Signs & Wonders

One recurring question I did have before embarking on the Camino was "how well signposted is the walk and how likely are we to get lost?" I credit myself with having quite good spatial orientation and once I've travelled somewhere I can usually find my way back, or remember directions if I visit the same place again. That said, I am also a little prone to losing concentration quite easily, especially if I get distracted either talking, or listening to someone else talking, or just getting lost in my thoughts. I found it hard to imagine that all 800km of the walk would be adequately signposted. After all, I don't find signs for quite short walks out in the countryside at home always easy to navigate.

However, nothing could have been further from the truth. Almost without exception the route, from the moment you leave Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, is impressively well-marked. The signs principally take the form of yellow arrows and shell emblems, but also come in an amazing array of shapes and sizes. Signs to mark the way can be embedded into pavements, painted on roads, on stones, on trees, are lit up on the side of church buildings, are on walls, up high on sign posts, at the front of people's houses, etc, etc. The only time (to date) we have found this a little more of a challenge is leaving a large town or city, particularly if this was early in the morning when we'd left in the dark with our head-torches on.

Leaving Pamplona early one morning I was walking quite quickly, ahead of others and 'leading' the way. It was still dark, however there were clear directions alongside a very nice, large park and I saw a wide path stretching out in front of me which I assumed was the way ahead. What could go wrong? I just carried on walking. A couple of times I looked behind me to see a number of other pilgrims with backpacks following me, so this was continual reassurance that I was on the correct path. After walking about 10 minutes in the same direction, I noticed a very old Spanish man (who I assume was a local) walking just in front of me. He glanced around at one point, looked at me, stopped, waited for me to catch up and then just said "Camino?" I replied in my best Spanish: "Si". At this point, he come over to me, linked his arm through mine, turned me around and began walking me back in the opposite direction. We walked in silence for around 7 minutes, as (I assume) he spoke no English and I don't speak any Spanish. At a junction in the road, he pointed out the way and gently pushed me in the correct direction. I was very grateful for his intervention, but this feeling was also accompanied by a sense of embarrassment since the pilgrims that had been following me also had to turn around and walk in the opposite direction.

When people refer to 'the Camino' they're generally talking about the Camino Francés (or French Way). This was the route that I was keen to walk and is the one depicted in the film 'The Way'. However, there are hundreds of Camino routes all over the world. In this part of Spain and France there seem to be 9 principal routes, each varying in length, but all with Santiago de Compostela as their destination. The Via de La Plata starting in Seville is the longest route at 1,000km, followed in second place by the Camino del Norte starting in Irun (not far from San Sebastian on the North coast) at a length of 825km. The Camino Francés comes in third place with a distance of 790km starting from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port on the French side of the Pyrenees. However, it is by far and away the most popular route, in terms of numbers of people who choose to walk; an estimated 60% of pilgrims will take this path. As such, the infrastructure is fantastic and very well thought-out; generally your needs are very well met. The pilgrim's office in Santiago de Compostela record and publish daily statistics about pilgrims arriving at the Cathedral destination so I will be very keen to see, on Friday 9th June (our scheduled arrival date in Santiago, all being well), which routes others have travelled and which countries they're from.

A few days into walking when I began to clear my head and really engage with what was going on around me, I began to notice things. These were small things, possibly things that won't mean much to anyone other than me; they were simple things but they were things that often made me smile and lifted my spirits, sometimes when the going was getting a little tough on the walking front.

On the first day up and over the Pyrenees we saw a random vending machine in a field:

When we experienced a short, sharp shower of rain we saw a pilgrim walking with his dog; both were kitted out in matching yellow waterproofs:

Some people travel with their umbrellas, making sure they have shelter from the wet weather plus shade for hot sunshine:

In the middle of nowhere around 6:30am one morning we passed an amazing iron-works, where the blacksmith could be seen hard at work with Eric Clapton's 'Leyla' blaring out of his sound system (good job he had no close neighbours). He had a stall selling his handmade goods, so I took the opportunity to buy a little bronze shell which has been tied to my rucksack ever since:

This was closely followed by the wine fountain at Bodega Irache, offering free wine on tap to pilgrims along this route. However, only between the hours of 8am - 8pm so we were too early at 6:57am! We did later hear that (not surprisingly) it's not the best quality:

Outside one of our 'breakfast' café stops one morning, a gentleman was stamping pilgrims' passports with his bespoke logos. He'd created about 20 different designs; you choose which one you want and which colour wax and he would melt this down and create your passport stamp for a donation:

One very hot afternoon we met a pilgrim who had just decided to walk the Camino the week before, had taken time off work, had taken this two daughters (aged 6 and 9) out of school and all three were walking the full 800km. When we first saw him, not only was he striding quickly up a steep hill, but he was also carrying two full rucksacks plus one of his daughters on his shoulders! So far we have met the small family group regularly along our journey and they are often stopped doing something fun like skimming stones across a river or eating ice-cream and are always smiling and laughing together:

Sometimes the day-after-day of walking and the sleeping in a different bed every night does take its toll. In a café one morning I saw another pilgrim arrive looking very weary. She sat down, promptly took a square cover out of her rucksack, put her head down on the table, covered her head and just went to sleep. Funnily enough on the wall behind her was a poster displaying the words "Inhale the future, exhale the past, and always breathe the now". I guess for her, for now, she just needed to have a nap:

On an isolated path one sunny Sunday afternoon we walked around a corner to the faint sound of music playing. On further investigation we found a lady enthusiastically playing the accordion. She was there on here own, there were no pilgrims ahead of us and you just got the impression she was playing for her own enjoyment and if you happened to stop and listen and leave a donation for her then so much the better. We stopped for a few moments to enjoy her playing. It wasn't a song we knew, but was clearly a well-known Spanish song as demonstrated by the two Spanish pilgrims who arrived to join in shortly after us:

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In addition to vending machines in fields, there have been other, very welcome, food and drink stops set up in quite remote areas. These really are much appreciated when, on some days, you may be walking for 10-15km without passing through a village or having access to any other facilities. One of these was situated just below the summit going over the Pyrenees:

One sight that did make me very emotional (and I did shed a tear or two) was seeing one of the many tables set up just for passing pilgrims. Again these tended to be on quite isolated stretches through the countryside and you could just stop and help yourself to whatever you needed (in terms of food and water) and choose to leave a donation (or not). There was no-one there to check. I think it was these random acts of kindness and service that touched me the most; someone getting up that morning and preparing provisions for others to enjoy with no guarantee of getting anything in return or even being able to witness the gratitude of the recipients. There were ranges of savoury and sweet snacks (for those of us in need of a sugar boost) and once a tray of what tasted like freshly toasted bread drizzled with olive oil and garlic:

Around Day 3 I saw a more elderly couple ahead of me on the path. This was on a very steep descent which went on for quite some time. It was very rocky with a number of boulders that you needed to carefully navigate. As I got closer, I thought I was imagining that they weren't just carrying their packs on their backs but were also pushing a trolley between them, laden with a number of other bags. The day was hot and I was finding it hard going, just carrying my two walking poles and my pack on my back. My knees were complaining about the continuous steep descent. The couple were making very slow and awkward progress as I passed by and wished them a "Buen Camino". I hoped they would be able to manage to reach their day's destination in one piece, but it didn't look promising given how slowly they were proceeding. I couldn't quite believe it when we caught up with them about a week later and they were still going strong! There is a saying on the Camino that you should never judge how someone else chooses to make their Camino journey and this was a very good case in point; so lesson learnt about being judgemental in how other people choose to carry their belongings!