3 days in the clouds, climbing over Alto de Cruz de Ferro

Happy to see El Acebo (the Holly) ahead after three days in wind and rain --a warm meal tonight!

A rainy day in the land of the Maragatos

After a train ride over the mountains from Basque country and across the Meseta (high plains), we woke in Astorga to cold pounding rain. So we did what any tough, determined pilgrim would do: took advantage of the warm bed, a hot shower, and lingering breakfast of tortilla de patata and pan chocolat with cafe con leche. Then we toured Gaudi's palace with amazing stonework, a thousand years of religious art, and then the old stuff -- roman stone art, celtic pottery, "modern" human arrow points, and old Neandertal stone axes and spear points. We put on all our gear and headed out into the continuing rain to start the climb from the plains toward celtic Galicia. But first we pass through the wild open hill land of the Maragatos. Famed as horsemen and muleteers who could transport wheat or a king's gold across the mountains ahead, recent DNA research shows the Maragatos are descended from local Neolithic people mixed with the north-African Berbers who likely brought them horse culture. Wild and independent, they still occupy this rugged open land.
After a long gorgeous wet and windy climb, late in the day, we came to the village of Santa Catalina de Somoza, with curved stone walls shining in the rain, and a warm fire within -- we are grateful!

 

 

El camino Vasco -- with friends in Idiazabal

Our days with Steve and Axun and their boys have been packed with fun activities, many along the ancient Basque & Roman road where shepherds, pilgrims, and kings made their way from France and the sea through the mountains to central Spain.

In Donostia/San Sebastian:

Walking the trails through the hills above Idiazabal:

Watching the boys win their last soccer game of the season:

In Arrikrutz cave where they found the most complete cave lion skeleton in Europe - 35,000 years old - reconstructed for us:

In San Pedro where Basque whalers set off for the Canadian coast in the centuries before Columbus:

Climbing to the natural tunnel of San Adrian where the royal road passes through the crest of the mountains:

And always with great meals!

The road to Estella

The new town of Estella (Star) was chartered in 1090 as a stopping point for pilgrims on the Christian "camino de estellas" so-called because they followed the Milky Way west to Santiago Compostella (Saint James' field of stars). In Celtic times pilgrims followed the stars further west to the sun setting in the ocean beyond Finisterre. Over the centuries Estella engulfed the much older Basque mill town of Lizarra, built to use the power of the river here where it breaks through a steep fold of Precambrian limestone. Hemmed by its cliffs and river, Estella has stayed old, with narrow streets and tiny shops and no room for cars, while the bakeries, fruit stalls and cafes aquired new neighbors: web design, solar construction, investment, world travel.
A local woman out picking flowers guides us along the river into town. She tells us the history of the Jewish quarter where we enter past an old synagogue. The kings of Navarra invited in French and Jewish traders, and Moorish architects from Rioja to the south. In modern Estella/Lizarra, Muslim women in hejab mind their children next to Basque ladies in the square below our window -- their children run together -- and languages mix in happy play.
We hiked out to the "wine fountain" where the winery of the monastery of Iratxe flows free for pilgrims on the Way. We see our first fig and apricot trees, and the lumpy tasty "ugly tomatoes" of Tudela. This is the end of our first stretch walking on the Camino -- we reorganize our packs to catch the bus north tomorrow over the mountains to Donostia/San Sebastian, and then the train up to Idiazabal for 5 days of the Beasain festival with our friends Steve and Axun and their boys.

The dancing policeman of Muruzabal

We had a stormy, beautiful climb to Alto de Perdon, rain squalls followed by brilliant sun breaks, wind waves sweeping across fields of yellow canola and green winter wheat. Ancient pilgrims could have their sins forgiven if they survived this far. At the top we leaned into the wind with the famous steel sculptures of pilgrims while the line of giant wind turbines thrummed above.
After our descent the weather and country warmed and softened. We saw our first olive tree in a church courtyard, and grape vines appeared like rows of old gnarled men with arms spread and first soft green leaves, dancing down across the hillsides.
In contrast to the expansive landscape, Navarran hill towns are tight clusters of stone houses and narrow streets leaning in around their church. At day's end we climbed to Muruzabal, and shared Casa Villazon with two women from Argentina. The cook at the tavern stayed late to fix us dinner, and the town's gnarled old policeman came in to chat us up about the outside world and the joys of life. His mix of Basque and Spanish left us mostly guessing and smiling, so he wandered over to the table of grandmothers nursing their wine and began to sing to them. Flattered by the attention, one by one rose to dance with him while he sang.
The next day we saw a stork nesting atop the cathedral in Puente de la Reina, and passed over the bridge that the queen of Navarra ordered built for pilgrims in 1040. For miles we walked the Roman stone road. Tired, sore, and amazed we climbed through more hill towns to a bed in Lorca. Now sun is breaking over roof tops where swallows zoom for morning meals while we linger over cafe con leche. Today to Estella, where the kings of Navarra were crowned for two thousand years.