Camino Day 3: Scorchio!

 Last night’s pilgrim supper was with random members of my Camino family and was the best pilgrim meal yet. They even gave us more red wine when we asked for some.  The Albergue San Nicholas in Larasonna is lovely.  Clean, good facilities, only about 400m from the Camino - but at about 10pm at night it sounded as though a pack of dogs was having a barking competition.  It was far too hot to close the windows (6 of us in a smallish room).  

Tiredness, and possibly the weed fumes emanating from one of my room mates meant that I did fall asleep quite quickly.  I woke at 4am with the munches!  I couldn’t get back to sleep and, knowing I had  a longer distance to cover today, I decided at 5am get up as quietly as possible, moved all my kit to the corridor and got ready to leave.  I was on my way by 5.20am, almost back at the trail when I looked down from the bridge and thought about paddling there yesterday with my sunglasses on.  I put my hand to my head - no sunglasses!  Back I went to the albergue, snuck up the stairs and retrieved them!  They had fallen under my bed when I was moving my kit.  All my roommates were still asleep.  Apparently no one heard me leave.  I started a new walk on my Garmin and set off again!

There is an amazing freedom to this solo lark, I didn’t need to wait for anyone, discuss my plans - I could just go!  The same has been true throughout this stay.  If I want to stop, I can. If I want to skip a meal - so what?

My aim today was to get to Pamplona by 10am, spend some time there, eat breakfast and then do the second half of today’s walk to Uterga.  I had a lovely text conversation with Pat - who pointed out some of the ‘high points; on today’s route as I walked through the deserted town af Arre.  I got to Pamplona (about 10 miles from my start) in time to hear all the church bells ringing for 9am. I paused my Garmin and stepped off the trail for a wander around this beauful town.  I practised my Spanish, ordering breakfast, asking where the bathroom was and where it was possible to buy postcards and stamps.  As I achieved all these tasks I can only assume that my Spanish was understandable!

As I went to leave Pamplona I heard my name being called.  It was Eva, who I shared a room with on my first night and again last night,  She was just arriving in Pamplona and was the first pilgrim I had seen all day.  I thought about staying for another coffee, but was conscious that it was getting warmer and warmer so made the choice to carry on.

The second half of today was tough.  It was 34c, there was very little shade.  I was making good time when the path was smooth, but towards the end the loose stones slowed me right down,  My feet were hot and sore.  Uphill was fine, downhill was better, but these rocks - even on the flat - made me miserable!  I couldn’t look about me at the views (stunning by the way) as I was worried my tired legs and stupid feet would do something silly!  I saw lots of people suffering.  One gentleman was sitting in the shade waiting for a taxi.  I gave him half my remaining water as he looked done in, I offered to stay with him, but he assured me he was OK,  

I’d never been more relieved to see the Albergue for this evening!  And the shower felt amazing.  I’ve done my laundry, had a beer and shared a bowl of chips with the young Aussie PhD student who slept above me last night.  I bumped into him as he arrived in Uterga and he is in the Albergue over the road from mine.  He agreed that today’s distance was stupid in this heat!  

Tomorrow I will walk a slightly shorter distance, but the route is much flatter- I;m calling it a ‘recovery’ day!

Camino Day 2:Today’s top quote: ‘Your legs are much younger than your face!’

 Firstly a round up of yesterday evening’s fun!  Pootled off to find somewhere warm and sunny to sit and have a drink and bumped into Eva again.  Soon we had a large group sitting outside on the terrace with a tipple of our choice.  We swapped back stories, shared contact details, talked about previous experience on the trail - one gentleman from The Netherlands is here on his fifth Camino and second this year.  He shared photos of the trail we had walked yesterday under 4” of snow in May!  Most of us were booked for the same sitting of the Pilgrims’ meal so made our way over.  The food was OK, but the bread, wine and company were excellent.  In a lot of the small towns we have passed through the dining options are limited so Pilgrims’ meals, where offered, seem to be a convenient and convivial way to end the day.

I slept reasonably well, waking and packing up as quietly as possible to be out when the doors opened at 6am.  I was treated to a beautifully clear sky and bright, twinkly stars.  I checked my head torch was working and set off.  The first section was through a forest.  I found myself wondering if I should have googled ‘big (or small) scary things that can kill you in Northern Spain’ and was quite glad I hadn’t!  I reasoned that it was a bit chilly that early in the day for any snakes.  

I’d decided not to hang around for breakfast at 7am, and to pick something up on the way.  ‘On the way’ was over seven miles later, and just about bloody time as I was contemplating eating my own arm by then!  My attempts at speaking Spanish were met, as usual, with confused and blank looks, but I did manage to secure a black coffee and a ham and cheese baguette.  

This was a very different day to yesterday.  Yesterday was about chatting, getting through the grim weather together.  To be honest, by the time I went to bed I was peopled out.  Everyone I’d met was lovely- but I’d met a lot of people and had a lot of new experiences and had a lot to process.  Today I spent most of the walk by myself.  There were a few notable exceptions, one of them being the comment in the title from a young guy from Amsterdam who had been behind me for ages and caught up when I took my pack off to remove my jacket.  The minute he said it he realised how it sounded - but I’m taking it as a compliment!  There was also the farmer moving his cows down the path - soon after he’d passed my (and my Dutch friend) we heard him screaming and shouting.  We knew that there was another pilgrim just behind us - so waited to see that he came through OK before carrying on.  And there were words exchanged in passing.  I loved this different Camino!  Although certain rocky parts of the path have probably left me traumatised.

I ended today in Larasonna, I’d booked accommodation a day ahead.  Again I arrived at 12.30, too early to check in!   I sat and waited with a group who had already arrived and we were soon joined by familiar faces.  While we waited one of the group said he was going on to Pamplona.  I considered it.  Had I not had a bed booked I might have gone.  It was ‘only’ 15k more, but 15k in the sunshine is not an easy undertaking!  I was sensible and stayed put. Once checked in, showered and completed our laundry we took our drinks down to the river and stood with our feet in the cool water while we watched pilgrims making their way over the bridge.

Camino Day 1: It isn’t stopping for breath, it is pausing to admire the view…

 …until the view disappears - more of that later!!

Firstly, due to shonky internet connection, it is a real bother to try to get photos into these blog posts.  I will try to include one or two if I can, if not please look at my Facebook feed as I have put them all up there.  I’m assuming that the only reason you have stumbled over this blog is because you follow me on Facebook - if not please let me know!

After a fitful night of something approximating sleep, I was thrilled to hear my fellow pellerins starting to wake and get themselves organised for the day at around 5.30am.  Finally I could get going!  I got up, dressed etc., and made my way down to the breakfast I had prepaid 8 euro for.  Not so much a buffet as an anyone can help themselves to tepid coffee, supermarket brioche rolls and fruit.  And everyone was helping themselves - including those who were quite open about the fact they hadn’t paid.  I grabbed a banana and a coffee and headed off out of the door.  My hostel was directly on the Camino - so no wasted steps getting to the start.  

I walked along for all of a quarter of a mile, before catching up with Eva from Sweden.  We chatted and walked together for a while before she dropped back.  I joked she’d catch me again and that I’d get the coffees in at Orison! The scenery was stunning and it was a privilege to walk along the deserted roads with only my own thoughts, the sunrise and the sound of cow bells for company.  Arriving at Orison I was in need of a cup of coffee, I spotted the sign that said they didn’t open until 8am at the same time I’d spotted the Aussie I’d been chatting to at the pilgrim office yesterday afternoon.  We were bemoaning the fact that we were too keen, but decided that 20 minutes was an acceptable wait for breakfast.  Eva caught up while we were waiting and we all had breakfast together before setting off for yet more up hill walking. 

There is something about walking, side by side, that makes conversation happen easily and inevitably.  Eva used to work for Ericsson but, at 62, had taken two years salary for redundancy, Clayton grew up in Zimbabwe (or Rhodesia as it was then) before emigrating with his parents to Australia at 15.  Eva dropped back occasionally but caught us up when we stopped for a cup of tea and cheese, or to take photos of the thick fog we were walking through.  

The going was tough - this stage is predominantly up hill, we’d had promises of stunning vistas, but we were walking through fog on treacherously slippery ground.  Despite keeping our eyes out for the sign that took us to the less steep route we found ourselves teetering down a rocky path through the woodland.  We had joked that there were sections of the route that had a marker every 20m - but these were on stretches where you had no possible chance to go wrong, whereas there were junctions where it was a case of “well that route is going uphill so obviously that is the way we need to go!”

We didn’t rush, but we did make fairly good time. It was probably 6 hours of moving time, everytime we overtook a group I said to myself ‘it’s not a race!’  We arrived at Roncesvalles at 12.30, but had to wait until 2pm to check in.  This is a huge alberge and very well organised.  After a hot shower and a change of clothes I found myself some lunch - the sun was now shining so sitting on the terrace with a cold beer was a delicious treat - before doing my washing and hanging it to dry.  

I’d precooked my stay here, and had included breakfast and a packed meal for tomorrow.  I don’t think I’ll do that at future stops as I am now tied in to a 7am breakfast.  I may just grab it and run, or not bother at all and pick something up at the nearby supermarket (3km down the route).  I want to go a little further than the ‘guide book’ distance for tomorrow.  Today is supposed to be the most challenging stage (most elevation anyway), and it didn’t feel too bad.  I want to build in some slack for later on, or maybe to allow me to carry on beyond Santiago to Finistera.  

Tonight I will have a Pilgrims Supper and another early night

An in between day

 

An odd day today, travelling from Biarritz to my chosen starting point for the Camino Frances, St Jean Pied De Port.  There was no rush, the train I wanted to catch left at 10.42am, so long as I could find my way there and buy a ticket I’d be fine.  If the garage had a cafe then I’d be better than fine.  My ability to function without coffee is limited, so I was pleased to find I was capable of buying a ticket without resorting to English before a cup of coffee and a croissant.  French trains always amaze me.  It was on time, clean, busy but not too crowded and very reasonably priced.  I had a brief stop to change trains in Bayonne - twenty minutes to dash out of the station and have a very quick look before jumping on the next train for the very scenic route to St Jean Pied de Port.  

I had been slightly concerned about travelling on a Sunday in France, the whole not being able to get a meal or do any shopping, but I need not have worried,  St Jean Pied de Port is a busy, busy little town,  All the shops and restaurants were open.  I had been pondering my stupidity at not bringing a cross body bag with me to keep things that I needed close at hand available, so picked up one of those as a reward for having avoided buying any tourist tat!   After lunch I made my way to the Camino office  because there was a bit of a queue and I can’t resit one of those!  

Got my first stamp in the all important credential!  And a lot of information from the lady who took down my details, most of which I forgot as I was so busy trying to remember to go between the cross and the pile of rocks at one point that the rest of the pertinent information evaporated!  I’m sure it will be fine,  As my stamp had today’s date next to it I suppose that means I have started today.  I walked the fifth of a mile from the office to my hostel and recorded that on Strava just for completeness!  I don’t want to walk back to the office in the morning.  

After that I went into tourist mode - walking around the town walls, having a look in the church, strolling by the river and writing some postcards.  I’m glad I got to see this town. It is beautiful.  I am looking forward to tomorrow, although a little part of me worries that it will be too busy, with too many people.  My overriding memory of Kilimanjaro (way back in this blog in 2017) is that there were too many people.  I’m hoping that the greater distance involved here will mean that it doesn’t feel quite so crowded.  If we could have a repeat of today’s weather, 21c and a bit cloudy, that would also be lovely!  For now - it is an early night for me.

Biarritz for a day

 Up early this morning, left the hotel before 4am and found myself in a heavingly busy Gatwick airport.  It is bank holiday weekend!  Why did I not realise?  It was all going well until security.  The X-ray machine thingy jammed with my bag inside it.  Only a minor delay - but enough to raise my blood pressure a little.  The flight itself was quick and relatively painless, there was the inevitable post Brexit queue at immigration but, not having any hold baggage to collect, I was out of the airport and on my way before 9am local time.  After dropping my ruck sack off at my hotel I set off to see the sea.

After the empty beaches of Tiree it was a shock to see so many people already on the beach before 10am.  I had more urgent matters in mind though - breakfast!  

Post breakfast I took in all the sights!  Rocher de la Vierge, pretty little streets with interesting shops and restaurants all against the impressive backdrop of the Atlantic Ocean. Plenty of opportunities to practice my French, I must be getting a bit better as only one person answered me in English today.

Having had a larger than average lunch, moules frites, and being somewhat weary I picked up bread, cheese, fruit and yogurt to have for supper in my room before an early night.  

It was a nice surprise to discover, on arriving at the hotel, that I’d paid for my stay in advance.  There was so much going on when I made the booking that I’d totally forgotten!  

The journey to the start

 Is this a mid life crisis?  Or a logical response to the situation I find myself in?  I thought I was in a secure job, teaching in a small, independent school.  I was happy.  I loved the school, the students, my colleagues.  I thoroughly enjoyed running the school’s CCF and DofE programme.  I was happy, settled and, in my mid 50s, assumed that this was my last job prior to retirement.  How wrong could I be?

We found out on 20th May that the school was closing at the end of this academic year.  I have only taught there foe six years, but my children have been part of the school for over 20 years.  Many of the staff had been pupils at the school prior to long teaching careers.  We were a small but very close knit community.  We were also a hugely talented and hardworking group of people - it was amazing to see the stream of relieved and happy faces as my colleagues secured new jobs … but I wasn’t sure I wanted a new job… or at least I didn’t want a new job right now.

I’d had a busy year.  Running the CCF contingent, being DofE manager and teaching meant that weekends that didn’t involve some form of school related work were vanishingly rare.  I love all aspects of work (apart from data, spreadsheets and washing up the coffee mugs in the science work room) but there was no doubt that I was running on fumes.  Did I really want to follow up a busy summer holiday (I had tow cadet trip already in the calendar) with the stress of a new job?  Was I even capable of playing nicely with a new set of colleagues?  I decided that I didn’t want to put myself through the hell that is applying for jobs.  I’d take some time off.  I’d go for a long walk.  I’d (maybe, if I got very bored) do some housework!

And then…

Well, everyone else got jobs?  What if I couldn’t get a job?  Surely just going and looking at a couple of schools couldn’t do any harm.  I loved both the local schools I visited.  They both seemed to like me.  I found myself accepting a job on the basis that I wouldn’t start full time until January.  I can’t say I’m thrilled at the idea of starting all over again, but I also can’t deny the fact that having the security of a job to come back to is very reassuring.  

 So - what now?  Well an adventure I’d always had at the back of my mind and something I jokingly told my colleagues I was going to do on the day we found out we were being made redundant.  I am off to walk the Camino de Santiago. 

It occurs to me that I have never really done anything on my own before!  I’ve either been with friends and family, with colleagues, leading or part of a group of students, but I have never spent a prolonged period of time where the only person I needed to worry about was me.  It feels odd,  And slightly selfish, but very much needed.  

I left home this afternoon, with an 8kg backpack (according to my younger daughter I have less luggage than I normally take on a weekend in London) to make my way to the airport for a 6am flight tomorrow morning.  I don’t know when I’ll be home.  I have a one way ticket and accommodation booked for the first two nights.

Watch this space….

 

The big five-oh!

Towards the end of last year my running was going really well.  Nothing spectacular, just good consistent running with the odd PB thrown in for good measure.  I was looking forward to 2023 and, although I had relatively few races in the calendar, I was hoping for good things.

Then, on the first day of the Christmas holiday, I finally succumbed to Covid-19.  Despite being triple vaccinated, I was rough for ages.  I felt worse than I did when I had pneumonia 7 years ago.  I spent two and a half weeks in bed and 'recovering' just in time to go back to work in the new year.  But I wasn't really better.  My sense of smell didn't return until mid March, I was constantly tired and my running was shockingly bad.  I still went out and did my long training runs at the weekends, when I wasn't busy doing stuff for school, but there were a real chore and unbearably slow.  I consoled myself by saying that a) at least I was out there doing something and b) it was time on my feet that counted and I was doing plenty of that! 

We set off to Boston with friends, stopping for a few days in New York on our way.  We went from a cold, grey April in Hampshire to a heat wave!  It is a bit of shock to realise that it is 32 celsius at 6.30pm in the evening - at that temperature the only reasonable thing to do is drink an ice cold beer! While we were in New York I got to achieve one of the items on my wish list; to run in Central Park.  I've been to New York many times, but not for years and in those days I wasn't a runner.  It was amazing to run up from our hotel then all the way through Central Park and around the running track.  And, for the first time in ages, I was running fairly well.  On our second morning Husbando commented that it must be good for my confidence - and it was!  We also had plans to run over Brooklyn Bridge - but had to settle for walking as it was hugely crowded and so hot in the middle of the morning.  We had a busy time in New York, it is an amazing place, but I always breath a sigh of relief when I leave as it is just too busy for someone who spent her formative years in a much smaller city (London).  

We travelled to Boston by train.  Easier than a taxi to JFK and an extra encounter with airport security, but sitting down for 4 hrs exacerbated an old back injury.  It hurt to put my foot on the floor - but there was plenty of time before Marathon Monday.  It was great to be back in Boston.  We changed our hotel after an indifferent experience last year, so were staying near Faneuil Hall rather than in Back Bay.  Boston is a small city - everywhere is an easy walk away  - and we thought that, if we weren't right next to the expo, we might spend less on merch!  After collecting our bibs (Husbando was running this year too) we did go to the expo - and were underwhelmed!  Rumour has it that Adidas locked out their competitors - so unless you were in the market for pet insurance or guttering there was very little on offer.  Luckily of us (but not for our bank balances) Marathon Sports had set up a 'brand house' pop up store in addition to their regular store on Boylston.  And all the other local sports retailers had significantly upped their game.  This year I took all my Boston Marathon jackets with me - wearing a different one each day.  It really is wonderful to see all the jackets from previous years.  There has been some controversy about the quality of this year's jacket - but I bought one anyway!  

On Saturday I made my way to Danehy Park parkrun in Cambridge where I had volunteered to act as tail walker.  This was a lovely newish parkrun, much smaller than Jamaica Pond with only 118 runners even on marathon weekend.  I walked with two first timers who were great company.  I hope I didn't put them off by extolling the virtues of parkrun.  We were so busy talking that I couldn't tell you where each of the three laps started and stopped!  The walk was just what I needed to give me the confidence that, back issues not withstanding, I would be able to at least walk Boston and, with a tiny bit of running, be able to make the cut off. 

The rest of Saturday and Sunday passed uneventfully, we visited Democracy Brewing at least once - because once you've found somewhere that good why wouldn't you?  We all headed off for an early night, although to be fair we'd hardly been burning the midnight oil.  I was diligently flossing my teeth when I managed to ping out a filling.  I stared at it in disbelief and then poked my tongue in the gap to confirm that it was in fact a filling.  Thank goodness for Google - a quick search revealed that there was a pharmacy still open at 9.30pm on a Sunday, and it was only a 5 minute walk away.  I bought some stuff to fill the gap and then discovered how hard it is to manipulate a tiny bit of filler into your own back tooth.  

Monday morning dawned, cold and damp. We'd been promised 'light drizzle' with showers 'later in the afternoon.'  What we got was persistent drizzle from the outset with occasional deluges throughout the morning.  But that was ok, I had a hat, I'm not made of sugar and running in the rain means you don't get overheated! What was important was that I had made it to the start of another Boston Marathon.  I even accepted the fact that this could be a very slow one.  Sub five hours was what I had in my mind.  

I started too fast.  As always.  Very hard not to as it is so downhill for the first 10k. I'd taken a selection of painkillers which seemed to take the edge off the tooth and back pain.  I told myself I would get to 10k and see how I felt, then to half way etc. fully expecting the wheels to come off big time at some point, but also knowing that I had time to get from Hopkinton to Boston.  Despite the awful weather, the crowds were out in force to support us.  The girls at Wellesley were even louder than last year - you could hear them for ages before you could see them.  There was lots of support on the infamous Heartbreak Hill - far more than last year, which is probably why I ran up it faster than last year.  Nutrition was a bit of a nightmare.  I'd taken six mini malt loaves with me so I could have one every four miles, and a packet of six shot blocs in case I fancied something extra.  It soon became clear that my amateur dental work couldn't cope with the stickiness of either.  I had five malt loaves and five shot blocs left at the end of the race!  I didn't want to risk experimenting with the gels that were on offer on the course - I've never got on well with them anyway.

I enjoyed the race so much more this year.  There was no crying in toilets, in fact there was no crying and no toilet stops at all.  I ran fairly consistently until the last couple of miles, it was my first reasonable run of the year.  Because I wasn't pushing for a time (although at halfway I set myself a revised target of 4hrs10 rather than 5hrs) I could look around, take note of the Citgo sign at a mile to go, really enjoy turning left on Hereford and right on Boylston in a way that isn't possible when every second counts, and enjoy that last few hundred metres up to and over the finish line.  

4hrs 7mins and 24seconds - I didn't think it was possible for me to be thrilled a time over four hours, and 12 minutes off a qualifying time for Boston next year, but I am!  It gives me hope that I might be able to qualify again for next year, if I work hard and lose a bit of weight.  

Unlike last year, we didn't dash home the same day - which meant that we had a relaxed evening trying to replace some of the calories we'd expended during the day, before indulging in a bit of retail therapy on Tuesday.

We were looking forward to getting home.  We'd been away for a week, which is longer than we usually take for a race, and were happily ensconced in the airport lounge when, 40 minutes before it was due to leave, our flight was cancelled.  The chaos that ensued was compounded by the fact that the flight on Monday had also been cancelled.  An A380 full of passengers were all looking to rebook flights!  We were assigned a flight via Barcelona that would leave on Wednesday evening, rather than queueing to sort everything out (4 members of staff would take ages to work through the queues) we phoned the hotel and booked rooms for the night and headed back in to Boston, a bonus day in Boston saw a short run in the morning, a fabulous breakfast (best of the whole trip) and a movie - because it was cold in the afternoon, we had checked out of the hotel and just wanted to sit down!  We lucked out on the way home.  We spoke nicely to the lady at the check in desk and she booked us on a direct flight with another airline - and upgraded us to first class - quite a satisfactory outcome!

All I need to do now is qualify for next year.....