The airport in Papeete — the only international strip here — is a long way from everywhere. Auckland is probably closest at 5:30 hours. And things don’t run every day, either to Auckland or to Seattle (8:30) So I’m changing at LAX.
All the outbound flights seem to leave in the middle of the night. For us, it’s midnight. So I have arranged a late checkout at the hotel (half the overnight rate), although a “day room” is another option if you are leaving the same day you depart the ship. (Do this! You’ll want a place to shower off the tropical sweat, never mind any recently-acquired beach sand, before heading off to spend 20 hours or more in transit. Trust me.)
It’s been a great trip, and I look forward to returning to French Polynesia another year. The shipboard experience was simply stellar, and I’ll look for a 14-day itinerary next time. I could be comfortable with shorter land-side stays next time: 2 nights on the front end rather than three, and one plus a late on the back end. The best experiences are on the outer islands, not on Tahiti itself, and Papeete doesn’t have that much to offer. So that’s where to spend my time. The beauty of this place is only hinted at in the photos.
My last full day on Tahiti falls on a Sunday, and, this being France, everything is closed up tighter than a tick. So, no use going into town.
The hotel puts on a splendid Sunday brunch, complete with local dance troupe and their squad of drummers. Then I retreat to my bungalow to continue with the current mystery. Somehow I still haven’t found my “land legs” yet, and the ground seems to continue the subtle rolling motion of a ship at sea. This is not a new sensation for me — in my Navy days it would take quite awhile for this to settle out.
After ten days and two archipelagos, it’s time to bid farewell to the crew of MS Paul Gauguin. This has been a wonderful experience: very comfortable accommodation, wonderful food, excellent service. Highly recommended and I look forward to sailing with them again, probably on a Tahiti-Fiji itinerary. The people boarding behind us were on a 14-day itinerary and I must confess to being a bit jealous.
We debarked on the morning, of course, as surely all cruisers do everywhere, and could not check into the hotel until afternoon, so an island tour was arranged for us.
We went down the east side of Tahiti. Our first stop was the home of the author of Mutiny on the Bounty, James Norman Hall. It was a beautiful, classic tropical bungalow. And the surrounding gardens were beautiful as well.
Next the Faarumi waterfalls (some 80 ft), quite spectacular.
Unfortunately, your correspondent’s file clerk left the phone on the charger today (good help is so hard to find!), so no pictures of today’s adventures.
This morning I took an e-bike excursion, for two reasons. One, was that I’d been seeing a lot of the water side of these islands, so I wanted to see more of the land side. Secondly, I’d been thinking of perhaps getting an e-bike of my own, and here was a chance to try one out.
Mo’orea has mountains! If you’ve ever seen South Pacific, you’ve seen Mo’orea (it plays the part of Bali Hai). So a scenic tour of a mountainous island had better be by e-bike! After a too-fast overview of our steeds, our little group set off.
Let me say it’s been quite a few years since I’ve been on a bicycle. They do say one never forgets… but I’d never handled one that weighed so much before— probably 45-50 lbs. So, I admit the turns were wobbly. But I made it through the morning without capsizing, so that’s something. Still not sold on these things yet though.
Anyhow, as I said, we set off, entirely on paved roads, which we shared with cars of course. This island is intensely beautiful! I suppose it’s the intensity of sunlight in the tropics (especially after the dim Seattle winter), but all the colors just popped. such vivid greens and blues!
We made stops on the way up, for local history and crops, and of course the views got better and better the higher we climbed.
Finally we reached the Belvedere lookout, where we could see both the big bays on the north side of the island.Just classic vistas. But alas, no camera!
I was able to capture the sunset though, after we were back onboard.
This morning’s excursion is another snorkeling adventure. On the way out, we got to see the other side of the island.
The snorkeling was wonderful: a whole school of manta rays swam around with us, a black-tipped shark (small guy, maybe 3 ft and 30 lbs), the usual assortment of colorful fish, and several green sea turtles. This was the first time to spot the turtles. If you come in summer-fall, there are humpback whales too. Just a delightful morning.
Alas, we did have to leave — but we had thoroughly enjoyed our two-day stay.
This family operated pearl farm was a unique opportunity to see the details close-up. Tahitian pearls are very different from the white or creamy pearls from Japan; they tend to black or gray, sometimes with overtones of blue, green, or purple.
When the oysters are hauled out of the water, they must be cleaned off.
Then one oyster is sacrificed to obtain the mantle tissue; one will provide enough tissue for 40 new pearls.
Then the oyster surgeon gets to work, inserting a bit of mantle tissue and a small nylon ball into just the right spot in the oyster.
Those oysters are ready to go back in the water; they string about ten together, a foot apart, and hang the strings in the ocean near the barrier reef, where the water is clear of sediment and the constant currents keep the oysters well fed. After a few years, they’ll be hauled back up, and the pearls can be retrieved.
The pearls are graded …
And sorted …
Then the artisan jewelers take over.
You can see some of them have a turquoise core (instead of the nylon ball) where the pearl layer has been carved through, sowing the turquoise blue underneath.
And now we’re back in the Society Islands, with their striking central mountain peaks and their encircling coral reefs. This is a smaller island, maybe 5,000 population.
The sunrises and sunsets have been lovely, almost every single day. This morning’s excursion makes two stops before dropping us off.
The first stop is a pearl farm — about which more details in the next post. Our second stop was for snorkeling.
The snorkeling spot was between two motus (islets on the barrier reef). Shallow water (5 ft) with lots of coral and many different sorts of fish. Most striking was the 100-200 count school of surgeonfish, in their lovely pale yellow with some subtle gray stripes. There was a strong current though, and I had to swim steadily just to maintain my position. That gets tiring after awhile.
Then our boat headed to the private motu – owned by a local family and leased to Ponant Criises. What a special place! All kitted out with a lunch grill-buffet, two bars, hoards of deck chairs, all spread out in the shade of a coconut grove. Our onboard musicians serenaded us with Polynesian music. Entirely special and relaxing.
As you could see from the itinerary chart I posted a few days ago, we are following a rather zig-zag course among these islands. Generally we do not spend the night at anchor (exceptions at Bora Bora and Mo’orea). In addition to the night sailing, today we get a day sailing.
This morning we did a drive-by visit to Makatea, a quite unusual island.
This thing is not flat! As you may be able to see, the limestone cliffs jump straight up from the ocean some 260ft. This is called a raised atoll. Once upon a time, it was a flat lagoon just like Rangiroa and Fakarava, but then tectonic forces generated an uplift.
It is currently uninhabited except by seabirds. Over the centuries, these birds have left huge deposits of guano, and this was mined for phosphate from 1917-1964. The miners – mostly imported Chinese laborers – dug the stuff by hand, leaving the surface pockmarked with holes. Big holes. Like 15ft across and 75ft deep. Like, fall in and you’re never getting out. Quite dangerous given the undergrowth obscuring them until it’s too late.
This afternoon our enrichment lecture was on seabirds, and their ongoing extinction problems.
We are still in the Tuamotu island chain, and like yesterday’s Rangiroa, this is another atoll without a central mountain peak. Just a necklace of islets built up from the barrier reef.
After so much activity and sun yesterday, I had planned for a quieter day. Turns out the best weather was in the morning; as a squall line moved through right after lunch. So, when I took the tender over, I learned the shuttle bus was hors de combat, so I returned to the ship to continue my peaceful, quiet day.
In the afternoon we had an excellent enrichment lecture on tropical fish, and another on corals. The lecturer is a French biologist who has lived locally some 30 years. An extra feature is his wonderful photography.
Midday we arrived at the first stop in this second island chain. These islands are old, really old. So old that the volcano in the middle has completely eroded away, leaving only the circlet of islets formed on the barrier reef.
We’re not here very long, but there is time for a short ride and a snorkel. The locals call this spot the Lagoonarium, and it truly was like swimming in a giant aquarium! Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of fish! There must have been a dozen different sorts, easily. It was just spectacular. Enormous schools all swimming together, right around us. A small lemon shark passed by, but the fish took no notice. It was a wonderful afternoon.
When I returned to the ship, I discovered my cabin steward had done some festive redecorating.
After all the sun from yesterday, despite sunscreen, I decided a day out of the sun was a good idea. So I finally finished reading Lessons in Chemistry – a great read!
When we left Bora Bora an hour before sunset, we started a long run to on adjacent island chain, the Tuamotus. Still French Polynesia (the entire extent of which is nearly the size of Europe), but different from the Society Islands (where we’d been up to now). Since we were in more open ocean, the swells were much more noticeable. So I took my usual precautions: slapped on the scopolamine patch, ordered rice with dinner, and a lie down after. It wasn’t as bad as the first night out of Venice last year, and by the next morning I was reasonably well adjusted to the motion.
Ah, the famous Bora Bora, where the ancient volcanic peaks rise dramatically straight up from the bay.
There’s a lot to see and do here; so much so that we stay two days. Some options include ATV rides, e-bikes, jet skis, day passes or even overnight stays at the local hotels. I chose snorkeling.
We lost count of the many shades of blue in the water, on our 30-min ride out to the first snorkeling spot. At this spot, there were a few fish, but many manta rays, who are quite tame and come over to play. These were about 3 feet across and ranged in age 3-5 years. Also a couple black-tipped sharks, about 3 ft long and probably weighing 30 lbs. After a half-hour, we climbed back in the boat and headed to our second stop, a coral garden. This was an all-fish zone: so many different types, shapes and colors! And so many – hundreds! I’m was beginning to get the hang of my newly acquired snorkel gear (I ordered a prescription mask, which worked especially well). Lots of different types and colors of coral too. Unfortunately none of the underwater pictures turned out, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. Another half hour of swimming tired us out and we climbed back in the boat. Continuing around the lagoon, we landed on a motu, an islet formed from the barrier reef, for lunch.
This was quite the feast, all cooked in the traditional style in a pit of heated lava rock, and eaten in the traditional manner, with a taro leaf for a plate and one’s fingers as the implements. Very tasty, with roast suckling pig, marinated chicken, several kinds of fish, several vegetables, and a roasted banana for dessert. We were all hungry after our morning activities, so we dug right in. It was delicious!
Afterwards we continued around the lagoon, passing the US Navy gun emplacements from WW2 (the feared Japanese invasion never materialized), and back to the ship. What a full day!
This cruise follows the usual format of sailing at night, with landside activities during the day. We arrived at our first island right after breakfast. Some intermittent showers kept the morning cool.
Debarking immediately, I joined my shore excursion to tour the island on a “Le Truck”. This vehicle, which could be likened to a school bus on steroids, had wooden benches to seat ~30 on probably a 5-ton chassis. We piled in, Francophones in the front with their guide, and Anglophones in the back with ours. It worked just fine.
Our guide, a local gent with extensive experience in local social anthropology, proceeded to give us a 4-hour crash course in everything remotely connected to French Polynesia (ancient, historical, and modern). As a first day orientation, this was well-timed.
Sleeping Lady (her hair starts on the right edge of image)
We stopped at a vanilla farm. Vanilla is a major cash export and, as you might suspect, much less expensive than at home. I was amazed at how extensive and labor-intensive the processing is.
Vanilla Beans
After more stops for local history we returned to the ship. It had been a full day!
After dinner the onboard troupe treated us to an amazing show of Tahitian dance. The photos just don’t do justice I’m afraid.
This time of year is the shoulder season between more rainy and less rainy— it’s the tropics, after all. And while the past two days have been dry, it’s now time for a change.
I came down to breakfast in the middle of a morning shower and a real treat: a double rainbow! Well, double for a few moments anyhow.
Later I did get into town for a short while, circled the famous market and bought a few things. The local fabrics in their boisterous tropical patterns are quite fetching — any of my sewing buddies want me to pick up some yard goods?
Papeete was congested, hot, and intermittently showery. The cathedral was closed up, but maybe it will be open when I get back. A short visit to town was quite sufficient.
After lunch we herded ourselves and our luggage onto transport to the pier. The arrival formalities went smoothly and soon we were all onboard.
MS Paul Gauguin is a 330-passenger ship, slightly smaller than my Navy ship and only 5% the number of passengers as the newest cruise monsters. French-flagged under the Ponant line, 25 years old but recently refurbished and not showing her age.
(Sorry for the late posting; it took a while to sort out the connection issues.)
Another quiet day. Although I had planned to explore town today, turns out the Tahitians had other ideas. March 5 is their “national day” (in the US, our national day is July 4). Big national holiday, with everything closed up tighter than a tick.
This is quite the international resort: I hear German and Brit, as well as large numbers of French of course.
There are now non-stop flights from Seattle to Tahiti — who knew? Not every day of the week of course. The bird comes in from Paris, so it’s their Europe connection as well. For a smaller outfit, they do try hard: the bird was a newer 787, departure and arrival on time, luggage was quick. Foodwise I’d give them a B+ (adequate, nothing special).
Transfer was organized by the cruise line, and the hotel was only minutes away. So I was tucked in to my room before midnight local time (even though it’s a 9 hour flight, same time zone as Hawaii).
I’m in a large an very comfortable garden view room on ground level, with a charming patio.
Nearby is the main restaurant: open-air and overlooking the infinity pool (one of two). The breakfast buffet was enormous!
I like to make first days of longer trips rather quiet, to adjust to the weather (50 degrees F warmer than Seattle, where it was snowing) and the time zone. So the day was spent reading and exploring the large resort.
Lodging: Intercontinental Hotel and Resort, Papeete Tahiti
This is my last day on the Camino this year, due to the spacing of towns with transit connections out here on the meseta. I could walk a day or two longer, but those towns have no connection to Madrid. It’s a shorter day, with several very pleasant hours of walking along the Canal de Castilla, watching the sunrise.
My timing is good — that’s a sheet of clouds coming down from the north, due to bring several days of rain.
This is a good place to stop, being a larger town with all the necessary services.
It’s been a good trip. The new gear has worked out well. I’m very fond of the new fleece (Alpha One, from Polarfleece), weighing in at 3.8oz (less than 100g). And the Hoka Speedgoat shoes proved perfect for all the pavement walking, although they’re already wearing through the sole so will need to be replaced before next year. I’ll also replace my rain gear, or renew the DWR coating: I’m tired of it wetting through and leaving me soaked. I packed for cooler weather than I actually experienced, so I will leave home the puffy jacket, gloves and beanie next time. Other than that, it’s all good. Every trip I make some minor changes in the gear.
Stopping in Fromista leaves me with about 31 days of walking, so the 2024 trip will be about as long as this one.
Up early, underway at 7:20 but headlampless (it’s hard to find good help these days!), navigating the exit from town by streetlight. The moon is down to the tiniest sliver, so it’s not much help.
The plan for the day involves a big hill at the start, and then a very long flat. The hill has a vehicle grade, but it’s long and steady, about 600ft(200m) of climb, marked as 12%. We watch the sunrise from the crest and then head down the other side, on an 18% grade. It’s steep! Yikes! Fortunately some city father had this section concreted, so it’s manageable by going slowly.
After that, just flat. Slightly rolling flat. Five hours of it.
The meseta has surprised me; it’s both more rolling and more green (slightly) than portrayed by reports. So, not to the level of “enjoyable “ but at least tolerable.
Underway at 7:15, leaving behind the still-snoring young German woman, and helping the older Korean gentleman find his (our) way out of the locked gates in the dark. I say dark, because the fingernail of a moon is growing ever slimmer. Yay for headlamps! Another yay for wearing it instead of carrying in the pack (she glances sideways at the Korean).
Last night’s place was about a mile (1.5km) before Hontatas, so our fervent hope was that something in town would be open by the time we got there, and Saint Brigid came through: hot coffee, fresh from the oven pastry, and a hard-boiled egg.
The walk today was gently downhill, along a small draw with a creek. There were some lovely vistas as the sun worked its way down to The Valley floor.
Late morning we arrived at the ruins of the Convent of San Anton. What’s so spectacular about these ruins is not their size, or their design, but the fact that they have survived at all. I have so far covered nearly half of northern Spain, and these are the first I’ve seen: all the others — and every town had one or more lodgings/infirmaries for pilgrims — have been destroyed in Spain’s innumerable wars. This building dates from the 1140’s; the monastic order operating it went defunct 1760’s, the civil seizure of monastic properties was 1835, and since 20th century it has been run as a pilgrim albergue.
An hour and several conversations later, Castrojeriz appears. This is a large hill town; like the others, laid out in a series of semicircles at the base of a fortification. No, I was not tempted to climb the hill for a closer look, although it is possible to do so.
This is Spain; even the lowly parish church has ornate reredos in its side chapel.
Underway at 0730 to a star-lit sky and a fingernail of a moon. I’m glad I decided to bring the headlamp — it’s needed the first half hour, then the morning twilight becomes bright enough I can see the Sandy road before me.
Later the familiar rosy glow comes along in the sky behind me, as I make the gentle climb.
Not until 8:30 does the first ray of sun peek over the horizon, casting long shadows ahead of me.
After two hours there is a steep descent into Hornilos, a hamlet of maybe 60. Both bars are closed (it’s Monday), but the small market has sandwich makings and cold drinks and, vitally, a WC. Also a better example of Camino graffiti.
I was fairly buoyant at this point, believing I had only another 5.4 km to go.
Well, no. True, the last segment of the day was 5.4km. BUT I had to walk 5.5 km to get to the intersection where that was measured from. Making it a 19.5km day. Fortunately I had water and the temperature was only 80F. Could have been worse — I might have turned an already-long day into an impossibly-long one.
Underway at 7 — the streetlights make it possible to be going so early. I was fervently hoping for coffee, but I guess Sunday morning runs later.
This is the start of the meseta — a high limestone plateau running from Burgos to Astorga. It’s flat, very flat, and very little shade. Ill get about half done this year.
The towns are tiny, and spaced out. But each has food and lodging. Not much to see, not much to say.
A fine fall day with a leisurely start. One must rest on a rest day, after all. So the plan is a stroll about town. The sycamore trees make a lovely esplanade,
And the morning market is setting up, with olives, cheese, baked goods, carved olive wood, and so much more.
Continuing with the old gate, once part of the city walls and the main entrance to Burgos in medieval times. still magnificent!
Then on to the Burgos Cathedral, a landmark and possibly the most famous church in Spain, at least until that upstart in Barcelona came along.
This Gothic masterpiece is huge, but with a different arrangement from the French Gothic of, say, Chartres or Saint-Denis. It is ringed with chapels, each large and ornate in its own right.
I was so distracted by the reliquary by the grand staircase (except I think it’s more likely the cart used to transport the Host during the procession on Corpus Christi)
I completely missed the choir.
Nearly missed the nave too — had to backtrack when I couldn’t find the entry.
The ceilings are varied, and nearly as ornate as the altar reredos.
The tour includes the cloister
And museum, with its ornate relics.
In all, a completely overwhelming display of the wealth of the region.
It happens that I am in town on the weekend (6-7 Oct) of their annual city festival; think “Christmas markets without the cold but wearing medieval instead “. Every plaza has its collection of booths, it’s strolling musicians, its medieval games. I heard rumors of jousting as well. It’s all very festive.
Time for lunch! Fortunately I was able to snag another menú del dia. Paella for starter:
The smallest, thinnest lamb chops I’ve ever encountered:
And a lovely chilled custard for dessert. They serve their custard with a sprinkle of cinnamon here:
A nice meal for the price (17€) and a shady terrace overlooking the cathedral plaza.
Underway at 7:30 in the dark; nothing is open here and I really want some coffee! This is the first time I’ve been early enough to need my headlamp, and after about 15 minutes the road is light enough, even in the forest, that I can switch it off. The roads in this area are a very pale, Sandy orange.
The next town, Ages, is just an hour down the road. I’m enjoying my coffee and tortilla when a breathless gent pops his head in the door and asks if I speak English. Turns out, a group of Vietnam Vets are taking a scroll with the names of 400 of their fallen brothers to Santiago, and they want their pictures taken. Of course I am happy to oblige. And I’ll put them in touch with Peace Trees Viet Nam.
After Ages and another hour comes Atapuerca. Near here are caves, used for a millennium by hermits, and monks, and occasionally, in bad weather, pilgrims. It’s possible to stay over an extra night in Ages and book a guided tour of the caves.
Past Atapuerca we come to The Daily Hill, which starts off gently enough, but fools us with hidden crests and yet more climb. The route swings north of the local military reservation, and we can hear the irregular pop-pop-pop of a firing range. Near the actual crest the route is terribly stony —not very steep but very tough and irregular footing. At the top, someone has erected a 3-meter cross, just to reassure us the climbing part is over. The descent is nearly as stony.
After coming off the limestone massif, a couple hours road March brings us to the hamlet of Cardeñuela Riopico. The “Rio” is more a creek.
Lodging is clean, modern, new construction with only 5 beds in my room plus our own toilet and shower. Very civilized! The pilgrim menu dinner included chicken braised in a saffron broth: delicious and now added to my “learn to make it” list.
A fine autumn day dawns, underway at 8:00 to the usual roseate glow. The landscape is pretty flat going into Burgos. There are three choices of route, in fact. The industrial one, north of the airport; the River Route, skirting south of the airport; and the bushwhacking further south yet. Since the River Route was recommended I went that way. And truly, it was very pleasant, with minimal industry and lots of parkland.
Finally, after passing what seems like every senior in town, out for their morning walk in the park, I reach the city proper. This is a big place! Lots of traffic, which I find a little disorienting after a week of tiny towns. I’ll take a rest day here and poke around some tomorrow.
The rain forecast yesterday held off until after bedtime, and a very light mist is still with us this morning. We can’t start without coffee though, and the bar doesn’t open until 7:30 (sunrise 8:15, no rush).
It’s very cool— I can see my breath, and the cloud deck hangs low over the mountains. It’s a steep climb up to the top, and a long way down. Fortunately the route is through forest — a first for this trip.
Hallelujah! The heat has broken! High today of 71F (21C), which is a huge relief. For all the forecast of rain today though, at 7:15 it was a clear sky, moon and stars.
It’s a short day today, with a good climb; adding the long next leg would have been too much for one day, especially with rain forecast.
So, underway at 7:30 with an immediate stop for coffee. These morning twilights are still the nicest hours of any day, all soft purples with tinges of rose.
The Surge is still with us; every lodging is full or nearly so; others report difficulty in booking ahead and needing to go onward.
Arrived in Villafranca late morning; walked around in circles a bit to find the Casa Rural where I’m booked. The bar next door offers a menu del dia so we snag it: braised green beans and grilled fish. Delicious! Such a big meal, we decided a sandwich would be fine for dinner.
The rain forecast yesterday held off until after bedtime, and a very light mist is still with us this morning. We can’t start without coffee though, and the bar doesn’t open until 7:30 (sunrise 8:15, no rush).
It’s very cool— I can see my breath, and the cloud deck hangs low over the mountains. It’s a steep climb up to the top, and a long way down. Fortunately the route is through forest — a first for this trip.
The town — a hamlet really — is names in honor of a saint who devoted his life to helping pilgrims by building bridges and hostels throughout the area. There is a huge old Cistercian monastery here; their albergue has 70 spaces! But I’m staying across the street at a newer place, 7 bunks and excellent pizza. Their terrace becomes the community lunch spot, and the afternoon is filled with interesting conversation and pilgrim stories.
Sorry for the short shrift today: mostly gently rolling hills, all brown from one cause or another, with occasional sparse shade in the last blistering day of this particular heat wave.
Happy first of October! This morning I am underway shortly after 7 — well, I was wide awake, everything was recharged, everything loaded. I might as well. Even though it’s still quite dark, street lights are everywhere and it will take a while to work my way out of town.
The route is exceptionally well-marked here: real signs! As in, from the Highway Department! Posted on real signposts! What a concept! And much easier to spot in the dim light, than the informal yellow arrows that get painted on curbstones, rain gutters, reverse of traffic signs — you never quite know where to look.
Morning twilight — the half-hour before sunrise (8:15 today) is really the prettiest time of day. Later on, with no shade or green it’s just brutal. But the morning colors are soft and lovely.
The rest of the day was brown, plain, and blisteringly hot. But finally arrived at our Alburgue, which was terrific: very homey, wonderful garden, and a home-cooked dinner.
This is a long day (20+km) with a big hill and a forecast of 88F (31C). In my humble opinion, that’s a potentially dangerous combination. So I’m shortening the front end by 5km with an early taxi ride. It’s much easier to arrange a taxi in the morning from a town.
Suitably fortified by a tortilla con patatas and a café americano, I set out from Azofra at 8:30, with an exceedingly talkative Brit from Windsor, just starting his Camino, in tow. For the first hour and a half, we have nearly flat farm road. When The Daily Hill looms in the distance, I cut him loose. There has been no shade or stopping-bench and there will be no shade (the Chamber of Commerce really needs to get on this) until the top of the Hill, where some saint has installed a park, with benches, shade, and water. Lovely as it is, it’s not bringing my destination any closer. But, judging from the heat already, the taxi-hop was the right decision, as an hour later of more heat might have done me in.
Not far past the park is a golf course (!), and the clubhouse, right on the route, is doing a booming pilgrim business. But, refreshing as it is, it’s not bringing the destination closer either. So I trudge on, through the spanking new condo construction, through the cluster of old buildings that were once the original town, to the roundabout marking the outskirts.
And we are back on the route. The road ahead is straight, undulating over a few more small hills. Brutally straight, and still with no shade. I finally roll into Santo Domingo about 12:30, immensely grateful that I am not an hour later and even hotter.
After yesterday’s shortcomings in the food department, I was determined to snag the first menu del día I came across. Before I reached the lodging, I was successful!
A menú del día had three courses: first, second, and afters. First course was (huge) grilled shrimp with salad.
Main course was pimento stuffed with cod.
And for afters, a Tarte Contesa, which turned out to be an ice cream “cake”. Very refreshing on such a hot day!
Lodging: Room Concept Hostal, Santo Domingo de La Calzada
Underway at 7:40, just as orange paints the eastern sky. This is a longer day 16.5km, and we are beginning several days of temperatures in the high 80’sF (30C), so I am trying to avoid the worst of the heat.
More industrial vineyards as we climb the slope to the big hill of the day, Alto ___. Ho boy! Those last 100m were terrible— in any sort of damp they might be dangerous or even fatal: deeply rutted, no evident footpath or even any sign of effort in that direction, just (fortunately) dry streambed, overlaid with a thin layer of fine red dust.
Some saint had built a rest area at the top, with picnic tables and a fine view over the valley ahead.
It was all downhill from there, more gravel farm roads through industrial vineyards. Just at the outskirts of Najera, another saint built another lovely rest area, beautifully shaded, with many picnic tables.
Nájera is a smaller city, maybe near Bremerton in size. My lodgings are on the way in, so I didn’t reach the old district until I went looking for dinner.
It was a Friday night, and people were out and about. The riverside park was having a tractor show (you thought I was kidding about all the industrial agriculture?), and there was a sort of market evening going on as well: booths with crafts, or cheeses, or assorted and very colorful pickles.
I’m up at 6 and underway at 7:15; it’s a “normal” length day ahead, all gentle climb except for one big hill, it will be hot later, and I am hungry. My usual reason for delayed departure until sunrise is the (in)ability to see route markers, but with the many high-intensity streetlights, it’s almost as bright as day, all night long. (Remember, I’m from Seattle; my standards for daylight are literally quite dismal.)
I’m hoping some breakfast spot will be open at 7:00. Nope. I keep walking; it’s a long time to get out of a city. 7:30? Nope, not even a light indicating preparations. As I near the route intersection (I’m hypotenuse-ing from the pension), I spot several workmen standing on a corner. I wonder if they are perhaps day workers – but no! They’re drinking coffee and smoking. There’s a cafe and it’s open!
A half-hour later, reinforced by a tortilla con patata (omelet with potato) and a cafe americano (slightly diluted espresso) , a bocadillo jamon (ham sandwich) tucked away safely in my grub sack, I’m off again. Logrono is certainly a pretty city, well worth a rest day and even another visit sometime. After all, I’ve barely scratched the surface of that booklet of pinchos bars!
The route out of town is very pleasant, a paved pilgrim walkway leading from one city park to the next, until we reach the outskirts where the bike boulevard gets its own lane. Many sycamore trees everywhere, and — unbelievably — there are still roses blooming. They all seem to be this same shade, so I assume the same variety.
Our stroll through the regional park continues until the 8km point. Just as we leave the park, there is a seasonal stand with fruit, souvenir pins, and a forest of walking staffs. Some of these are quite tall, over 6ft (2m), carved shepherd crooks from a single piece of wood; the sort of thing you could never get on a plane.
Leaving the shady park behind, we are back in the industrial vineyards, climbing the hill in the sun. Fortunately it’s a farm road, with an auto grade, so the incline is not too bad. Once over the top, we pick up some occasional shade as we oversee the freeway construction.
Navarrete is an old town, a hill town, a small town. But then these old places tend to be quite compact; it comes from the enclosing city walls, so necessary for defense during Spain’s interminable wars.
Consulting the map indicates that my lodging is on the outskirts of town. That will make tomorrow slightly shorter but I really should look at the map before booking these places, darnit. And they don’t do dinner—I should have checked that too. So I find a bar that’s open, have another tortilla con patata and a pork and cheese toasted sandwich, say hi to old friends, and set out to find this place.
The room is fine, the hot afternoon makes quick work of the laundry, and i chat up a German gal who has been walking 11 weeks. She started from her front door in Baden.
After solving the problems of the world, we decided to go back into town for dinner. Finding places open at 6 can be a challenge, but we found one with a pilgrim menu: mixed salad (with tuna, a meal in itself), roast pork knuckle (shank), and pears in red wine for dessert. A huge amount of food but satisfying.
Ok, the problem with the streetlight was easily solved; the room has one of the standard European roll-down shutters. I’m very familiar with them, it’s just that the controls were hiding behind the curtain.
And Old Town is 2km away. I explored the Church first (not sure it’s the cathedral). Omg! The altar reredos! Four stories tall of life-sized carved wooden figures, and enough gold leaf to make Montezuma cry.
Beautiful Gothic fan vaulting, no stained glass except a few windows in the clerestory, gorgeous gilt life-sized Santiago, complete with pilgrim hat fastened with a scallop shell (one has to decode the accessories to decipher which saint in being portrayed).
I popped into the tourist office for my daily stamp — the one from the pension counted for yesterday and I need one every day. Asking for menu recommendations at the place across the street, the young woman gave me a booklet of all the pinchó bars! With map! And pictures of each one’s house specialty dish! Yum! And they are all right here in Old Town. It’s pub crawl time. Pinchós is the regional word for tapas, the glorified bar-snack-cum-appetizer that is ubiquitous in Spain.
Of course, the place I picked from the booklet as choice #1 was closed for vacation. I start wandering up and down the alley, looking at menus, trying to decipher dishes with my very limited Spanish, and getting hungrier by the minute. Finally I settle on a place. The server is absolutely delighted to have his first customer of the day. I ask for a menu (cart in Spanish); I can decipher about 5%. With the server’s help, I end up with the best meal I’ve had in Spain. A tomato salad (salads often come with tuna).
A flat white fish, smaller than a flounder, redolent of garlic and served whole. Pretty close to a Spanish version of Sole Meunière.
For dessert, a pistachio cream.
All so delicious!
And such a welcome change from the several-snack meals I’ve been making do with. The albergues generally do some sort of communal evening meal, which I do enjoy. It’s a trade off with the dorm sleeping arrangements. The nights with private room, I’m on my own. The problem is, Spanish meal hours. Lunch, the main meal of the day, is around 1-3pm. Everything closes until dinner at around 8; except for the bar/cafes with their pinchos/tapas snacks.
Seems I’m sticking to the theme of planning “shorter” days that don’t turn out to be short at all. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Got underway from Vianda just after 8; the route meanders it’s way out of town. Bless those route-choosers, they really work hard to keep us in pedestrian-friendly areas — sometimes too hard! Especially in suburban areas, where there’s no readily apparent logic for the routing, a few more markers would be really helpful.
Once out of town, it is a gentle descent through industrial agriculture, until we have the gratuitous hills on the industrial outskirts of Logroño.
This is a real city — probably 200,000. And my lodgings are Nowhere. Near. Old. Town. As in, about a km away. I should explain. First, the Camino routing invariably takes us through the historic town centers, especially the churches and historic hostal locations. The restaurants, cafes, and other services for pilgrims cluster in these areas, along with almost all pilgrim-oriented lodging.
My WisePilgrim app very helpfully shows all this on their map. They also have a link for lodging, and this is where I went off the rails. Since I’m taking a rest day here (I like to do that in cities, so I can look around), I didn’t want to stay in an Albergue. So I picked a Pension with a reasonable price (private room, shared bath). The room is fine. Getting into it was problematic, the neighborhood is not very nice, and it’s a 15-minute walk to Old Town. And then there’s this really bright streetlight just outside my window.
This was planned as a shorter day; at least that was my thinking at the time. Only 10.5km, the problem being that Logroño is another 9.5km, with no stop in between, which would be too long for me. That was, until I actually crossed the series of ridges, some with quite steep and treacherous descents. Somehow I’d managed to dodge the two previous guidebook-warned-as-dangerous descents (taxi day and bus day), so this is the first I’d actually had to deal with. Based on how my knees hurt, even going very slowly and carefully, I’ll try to avoid these stretches in the future as well.
I got an earlier start this morning, underway at 7:42. Even though the sun isn’t up yet, there’s plenty of light; I could even have made 7:30 work, I think. Here at the equinox, sunrise is several minutes later every day. My noisy dorm-mates made it impossible to stay asleep.
With the series of ridges, the views of rolling countryside from the crest were very pretty. The landscape is greener here than further East. Many vineyards too, and the grade harvest was in progress. They use mechanical harvesters to gathers the grapes, but it still takes human hands to trim the vines afterwards.
By the time I arrived in Vianda, just after 11, it was already warming up rapidly. The forecast looks dry and low 80’sF for most of the next two weeks. Having the heat of the day at 1 instead of 4 is just another reason for shorter days.
This is an old city, and like most in the area, has one main old street that is the pilgrim route. It’s very convenient to have all the necessary services concentrated nearby!
I’m in an actual hotel tonight, the first real hotel since landing in Europe two weeks ago. Nice surroundings are … nice!
Sunday morning dawned clear and full of birdsong. This is a short day; breaking a very long day in half. There is an ancient hermitage just past the edge of town. From there we gently descend via a farm road that is intermittently muddy ( it must have been hellaciously sticky during the recent rains).
About an hour along, the route departs the farm road we have been following like a straight line. But not all pilgrims are paying attention to their surroundings. One gent carries on, despite the manifold shouts, yells, and wolf-whistles. I don’t know what the French group did to finally turn him around, but in the end they did succeed and there were assorted cheers from the multitude.
I ran into him again at my morning pause in Sansol; turns out this is his third time astray.
Sundays are quiet in Spain; the tiny grocery in Sansol was popular with the locals getting their bread.
Torres is just down the hill from Sansol, so I arrived in time for lunch. The custom of sitting outside on the terrace, enjoying the the day and watching the world go by, is just capital.
New nationalities to add to my pilgrim conversation list today: two Getmans (Cologne and Heidelberg), a Dane (Jutland), and eight French at dinner.
This is a terrific Alburgue; the most comfortable beds in two weeks, a small and well-stocked shop, and affiliated with the adjacent hotel restaurant. Dinner was quite good: pork loin, mixed salad.
The problem with the municipal dorms and their larger rooms is that quite a few rise at 5:30 to be underway at 6. Mind you, sunrise is not until 8! So they are walking in the dark. And they use headlamps and flashlights indiscriminately as they make their preparations — very annoying.
Underway at 8 this morning, to a beautiful roseate sky and continuing autumnal temperatures. It is a long day ahead.
I wanted to see the wine fountain at Irache; it’s a famous landmark on the Camino. Took just a swig — much too early for more — and continued up the hill.
By late morning I reached Azqueta, which has a very pleasant bar and terrace. Just as the route leaves town, I spot a Korean lady I’ve been leapfrogging with. She’s found the bus stop! And since it is 2 km more climb, to be followed by 12 of shade-less descent, I join her. By the time the bus arrives (there is great service in northern Spain, even on weekends) a half hour later, there are six of us. The bus is full.
From the bus, I can see that descent the route takes. It’s notorious. One of the ladies at dinner last night later limped into town, having blown out her knee.
Los Arcos has a lovely plaza with bar just by the cathedral, so I relaxed there for the afternoon, watching friends from previous days pass by. The sangria was excellent and so was the book.
When I checked into my lodging, I discovered the Knee and her friend were here as well. After a chat with the medics, who actually made a house call, the friend went shopping while I foraged for takeout. Turns out, “friend who can’t walk” will allow you to order takeout pizza. Very satisfying! They plan to take a taxi in the morning; doctors orders are for three days rest.
Since my progress is so slow, I’m seeing different faces every day. Last night at dinner we had: Swiss, Canadian, Argentina, Italy, Korean x2, Taiwan, and a few others. This morning I passed a Polish couple, who were using a scooter as a backpack-cart. Also a German girl traveling with her dog; very few lodgings allow animals so she camps most nights.
The rain from yesterday has cleared out, leaving a few days of glorious fall weather for us: clear skies and much cooler temperatures. It’s definitely fall: I passed two 40-lb pumpkins in a vegetable patch this morning.
This was planned as only a 10.5km day, so I took a long break at lunch in Estella. The restaurant across from the municipal Alburgue, Casa Carmen, opened at noon, and I had the best-crafted meal yet here in Spain. A robust salad, topped with chicken tenders and dressed in a curry seasoning. Absolutely delicious!
Estella is a very old town, with lots of history I won’t bore you with. Museums, churches, and architecture treasures abound; it would be worth another visit sometime. The old quarter ends promptly at the old gate though, and one immediately thrown back into the modern world of traffic and chaos. Fortunately it was only 45 minutes further to my lodging.
This is my first stay in a municipal Alburgue, and it will hopefully be my last (rarely do they take reservations, but this one did). Facilities are spartan, rooms have more bunks, but the price reflects this.
Dinner at the municipal was simple: a nice salad, pan fried chicken cutlet, fries. We had Korea, Portland and Ontario at table.
After yesterday’s travails it seemed best to make today a “taxi day”. I have linked up with two other American women (Arkansas and Denver) so we shared a cab that the hotel was kind enough to find. Zubiri is completely booked out; the only open spots are at the municipal Alburgue, which does not take reservations. An hour before opening, there are already 30 in the queue. So those crowds from SJPP are still around, and I expect will continue to be.
The distance from Burgete to Zubiri may only be 18km, all allegedly downhill, but on the uncommonly long taxi right over, along it’s many, many switchbacks, it was readily apparent that a taxi was the right choice for today.
Lunch at the bar of the street was substantial: huge salad, steak frites, ice cream. Dinner at the Alburgue next door was even better: large salad, vegetable cream soup, cod in tomato sauce with pimento, assortment dessert. With wine, all very plentiful. Good conversation with Maine, Portland, DC and Berlin.
After some to-ing and fro-ing, the two Aussies and I decided to take a gamble on the rain and walk rather than taxi. Different weather apps had varying forecasts, ranging from thunderstorms to prolonged drizzle.
Since it is a long 16.5 km today, I send some weight ahead by transport, for the first time. But not the last! The lighter weight really makes for a more enjoyable walk.
Underway at 8 but not away from Puenta de La Reina until 9. This means “Bridge of the Queen”; opinions vary as to which one, exactly. There is a substantial river here, too deep to wade and to broad to swim. So ferries took the pilgrims across, fleecing them in the process. A bridge was a huge improvement; it still stands today in all its Gothic glory.
I did manage to make the climb and reach the shelter in Mañeru before the drizzle started. After a rest, and observing the sportiness of the drizzle, I rigged for rain and went on an hour to the next town for a lunch-snack break.
It’s two more hours — will my luck hold? Of course not. The drizzle became steadier, converting to steady rain, and by the time I reached Lorca at 2:30, I was a miserable drowned rat. I really need some rainproof rain gear! Mine wets through.
Dinner was simple but tasty and satisfying: large salad, a few slices of roast beef and potatoes in gravy.
The reason for stopping at Zariquiegui last night was the hill: it was halfway up the Alto de Perdon, famous for the metal pilgrim figures and the long line of modern windmills. The path up was treacherously steep and stony; the path down the other side even more so. Not a project to be tackled at the end of a long day.
There are fellow Seattlites staying here; they report that 900 left SJPP with them. This is nearly impossible to fathom! I continue to book ahead, about 2 weeks out. With so many others, it gives peace of mind to know I have a place.
Tonight is in a casa rural, so a nice upgrade from the pilgrim dorms: twin rooms, share full bath, dinner, breakfast, and laundry. Entirely too comfortable! Dinner was substantial: a large green salad with hard boiled egg, generous serving of rotini pasta in a delicious meat sauce, canned fruit for dessert, and wine. Breakfast was even more robust by Spanish standards: scrambled eggs, multi grain toast, sliced tomatoes, yogurt, juice, coffee/tea.
Tomorrow is a little longer, and we are due for rain, so I will send some weight ahead by transport to make things easier.
By the way, if you are interested in following the route and itinerary more closely, I highly recommend the Wise Pilgrim app. It has maps, photos, and elevation profile- none of which I have the time to provide here.
Unfortunately, I got a late start this morning from Pamploma. I’d lost my locker key and had to wait for the day clerk’s arrival at 1000 to get all my gear. So I wasn’t underway until 1030. This was no problem as it was a short day (I was thinking 6 km).
True, the segment from the penultimate town was 6 km; I’d omitted the nearly 6km additional to reach it, though. So, 12 km with a late start on a sunny, warm (hot by Seattle standards) day. But I rationed my water, ate some snack bars for lunch, and managed to make it in, mid-afternoon. I was so glad I’d shortened the day!
This is a tiny town; the full Alburgue at 30 beds probably doubles the population. All 4-man pods (2 double bunks per), which was fine. Three showers worked fine; we even made the two toilets work — although we could have wished for a more reliable supply of TP. It has a small bar in-house, along with a small restaurant serving a pilgrim menu: soup/salad, pork/chicken, flan/yogurt.
This is the city where they run the bulls every year — in June I think. Quite a few shops would be happy to outfit you in bull-running costume (white top and trousers, red sash). Only about an hour’s walk from Burlada, past the old Citadel, so we toured the old town center, found our Alburgue to get checked in, and went looking for lunch.
Lunch on the Camino comes in two major forms: the menu peregrino and the menu del dia. The former runs to “cheap and filling”, emphasis on fries. The latter was started by Franco as a mechanism to ensure workers got a good meal at least once a day. It runs to “local and better quality “ at about 3€ more. I had peppers stuffed with baby eels, chicken thighs in a cider gravy, and flan for dessert. It was enough food for two meals!
Some shopping, errands, and laundry filled our afternoon. Dinner only needed a snack: a few tapas.
Based on the experience so far, I’m shortening my daily plans. There are just more hills, and less enjoyment, than I envisioned. From 17-21km I’m shortening to 10-12. So I might not reach Leon. It is what it is.
This was supposed to be an easy day: 17 km all downhill. Turns out, not so much. Gently rolling, following a river valley, and better than 19km would be more like it. After the huge thunderstorm overnight there were many puddles and much mud as well. Rather grim, overall. Rain threatened after lunch, but the Magic Raincoat seemed to ward off everything after initial sprinkles (maybe a Camino blessing).
I finally rolled into Burlada late afternoon- this is suburban Pamploma- but 3 km shy of the center of town. The last 2 km were a very pleasant municipal promenade with broad sidewalks and mature sycamores. Nice as it was, couldn’t make up for the grimness of the day.
For dinner, Denver and I went in search of pinchos, which is what tapas are called in this part of Spain. The pimento-cheese stuffed peppers were real winners.
Such! A! Hard! Day! From Orisson it is 18km to Roncevalles and another 3 km to Burgete. The first 8km is still uphill, not as steep as yesterday, and then downhill.
But …
There was a front passing through, and we had headwinds: I would estimate 35-45 knots. Stiff enough to make every step difficult, and impossible during the gusts, for which I had to brace myself. This situation continued about the first 4-5hours , well past the crest. So it wasn’t the pack weight, or the uphill climb, or the headwind — individually — but the combination was just horrendous.
And that front? That was bringing rain later? It started sprinkling about 1 km before Roncevalles. Unfortunately the hospitaleros at Roncevalles were not helpful in finding a taxi onward, and my own calls were not successful either. So I set out to walk the remaining 3 km to Burgete.
Of course the heaven’s opened up, and even with the Altus raincoat I was drenched through by the time I reached Burgete.
This is an old hotel that’s been redone; very comfortable and cozy with friendly and helpful staff. A simple dinner and breakfast are available — a good thing because I was not about to go back out in that rain!
The first task, coming from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port (SJPP), is to cross the Pyrenees. This involves over 4000 ft climb and then 3000 ft descent, all over the course of 25+ km. Now, I find 25km a challenge even over flat ground. Which this is, most definitely, not. So my plan was to stop at a lodging halfway up, at Orisson.
This is what I did: 2000ft climb over 8 km with my 20lb pack. It was a long, hard slog and I am so glad I stopped. While I could possibly have made the crest before sunset, the three hour descent would have been treacherous in the dark (many people are seriously hurt trying exactly that).
At breakfast this morning, our host said that 500 people were leaving SJPP today! For comparison, when I was walking the Le Puy route in France, it was about 40 fellow pilgrims per day. And there are not 500 beds in SJPP; they had to open up the old fire hall to bed down the last 50 late arrivals. Also our host indicated that the crowd is not dying down until the last week of September. The surge used to recede after the first week.
So I’m continuing to book well ahead, by several weeks. It does not look like we will have the surge spreading out, since nearly every day has experienced a similar headcount.
Tonight dinner was a wonderful vegetable soup, reinforced with beans and puréed— substantial and very tasty. Also roast pork and a well-sauced vegetable dish of tiny French peas and carrots. Dessert was another slice of that wonderful marzipan-filled Basque cake (I’m really going to have to find the recipe).
Taking the TGV train from CDG airport went smoothly; fortunately I had booked tickets last week. The train lobby was quite crowded even at 7am. There was a change at Bordeaux; station there was even more crowded. Arrived at Bayonne, which was undergoing a major refurbishment. All of France seems to be preparing for next summer’s Olympics.
To our collective relief, a coach was laid on to replace the cancelled train on to SJPP. Of the ~25 passengers at least ~20 were carrying backpacks. The bus took the same time as the original train schedule, so it was all good (about 1:15, so it would have been an expensive taxi ride without the bus).
My lodging was fully booked, so I continue to be very happy that I booked ahead. There was a big line at the Pilgrim Office, with a ten minute wait. On the bus we’re 4 Italians (not together), 2 Canadians, 2 Australians, and at least 4 Koreans—and those were just the ones I met. It’s a very diverse group!
For dinner, I joined two young women from Italy whom I had met on the platform in Bordeaux. We went looking for a good French meal, and found one at a place on the square. The fish of the day was filets in a piquant cream sauce, Basque style, with a marzipan-filled Basque cake for dessert. Tasty, but I wish I had also ordered a salad.
For the first time since my last walk in 2019, I’m off on the next leg of pilgrimage. It’s been quite the journey: Covid, dementia caregiving, and widowhood, for starters. But now I can travel again, and I feel my clock is ticking. So, here I go on to Spain (I have so far come from Prague, and you can catch up on those posts in the links elsewhere on this page). This year I plan to cover a little more than half of Spain, ending in Leon. Then I will return in 2024 to finish in Santiago.
This particular year has already proven to be a challenge, as the World Rugby Cup managed to fill up the trains yesterday. And the last of three train legs ticketed for today has been cancelled as well. Usually they lay on a bus as substitute, or else I’ll take a taxi.
Since I first passed through CDG in 2004, I must say things have improved. The map on their website is invaluable-I highly recommend printing it out. The signage is hugely improved and multi-lingual (French, English, characters). It’s easy to find the shuttle between terminals.
Since the train yesterday was full, I stayed at an airport hotel (inexpensive by exorbitant airport standards). Great location, friendly staff, bare minimum of furnishings in the room but all the absolute necessities; the shower lacked hot water but the breakfast was stellar.
This topic has arisen on several forum discussion threads lately, so I wanted to describe some specifics here. By my count, there are at least 21 waysthe Le Puy Route differs from the Camino Frances. The great pity is that walkers who begin their pilgrimage experiences by walking the Camino Frances — a popular piece of advice — then expect their subsequent experiences to mirror the CF. In fact, the CF is the outlier experience, and expecting the same inevitably leads to disappointment.
Fewer Pilgrims. The Le Puy route has about 10% the number of pilgrims as on the Camino Frances (CF).
Smaller Towns. This route traverses a very under-populated region of France, so the towns are quite small — and often getting smaller.
Fewer Towns. Again, this is a function of the very sparse rural population. The towns are spaced roughly 15-20 km apart, with only woods or farmland between.
Smaller Lodgings. With only 40-50 pilgrims a day maximum even during high season, there is not enough traffic to support larger establishments. The lodgings themselves are smaller, with maybe only 6-12 beds, and there are fewer of them. These tend to be seasonal, family-run operations.
Demi-pension. The most frequent practice is to take demi-pension. This means you will get a home-cooked French dinner, served family style with the other lodgers. Also, breakfast the next morning. This is popular for two reasons: there are often no other options in the immediate vicinity, and it is a wonderful way to meet your fellow walkers.
French Food. French cooking lives up to its reputation. Dinner will almost always be at least three courses, and sometimes four. Regional specialties are frequently offered. Sometimes dessert will be, or will be followed by, a cheese course. Salad often comes after the main course. Wine is included.
French Pilgrims. About 85% of the walkers are French, who will often walk in 2-week stages. Groups of friends are frequent.
French Language. Since so many walkers are French, French is the language commonly used. Lodging hosts will seat the English speakers together at dinner (this includes the Germans, Swiss, and Dutch, as well). Some guidebooks (Miam Miam Dodo for example) will indicate which lodgings claim English-language capability.
Less Pavement. About one-third of the route is forest trails, one-third is graveled farm roads, and one-third is paved, very lightly traveled scenic byways.
Closures on Sundays and Mondays. This is France, where the shops will be closed on Sundays, and one other day of the week, usually Mondays. (Although my personal experience is that they seem to close whenever they see me coming!) Also, shops will close for lunch from 12-2.
High Season is May and September. Because the winters are cold and wet, and the summers are very hot and dry, the shoulder seasons of spring and fall are the most popular for walking. May, in particular, is popular because there are at least three major holidays that the French like to turn into long weekends (anyone familiar with the American 4-day Thanksgiving weekend will recognize this phenomenon). May Day (May 1) and V-E Day (May 8) are fixed holidays; but Whitsuntide is a movable feast (following Easter). There are also local holidays such as the Transhumance.
Daily schedule. France, in general, operates earlier than Spain. Breakfast is served at 7:30. Lunch is served from 12-2 if one happens to be near a restaurant (but best to not present oneself after 1). Check-in at the gites is usually not possible before 3pm except by special arrangement. Dinner is served at 7:30. Lights-out is generally 10pm.
Call ahead. Since most lodgings are demi-pension, and Madame needs to know how many mouths to feed, so how many groceries to buy, the standard practice is to call a day or two ahead to make reservations. Stopping in at the last minute, expecting to be fed, is not the done thing. If your French language skill is not up to the task, other walkers, or your lodging host tonight, will help by calling for you. The local accent can make it difficult for even fluent speakers to follow, so having a local make the call for you is a good idea.
Closed in Winter. The winters are cold and wet, with snow on the Aubrac plateau, so there are few walkers. Some hotels in the larger towns will have a longer season, but the gites will often be open only from Easter to All Saints. (Easter is a moveable feast, All Saints falls on Nov 1). Additionally, there are school holidays in October, the dates varying by district. The guidebooks will list opening dates for lodgings, but these are not sacrosanct. For early (April) and late (October), as well as the extra-hot July-August, if there are no reservations, the gite owners will often take off to go visit family. These are generally mom-and-pop establishments, so there is no secondary staff.
Churches open. Since the towns are so small, and the walkers so few, the churches are generally left unlocked. Often you will encounter a local parishioner bringing fresh flowers. The cemeteries are always open, and almost always have fresh water (for the flowers).
Equipment Replacement. Since there are few major towns on the route, equipment replacement is rarely available. Le Puy, Cahors, and Sant Jean Pied de Port all have outdoor recreation stores; Estiang and Aire sur l’Ador may have some items. Guidebooks will list current options, but it might be a week or more between opportunities if you need something.
First Aid Supplies. The towns are few, and the pharmacies even fewer. Also, the closure days apply to these as well, unless there is an emergency. So be sure to take supplies for abrasions (“road rash”) as well as blisters, as a minimum.
Soap and Towel. This is France, so one does as the French do. Take your own soap and your own towel. This applies to laundry soap as well.
Clothespins. You will hang your wash on the communal clothesline or folding rack; there may be clothespins, maybe not.
Poles. The route often has steep sections that are quite stony; these can be very slick in the rain. Poles are useful and popular on this route.
Costs. A good daily budget would be 50 Euros: 40-45 for demi-pension and 5 to cover groceries for lunch. Any baggage transport would be extra, at 7 Euros per bag per day. Occasional camping-grounds or bed-only might run 15-20 Euros. There is usually not the opportunity to self-cater using Madame’s kitchen: Frenchwomen can be very territorial about their kitchens, and besides she is using it to cook for the other lodgers.
Given all that, there are still ways in which the experiences of the two routes are similar.
Euro. Both France and Spain use the Euro. French banks have ATMs. Cash is most common, but a few places take credit cards. Check your guidebook for specifics.
Cell/wifi. Cell service is widely available, and almost all lodgings will have wi-fi.
Transport. Baggage transport is generally available.
Guides. Several guidebooks are available in English, and several forums and websites have current information.
Supply. The towns are small and infrequent, so the food supply points are similarly infrequent. The smallest towns have already lost their bakeries, and small food shops adhere to the usual closing days. It is good practice to carry supplies for at least two days of lunch (three or even four if a long weekend is approaching). Occasionally a lodging host will be willing to pack a bag lunch, by prior arrangement.
Washing. Everyone washes clothes in the afternoon after arrival. Occasionally a washing machine may be offered. Drying is almost always by the outdoor-solar method.
Friendly. The French, both hosts and fellow-walkers, are very friendly and helpful. This helpfulness is improved by some basic phrases and a willingness to follow the French customs.
Scenery. This section of France has wonderful scenic vistas, with river gorges, rolling pastures, and forests. The terrain is hillier than the CF, especially the section from Le Puy to Conques.
Credentials. Pilgrim credentials are in use and expected. All lodgings, many churches, and some restaurants will have stamps.
Transportation. Rail and bus connections are available for the major towns. Le Puy has connections to Lyon. Cahors and Moissac have connections to Paris. Saint Jean Pied de Port has connections to Bayonne.
Finally the big day arrives: to complete the route between Prague in the Czech Republic and Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port on the Spanish border.
Of course one begins with breakfast, in. most civilized fashion, listening to Mozart and overlooking the peaceful garden. Then it is an hour’s walk along the river – a very pretty route.
Just on the edge of the old town, the Chapel of St Michael comes into view, perched atop its volcanic rock.
Le Puy has been a pilgrimage site in its own right since before the millennium; there was a station here of the monastic order whose duty was to protect pilgrims.
After dropping my pack at the hotel, I set off for the cathedral, which sits on its own lofty perch.
On the way up, the other major landmark comes into view: a 16m (50 ft) statue of Notre Dame, cast from 210 cannons captured at the Siege of Sebastopol on her feast day.
The cathedral is famous for its combination of Romanesque architecture with Moorish decoration.
There are actually two Black Madonnas in the cathedral; the upper one is in the main nave, while the lower one is in a side chapel.
And the famous departure portal, where pilgrims head southwest toward Santiago.
Not long after, I cross paths with a Swiss woman from earlier in the week. We agreed to dinner and it was quite a celebratory feast!
Kitsambler's Journeys 