Day I

The path is the goal - Camino de Santiago

Morning log:

I left Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port around 8 am and was innerly prepared for anything. The weather was awful - cold, rainy and foggy. It had at least one advantage: Since I could not see the high mountain peaks far, far away, I was not disillusioned from my self-deception in the sense "Relax, you are almost there" that was particularly important for this arduous bike-hike. When I was confronted with the first steep hill that looked infinite, I was seriously tempted to give it all up and choose the easier route instead. Still, who know whether I ever return to this place - why should I run away from this challenge when it waits for me right here, right now? I had to continually repeat the Camino motto the path is the goal as a mantra to boost my motivation. At least I can afford this deliberate self-torture. I had some time to spare, so why not. Now, I am "enjoying" my breakfast in the rain after 400 m of elevation gain on less than few kilometers. Super sweet chocolate spread comes in handy for this inclement weather and challenging h(/b)ike. I cannot see an inch through this milky pool. Let's "see" what comes the next.

Afternoon log:

Wow, what a day! Mountain range, that is my stuff. After all those endless lakes, canals and rivers I can finally taste the mountains and I am totally thrilled. it is the most arduous part of my journey. Today I have done about 1200 elevation meters in about 25 km (200 m – 1400 m). I was exposed to inclement weather (strong wind and some rain), super steep hills like never ever before, was forced to wade through narrow uphill off-road mountain lanes with my bike, in some moments I thought I cannot continue due to extreme fatigue, but in the end I did it! My pass through the most difficult part of Camino Francais is behind me and I am writing this entry on a hill with a beautiful view on the mountains and getting some warm relief from the sun that finally appeared. In short, I am now reaping the true reward from that morning torture. Back in Saint-Jean-Pied-du-Port, I was seriously considering which route to take. It was strongly advised to go through the valley with only about 800 elevation meters in case of bad weather and not good bike equipment. I talked in the pilgrim's office with a young biker yesterday about the way and he told me that it is extremely difficult and steep. He kind of squinted when I told him that I intend to pass through the mountains with a road bike. “Well, I completely broke my wheel there, it is kind of tough. But you do have a suspension on your bike, right?” I agreed, but it did not look very convinced “Very well then, plan about two days for the pass, it is going to be hard.” I did it in one day though... The start was the most grueling task despite the fact that it went smoothly through normal roads. By the first steeper hill I had to get off and push my bike. I was ready for taking 2 days for this trip; as I have already said, the journey is the destination. Still, this mountain challenge was in one way very unique for me. On the one hand, I had to fight with my laziness, on the other with my pride in order not to push myself to the limits due to the health problems. Giving those circumstances, you can imagine that it was not easy to balance this two inner voices. There were not actually many bikers on this harder road. Only a few frenzy adrenaline seekers that was all. I bumped into two mountain cyclist, obviously with great bikes and besides their backpack with no luggage. They were smirking if I am seriously planning to pass the mountain on this bike. I proudly replied, yes, why not. Still, their stamina was no match for their overconfidence and stupid remarks, supposing that I managed to overtake them with unnecessary heavy luggage several times (I knew that I should not have gone to Lidl while having been hungry). I lagged behind only on the off-road when the skills and fitness could not compete with proper mountain bike equipment.  

Just a brief moment of levity to clear up some confusion: everything is just a point of view :P

Passing through the Pyrenees

How my uncle saw it

How my parents saw it

How it really was

Around 3 pm I reached the highest point of Camino Francais and one German woman came up to me when she saw my bike guide in German. I chatted with her and her spouse for a while and I got to know a quite useful snippet of information. I did download offline maps for the whole Eurotrip, but not for Camino because it is said that one hardly needs any map due to perfect road marking. It is true, though, but in the mountains I wanted to look around a little, and since my internet connection did not work there, I was left only with blank areas on the map along the downloaded Camino route. Therefore, it helped me a lot that they had a map and could actually point directions to the highest peak in the area. I like having a peaceful rest on the top of a mountain; therefore, it was a clear choice for my lunch picnic. I locked my bike away from the Camino route, put all my things to dry up a little (I had been unable to dry my clothes for last 3 days) and continued on foot. I walked for about 40 minutes and found the highest peak, but unfortunately I could not find the path on the top. The weather was constantly changing and even though I had not experienced any rain so far, it was highly probable that something might come. Due to this threat, I found it reasonable to abandon my original plan and had a picnic 100 meters below on a good road. Luckily enough that I did not find the path, it was probably meant to be like that. Out of nowhere, heavy fog rose and I could hear clashes of thunder menacingly coming up. It was high time to get out of there. I rushed to my bike, scooped my belongings into the luggage and hurried to get out of there at any cost. Judging from my measurements, the thunder was clashing only 1 km from me what is considered quite dangerous by any standards. If I had found a route to the top of the mountain or even had climbed there, I do not want to imagine what might have happened on the highest peak in the area during this crazy thunderstorm. And this thunderstorm was extremely ferocious, indeed. Heavy rain set in within few minutes and my supposedly rainproof jacket was completely soaked again, this time in less than 2 minutes. It did not prove to help against heavy wind, either, and as a result, I was trembling with cold like crazy. Moreover, as it were not enough so far, the fog became even worse and I could not see an inch. For this reason, I had to ride extremely carefully even though the thunder behind my back was coming closer and closer. I even wanted to take some pictures of the hellish road, but my touchscreen did not work when exposed to the rain. I was also thinking about building a tent after descending a little, but I had to dismiss the idea because my tent would not withstand this heavy rain either. I simply had to go down a narrow mountain road and hope that I will eventually connect to the original Camino route as it was indicated on the map of the German couple. In the end, I managed to descend to the nearest refugee camp for pilgrims, having arrived completely soaked, cold and exhausted. The downhill road would be a paradise for MTB bikers, but I had to be careful with my luggage and narrow tires. Once again I had a stroke of luck: This pilgrim refugee, an ancient and well-known monastery, disposed of a free kitchen and I immediately made the most of it. I boiled water and mixed my last coffee with superior dark chocolate that I bought the day earlier. That took me out of my freezing misery.

The next important task after warming up a little was to dry my socks. I did buy new socks the day before yesterday, but since I left them in my backpack, they got wet as well. Having cold and wet socks is a sure way to go ill, thus I needed to dry it somehow. I found a hand drier in the toilets - precisely what I needed. I knew that it would wreak havoc with the clean toilet air as soon as I blew up my old, moldy, dirty, smelly and wet socks like balloons with the drier, but I had no other choice. Some people looked with disgust what the hell I was doing there, but I did not really give a damn. When the mission was accomplished, I made my early escape as soon as possible.

It was quite nice that there were no pilgrims on the Camino route after 6 pm. With many hikers ahead of me, it would have been impossible to ride fast through narrow forest lanes. I found a nice spot for camping, but after reading an information table that described that forest was the most (in)famous place for witches in the middle ages, I decided to rather bike further. It was already getting dark when I arrived in the first Spanish village. Having admired the typical Spanish village architecture, I somehow lost the way. I thought it would be alright for I have everything on GPS, anyway. I had, but with blank areas and this time, GPS really took me in. It showed me that I was only 200 m from the Camino and all I needed to do was to go right, get through some bushes and connect to the original road. There was a guy looking at me with a hint of amusement and surprise. When he asked me if I needed some help, I proudly replied no problem, mentioned Camino and showed the direction the GPS pointed to. However, I was to find out that it was absolutely impossible to connect the Camino from there: Even if I managed to wade through those big bushes, there was a glacial stream with no bridge. When I was coming back, this man probably could not pass the opportunity to see this GPS lunatic a little bit closer. He laughed at my crazy GPS and to my utmost surprise, he invited me for a dinner, saying that I could build my tent in his garden as it makes no sense to ride in the dark right now. I was really delighted with this spontaneous invitation and still could not believe that I had so much luck. I was treated with two caps of warm decaf coffee, special regional sausages with baguette and eggs, and even tasted special Basque liquor called Pacharán. By tasting this drink I almost had a small cultural faux-pas. The liquor was particularly tasty and I referred to it as a nice drink for women. My host immediately retorted that this is a guy stuff only because with its 25% it is too strong for women - they usually drink wine (12%) or beer (3%). Luckily I did not boast about other typical alcohol percentage of Slivovica, our national drink made from plumbs and later I refrained myself from any other hasty comparisons. My host was unbelievable hospitable and his two sons seemed to take me as some sort of an attraction, too. He was a little upset that his English was not very good, but actually there was no problem with the communication at all. I am very thankful for this experience. In the morning, I enjoyed Spanish breakfast and even took a shower before I left. It sounds almost unbelievable what might happen to one on travel. Maybe it is the traveler’s luck and positive vibrations that bring him to his way so many great people. That is actually the most fascinating on travelling: You never know what awaits you, but you must be open for everything. This mindset is very important in the real life as well and one can learn it also through travelling.

Link to photos