Camino de Santiago: The Start

As I usually do I rose early on the first day of the Camino. Breakfast at Beilari was at 7:00 am and we were served as we were the night before by Hans, a hospitiltero from Holland. Hospitileteros are volunteers who come from around the world to work for a couple weeks to a few months at the albergues. Hans was a successful business man who had come to volunteer at Beilari for about 3 weeks. He was the model of what I was learning is a big part of the Camino; the ongoing theme of how can I serve someone else?

After breakfast we said our goodbyes, slung our new packs on our backs, grabbed our walking sticks and took our first steps as bonafide pilgrims. As we left town the rode forks to take either the Napoleon route to Roncevalles, our day’s destination, or the Valcarlos route. Most folk choose the Napoleon route as it ascends immediately and gives spectacular views of the Pyrenees. However the Pilgrims office said the route was closed due to snow and highly recommended we not attempt it. Of course I was tempted to do it anyway but this was where Emilio Estevez died in the movie The Way and I didn’t want Tammy to have to do the Camino with my cremated ashes one day. (That line only makes sense if you’ve seen the movie)

Although all the pilgrims seemed disappointed, we all seemed to resigned to doing the Valcarlos
route which remains low in the valley…until the end. Valcarlos is a beautiful path that took us along rivers, streams, and forests. It was beautiful and relaxing and I thought “this Camino thing won’t be so bad”…

…but then we started going up.

See, our destination is an ancient monetary and church at the top of a mountain in the Pyrenees. The Valcarlos route stays low most of the way and then in a burst, climbs almost 3000 feet in the last 5 kilometres. We went up…and up…and up… Suddenly my 10 kilo backpack felt like it was filled with gold bars. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer and as someone who has had heart disease and a stent in the past, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t praying “please Lord, don’t let me have a heart attack”

At one point I paused to rest on a log. As I moaned in self pity I suddenly heard gentle Bible verses about mercy and grace being spoken out. I looked up to see two ladies approaching about as slow as I had been reduced to. The Bible verses seemed to be coming from an MP3 player. “Thanks for sharing that” I said

“You are welcome,” one of the ladies responded, “are you Catholic”
“I am on this trip” I answered.
“Good, these are the 3:00 Divine Mercies. You look like you were in need of a little mercy”
“I am”
And with that I got up and pressed on.

As we got closer to the top, my pace got slower, my steps got smaller, and the breaks got more frequent. I remember telling my friend Paul that no matter how tough it got, I will always be able to put one foot in front of the other. I was seriously starting to wonder if I was wrong in that. Gabriel was a champ. He patiently waited for me and although he was feeling the pain as well, didn’t need to stop as often as I did.

Finally, we did reach the top…about 2 hours later than I had estimated before the uphill slog. I collapsed in a bench at the albergue check in area and a hospitallers kindly went and got me a glass of water. I was so exhausted that I was actually nauseous. As much as I wanted to gulp the water down I feared I would throw it back up. I hadn’t felt this way since I played varsity sports in high school. The first couple days of practice were cardio nightmares designed to separate the “wheat from the chaff”. Usually someone barfed…this was how I felt now except I no longer had a 16 year old body.

Anyway, after a pilgrim’s blessing in the church that evening and a nice meal with wine all the world was made right again and we were ready for day 2.