryside. I noticed that it's harvest time here for the grapes:

 

Once over this slight climb we could see down to the West. I was rather surprised to find, upon asking passing locals (my Spanish is returning, albeit a little slower than I'd like) that the towns visible were Zarautz and, in the distance, Getaria, our destination for the day. This had been described as a day of 27km but it felt nothing of the sort. For one thing we'd only been walking for four and a half hours. Anyway, it was still a lovely sight as we descended the hill and the towns came into view:

Very quickly we were into Zarautz. A right turn at the roundabout at the entrance to the village and then the principal streets passed in a dead straight line for the next couple of kilometres. It was easy walking - maple and sycamore for shade, and the locals sitting on benches in the sunshine chatting, as they are prone to doing in Spain ;0)

Zarautz is what I'd call an ordinary, modern Spanish seaside town. Expanded greatly from the an historical centre, and thus a smattering of old buildings and the obligatory church, the new shops and homes abut directly onto the beach:

Here are some upset Spaniards assembled in the town square, complaining hard about their lives. No wonder they need to strike:

I also found some distances - something of a rare event along the camino:

Oops, it seems I posted the wrong photo earlier. Here's the photo that shows the aggrieved locals venting their rage:

From here it was less than 4km to Getaria, and the local department had thoughtfully built this lovely railed walkway along the coast. I was more than happy to wander along in the sunshine, sharing the littoral with what looked like the entire population of both villages. Young and old, big and small, the world feels right when the sun is shining. I felt I should have packed my bucket and spade. I could have sat on the beach and made sandcastles :0)

And just like that, we were in Getaria, with it's unusual monument with its latin inscription (above the grilled door halfway up):

I then became clear that the albergue we were looking for wasn't actually in the town. It was a short way outside, in a small gathering of houses called Azkizu. We strolled the 40 minutes up a small hill, observing the tiny church of St Martin du Tours:

I've been happily installed in a very comfortable, fully equipped albergue with free wifi, a TV (which I have no intention of switching on) and very comfy beds - with sheets! (many, many places use disposable covers but encourage the use of individual sleeping bags. It makes a nice change to be able to sleep in a bed). The charming and helpful hospitalero is preparing dinner for 19:30, and I've managed to wash all my clothes, shave, charge various electrical gadgets and basically catch up fully with several small tasks. I'm going to enjoy reading my book for a couple of hours. André seems to be in more of a hurry than me and has planned himself a 10+ hour walk tomorrow, basically combiding two stages together. I've no such intention. I plan to walk the 15km to Deba tomorrow and see what that brings :0)

Here's the view from the balcony of our albergue: