The weather has been steadily improving as the days go on. Yesterday was a gorgious day spent exploring the Napolionic fort in Pamplona, and today I was back on the road, walking through a mix of sun and rain, with wind either way. While I had a lovely time in Pamplona, it felt really good to get moving again, and my friends agreeded.

I suppose I should mention that along with walking, I’ll be doing some experiments. They will typically be a week long, and mostly be me trying out various ways of thinking/being. Starting on my second day of walking, I began my first experiment of the camino: for a week, no complaining.

This has been interesting, although not life changing. I’m generally a pretty possitive person, and don’t complain much anyways. That said, I picked a very good day to start the experiment, although I actually can’t tell you why because there is no way to say it without complaining a little.

I’ll give a fuller write up of what happened with this experiment once it’s done.

In other news, the walking is begining to get easier. Today I arrived in Puenta de la Riena, and still had enough energy to explore the town a little after arriving, which is the first time that has happened! The bridge the town is named for is beautiful, and there is a gorgeous church as well. There is so much gold leaf all over the place, which brings about mixed feeling for me. On one hand, the luster of it is stunning, but on the other, I can’t help but think about the brutal colonialism that brought this gold to Spain. I know that there are many other parts of life, things that are part of my normal routine, that are there as a result of colonialism, but nothing seems quite as blatent at that frankly beautiful display of wealth.

The church also had a really nice ceiling.

Now that I’ve figured out how easy it is to put images into my posts, I will do so! Although I can’t seem to rotate that one to make it right side up.

So, I know I said in my last post that I’d talk about my thoughts on Barcelona later, but I’ve now finished my second day on the camino, and I’d much rather write about that because it’s a very imediate.

It’s begining to sink in what a crazy thing it is that I’m doing. I don’t know how to describe how incredible and how intense it is to walk like this, and know that I’ll be walking like this for over a month. Yesterday, I walked up a mountain, and today I walked down it. Yesterday was 27 kilometers (I’m sorry I know most of you who are reading this use miles, but I’m not gonna translate) and today I walked 22. I’m thinking that tomorrow I’m gonna take it easy. Walk less than 20 kilometers or something. I need to check the guidebook, but that can be done later.

Upon arriving in Saint Jean de Pied de Port on Saturday evening, I pretty much imediatly made friends with a couple of people who knew each other from highschool, Terry and Alex. We walked together for most of the next day, although we split up for a couple of hours because they stopped for coffee and I wanted to keep moving, and then they made a wrong turn and ended up walking along the highway for a while.

While I was a little disapointed that the mountain pass was closes, the walk through the valley was beautiful, and the steep incline and the end of the day was brutal, but the kind of brutal that makes you feel badass.

It would have been really hard to do without Terry and Alex. Alex, despite having blisters on the bottom of his feet even before starting, was practically bouncing with energy and enthusiasm the whole way. Terry was having a hard time, this being her first time doing any sort of backpacking, and being drastically underprepared for this, but I could help her, and being able to help someone is always encouraging.

It had been windy the whole day, although beautifully sunny. But just as we were nearing the top of the mountain, it started to rain. When we left the wooded area, it was intense. The wind was so strong that is yanked open the snaps on my poncho, making the whole thong flap wildly around my face. I could barely see, and when a gust of wind came in, I needed to brace myself against it. When we reached the top, Terry and I took shelter with some other pilgrims behind a small chapel, while Alex went to experience being at the very top. Not that he could enjoy the view, as his glasses were covered in raindrops.

We made it down to Roncevalles at 7:00, which was too late to do laundry, but not too late for a hot shower and a delicous meal. Some kind of soup (I have no idea what it was) pasta wirh tomato sause and some kind of sausage, cod with a sause of roasted peppers and something else, and potatoes and onions. Oh, and there was a little cup of yogurt for desert. It was such and amazing and wonderful day, and I hope I remember it for the rest of my life.

Today was harder. Except for a little bit this morning, it rained all day. It’s still raining, in fact. I split off from Terry and Alex after lunch because I needed a little alone time, and that was good for a while. Walking feels good. Even when my feet hurt, even when I’m tired, walking makes sense. There is something about the bodily rhythem to it, the beat, the breath, that is not like anything else. I mean, it’s kinda like dancing, or when I build something with my hands through hard work, but there’s a consistancy and longevity to walking that’s unique. Even as I realize again and again that this is fucking crazy, and I’m exhausted, and there are probably other ways I could go on a quest to find myself, I’m glad that I’m doing this.

Oh! I wrote another verse to Road Goes Ever On and On, the song that Bilbo sings upon returning to the Shire at the end of his journey, and Frodo sings when leaving Bag End at the start of his. The title of the song, which is repeated at the start of every other verse, feels incredibly true each time I sing it. The road doesn’t stop, it stretches out before me for hours upon hours upon days of walking, but in a cheerful way. Anyway, my verse:

El Camino is very long it’s true,

But I will walk it through and through.

My walking stick does tap a beat,

And I will follow it with my feet.

I arrived in Barcelona’s airport (BCN, there’s more than one) at 6:50 am this morning. I don’t know how long I’ve been awake, or how many hours I’ve really experienced. I know that on the 30th of March I woke up at 5:00 am to go to Seatac, I spent about an hour in JFK, and I finally got to my hostel around 9:00 am on the 31st having finally seen Star Wars: the Force Awakens, and only slept a bit.

I did write a poem though! So here it is:

I should probably be asleep right now, but I’m not.

Instead, I looked out the window.

We are above a layer of clouds. The moon is a perfect half, and the stars are bright.

A light flashes, pulses, illuminating the wing of the plane.

I recognize none of the constellations.

The layer of clouds is broken, and there is darkness below.

There is more light in the ever-cold void than there is on the planet that is my home.

Dark swirling water

Far beneath me.

And far, far, incomprehensible distance underneath the skin of the ocean’s surface

Is the crust of the earth,

As unreachable and inhospitable as the stars.

I do not know if that collection of stars is a constellation,

But to me it looks like a dancer.

Dancing with jou as the cosmos spins.

Everything spins.

There is nothing in the universe, it seems,

That is unaffected by the impulse.

The impulse to whirl about wildly or solemnly, and this constellation honors that.

There is nothing that does not have movement,

Have rhythm,

In the entire universe.

Anyway,

That’s how the view out my window made me feel.

I’m having a great time, by the way! I’ll write more about what I did today and my thoughts on Barcelona later. Right now it is finally dark out so that means I have defeated the jetlag and can go to sleep. To sweet, beautiful, sleep. Ahhhhhhh…