We had a little free breakfast, grabbed our 4 euro ready made sandwiches, and headed uphill.   Today is a long climb from 800m to 1400m+, then a rather steep decent to Burguete which is at 900m.  Peak was 1430m, approximately 4700 feet.   

It was a wonderful climb.  We were hiking through fog for most of the climb so nice and cool.  This is mostly pasture land.  I saw mostly horses and cattle who free range graze the land. All the animals had numbered ear tags.  All very organized and European.   

The grazing land is lush.  There some kind of weird bumps in the terrain, like the hills have measles or something.   Joe, Dale, and I were guessing it might be ground hogs/marmots/whatever the Europeans call them.   

Speaking of Dale, he is from Michigan and hiking this for the first time.  Dale did the Appalachian Trail 9 years ago when he turned 60.  He’s a tall, lanky dude with a great disposition and fun to talk to.   One of those guys who can combine intelligence, wit, and experience without getting all preachy.  Mostly he just seems to be permanently amused with humanity.  My kind of guy.  

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Some enterprising French person drove his van up the hill and setup a snack stand with fruit, coffee, etc.   I passed that with a chuckle (everyone else was stopping).   Joe and Dale had gotten ahead of me and by the time I caught up with Joe, Dale had disappeared.   Apparently the pull of coffee was too strong, he had stopped at the van.  

Joe and I kept the hammer down on the climb, reaching the top around 11 or 12.  Nice little bench there, so we munched on our ham and cheese baguette and ignored some gal who didn’t want to talk to us.   The view was beautiful.   I’ll have a picture sometime, after I figure out how to upload them to the site 🙂 .  

From here it was basically straight down the hill.  Joe generally hikes with his poles all the time, but I try to keep it 50/50.   On the downhill stretch it was all poles for me.  I need to take the load off my knees.   Somewhere, halfway down, we encountered a split in the trail that our counselor said we should take an easier road route. He said there were dangerous drop offs or something like that.  I had tried to quiz him a little more deeply about it at the time, I suspected he was giving us the pussy pilgrim route.  Well, somehow Joe and I wound up taking it anyway.  We did not die. 

Bottom of the hill, we headed into town for our hostel.   Arrived at 1:00, but nobody home till 3:00.   We found some chairs in the garden area an made ourselves comfy.  As they opened it started to rain.   heh.   Dodged that bullet.  

I was climbing the stairs and called out to Joe if he was ready for dinner.   Instead some Dutch dude named Alex answered “yes”.   So we had dinner with Alex, who turns out is a total crackup.   35, IT manager for the Dutch government who wants to maximize his days off.   That guys has plenty of good stories from various misadventures.  One of his highlights was getting super drunk in Thailand, then getting kicked in the balls by a trans person he was comparing hand sizes with.  My dude. 

So we are back at the hostel, Joe is asleep, and I am writing.  Hanging out with my work buddy Nick.  Nick is busy managing his businesses by night and hiking the Camino by day.  Looking forward to tomorrow.   Both Joe and I agree that our pace will be picking up soon !  

Joe and I walked into town and grabbed some early lunch, then stopped by the Camino counseling office (or whatever it is officially called).   It was cool.   Our dude talked in detail about the first 3 days of the route over the mountain and shared some good general advice about the route.   We also got our stamps and each a shell that I guess we hang from our packs.   

A short walk back up the hill and we are off on the “trail” which is really just a long road walk for the most part, with some steep dirt double track in spots.  This trail is much steeper than the PCT, so pacing is key.  Our destination is Refuge Orisson, which is 8km and 600 meter climb.  

When we arrive we are shown a room with 3 bunk beds of which all are occupied except for 2 top bunks.   That is home for the night.  It is Sunday and this place seems to be a stop for motorcyclist who show up, hang for an hour or two, then ride off.   It looks like a fun road to ride.   

At 6:30, we all gather at 3 long tables and are served by a couple of personable French dudes.   First comes water and wine bottles, then a pot of soup is dropped on the table which we serve to each other. The soup pot gets pulled and a plate of thinly cut beef falls on the table, finally some kind of bean/vegi combo, and a basket of bread.  Some poor Asian dude is closest to the food drops on our table, so he gets the ladling job.  After we finish, we stack our plates and put the silverware into a little box that is passed around.  All this happens quickly and efficiently.  2 guys serving 45 people.  

Over desert, each of us stands, introduces ourselves to the crowd.  Who we are, where we are from, why do the Camino.  Then, with the wine bottles empty, the boss says it is time to go to bed so the can finish cleaning up.   

Our dining companions, meaning people close enough to hear our shouted conversation, were a couple from Utah, two older Australian gals, and a pair of retired Canadians.   Over dinner, I learned the Canadians don’t like the Trumper and thought Trudeau was a pussy.  They love their new PM.  Haha.                

So, the about that night with 6 peeps in a small room.   Well, someone closed the window.  I couldn’t sleep due to jet lag.  The room became hot, humid, and noisy.   Turns out that all the guys snore….  The top snorer was a chubby German guy under my bunk.  I jumped down to take a piss at 3am, returning to the room felt like I was entering a loud hot smelly sauna.   Finally fell asleep and awoke when Joe hit the lights and smacked my leg.   Everyone but he and I had already packed and left for breakfast.  Jet lag is a weird thing. 

The plan was flight from LAX to Newark, wait an hour or two, then on to Madrid.   A train to Pamplona, then a bus/taxi to the start in Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port.   Lot of stops and transfers.  Joe had us pre-booked for places to stay from April 24 through April 30 (I think).  

We made it to Newark.   Our flight to Madrid left the gate around 9pm, taxied to take-off, then returned to the gate and dumped us off.   Engine trouble.  We watched them working on the plane until midnight, then they announced the flight was canceled.  

Newark.  When I was traveling for business, I would sacrifice hours of travel to avoid that airport.   Delays and cancelations are common there.  Well, arguably, a busted plane should not be the fault of Newark International Airport, but their reputation remains intact.  

Delays and cancelations are a common feature of air travel.  Happens all the time.  Happened to me all the time.   This time I am going to document it. 

.Flight is canceled and the only folks in the airport are 2 people working the boarding gate and 250 people with nowhere to go.  The gate people suggest we scan a QR code on the monitor for help.   Help comes in the form of an online app where you enter a bunch of stuff about your flight and do-it-yourself rebooking.  Gave up on that and called.   

Calls were routed to a call center, likely located in the Philippines, where I actually got a gal who was competent.  Joe was not so lucky.   Eventually, I use competent girl to take care of both of us. A room at Holiday inn for the night, a flight to Barcelona at 10:00.  So we taxi there, fall asleep at 2am, the alarm goes off at 7am, back to the airport and board the first leg of the flight to Dulles.  

It is a small airplane and I get seated next to a fat guy who scrolls through TikTok videos about food preparation the entire flight.  Next we cool our heals at Dulles for 4 hours, then board the Barcelona which lands at ~8am.  2 hours waiting in the customs line, two *somewhat* high speed trains, a barf-tastic 1.5 hour taxi ride over the Pyrenees mountains, and we finally check into our little condo in Saint Jean Pied de Port at 7ish.  Joe and I collapse on our beds and sleep for 12 hours.

I suppose most folks have bad travel days and this is not the first for me.   However I wanted to document it while fresh in my mind. It SUUUUUCCCKKKKEED.  We were walking zombies last night still queasy from that cab ride.   I found out later that the bus takes the same route.   The couple we spoke with said folks were using the barf bags during their trip.  Buen Camino bitches.