Decided before I went to sleep the night before that the ache in my back meant that the bag is to heavy. What can I leave here? After a discussion with Ignus, I leave my heavy jacket, gas burner and pot n pan. I end up really wanting them but that cuts 5kg off the weight (total 19kg) and saves my back.
I want to walk by myself so I wait for the other to clear off before I do. Leave the albergue and take the wrong direction and instantly get lost. Then it starts raining heavily. Good start.
Luckily my sense of direction kicks in (normally a requires a 2 cigarette warming up period). I land back on the trail and abracadabra there’s the group. I notice every one else is much more prepared than I with water proof hiking gear, walking stick and bags that look like if they became self aware, would start hunting down John Connor. But my shorts(didn't pack anything else),emergency poncho and flano (flannel shirt for you non aussie heathens) are doing a good enough job and give me extra pilgrim points for suffering. High horse rise’s by 2 points. Well if this group isn't going to stay in front of me ill have to pass them.
First of many small chapels I passed
The way leaves the town and turns into a muddy forest trail. Then it gets steep and goes up. And up. And up. 2 hours in and I’m soaked, my extremities are starting to get cold, the bags killing my back and my tar filled asthmatic lungs are struggling. What the fuck have I got myself into? I thought Spain was sunny? It was nice in France, I could just go back and spend a few weeks beach hopping!
But as I just manage to get to the top of the rise I’m rewarded with an amazing view of village we’d just left. The quicker in the group catch up to me, they don’t speak english but moments like these don’t need words. Their sweaty pained expressions change into surprised smiles as they take in the view.
I walk with these 3 for a few up hill hours. The rain doesn’t let up. Rolling smokes in the rain whilst walking is hard, and most times I end up just trying to light a crumpled, soaked piece of tobacco and paper. Finally we start to go down, we hit the picturesque village of Pasaia. It is like travelling back in time, the small cobbled streets are filled with small stone houses and smoke filled café’s with cured meats hanging from the roofs.
The path divides, to the right follows the hilly coast, the left follows roads. First day is no time to start getting lazy so right it is. Every one but a middle aged spanish lady takes the easy path. She’s heaps fitter than me and I soon loose sight of her. Embarrassing, ego minus 3 points. More hills, more rain. The top of this hill is covered and thick fog, medieval ruined towers keep on appearing from no where. Brilliant atmosphere! I get into a rhythm and let my mind wander, but have to get the bag off my back every now and again when it aches to much.
3pm soaked and tired I’m doubting I’ll ever make it to Santiago. But as I descend another hill the city and beach of St. Sebastian appear and the clouds part and the sun shines with full force. I stumble to the beach. I was going to test myself on the first day, but life’s for enjoying, right? I spend the afternoon sun bathing and body surfing. The water is amazing. Immense love life moment.
As it gets dark, I head off looking for a place for my tent but my legs and back lock up. So I sit on the promenade writing my journal and people watching. I meet two Swiss guys who are here to party for a day or two. We chat for a bit and they give me there details and tell me I’ve got a bed in Switzerland if I ever need it.
Set my tent up and open a can of food that Baloo gave me. It tastes horrible, like shredded cabbage with fish. I hope I can I eat this stuff cold.
24km's...831 to go
Day 7
It wasn't meant to be eaten cold, definitely not meant to be eaten cold…
No comments:
Post a Comment