Camino Aragones Archives

How to Walk the Camino in a Heatwave

September 28, 2019

One of the stories from this year’s Camino was the heat. Oh, the heat! I like to escape the humidity of a northeastern US summer for Europe where it’s almost guaranteed to be a little cooler and all-around much more pleasant. And usually, it is.

But this summer, Europe experienced some record-breaking heatwaves, and I happened to be walking through one of them.

It was intense.

I like to think that I can handle heat pretty well- after all, until earlier this year, I’ve never owned a car with working air conditioning. I rarely use air conditioning in my apartment, either (I have one small window unit and I generally only use it a few times a year, on the very hottest and most humid days. But I suppose I should say that my apartment stays pretty cool and a fan is often all I need to manage the heat). In any case, walking a summer-time Camino has never been too stressful to me. I expect that it will be hot, but I never worry too much. There have been some pretty uncomfortable days, but I’ve always been able to handle them pretty well.

But this summer was a different story. All told, I only walked for about 3-days in really bad heat, but that was enough. It was the end of June, and the end of my Camino Aragonés. The heat had been building and building and then suddenly it burst: unrelenting and all-consuming. At times, it was hard to think, that’s how hot it was. The highest temperature I saw recorded was 40 degrees Celsius (104 degrees Fahrenheit), displayed on one of the pharmacy signs as I walked through an empty town one afternoon (empty, because every other person was inside, taking a siesta. More on that later). 40 degrees is hot, and it’s very possible that I may have experience heat a degree or two higher; I know that other parts of Europe certainly did.

I learned a few things about walking in this kind of heat, and I thought I would share more of that experience here, in case anyone else ends up in the middle of a long walk and trapped in a heatwave.

When I think back to those days, what stands out the most is the sense of community and support that developed among the pilgrims on the Camino. We were all walking through the heat, and it was a struggle for everyone. I think that the heat helped us form stronger bonds; pilgrims looked out for one another, always checking in and making sure others were okay. And, in addition to the sometimes intense experience of walking really long distances, we added an incredible heat to the pilgrimage, and it was like we were all in it together, even if we were walking separately. Like I’ve said in a previous post, the Camino Aragonés had this really nice community feel to it anyway; there were about 12-15 other pilgrims walking the same stages as me, so I got to know the others from staying in the same albergues. But I think the heatwave just made the connections easier. By the end of the Aragonés, I felt like the entire group was my Camino family, even the Spanish guy in the red shirt who didn’t really say much to anyone. It didn’t matter. When I saw him at the albergue in Puente La Reina, I ran up and smiled and gave him a big thumbs up (we couldn’t really communicate so gestures and body language went a long way). His smile was just as big as my own: we’d each made it, and in a way we’d been looking out for one another. That’s what mattered.

I walked through the heatwave but I never felt like I was in it alone. That meant a lot.

This idea of group support leads me to my next point. When walking in a heatwave, start early. Start really early. I was trying to do that anyway, but ‘early’ took on a new meaning the morning we left Sangüesa. The night before, a Dutch woman organized a 4:30am wake-up call. We were all in one big bunk room in the albergue, and this pilgrim figured that if a few of us were going to wake up really early, we might as well all wake up really early. Initially, I thought the wake-up call was way too early; anything in the 4 o’clock hour is a time that is meant for sleep, and I’ve always felt pretty strongly about that. And sure, I could have stayed in bed while everyone else woke up, but when you walk a Camino, if several people are moving around in an albergue room and packing up their things, it’s guaranteed to wake you up.

So I rose with the others and drank a cup of instant coffee in the common room, ate a bite of leftover tortilla from the night before and then headed out alone, pilgrims a few minutes ahead of me, pilgrims a few minutes behind me.

It’s probably no secret that I like to walk alone. I don’t mind occasionally walking with other people but mornings are my favorite time to walk alone, so even though I left the albergue just after 5am and it was pitch black outside, I was happy that I was walking by myself.

This was good and fine for the first 20 minutes: I was walking on a sidewalk out of town, the arrows (when I could find them with my flashlight) were pointing straight ahead. The air was somewhat cool and it was kind of exciting, a little thrilling, to be walking under what still felt like a night sky.

But then, naturally, I missed an arrow. I walked, then turned around, confused. I heard voices behind me and realized it was a group of pilgrims from the albergue. I waited until they caught up with me and then, together, we figured out where to go. I walked with them for awhile, up and down the hills until the sun began to rise behind a mountain, throwing a soft pink light through the sky. Eventually I stopped for a break and let them walk ahead of me so that I continue walking on alone. But I learned something that I should have already known (because I’ve gotten confused walking in the dark before): if I need a flashlight to walk the Camino, I shouldn’t be too far from other pilgrims.

In any case, waking up really early and starting your day’s walk well before the crack of dawn is important in extreme heat. The first few hours of the day were really pleasant and so, so beautiful as the sun was rising. Once that sun had crested the mountain, however, the heat began. It was a bit like a race against the clock, walking as fast as I could before the sun had fully risen in the sky. But the more kilometers you can walk before the sun rises, the less you’ll have to walk in really bad heat. For those three days of walking through the heatwave, I think I had finished walking and was checking into my albergue by noon, or 12:30 at the latest. The last few hours of the walk each day were tough: by 10am the heat was strong, and the time between 11:00am and noon was just a difficult hour, the kind where you need to focus on each footstep and tell yourself- “One step at a time. One step at a time.”

I can’t imagine what I would have done if I’d needed to continue walking through the afternoon on those days. It would have been really difficult, and maybe dangerous. In the past, I’ve heard pilgrims say that they walk in the morning hours, take a really long siesta during the afternoon, and then continue walking in the evening when the heat has cooled. I think this could be possible if you’re walking a Camino route where you know there will be availability in albergues, or else if you’ve made a reservation in an albergue or hotel, so that you could arrive late and still be guaranteed a bed.

On some Camino routes, it can be easy to alter your schedule and just walk short days in extreme heat. A 10 or 15 kilometer day, if started early, could have you finishing by mid-morning before the worst heat of the day. A lot of albergues don’t open until early to mid afternoon, but it would still be better to hang out inside, at a bar or restaurant, and wait for the albergue to open, rather than continuing to walk through the heat. On the Aragonés, I met two French pilgrims who decided to skip ahead a stage and take a bus to the next town, so that they could walk shorter stages and still arrive in Puente La Reina on schedule. They were worried about walking 25 or 30 kilometer stages in the heat, and so they adjusted their plans.

I think this is always a good idea. Some pilgrims will stop walking if it gets too hot, and either hang out in a village or town, or take a bus to a city for a few days and then just return when the weather has cooled. I think mentioning this is important, because walking through a heatwave can be dangerous. I never felt like I was in any danger this summer, but it helped to start early and walk fast before the sun had fully risen. If I hadn’t been able to end my walking day by noon, it could have been a very different story.

But ending the day around noon has another advantage: if the albergue is open, it gives you time to claim a bed, take a shower, wash your clothing, and then head out for a big menu del dia lunch before returning to the albergue for a nice, long siesta.

I loved doing this. I had some incredible meals and with a full belly and a hot sun bearing down, there was nothing more I wanted to do than go back to my bunk and rest for awhile. This is a pro-tip for the Camino: a menu del dia (menu of the day) is very similar to a pilgrim’s menu, but the quality of the food is often better. The price is comparable- around 10 euros- and you’ll get a starter, main dish and dessert, bread and wine, too, just like the pilgrim’s menu. But it was a treat to have varied and delicious options (and the little pitchers of wine help slow you down for the siesta, too).

Walking in the dark and eating big lunches are good and fine, but what about actually walking in the heat?

I focused on three things: keeping myself as cool as possible, drinking water consistently throughout the day, and resting in shade every chance I got.

In terms of keeping myself cool, options are a bit limited, but there are still some strategies that I think any pilgrim could use. The first is to wear a wide-brimmed hat that will keep the sun off of both your face and the back of your neck. Initially, I only had a ball cap, but when the heat got bad I went out in search of a better hat. The town of Sangüesa had a pretty awesome general store with really cheap stuff, and I found a 2 euro hat with a somewhat wide brim. It was navy blue which wasn’t the best (lighter colors are recommended), and the fit was rather poor, but at least it shielded my head from the sun more than my ball cap did. (Some pilgrims carry an umbrella to fully protect themselves from the sun, which can also work really well).

My other tip for trying to stay cool while walking in a heatwave is to use a buff. I’ve written about my buff before, and it’s come in handy more times than I can count. But my very favorite way to use it is this: when passing a fountain, run it under the water until it is soaked and dripping. Without squeezing out too much of the water, I’ll put it either around my neck or up over the top of my head. Water gets everywhere, but- at least initially- it’s cool and refreshing. The buff will dry out and warm up pretty quickly under a hot sun, but even ten minutes of a cool sensation against my neck or head is such a relief. I’ll refresh the buff at every fountain I pass.

And speaking of fountains, it might go without saying that staying hydrated is really important during a heatwave, but I’m going to say it anyway. Water is key. I read somewhere that it’s better to take small sips continuously throughout the day during extreme heat (rather than gulping down a ton of water all at once), and I’m not sure if that’s true or not, but it’s what I tried to do. In any case, I made myself drink even if I wasn’t feeling thirsty, just to make sure that I was giving my body enough water. And this is something I do on the Camino anyway, but every time I passed a fountain I would fill my water bottle. Even if the bottle was nearly full, it didn’t matter. I’d make sure it was filled to the very top (and often, the water from a fountain is cooler than what’s been sitting in your bottle, so it helps to refresh). You’re going to sweat a lot while walking in hot temperatures, so that makes it extra important to stay hydrated. Many people carry electrolyte tablets or some equivalent, and I think this is a good idea, especially if you’re walking in the summer. (There are lots of different kinds you can buy: I’ve tried these, and these).

Finally, the shade. If you’re on a forested path or walking in an area with lots of trees, the air will be a little cooler and the shade will be a relief. But on the Camino, it’s often difficult to find shade. So much of the path is out in the open, and my walk on the Aragonés during the heatwave was no different. There was a long stretch when I could see the path winding far ahead of me, the heat shimmering up from the ground, the path was a blaring white and there wasn’t a spot to hide in the shade for what felt like miles. In a case like this, there’s not much that you can do. But if you do pass a tree, even just a tiny section of the trail that has just a bit of shade, my best advice is to make a beeline to that spot and stand there for a few minutes. Small breaks are good for your body during a heatwave, and a chance to escape a relentless sun is important. I actually learned this from a dog that I hiked with a few years ago in France: on hot afternoons, he would criss-cross the road to walk in shade as much as possible. At first I thought it was funny, but then I realized that this dog was really smart. He knew what he had to do to stay cool.

I now look back at those days of walking in the heat and I wonder- “Was it really that hot?” Then I remember the last day in Puente La Reina, sitting around a table in the albergue with a group of pilgrims: from Italy and France and Japan. Most of us had just met and we were eating and laughing and toasting to the Camino and even while sitting still at the table, sweat dripped from all of us. There was no escape.

Walking in the heat isn’t always fun and it’s important to be really careful, and the smartest thing might be to change plans and avoid walking during the hottest days. I’m curious if others have had experience walking the Camino in a heatwave: what did you do? Do you have any other tips or tricks?

Camino Aragonés Guide: Essential Info to help plan your walk

September 1, 2019

I can’t remember when I first heard of the Camino Aragonés, or when it became a walk that I added to my “list”, or even when it moved to priority status. I just know that at some point, somewhere, I must have read more about it and thought, “Huh. Sounds like a pretty good Camino.”

I’ve already written about why I found the Aragonés to be a nearly perfect Camino, and if you haven’t already read that post, I think it makes a good companion piece to this one, especially if you’re considering planning a walk. But for now I’ll say that yes, indeed, it was a pretty good Camino.

This Camino Aragonés guide post will attempt to delve into some of the more practical considerations, and I hope it will give you a sense of what the walk is like, useful tips, and some inspiration to add it to your list. (Otherwise, sit back and enjoy more photos!)

First of all, the basics

I love taking a good alternate route, and it turns out that the Camino Aragonés (or, the Aragonese Way) can be considered one long alternate to the beginning of the Camino Francés. Rather than starting in St Jean Pied de Port and crossing the Pyrenees into Spain by ending in Roncesvalles (as you would on the Camino Francés), the Aragonés begins at the pass in Somport- which sits on the border of France and Spain- and continues for 170km until it rejoins the Frances at Puente La Reina.

But this is a route that has a long history, a route that was popular in the Middle Ages and served pilgrims who were walking the Via Tolosana (the Arles Route), which begins in Arles and continues to Somport (and the Via Tolosana was one of the four major pilgrimage routes cited in the Codez Calixtinus, a sort of first “guidebook” to the Camino written in the 12th century).

The Aragonés, beginning in Somport (border between France and Spain) and ending in Puente La Reina (Spain) is typically divided into 6 stages (more on that below). It is possible to extend this Camino by beginning in France somewhere on the Arles route, or continuing on the Camino Francés once you reach Puenta La Reina.

A great Camino map; look towards the top right for the path of the Aragonés (dark gray)

Why would someone choose to walk this route, rather than begin where everyone else does, in St Jean Pied de Port?

This is a great question. The Camino Francés is typically the first Camino for most pilgrims, and for those who choose to cross the Pyrenees, they do so by starting in St Jean. I did this too, when I first walked in 2014. At the time, while I vaguely knew that there were other Camino routes, I had no idea that there was an alternate Pyrenees crossing that would eventually lead me back to the Francés.

So I think for most pilgrims who find their way to the Aragonés, it is not their first Camino. It is often a pilgrim who has already walked the Francés and is coming back for more- and has maybe returned to the Camino a second, or third, or fourth time- who discovers the Aragonés and decides to see what it is all about.

On the other hand, during my walk on the Aragonés this summer, I met pilgrims who were embarking on their first Camino. One had chosen the Aragonés because he’d studied Spanish history and wanted to walk through Jaca (a city along the route). Another because she’d heard that the Camino Francés could be very crowded, so preferred to have a quiet experience to start.

I think the Aragonés could be a great option in either case: whether you’re returning for a second, or third, of fourth (or more!) Camino, or if you’re walking your very first. For a first Camino it may take some additional planning, and beginning in Somport won’t give you the same sort of Camino fanfare as beginning St Jean would, but it would make for a special and very unique experience.

In a nutshell, what is so great about this route?

You can refer to my last post, where I go into more detail of why I loved the Camino Aragonés. But to sum it up: the scenery is varied and beautiful. The route is quiet but you probably won’t be totally alone, and you’ll build a nice pilgrim community with others on the path. There are well-spaced albergues that provide just enough infrastructure to make you feel like you’re truly on a Camino (unless you want to make shorter stages, there is no need to stay in hotels or pensions. Although you certainly could opt to stay in other lodging!). Locals aren’t used to seeing crowds of pilgrims, so you’ll experience kindness and openness and maybe even some curiosity.

What is the way marking like, am I going to get lost?

I thought the waymarking was very, very good on this route. If you begin in France you’ll want to follow the white and red stripes of the GR-653, and in Spain there are the traditional yellow arrows and scallop shells (though you may also continue to see the white and red stripe markings).

Overall the signs and arrows are plentiful, and I honestly can’t remember a time when I got confused. Well, aside from when I walked for an hour in the dark (due to a heatwave), but that’s no fault of whoever painted the arrows along that section of the path. They were there, I just couldn’t find them with my flashlight.

And speaking of finding your way, is there a guide to this Camino?

That’s another good question. I didn’t use a guide for my walk, and instead just referred to the Gronze stages (a Spanish website that gives information for various Camino routes, including basic maps of each stage, an elevation profile, and albergue information, as well as where to find food and other services). I thought that the Gronze stages- even without knowing Spanish- were sufficient, and along with some prior browsing and note-taking on the Camino forum, I never needed a guidebook.

However, there are a few guidebook options out there. I can’t speak to either of them, but I’d imagine they’d only give you more information than what you’ll find online. The first, The Confraternity of St James’ guide, Arles to Puente La Reina, is in English. You’ll want Part 2, which is ‘Toulouse to Puente La Reina‘ (this will include the Aragonés). There is also the Miam Miam Dodo guide (in French), which includes the Aragonés. I used a Miam Miam Dodo when I walked the Chemin du Puy and while I can somewhat understand French, I found that you don’t really need a grasp of the language to get what you need from the guide. The maps are easy to read, and icons will show you where there are albergues and restaurants/bars.

I keep hearing mention of the Pyrenees; how difficult is this route?

If you begin in Somport- also referred to as the Col du Somport or the Canfranc Pass, and sits at an elevation of 1632m- the most difficult part of the entire route will probably be the walk down to Canfranc Estación. The path drops over 400 meters in about 7km, and some parts can feel steep and may be tough on the knees. I didn’t think it was particularly challenging, and just went real slow at times (then again, climbing hills has always been more difficult for me than descending them), but if this descent is a concern you would always have the option to begin the pilgrimage in Canfranc Estación, or Jaca. Otherwise, the path of the Aragonés is often flat, or else has you climbing relatively small hills- not unlike anything you would find on the Camino Francés.

If you begin back in France, and decide to walk up to Somport, then be advised that you will be ascending quite a bit on the final stage from Borce to Somport (the final 6km of the 17km stage have you ascending approximately 600 meters, and the total elevation gain for the stage is nearly 1000 meters). This basically means that you’ll be climbing, and climbing through the Pyrenees. I was pretty intimidated heading into the day’s walk: I’d been alone in the albergue (gîte) in Borce, didn’t pass another pilgrim for the entire day, and walked mostly in the rain with sometimes poor visibility. Aside from snow, those were probably the least ideal conditions, and yet, despite all of that, it wasn’t as bad as I feared. It helped that 17km isn’t a huge distance, so I had plenty of time. There was one point when I was only a few kilometers from Somport (and high in the mountains) when I worried a bit because I hadn’t seen a way marker in awhile, but as soon as I started to worry I found one. The rain wasn’t fun, but then again it never is, and I can only imagine how wonderful that stage would be in clear conditions.

And the bonus of the day was finding some Camino magic: someone had set up a little pilgrim rest area under some pine trees by their home. There were tree stumps to sit on, a tin with biscuits and tea bags, a stack of mugs, and a thermos with hot water. I had what might have been the best cup of tea in my life, huddled there under the dripping trees, chilled from the rain, all alone in the middle of a long climb. The tea warmed me up, the notebook where I signed my name reminded me that I wasn’t totally alone.

What time of year should I walk?

I’d say spring, summer or fall; winter will likely have snow up at the pass and what I can imagine would be dangerous conditions down to Jaca. I’d also be careful in late fall and early spring, where there would also be a chance of walking through snow.

Are there any special sights along this Camino?

Yes!! Here are what I consider the ‘Big 5’:

1. Canfranc Estación. 7km into the Aragonés you will enter Canfranc village, where it is hard to miss the ruins of an enormous old railway station. It’s been abandoned since 1970 but recently there has been renovation work and a plan to restore the building to its former glory (and, I believe, restore the railway line). It was officially opened in 1928 and serviced the Pau-Canfranc line, which crossed under the Pyrenees, and had quite an interesting history during World War II. I believe it’s possible to take tours of the station, though I’ve read that they need to be booked online and in advance, and that the tours will only be in Spanish (and possibly French). I didn’t take a tour, and it seemed like the station was only accessible if you had that magic tour ticket, but it was still such an impressive sight.

2. Detour to Monasterio de San Juan de la Peña (Saint John of the Cliff). There are two monasteries here: old (10th century) and new (17th century), and while the new monastery is worth a visit, it’s the old one that’s the real reason to detour from the Camino. The incredible building is camouflaged against the cliffside, some rooms carved directly into the stone. There’s an impressive Romanesque cloister and even a legend that the Holy Grail was sent here for protection!

A note on getting here: Don’t do what I did. This was the thought continuously running through my head as I climbed a series of mountains on narrow, steep, extremely rocky trails. It took me a long time to reach the monasteries after some pretty challenging hiking, and once I did, I was told that the old monastery would be closed between 2:00 and 3:00 (I arrived at 1:40, and I still had a 1/2 mile walk to reach the old monastery). I had still had a fair amount of walking to to do after I finally toured both monasteries (in order to reach Santa Cilia), and overall it was a long day. Worth it, but long. There’s a detour that’s listed in Gronze’s stage that I followed, and there’s a sign along the path of the Camino that points out the detour 5.2km from Jaca. DO NOT FOLLOW THIS UNLESS YOU WANT SOME LONG AND STRENUOUS HIKING, UP AND DOWN AND UP AND DOWN THE MOUNTAINS. I walked 36km and some of that was very slow going. Instead, there are a few other options.

-After leaving Jaca, you can continue along the Camino (past the sign for the turnoff to the monasteries) to a turnoff on the left about 10km in, just before the Hotel Aragon. From here it’s about 6km to Santa Cruz de la Seros, which is a beautiful little village. I’m not sure what this path is like and I suspect it may be a bit challenging, but it’s got to be better than the 12.5km of mountains that I went through. There’s no albergue here (oh, if only!) and the only accommodation was a hotel- Hosteleria Santa Cruz de la Seros- that was a little too expensive for me (45 euros in high season for an individual in a double room. It’s still quite reasonable but when compared with the 10 euros or less I was paying for the albergues, it becomes a significant difference. However, I heard it’s great). But if you want to splurge this would be a great place to stay: you can drop off your bags at the hostal and then continue up to the monasteries, the old monastery is 3.5km up a rather steep path (or you could follow the road for 7km; because of the difficulty of the path the time distance is roughly the same). Tour the monasteries and then return back down the path or by road to Santa Cruz. It would be a long day, but I think a bit easier than what I attempted.

-The other option is what the hospitalero in my albergue in Jaca told me to do, but I didn’t listen to him. And that would be to stay in Jaca for an extra night and take a bus (or taxi) to the monasteries and then back down to Jaca. I suppose you could take the bus up to the monasteries and then just walk the rest of the way down to either Santa Cruz or further to Santa Cilia too. The albergue in Jaca had information and time tables for the bus, as well as the tourism office.

This all sounds really complicated and I tried to think of an easy way to explain it, but it’s tough. There’s simply not an easy way to walk to the monasteries AND to stay at an albergue, unless you want a very long day (I didn’t arrive to the albergue in Santa Cilia until 7pm, which is very late for the Camino). But it’s an incredible place and despite the effort it took for me to walk there, it was kind of magical to arrive on foot.

3. Detour to the Foz de Lumbier gorge. This is a detour that’s just a few kilometers after leaving Sangüesa (2.4 km into the walk, you’ll want to bear right off the path of the Camino. If you’ve reached Rocaforte, you’ve gone too far). I intended to take this detour but because of a heatwave had left early and was walking in the dark, and completely missed the detour. But I’ve heard that this is a beautiful part of the Camino, taking you to a narrow gorge that’s cut by the river Irati, and the footpath leads you between steep rock outcrops and through a tunnel where a headlamp or flashlight could come in handy.

4. Church of Santa Maria de Eunate. I wrote about this in my last post, but the 12th century Romanesque church with a unique octagonal plan is not to be missed! (It’s right on the path of the Aragones, and a 4km detour from the Frances).

5. Puente La Reina bridge. In the 11th century, Queen Doña Mayor (wife of King Sancho the Great) had this bridge built in order to help pilgrims cross the River Arga on their way to Santiago. (Puente la Reina means ‘Bridge of the Queen’). 1000 years later the bridge is still being used, and is one of the iconic images of the Camino.

Any advice on how to get to the start of the Aragonés?

Travel to the Somport pass isn’t simple, but it’s certainly not impossible. If traveling through Paris, your best option is to take a train down to Pau, and then transfer to another train to Oloron Ste-Marie, then a bus to Somport. (Or, if you have the time, I’d recommend starting the walk in Oloron; it’s three days up through the Pyrenees to Somport, a really beautiful walk! You can even begin walking in Pau if you have more time).

Coming from Barcelona, you’ll take a bus or train to Zaragoza, then a bus (from the same station) to Jaca, and from here another bus or taxi to Somport.

These are some links to bus and trains that may help you plan your journey:

ALSA (Spanish bus company)
http://www.alsa.es/en/

Renfe (Spanish train)
http://www.renfe.com/

TER (French regional rail)
www.ter.sncf.com/aquitaine

Typical Stages for the Aragonés:

This walk is usually completed in 6-days, though pilgrims who detour to the monasteries of San Juan de la Peña will likely add an extra day. If you want to walk shorter distances (for instance, the first stage from Somport to Jaca is 32km!) it is often possible to find additional albergues, hotels or pensions. *Note, some of the albergues between the typical stages aren’t exclusively for pilgrims, but you will often find other pilgrims staying there.

Day 1: Somport to Jaca, 32km.
Day 2: Jaca to Arrés, 25.4km
Day 3: Arrés to Ruesta, 28.4km
Day 4: Ruesta to Sangüesa, 22km
Day 5: Sangüesa to Monreal, 27.2km
Day 6: Monreal to Puente La Reina, 30.6km

Below are my stages, including where I stayed. The first three stages were on the Voie d’Arles, and beginning in Somport I crossed to the Camino Aragonés. My detour to the monasteries of San Juan de la Peña added a day to my itinerary, so with 3-days on the Arles route and 7 on the Aragonés, I walked for 10-days total.

Day 1: Oloron Ste-Marie to Sarrance, 20.6km
Accueil Pèlerins Le Relais du Bastet (*where I stayed in Oloron… very good)

Accueil Pèlerin Communauté des Prémontrés (*where I stayed in Sarrance… must-stay!)

Day 2: Sarrance to Borce, 22km
Gîte communal de Borce

Day 3: Borce to Somport, 17km
Albergue Aysa

Day 4: Somport to Jaca, 32km
Albergue de peregrinos de Jaca

Day 5: Jaca to Santa Cilia, 36km (with detour to monasteries)
Albergue de peregrinos de Santa Cilia (*very good albergue)

Day 6: Santa Cilia to Arrés, 10.2km
Albergue de peregrinos de Arrés (*this is a must-stay albergue!)

Day 7: Arrés to Ruesta, 28.4km
Albergue de Ruesta. (*very good albergue)

Day 8: Ruesta to Sangüesa, 22km
Albergue de peregrinos de Sangüesa

Day 9: Sangüesa to Monreal, 27.2km
Albergue de peregrinos de Monreal

Day 10: Monreal to Puente La Reina, 30.6km
Albergue de los Padres Reparadores

What is your packing list like?

I brought the same things on this Camino that I have on my others, and you can find my pretty comprehensive packing list here. For this Camino I’d definitely recommend walking poles or a walking stick, particularly for the stretch between Somport and Jaca. A wide brimmed hat to protect your face and neck from the sun would also be helpful; much of the route was open and without tree-cover.

Tips for the Camino Aragonés:

-Be prepared for solo walking. If you’re looking for a Camino where you’ll meet a lot of people and always have someone to walk with, then this may not be the Camino for you. I nearly always walked alone during the day, and rarely saw other pilgrims. In the afternoons and evenings, however, I always met up with the same 10-15 pilgrims, staying in the same albergues. This lent a beautiful and small community feel to the Aragonés, but it will certainly not be the boisterous and sometimes party-like atmosphere that you can find on the Francés. It is possible that you may not encounter many pilgrims in the evenings, either, so be prepared for a quiet Camino.

-I’d recommend loading your phone with a local SIM card, if you’re traveling from the States or a country outside of the EU. There isn’t always wi-fi in all of the albergues, and because there were days when I didn’t encounter another pilgrim on my walk, I felt secure in having a working phone on me. I never needed to use the phone to call the albergues when I arrived (which I’d been worried about), though I think the first pilgrim who arrived in Sangüesa needed to call a number on the door to notify the hospitalera that we were there. I don’t think a SIM card is necessary, but I was glad to have one. Especially because I was able to help a fellow pilgrim when she dropped and broke her phone; she was able to use mine to communicate with her parents and figure out some transportation options (this was at the monastery in Sarrance, where the monk in charge didn’t have a smartphone).

This link takes you to a thread on the Camino forum that has good advice about setting up a SIM in Spain. The Orange Holiday SIM (which I’ve bought at Charles de Gaulle in Paris) has always worked well for me.

-On the stage from Arrés to Ruesta (28.4km), the only services available are in Artieda. If you’re not sleeping in Artieda and walking all the way to Ruesta, there’s a shortcut that avoids the climb up the hill to Artieda. You might be tempted to take this- and certainly could (because that hill looks big!)- but this will be your only stop for food and it might be the only fountain on the day’s stage as well. I’d recommend walking up there, filling up your water, and finding the Casa Rural that has also has a restaurant/bar. I had one of the best sandwiches of my Camino there.

-If you stay at the albergue in Arrés, you’ll probably get a village tour from the hospitalero/as. Take them up on this offer, and if they don’t mention the best spot in the village to view the sunset, ask them. And then go see the sunset. I had a mostly cloudy evening but still got such a peaceful and beautiful view.

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I hope this little Camino Aragonés guide helped show you more of what the route is like, and that it could be useful to you in planning your own walk. Let me know in the comment section below if you have any questions, or email me at nadinewalksblog @ gmail.com. I’d be happy to tell you more about my experience! In the meantime, I’m going to be dreaming about when I might be able to return to walk the Aragonés again.

Why I think the Camino Aragonés is the Perfect Camino

August 19, 2019

What is a perfect Camino? Can such a thing even exist? In late June I walked the Camino Aragonés, a 10-day pilgrimage from Oloron-Ste-Marie, France, to Puente la Reina, Spain. Technically, the first three days of my walk were on the Voie d’Arles, a route in France that runs from Arles to Somport, but for the sake of simplicity I’m including those three days when I say I walked the Camino Aragonés.

First, some basic info. The Camino Aragonés is a 160km route that begins on the border between France and Spain in the Pyrenees, and continues down through the Aragón region of Spain, crossing into Navarra where it joins with the Camino Francés just east of Puente la Reina. This distance is typically walked in 6 stages. If you begin in Somport- the beginning of the route- you are at an elevation of 1600m and the initial descent on the first day can give your knees a pounding. Some prefer to begin in Canfranc Estación or Jaca (end of the first stage and 32km from Somport), to avoid the initial descent (or because transport to Somport can add some extra steps). Others, like me, choose to begin walking a little further back, in France, where you have the chance to walk up and into the Pyrenees.

The Pyrenees at Somport pass, Camino Aragones

And this brings me to my first point on why the Camino Aragonés is the perfect Camino. The scenery! Even if you don’t choose to tack on a few extra days in France, you will still get to experience the Pyrenees mountains if you begin in Somport or even Canfranc Estación. I had one day of bad weather walking up to Somport, and one day of beautiful and clear weather walking down to Jaca, and each of the days were stunning. And I found both to be a very different experience to walking through the Pyrenees on the Camino Francés. The terrain isn’t so different- it’s the same mountain range, after all- and that makes it difficult to articulate why I found it different. I didn’t encounter a single other pilgrim or hiker on the day when I walked up to Somport, so maybe that was part of it; the mountains felt a little more wild and raw, the peaks higher, more jagged. It was just me, taking on the mountains, and that was exciting and adventurous in a different kind of way than I’d experienced on the Francés.

But then, very quickly, the landscape changes. All that saturated mountain green is replaced with colors more subdued, bleached and faded by the sun: dusty whites and deep golden yellows and soft browns with tinges of orange. The terrain evens out, flattens, and you can see a white road stretching and curving until it fades into the horizon. Fields of wheat, dotted with red poppies, wave in the wind.

Red poppy in a wheat field, Camino Aragones

This is similar landscape to what you see on the Camino Francés, and so for me, this is classic Camino. In fact, you might be thinking that what I’ve described so far is very similar to the Camino Francés, and you would be right! I think this is one reason why I’m calling the Aragonés a perfect Camino. Ever since I first walked the Camino Francés in 2014, I’ve been chasing after that elusive “Camino feeling” that I experienced on that route. Other Camino paths- the Norte, the Primitivo, the San Salvador, the Chemin du Puy- certainly were wonderful and unique in their own ways, but each felt very different than the Francés. I think I was searching for some particular combination of landscape and community and Camino magic, something that I felt on the Francés. It’s hard to articulate or define, I just know I felt it again on the Aragonés.

It was the landscape, but it was the community too. Sometimes other routes can feel too crowded or too isolated, but the Camino Aragonés felt just right. There was a sort of core group of about 10-15 of us, the numbers shifting a bit each day but mostly everyone walked the same stages. 15 pilgrims on any given stage is certainly not a lot, and unsurprisingly, I often didn’t see other pilgrims during the day’s walk. But in the afternoons, we’d all arrive at the same albergue, and so after only a few days you got to know everyone else. This is certainly the experience on other Caminos as well, but it was so easy and natural on the Aragonés. Because there weren’t so many albergues, it was difficult to walk different stages from the other pilgrims. And because there were only ever about 15 others walking the same stages as you, you got to know the group fairly quickly.

And for me this was perfect. I think the numbers can certainly fluctuate- in Arrés, the hospitalera told us that there had only been two pilgrims the night before!- and I suppose the time of year can influence the number of pilgrims walking, as well. So maybe I lucked out, though from reading through posts on the Camino forum, it seems that others tended to meet up with at least several pilgrims each night. But it’s this: the combination of quiet and solo walking during the day, with a known and comfortable little community in the evenings, that make a Camino so special to me. I worry that if I walked the Francés again, it would feel too crowded. Even the Norte, a route much less populated than the Francés, felt a little crowded when I walked it again this summer. So a combination of solo days and social nights on the Aragonés was just right.

There was an ease that developed among my Camino Aragonés cohort; for a few days we were walking through an intense heatwave, and everyone checked up on each other. We ran into each other during café con leche breaks. I gave some shampoo to the two young Spanish girls. I went grocery shopping with Micky, from Japan. One night, Javier cooked his famous tortilla for the whole group. In Sangüesa, we propped our cameras against an old stone wall and set the self-timer and gathered together for a photo. But there was a looseness, too, it wasn’t like we had purposefully picked each other to be part of a “Camino family”. We were just all walking the Aragonés at the same time. That was enough. That made us family.

The fact that the Aragonés isn’t a popular route may lend a little extra “Camino spirit” to the experience. Sometimes I wonder if, on more populated routes, there can be this sort of monotonous feeling, like it’s one more day and one more big group of pilgrims, and towns and villages are used to it, they absorb the pilgrims, it’s all sort of normal and automatic.

Maybe it’s like this on the Aragonés too, but it didn’t feel like it. It all felt special. Like the route was a secret, one that had been around for a long time, and those of us who walked were lucky to find ourselves on it. There was a sense in many of the villages that I was popping in to very local spaces. In one town, I’d arrived just at 9am, and was walking through the quiet streets looking for an open bar. I ran into a man who started asking me about my pilgrimage, and then he walked me to the bar and said that we were arriving just at opening time. He waited with me until it opened, then went in and had his usual: a café solo and a croissant. He drank his coffee at the bar while I sat at a table, but when he left he nodded and smiled and wished me a Buen Camino and it all made me feel- even though I was just passing through- that I was welcome there. Even, maybe, that I belonged there.

And then there are the albergues. There are just enough on this route that you never have to stay in a hotel or pension, and while there aren’t so many that you can stop whenever you feel like it, I think there are enough that you can walk reasonable distances. There are other Camino routes in Spain that I’m interested in walking- in particular the Invierno– but the lack of albergues on that route have made me hesitate. I’ve heard that it’s a wonderful Camino and I’m sure I’ll check it off my list at some point, but being able to stay in albergues has always been a huge draw of walking a Camino.

Some of the albergues on the Aragonés are really special. At the albergue in Santa Cilia, there were two clean and small bunk rooms: one for peregrinos, one for peregrinas. I was the only female pilgrim that night, and so I had the room to myself! In Arrés, the two hospitalerars were volunteering on a two-week stint, and they took us on a tour of the village before preparing a big dinner. We ate outside, crammed around two long tables: there was wine and water and juice for the kids, and a big green salad and pasta salad and soup and bread and melon for dessert. We toasted, one of the French pilgrims sang “Ultreïa!”. In Ruesta, the albergue is part of a crumbling, abandoned village; if there weren’t signs pointing the way, you might walk right by. There was a communal meal here, too. In Sangüesa, the albergue was simple and the kitchen was small, and while there was no organized communal meal, we made our own.

What else makes this a perfect Camino? After the descent to Jaca, the majority of which is during the first 7km on the first stage, the path mostly evens out and the walking isn’t very difficult. The way-marking is thorough and the only time I got a little confused was when I was walking in the dark at 5am (this was during the heatwave), and I had to wait for others to catch up with me to figure out where to go, because it was hard to find the arrows in the dark.

There are a couple of alternate route options that lead to incredible sights: the detour to the Monasterio de San Juan de la Pena, and the detour to Foz de Lumbier gorge. I’d intended to take the Foz de Lumbier variant but that was the morning I began walking at 5am, and I completely missed the turnoff. Other pilgrims who walked showed me their photos, and it looked stunning. But I did take the variant to the monasteries and it was probably my toughest day on the route- I went the long and difficult way, not paying close enough attention to notes I’d made from pilgrims who’d done this before. I plan to write more about this in a future post, outlining what I recommend and do not recommend in terms of getting to the monasteries. But in the end the effort was worth it: the old monastery is tucked away deep and high in the mountains, carved into a cliffside. You almost can’t believe it’s real.

And then, just before the Aragonés ends by joining up with the Francés before Puente La Reina, the path runs right by the fabulous Church of Santa Maria of Eunate. I’d been here before, back in 2014 when I walked the Francés, and that little detour was one of my favorite parts of the entire walk. I turned away from the other pilgrims, heading left into the fields of Navarra, and in a remote location with seemingly nothing else around, out of the fields rose the 12th century Romanesque church. Its octagonal design and free-standing cloister, along with its remote location, make this a truly unique sight. It had been closed the day I detoured there in 2014 (a Monday), but this year I passed by when it was open. This felt really special to me- not just seeing the church again, but walking the path that leads straight to it. When I first walked the Camino and detoured to Eunate, I’d been vaguely aware that I’d crossed onto another Camino route, but it was something I’d just pushed from my mind. Back then, the Camino Francés was the Camino, nothing else seemed to matter much.

But now, having walked all over northern Spain and through parts of France, I have a different perspective. Pilgrims walked to Santiago from all over Spain but from all over Europe, as well. The Francés is just the most popular route today; in the Middle Ages and over history, it was a different story. And by walking the Aragonés and stopping again at Eunate- where scallop shells have been discovered among the remains of what are believed to be pilgrims, lying beneath the church- I felt even more connected to the history of the Camino.

Finally, the Camino Aragonés ends in Puente La Reina, which is a wonderful town on the Camino Francés, with storks in their nests high in the church towers, and an iconic 11th century bridge. With daily buses to Pamplona and beyond, this is a convenient stopping point. Or, if you have more time, you could continue walking on the Francés, as some pilgrims do.

There’s so much more about the Camino Aragonés that I want to share, and I anticipate writing a round-up post of planning and walking tips, to help future pilgrims. But for now I’ll end by saying what I’ve said at least a dozen times: this felt like a nearly perfect Camino. I’m not sure why more people aren’t walking this Camino. Maybe, at just 6 stages, it feels too short (although by starting a few stages back in France, or continuing on the Francés past Puente La Reina, you could make this into a longer Camino). Maybe it’s because it doesn’t end in Santiago. Maybe it’s just that not enough people know about it, or are uncertain of what they’re about to walk into.

I hope that I can help spread the word about the Aragonés. Yet, even with an increased awareness, I don’t anticipate flocks of pilgrims suddenly descending and flooding the path. But I do hope more come to walk this way. The infrastructure is there, the beds are waiting to be filled, the locals are ready to greet you with a ‘Buen Camino’ and a great big smile.

Add this perfect Camino to your list. I’m so glad that I did.

Surefooted

June 20, 2019

Today as I walked I thought about the word ‘surefooted’. I thought about it as I was descending a small, steep path in the woods that was covered with stones, some of them wet. I had to watch the ground, I had to be careful about where I placed each step, how my foot landed, making sure not to slip or stumble.

All the hiking experience in the world can’t always prevent you from taking a fall, but I do think experience counts for a lot. I’m not so nervous stepping on/over/around rocks anymore. When I first started hiking, before my first Camino, I was slower and shakier. I wasn’t sure where to place my feet, my steps were hesitant.

But sometime in these last years I’ve realized that I’ve become surefooted. I know where to step (most of the time!). But it’s my ease, too, my confidence and competence when I’m hiking. Inside, I can often be full of small worries and concerns, but when I start walking, the worries and concerns seem to quiet down.

Today’s hike required lots and lots of surefooted-ness; the path ran up and down through the woods, on often uneven and muddy ground. The trail was narrow, sometimes hugging the side of a steep slope. Parts were overgrown with thorny branches (wore my long pants- best decision of the day!), sections were covered with thick black slugs, and I nearly stepped on the absolute largest toad I’d ever seen (so maybe that’s not the best example of being surefooted…)

I began to feel tired today, the muscles in my legs started aching, my feet demanded a break. But this is being surefooted, too: knowing when to take a break, knowing that despite the fatigue I’ll be able to carry on.

Now it’s night, I’m alone in the gîte in Borce, I cooked a dinner of spaghetti and tomato sauce, I’m wrapped in blankets in my bunk bed. Inside, again, worries are starting to nag: tomorrow will be a day of steady rain. I have a difficult and long climb up to Somport. What if I’m tired, what if there is no place to stop for a break, what if my feet get soaked and I get blisters?

But then I remember that, when I walk- in the sun or wind or rain, through moorland or meseta or mountains, on pavement or grass or mud- I am surefooted.

So bring on the mountains and the rain, I’m ready.

A ribbon and a monastery

June 19, 2019

I promised myself I wasn’t going to commit to any long posting while on the Camino (for fear that without enough time I wouldn’t post at all), so I’m here with a photo and just a little story. I want to share all the details: how I went the wrong way when leaving town this morning, how my pack feels heavy but not too heavy, how I found the perfect lunch spot, how I met two friendly dogs who wanted to walk and play with me, how I’ve moved closer and closer to the mountains and am now in the mountains.

There was all of that. And, also, I made my first Camino friend, a young woman named Alodia, from Spain. She began walking the Arles route four years ago and has continued in bits and pieces since then. She started one day before me, and planned to walk just 4 days into Jaca, where her pilgrimage would end. We met last night in the gîte in Oloron, then ran into each other in the Carrefour (grocery store), then had dinner together back at the gîte.

She left early this morning- by 6:30- so I didn’t see her until I arrived at the monastery on Sarrance, where we’re both staying for the night. As soon as I saw her I noticed something was wrong. She’d dropped her phone and it broke, and she decided to catch a bus in the morning and end her pilgrimage early.

I think she wrestled with this decision, but ultimately didn’t feel comfortable walking into the mountains alone without a way of contacting help if she needed it (I decided to get a Spanish phone number for this very reason!). And once she decided she needed to end, her mind was made up.

“Something is telling me that I need to end,” she said. “I don’t know why, but I have to listen.”

We spent some of the afternoon and evening together, and just now, she knocked on the door to my room to say goodnight.

“I have something for you,” she said, and held out her hand.

In it was a blue ribbon that she’d received in Zaragoza, at the Church of Our Lady of Pilar. Inside the church is a pillar that is topped with a statue of the Virgin Mary; brightly colored ribbons, 15-inches long (the length of the statue) are offered to visitors and represent protection and blessing.

“The tradition says that whoever gets the ribbon from the church is supposed to pass it on. It has walked all across France with me, and now you have it to carry onward.” Alodia passed the ribbon over to me.

I’ll hang it from my pack tomorrow, and I’ll think of the protection it offers. I still have a very long way to go, and these mountains are tall, and the forecast calls for rain. And, it’s been several years since I’ve walked this great of a distance. I know I can do it, I’m excited to do it, but standing at the beginning, the way looks very long.

So goodnight from my bunk room in a monastery in the mountains; more soon.

Capturing Time

June 11, 2019

What will this year’s Camino be about?

A quick recap, for those who may not have read my last post: I’ll be setting off from France and crossing into Spain on the Camino Aragones, followed by a stretch on the Camino del Norte. The trip begins in just under a week. I should have about 28 or 29 days of walking, and though I won’t make it all the way to Santiago, I am going to be able to sink into a nice long walk across Spain.

So it’s another long walk, and another long walk in Spain. This will be my sixth summer of walking, and I can’t imagine that I’ll grow tired of this any time soon.

But there’s something about this year’s trip that feels a little different. I’ll be walking a new Camino- the Aragonés– and that will be about 10 days of the trip. But the other nearly three weeks will be a repeat; I’m going to return to the Camino del Norte, and walk a portion of what I did in 2015.

I’ve been wanting to return to the Norte, and yet I worry that repeating an experience while there are still so many other walks out there will make me feel restless. I can’t know what I’m going to be feeling until I’m out there, walking, and mostly I think I’m going to love my summer. I knew I wanted at least another return to Europe, and I wanted another taste of Spain. The Camino del Norte was where I felt like I really settled into walking, where I really owned my Camino, and that was a powerful experience.

But still, I think: what will this year’s Camino be about?

Every other year had something. Something new or something different, a challenge, an experiment. The 2014 Camino Frances started it all, and as I set off from St Jean I didn’t know if I would be able to make it to Santiago. Everything was new: my pack and my shoes and my clothing and all my gear and I’d never done anything remotely like this before.

At the end

The 2015 Camino was on the Norte, along with the Primitivo and a super fast walk from Santiago to Muxia. In many ways, this Camino felt like a continuation of the year before, it’s where I asked myself if I really loved this walking thing, where I asked myself how I wanted to walk, where I challenged myself to walk how I needed to walk.

2016 was on the Camino de San Salvador, followed by the last 9 days on the Norte, followed by 5 days on the West Highland Way in Scotland. This was a year of solo walking, where I learned that I could walk alone and stay alone and that it was okay. It was more than okay: it was thrilling, it gave me such a powerful sense of freedom and agency over my life. I finished the West Highland Way and felt like I might just be able to walk around the whole world if I wanted to.

Then there was the Chemin du Puy in France, in 2017. Speaking French was the challenge here. It was a Camino in another country, but it was also the language and the culture and figuring out how to belong. I was conversational in French, but speaking had always intimidated me a bit. But I’d also spent years working hard to understand the language, and spending a few weeks walking through France forced me to remember words I’d thought I’d long forgotten. I remembered what it was like to sometimes sit on the outside, not understanding what was going on. In some ways, I felt more out of my comfort zone on the Chemin du Puy than I have on any other walk, but it was good for me. In the end, I wasn’t on the outside at all.

Last summer, in 2018, I walked for 15-days on the Pennine Way. It was a mostly solo, very challenging walk. I carried a much heavier pack than previous trips, and camped for a couple of nights. There was beauty and that glorious feeling of freedom, but this walk was very physical. I proved to myself just how strong I could be, but a lot of the walk was tough. That’s not a bad thing, not necessarily, but it was different than the experience of a long Camino when I can often let my mind wander and fly, where my feet find a rhythm, where the walking feels automatic.

So this year, what is this year about? What will it be like to return? What will it be like to remember? To slip back into memories from 4 years ago, to a time when it all still felt so new and unknown? Will it rain on the walk from Irun to San Sebastian? Will another huge blister spread across the bottom of my foot? Will I curse the hills out of Deba, will I grumble my exhaustion to the cows? Will I stretch my arms as wide as the sea as I spin down the trail? Will I meet new friends, friends as kind and generous and bright as the friends from years before?

There are all of those questions. But there’s also this: a new camera! I seem to have this need to introduce at least one new element into each year’s walk, so this year, I’m finally bringing along a camera other than my iPhone. It will add weight to my pack, but I figure after last year’s trek on the Pennine Way, I’m up to the challenge. I’m still not sure how I’m going to walk with the camera, if it will be tedious to carry in my hands, if it will bounce annoyingly against my chest as I walk, but I’m sure I’ll figure something out.

I like the feel of a camera in my hands again. When I was a teenager and into my early 20s, I had a Pentax SLR that I carried around with me nearly everywhere. I shot rolls and rolls of film, and probably a lot of it wasn’t very good, but I loved it. I loved looking through the viewfinder and shutting out the rest of the world, it was nothing but me and that image and it was like time stopped. And it did, for a split second, I could stop time and capture something and I really loved it.

Ideally, I would have had more time to experiment with this camera first, to figure out all the settings and to practice and practice. But it seems as though my practice will be on the Camino, and I’m looking forward to that. I’ll share some photos here, though I can’t imagine I’ll be able to get any substantial posts out until after the walking is done. My plan is still to post a photo with a little caption on the blog most days, but it’s going to be nothing like these 1,000+ word posts I’ve been putting up lately.

But if you think you might want more photos in “real time”, I’m planning to post a bunch over on Patreon, in somewhat ‘exclusive’ posts that only my patrons have access to. But to be clear, I’ll eventually be sharing those photos here, too, just not quite in real time. So if you’ve been thinking about supporting me (pledges start at just $1.00 a month!), or want to read a little more about why I set up a Patreon, you can follow this link and check it out. And thanks again to all of my current subscribers, your support fills my heart.

But thank you to all who continue to come here, who keep on reading, who are following along on my journey. Your support fills my heart, too, it always has. And I’m so excited to share this next leg of the journey with you. Stay tuned.

Ready for the Next Round: Summer 2019

May 26, 2019

My new hiking shoes arrived in the mail yesterday, another pair of my beloved Keens. This can only mean one thing, and you must know what it is: I’ll be on another long walk this summer!

In some ways, I feel like my adventures of last summer are still so fresh, and maybe it’s because I’ve only just finished writing about my Pennine Way walk. Immersing myself in those recaps kept my heart in England through the fall and winter and even into the spring. And it’s only been very recently that I’ve let myself think about my plans for this summer.

“What are those plans for this summer?” you might be asking.

It may come as no surprise that I’m embarking on another long walk, and more specifically, another Camino!

While technically I did squeeze in a very quick, three-day Camino last summer (I still haven’t written about the three stages of the Chemin Du Puy that I walked in August, but I am posting those photos over on Instagram, so go over and have a look!), it only gave me a small taste of a pilgrimage. And yes, I walked for two weeks on a fabulous trail in England, but a long-distance walk is different than a pilgrimage. And I’ve been craving that pilgrimage experience lately, so I’m going back.

And I’m going back to Spain. The last time I was there was 2016, when I walked the Camino de San Salvador, and then continued from Oviedo onto the Norte to (almost) walk into Santiago. That trip both does and doesn’t feel all that long ago and it’s funny what time can do. It’s only been three years since I’ve been to Spain, but suddenly I am nervous again. I’m nervous about the language, mostly, but also all those other little cultural differences that I may have forgotten. I know it’s going to be okay, and I know that after a few weeks or even just a few days I’ll remember some basic words and gain the confidence I need to communicate (because all that is really required is an honest effort and a smile).

But I don’t really think it’s about the language and communication, not really. I guess these are the same ol’ nerves that tend to hit several weeks before I leave for a big trip. If you’ve been reading for awhile, you’ll probably remember me saying something along these very lines each year!

So yes, I have another big walk coming up. The first ‘leg’ of the walk is going to be the Camino Aragones, a 160km route that begins in the Pyrenees and ends in Puenta La Reina (one of the early stages on the Camino Frances). The Aragones technically begins in Somport, which is on the French/Spanish border, but I’m planning to start a few days back in Oloron Sainte-Marie, so that I can spend several days walking up into the Pyrenees which, in good weather, should be breathtaking.

After the Aragones, I have some options. Since the route ends in Puenta La Reina, it would be so easy to just continue for awhile on the Frances (the first Camino I walked, back in 2014). But for some reason, I’m not ready to repeat the Frances. I’m sure there are lots of reasons for this (that I won’t get into in this post), but unless I change my mind when I finish the Aragones, my plan is to take a bus up to Irun, which is the start of the Camino del Norte.

Ahh, the Camino del Norte. I’ve walked this one before: I did most of it in 2015 (from Irun to Oviedo), and the rest in 2016. I’ve loved all the Camino routes I’ve walked, but it’s hard to compare them, or say which one I liked the best. They’re each special in their own way.

And the particular aspects that make the Norte so special have been tugging at me for the past year or so. Last spring I starting putting together some notes on the route, marking new albergues or alternates that I didn’t walk the first time around. I was tempted to walk it again last summer but settled on the Pennine Way instead.

But this year? I think I’m ready to go back.

But this wasn’t the easiest decision. My summer planning felt very delayed this year, and it took me a long time to decide exactly what I wanted to do. A retreat at La Muse (which I’m doing again, after my Camino) and a long walk somewhere have sort of become what I do in the summer. I haven’t even had to think about it in the past; I knew that this combination of walking and writing were how I wanted to spend my summers.

I still want this particular combination, but I want other things, too. I finally bought a new (to me) car in February, and it’s made that dream of a cross-country road trip a strong possibility (now that I have reliable transportation that won’t break down before I even get to Pittsburgh). I want to go to Africa, I want to try to climb Kilimanjaro. I didn’t quite feel ready for either of these options this summer, but I think the fact that I’m being pulled towards other kinds of travel made me hesitate about another European summer. I have my health, I have my freedom, I have my time, I have the means to travel and I’m so grateful for all of this but, as always, I don’t know how long this will be the case. Is it maybe time to try something new, while I still have the chance to try something new?

Maybe, but maybe I do want one last European summer, for this stage in my life. One more long walk, one more retreat in the mountains of a small French village.

So this is what I’m doing, and I leave in about three weeks. I’m curious about how I’ll feel once I’m there, if I will strap on my pack and head off into the Pyrenees and breathe deep and say, “I’m back”, and if I will feel really good about that. I’m curious if I will feel restless on the Norte, knowing that the route isn’t new and unknown, or if I will feel thrilled about being back on a trail that showed me so much beauty that I still think that some of it must have been a mirage. I wonder if I can dive back into my writing when I’m at La Muse, if I can sink into the editing of this book I’ve been working on for the last four years, if I can move myself forward and feel ready to take the next steps. I wonder if Homer will be around, if he will remember me and want to take walks with me. I’ll be passing through Paris, and I wonder if I will cry when I see Notre Dame. I wonder who I will meet, if I will see any old friends, I wonder at all the new connections I might make. I wonder if I will get a blister, if I will find a suitable walking stick, if I will drink red wine or cold beer (or both?), if I will take beautiful photos, if I will walk steady, if I will walk strong.

I hope to write a few more posts before I leave for my trip, but in case I don’t, here is what I hope you can expect. The Pennine Way took me so long to write about that I don’t anticipate doing long, daily reports from the Norte (and besides, I already wrote ‘live’ posts from that walk, you can read them here). Instead, I’m going to try to do a daily or almost daily post, with just a photo and a long caption. I want to just capture a moment and write about that moment, and in doing that, tell the story of my Camino. I’ll plan to write more in-depth posts about the Aragones after I finish the walk, especially since this is a relatively little-walked Camino route and I think the information could be helpful to future pilgrims. But it is my hope to blog at least a bit while I’m on the Norte, because I’ve loved doing that in the past, and it adds so much to my experience.

I’m also hoping to create a little extra content for my wonderful supporters over on Patreon (if you’ve been meaning to check out my Patreon or curious about what it is, just follow this link!). I’m thinking some additional real time photos from the walk (and if I buy a fancy new camera like I’ve been wanting to do for years, then those photos might be extra special!).

Okay, that’s the update from these parts. My porch door is open and a pleasant breeze is blowing in and through the room. I’ve got my feet propped up and some soft music playing and it feels like summer is just around the corner, waiting for its entrance. Soon it will be here, soon. I hope you’re all well, maybe also enjoying porch breezes and soft music and anticipating upcoming adventures, big or small. More soon.