19 September 2006

Dear Aymery *

What a day. Started off planning to spend it in St. Jean Pied de Port (SJPP) preparing for the Camino proper. During that meditative time staring at myself in the mirror as I shaved, I thought "Why not go now!" What about going part way as I understood that the French government or some organization has certified 2 'gites' or albergues this side of the Spanish border. One is at Honto 6 km up the road and the other is at Orisson 9 km along the way. I thought 9 km would knock off a good piece of the 27 km climb. So, I called the gite at Orisson booked a room and set off.

Bought some chorizo, cheese and bread on my way out of SJPP and left through the 'Spanish Gate'. Immediately the road turned uphill.

The scenery was breathtaking - for more than one reason. I have been walking 8-12 km most days and 18-22 km on weekends. That was NOTHING compared to today. I got past Honto and the grade increased with no end in sight. Now this was mostly a reflection on me, but I was reduced to walking 10- 30 paces, stopping to rest and doing it again and again. Got a muscle cramp in my left calf and thigh that simply would NOT go away which certainly didn´t help. A fountain that was marked on maps has disappeared. But, the views were simply awesome. Everywhere, you hear the sound of cow bells from small heards grazing on high mountain pastures. After five hours, I reached the gite at Orisson. My reservation was not on their books and there was no room. The couple running it were engaged in a screaming match and showed little incentive to help me. I was tossed. To say I was dispirited would be an understatement.

While trying to sort this out, I was approached by a woman who saw my Canadian flag patch on my ruck. She was from Quebec and delighted to meet a fellow Canadian. She, her husband and a French friend were on a driving tour. After chatting a bit, they left. It was shortly after that that I was shooed out by the surly owner. What now!?

Outside were 2 English couples who had found a dog and were waiting for the owner tp show up and claim it. We agreed that I would look after the dog and get a ride back down the mountain with the owner. (Walking downhill is NOT easier than walking uphill - it just stresses different muscles and joints)

The dog and I sat there while the owners yelled and fought with each other. Felt a little glum as the afternoon was ebbing and my options were narrowing. Can you imagine how I felt when the same Quebecoise woman drove past and waved at me?! I flagged her down and in no time my ruck was in their car. But - the dog!. The alberque owners said ´No problem'. They would be delighted to look after it!!!¨"Really", I thought. "What am I? Chopped liver??" It was lost on her but at least I know where I am on the scale of life - somewhere behind a black Lab.

I went to the gite in Honto and had a remarkable late afternoon. and evening.

Met three Canadian fellows. The connections between us were surprising. One man is Vincent Leahy. I saw his post on an internet forum weeks ago. Another is a Brother in the Craft. The connections, shared affiations and people just went on and on. It was uncanny. So, the four of us, Vincent Leahy, David Williamson and Pierre Arnold and I, spent a delightful time on a patio overlooking mountain meadows - watching eagles soaring and hunting, laughing at the antics of sheep being herded past us and generally having a very enjoyable time.

Come evening, we were joined by 7 Irish women and a Swedish woman. It was a terrific meal with lots of humour, good stories and fine conversation - the food wasn´t bad either! I guess I am kind of grateful for what happened at Orisson.

I am NOT looking forward to doing that climb all over again, though.

Night falls fast in the Pyrenees. Before going to bed, I sat out a bit and stared at an inky black sky studded with billions of stars. The Milky Way seemed close enough to touch (In Spain, they call the Milky Way the ´Compostela´- hmmmmm) In spite of a very arduous day, including an icy cold shower, it really has been memorable. You can´t stare at a sky so magnificent and not consider that there is some type of plan at work.

*Now - regrding Áymery´. Aymery Picaud is a French monk who lived in the 12th century. He is credited by some as the author of the Codex Callixtinus, the earliest written description of the Camino de Santiago. As I was struggling my way up the Pass of Cizes, I decided that my beautiful staff, made by my friend Austin Repath, should have a name, as I was increasingly relying on it for support. I have decided to name it Áymery´in honour of Picaud and my journal will henceforth refer to him/it. Hope neither he nor Austin minds

Ultreya.