Camino de Santiago Day Nine: Sabinanigo to Jaca: We Join The Aragones

Excuse us if we emerged from our hotel in downtown Sabinanigo looking a bit bewildered this morning. Someone decided to turn on the radio speakers in our room, at top volume, at exactly 6am. So we woke up to an overly cheerful singer I didn't recognise trying to convince us to be "happy, happy, happy". At the ungodly hour of six in the morning. How that happened remains a mystery, but it got us out of bed and on the road at just after seven, considerably earlier than our usual time.

We've been walking for nine days and have never once seen other pilgrims. Well, there was the group of Dutch people outside Betharram but it was a fleeting glimpse, they were on another route. We love the quiet solitude of this section of the Camino so far. It's been a journey of magic, beautiful nature, history and good food.

So it's with some trepidation that we tackled today. It's the last day of this off-the-beaten track section; today we reach Jaca where the Camino Aragones joins in from Somport. I'm not sure how busy it'll be but we're bound to see more pilgrims enroute.

It was an easy walk throughout the day. It started with a climb out of the valley to the sleepy village of Alto Sabinanigo. The village seemed quite poor - you can tell the status of a village's inhabitants by the state of its parish church. Here the church was of basic design with few adornments and in dire need of restoration. Its grounds were overgrown and unkept. However, a few kilometres further we spent a few minutes in Ulle, a model, gentrified village if ever there is one. Unfortunately the church was locked but it was just a little too grand for the size of the village it stood in, had clearly been restored more than once, and its massive wooden doors were gleaming with a fresh coat of varnish. Everywhere tidy fences sported neatly trimmed rose hedges. Even the village mongrel looked well-groomed. Clearly there's a land developer or a kind benefactor at work here.

Speaking of village life. All towns we've walked through has a local stud. In Alto Sabinanigo it was a gorgeous if slightly scruffy ginger tom cat who posed for a photo in the nook of an old fig tree. Five steps further three kittens ran across the alley, all of them exactly the same shade of ginger. A little further we saw another, and then another one with white paws. Clearly this is a family affair happening here. And we could see who was in charge.

We walked into Jaca around 3pm, and culture vultures we are, headed straight for the cathedral. It was exhibiting a brilliant collection of ancient, pre-gothic-era wall art saved from various smaller and neglected churches in the Jaca district. The walls of almost all of the small parish churches we've seen have bare walls, but back in the day they were colourfully decorated in the style typical the time with biblical images and depictions of saints. Thankfully archeological research have discovered many of these decorations, probably hidden under layers of newer paint, and saved them for posterity here.

Many people may shake their heads at such displays of odd bits of faded art, but I stood in wonder for at least two hours, imagining the lives of these unknown artists who painstakingly mixed pigments with which to decorate the walls of churches that are now in danger of disappearing altogether. This is after all what the Camino is about for me. Remembrance.

 

Camino de Santiago Day Eight: Biescas to Sabinanigo: Nope, We're Not Black

Determined to stop our bad habit of late morning starts and to stretch our sightseeing time on the road we started out of Biescas at the crack of dawn. Well, almost, it was around eight or so. The night time drizzle had subsided, so we could set off sans our signature red ponchos that make us look like two drops of tomato sauce waddling along the road.

We followed a neat jogging path for about a kilometer along the river before joining a paved, local farm road. The snowy peaks have now subsided into low hills as we gradually bid the Pyrenees goodbye. It's a fresh, crisp morning, perfect for Camino walking.

We continue our daily habit of nosing around every village church and trying the door to see if we can take a look inside. At each one I see and learn something new about Romanesque design and architecture, and Spanish and church history. For me, El Camino is a long journey back in time. A few times when we were around quiet ruins I'm sure I could hear the clank of a blacksmith hammer and the creaking of a passing wagon...

Lost in these sort of thoughts we stood at the small parish church in Oros Bajo, feeling sorry that, once again, the door is locked. Suddenly there's the sound of jingling keys behind us and an old Spanish gentleman comes down the church path at a trot, gardening gloves in one hand and a bunch of keys in the other. He babbles a few sentences in Spanish, unlocks the door and we look around while he provides commentary, mostly in a sort of impromptu sign language.

At one stage we realise he's asking where we're from.

South Africa.

He gives us an incredulous look, rubs his cheek.

No moreno?

No, we're not black.

We end up taking a group selfie with our helpful church key keeper, and then we're on our way. Someone in rural Spain has just learnt something new about the people of faraway South Africa.

I loved the route section that followed, before we got closer to Sabinanigo. We stopped by several very early Romanesque churches built in the 900s, simple yet storm-weathering structures that leave one in awe of the courage of the brave churchmen who in spite of primitive, dangerous conditions helped start the tradition that would become the Camino de Santiago.

Some reading I did before we embarked on the Camino told of the unique, 500 year-old bridge of Puente de las Pinas, so along the way we went on a small detour and solemnly walked across its wooden slats. Who-ever controlled the bridge way back then also collected the tolls paid by traffic passing over it (which included pilgrims on their way to Santiago) so it was fought over, destroyed and rebuilt many times during its existence. Fortunately now, in it's 'old age' it is well looked after, and in peaceful, park-like surroundings. Yet... Was that the ringing of clashing swords I just heard?

The road flattens out more and more as we approach Sabinanigo. It's not particularly interesting scenery and we up the pace a bit. At Aurin, just outside Sabinanigo we ford a shallow but ice cold river, boots in hand. This is probably how thousands of pilgrims crossed dozens of streams eight hundred years ago when few of the many, many bridges we've crossed so far existed. Brr!

Once inside the rather featureless, industrial town we find that our hotel only opens at 4pm - how weird, a hotel that honours the siesta system - so we while away the afternoon in a nice eatery with a bocadillo menu to die for.

With no obvious church or historic building in sight to examine we took a walk to a nearby park and sat down on a bench and watched life pass by - two very amorous lovers, a woman who talked incessantly on her mobile, and a nimble runner shadow boxing while jogging. Less than an hour later we were fast asleep in bed. It's been another long and active day.

Camino de Santiago Day Seven: Sallent de Gallego to Biescas

Our swish apartment was difficult to take leave of after the previous day's tough hike. We wandered around old Sallent, peeked into the local church and then set off on a quiet secondary asphalt road that runs around the local reservoir. We passed by Lanuza and Escarilla, two deserted tourist towns on the bank of the pale blue dam. The area is a repeating Rip van Winkel, only waking up in winter for the ski season. Right now it was fast asleep with not a soul in sight among the peaked-roof, Pyrenees-style apartment buildings.

Due to our late start it was already midday by now and we stopped for some not-too-bad pinchos and a decent coffee in El Pueyo de Jaca. Then the road - advertised in one roadside sign as a bicycle training route - started climbing dramatically for what was probably a few hundred meters upwards. I lost count of the number of switchbacks I sweated out but it felt like an eternity. In the past few days I've become fitter than I've ever been before with all the up-and-down walking. It's not widely advertised, but the Camino comes with a first class, money-back guaranteed get-fit-in-a-week program that really works.

At the top of the hill we paused at a spectacular viewpoint built out over a sheer cliff that drops straight down into the reservoir water far below. It's also one of very few places with a water fountain we've seen so far. They'll hopefull be more frequent now we're in Spain, so we can cut back on the bulky two liters we've been carrying every day.
At long last we reached sleepy Hoz-de-Jaca, quiet except for a bored canine half-heartedly barking at us from behind a rickety fence as we passed through the village. Just outside town we skipped an inviting-looking forested path leading off the road and on to Santa Elena hermitage, but rather stuck to the road, through a short tunnel and over the dam wall. Along the way we caught a glimpse of a small abandoned village, Polituara, that in it's heyday was a pilgrim stop-over. We were now way behind on our schedule and I really regret that we didn't have time to explore it, or the Santa Elena area a bit further on. (Note to self: Try and be on the road in the morning earlier than ten. A LOT earlier.)
At the Santa Elena turn-off we took a quick look at a dolmen (unimpressive, compared to others we've seen on different trips) and then a forest footpath for about 5km into Biescas.

It kept drizzling making the going very wet and muddy, although the path itself was interesting. We passed a strange, overgrown sort of 'highway' that was clearly someone's design folly, and quite a few left-over war hideouts, presumably from the civil war. Sometimes the scenery felt like a movie set - think jungle scenes from Apocalypse Now. A real shame we had to rush past it all.
We walked into a foggy Biescas and after dropping our bags found a decent pasta at a local pizza place. Adeline had ravioli in tomato sauce she loved and I a panzerotti that was a bit on the dry side. While we waited for our food we sat watching the local families - large, extended ones spanning three generations - enjoying their Saturday evening meals. They looked happy and contented, just like us.

Camino de Santiago Day Six: Gabas to Sallent de Gallego: We Cross The Pyrenees

We're standing outside the front door of Chez Vignau, in Gabas, ready to take off for the day. A blue Renault with two old (very old) black-capped Frenchmen pull up. They roll down the window.

'[French] [French][French] Santiago?'

We nod.

The driver's eyes widen and he puts his hand in front of his mouth.

They rattle out more French, we nod politely. When they finish, they both look superbly self-impressed. We gather they've told us their own we-crossed-the-Pyrenees-and-survived Camino story.

We start the day off by getting horribly lost when, shortly after leaving Gabas, we followed what seemed like a Camino sign leading off the road and into a forest. Well, not 'horribly', exactly. It was the most beautiful 5km detour I've ever taken, all fairyland forest, dripping ferns and babbling mountain streams. When I checked the GPS after a while, we were walking completely in the wrong direction. It put us two hours behind, and we have a mountain to cross.

 

Returning to the valley road leading to Portalet we followed various footpaths alongside the Ossau river, climbing higher and higher. The Ossau valley here is truly spectacularly beautiful. At one point we paused at the ruin of an ancient pilgrim's hospital built specially to house not only travelers but also soldiers for the protection of pilgrims against bandits. Fortunately now there were no thieves in sight, only a group of kayakers getting ready to brave the rivers's icy rapids.

It kept raining intermittently, so it was ponchos on, ponchos off the whole way. After about two hours we reached the point where a footpath branches off the road, climbing steeply to Col de Peyrelue, where we'll cross over into Spain. It was drizzling a thin layer of moist, and swirling mists kept the peaks we were heading for hidden.

We paused a few dozen metres up for the last of our bread and cheese, and with a car on the road below hooting encouragement we set off.

As we gained height rapidly our pace slowed quite a bit, and we soon started encountering large patches of snow obscuring the path. We slowly and gingerly crossed each one, us South Africans not being used to walking in snow at all. Fortunately I had a GPS map of the route we were following, because it was now too misty to see more than a few metres ahead.

As we reached the summit It looked and felt like heaven, almost totally white and perfectly quiet. Imagine, we walk the Camino and end up in such extraordinary natural wonder...

 

 

After about an hour we reached a dilapidated wooden signpost, halfway buried in snow, informing us that we're standing on the French-Spanish border. We felt like pioneering explorers!

From here it was a slip-sliding way down on a muddy sheep track that kept disappearing, our only guide being the GPS map. We weren't unhappy to see the deserted ski lift stations of Formigal, meaning we were back in civilisation!

It was a long walk along a busy stretch of tarred road before we stumbled into Sallent de Gallego. By now it was almost nine o'clock, and darkness was setting in. We'd been on the road for twelve hours, walked 34 kilometres over difficult terrain and gained 800m in altitude. No mean feat!

Walking into town, we booked into the first hotel we passed. It was a luxury place way above our budget but we didn't care. We deserved it.

 

Camino de Santiago Day Five: Gabas Rest Day: We Put Our Feet Up

It's been raining since early morning, so glad we're not walking today. We had breakfast, the usual croissants, jam and coffee, but also a generous slice of Basque tart. I'm not used to a sweet breakfast but it's still good.

With the drizzle still falling we spent most of the rest of the day in bed, reading after going through the usual clothes washing ritual. Later we ventured out for lunch to the second of the three restaurants in town. The only other patrons inside was a group of French country folk who were digging into plates loaded with meat and chips. They were a jolly lot, exchanging banter with the waitress, who also seemed to be the cook, bar tender and cashier.

We ordered, and it wasn't long before we heard our trouts sizzling in the kitchen, no doubt in a deep pan laden with butter sauce. The radio was playing Edith Piaf and the cook was singing along. The fish, no doubt born and raised in the Ossau river a few yards from the kitchen, were indeed grilled to perfection and we finished with them off with two more slices of Basque tarte.

Our requests for Café Americano was met with a mute response - nothing but espressos in the menu here. Before returning to our cosy room with a scenic view on the green valley pastures we purchased a generous slice of local cheese to take with tomorrow, as there'll be no towns before Sallent de Gallego. Don't know how we're going to stop ourselves from devouring if before then.

Yes, all's well in this corner of the French Pyrenees.

Camino de Santiago Day Four: Laruns - Gabas: We Get Lost. Badly.

Had a restless night, confirming my suspicion that a tiny, windowless room with six stacked beds and no en-suite is not my favourite accommodation. We had our usual latish start, and headed out of pretty Laruns around nine. There's going to be no rushing out the door on this Camino...

We soon picked up a hiking trail that formed a contour path along the valley slope above the Ossau river. Lots of trees had fallen across the trail so the going was slow. At one point we had to cross a crevice in which lay a massive ice flow, unfamiliar terrain for us South Africans, not used to snow. Most of the time the amber green forest we passed through was all hobbit and fairy scenery - tall, hulking trees covered in moss, exotic ferns and cute little mountain streams. All first class hiking fare.

We walked through the small, elegant-looking hamlet of Eaux Chaud - hot water, in French - just before lunch. Similar to many towns we'd passed through so far, there was hardly a soul to be seen. It's known for it's hot water spas, but right now it looked like it had been abandoned a hundred years ago. It had an eerie atmosphere that felt like a haunted asylum. I took a series of photos that I'm sure will show ghostly figures in them when I look at them later on.

As we went on the hiking trail got tougher. It became a familiar pattern - cross a bridge over the Ossau river, steep climb up, level off, downhill towards the river, cross another bridge, up again, etc, etc. When we finally reconnected with the road for the last kilometer into Gabas, we'd covered more than twenty kilometers of tough but very enjoyable hiking.

Gabas is a typical almanac picture town, all green pastures, snow covered peaks overhead and cutesy mountain architecture. According go the information board near the town entrance it's an ages-old (like, REALLY old, try a thousand years) pilgrim stay-over town that featured a long-disappeared pilgrim refuge established to take care of sore feet and aching muscles, and probably wounds from the odd skirmish with wild bears and other forest creatures.

We booked into the small but homely Chez Vignes hotel (darn, no foot rubbing service here), had a tasty dinner (do the French ever NOT make tasty food?) and that was the day for us. Today we really missed all our hiking friends back home.

Camino de Santiago Day Three: Arudy - Laruns: Know What You Eat

We walked out of Arudy along a quiet street next to the Ossau river, then  a short stretch along the busy main road and finally picked up a dirt track almost all the way to Bielle, which was the capital of the Ossau valleu in ancient times.

It's a remarkably well-preserved viilage where I first noticed the typical 'barn door' entrances of older houses that is a tradition in the region. A keystone above the door carried either the family crescent or a religious motif meant to protect the home and its inhabitants. I took a series of  photos of these doors here and in Larudy, hope I can turn them into a poster or something later.

We had a quick packed lunch in a small park replete with antique fountain in Bielle before continuing.

We followed a very quiet secondary tarred road running through open farmland. Twice we came across Pyrenees Shepherd dogs guarding sheep in fields. While they look extremely cuddly they kicked up a massive fuss when we gave them any attention. A sign we'd seen in Mitagad the previous day cautioned walkers not to look at 'Patou', or bother them at all. They have a job to do!

Once in Laruns we looked up the Albergue L'Embaradere, only to be told we could only check in at five. Strange, since the place was deserted anyway. So we sat down at a sweet-looking creperie on the town square for an hour or two before returning.

The accommodation was in a smallish room stuffed with three bunk beds, our first encounter with Camino-style living. I hadn't slept like this since my long-gone days in the Army. Oh well. This is the Camino, not a package holiday.

So we washed up and walked to a nearby restaurant, Le Arrègalet, that looked like it served local fare.

Adeline can't wait for the restaurant to open...

Here's how the ordering went. 

The owner-chef, who looks totally like Gerard Depardieu, comes round to take our order. Adeline looks at the menu, which is all in French. She decides on "La Dios" something-something.

He looks at her doubtfully. 

"You know what 'La Dios' is?"

She doesn't of course.

He points vaguely to his head.

"Pig's cheek, nose, ear".

She had it anyway, and loved it. My trout with mushrooms was the best I'd ever eaten.

The Camino is being good to these two foodies.


All the photos of the Camino are on Flickr..

Camino de Santiago Day Two: Asson to Arudy:

The Asson town church bell awoke us around six, shortly before sunrise. It was still raining. With no bistro or boulangerie in the immediate area we settled for bowls of Futurelife we'd brought from home for breakfast. We did the morning packing ritual, which we'd perfected during 25 years of backpack hiking back home. No worries there.

When we poked our noses out the door at eight, lo and behold, the sun had broken through! So we set off cheerfully on a few kilometers of farm roads until we got to the village of Bruges where we paused on the town square to buy a baguette, a tin of anchovies and two tangerines.

By now it had heated up enough for us to pack away our jackets and fish out the suntan lotion from our backpacks. Mitaget was the next town on the list, a pretty, historic town that apparently was an important pilgrim town nine hundred years ago. As we walk along I spend a lot of time imagining how it must've been for those brave enough to make the trek to Santiago back in the 12th century. Just think of all the stories tied up in that history! I'm surprised no Hollywood director has yet made a big budget epic drama against the background of the Camino of the time. 

We make a point of going inside each church we pass, and it was no different in Mitaget. I love the musty smell of the older churches, love examining the worn floor tiles for markings. The folks of years gone by were fond of leaving graffiti in churches behind....

We paused for lunch just before the road started climbing steeply towards the town of Saint Colome, and we caught a glimpse of the first snow-capped peaks. We were now entering the Ossau valley that will take us into Spain. Between here and the border at Portalet lay 1500m of uphill! We were now tackling the first of those metres.

We reached Arudy around 6pm, after a relatively easy 15km walk. We seem to fill the day with walking, no matter the distance. There's just so much along the way to take in, it's a shame to rush by. 

After last night's hunger games and mattress-on-the-floor bed we were in the mood for something comfy so booked into the Hotel France on the town square. Rugby fever permeated the town, and everywhere blue and yellow banners were spurring the local team on.

We settled in the largely empty bar for beers, had an average dinner at the hotel, and off to bed. A nice, easy day of pleasant walking.

(See all the Camino photos here...)