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.