Yesterday I did the Coast to Coast Walk so now I can say I have walked across New Zealand from the Tasman Sea to the Pacific Ocean. Of course Auckland is on an isthmus so that is a16 km walk. It's not quite the same as walking coast to coast in almost an other part of the country let alone any other country! However this is rated one of the top ten urban walks in the world.
I started by heading back to Onehunga with Pene and Atawhai. They were teaching again and I stopped for food and then walked off to find the beginning of the walk about 1 km away. I found out in the process that Onehunga voted in the first woman mayor in the British Empire in 1893 - another thing I like about Onehunga. My kind of place! The starting point was a bit disappointing. The shore line was actually an inlet rather than a beach, and there was a bridge from headland to headland so I couldn't even see the Tasman.
So off I went and of course the route immediately headed uphill. Curses.
I had no real idea of where I was going as I struggled to download the map at a useful size. Consequently I had a map but it was to small for me to be confident that it showed all the details. There is no current published map available either but I am determined and this is an urban walk with lots of people available to ask and my experience is that people always do want to help. Still the route is particularly well sign posted. There are little blue square signs with arrows pointing the way. More resonances with the Camino. In fact it is so signposted in some places there are three signs to make sure you cross the road at exactly the right spot. Truly - the sign says cross here! My Camino habit of scanning the environment for arrows unconsciously kicked in as I suddenly saw an arrow sign down a side street. I could hardly believe my eyes when the route had been so well sign-posted to this point. But I thought I would go check it out and, sure enough, that was the right way.
So now I was in Royal Oak. It occurred to me that once again I was travelling from the suburbs to the inner city, the outer to the inner, the edge to the heart. I had a chuckle to myself thinking of some of my friends and the comments they would make about symbolism and how this would fit with the conversation I had had with Pene about walking being meditation in action. I wondered if something special would happen today and then I thought, yes, I would get to do the walk and that is pretty special, so stay in the present and be mindful.
Then I came to One Tree Hill, and of course, I had to walk to the summit. Curses again. At this point it is inevitable that I start wondering why countries have to have hills and mountains and why they can't get some decent bulldozers?
One Tree Hill is in a domain; a green, grassy, treed space in the city. Pene told me that once there was a single tree but it was chopped down by a Maori activist protesting Pakeha (white European) oppression. That wasn't in the brochure. I bet there was a terrible furor. Even for me the name One Tree Hill resonates with Lone Pine from Gallipoli and ANZAC Cove, so it's hard not to sympathize with both sides. And the site is dominated by a hill topped by a spire that certainly looks like it will be a memorial.
Another thing that wasn't in the brochure was that they graze sheep on the land around the summit. I'm amazed. I can hear cows mooing as well. I wonder why they are here but I can't see any signs they might explain it, only the signs to the Observatory. Another mystery is a set of stones laid out so that it can be seen/read from the summit. Why do people do that? What kind of commitment does that take? And what do they want us to know? Whatever it is I obviously didn't get it.
Getting to the top there is a memorial but it is meant to be to the Maori people. According to the plaque, the site was donated by Sir John Logan Campbell who left instructions in his will for an acknowledgement of his respect and admiration for the Maori people. Instead the dominant culture turned it into a memorial to him and the British.
One Tree Hill is also Maungakieke, the largest volcanic cone fortress in the southern hemisphere. I'm spending a fair bit of time around volcanoes lately.
I leave the summit and have to approach a woman and check that I am going the right way. She said you're heading to Olive Way. I said I don't know about that and told her the name of the street on the map. She said"Oh you're going that far! " which is quite disconcerting when you know you are only about a third of the way along the walk. I wondered if I turned back could I get back to Pene before she left Onehunga and would anyone notice if I didn't finish. Then I started walking again, because that's what you do.
The road went through Cornwell Park. This too is part of the gift to the nation by Sir John during a tour by the then Duke and Duchess of Cornwall. It's a pretty park. I stopped in at the Information Centre to find out where the public toilets were along the way. Why does it not occur to walking tour map drawers that this is essential information, especially if you are not in favor of men urinating in public, which I, emphatically, am not.
Walking through this Park was a man in a rain jacket. Even I was sleeveless so it was a pretty warm day and I was thinking lucky for him that the 9/11 scare was over or he'd be arrested (I was reading Salmon Rushdie). He was a stocky Asian man at least in his sixties who was motoring along and not raising a sweat that I could see. Depressing, when I was just starting to realize that I was developing a blister on the outside of my left heel, exactly where I had got my first blister on the Camino. Such an odd spot too - it must mean I have a problem either with that for our my gait. I'll have to investigate when I get home. At least all this area is flat. I'm loving it. Lots of beautiful trees too, some of which are starting to yellow with autumn in spite of the warm days.
I wonder through some more suburban streets to Melville Park and across the cricket fields to sit in the shade outside the University of Auckland and have a lunch break with my feet up. I get to read my book and people-watch uni students for a while. Nice. This is a no rush walk. Also the Information Centre woman told me that the uni is one of the two places people routinely get lost so I'm guiding my loins. Not that I'm particularly concerned - I can always find the library, have a browse, and get the librarian to help. They always do. And I'm a student too, even if in a different country.
As it happens I don't have any problems with either of the two tricky spots, finding them quite par for the course for urban walking trails and quite well sign-posted. I manage to get lost in entirely different spots.
Through the uni I go and then on to the domain at Mt Eden, another hill. At 196m, is the tallest volcano in Auckland. It doesn't feel that way walking it though. One Tree Hill was harder to climb. One thing I really noticed on the way up, as I had a quiet moment in the bush, was how little New Zealand birds are bothered by people. I had noticed on Rangitoto that the birds are the ground scavengers, and once again this was the case. I don't know what kind of bird it was but it let me within 2-3 feet (60-90cm) before it flew off. They must have been decimated by the introduction of predators.
On the way down from the summit and I met another Good Samaritan who saw that I was looking bewildered by the arrow that pointed back the way I came and he pointed me in the right direction. I also met a young guy, 30ish with a big backpack, who was walking it the other way but it turned out he started just down the road rather than at the other end. We wished each other well and off I went through increasing well off suburbs. I passed the Auckland Grammer School, which looked like the Empire replanted from Singapore, crossed over the motorway, wondering if I was going in the right direction, and saw signs for the Museum. I thought that if I was lost I could always go to the Museum instead, or maybe even come back when I'd finished the walk (how impractical was that? )
Just ahead was the Auckland Domain, exactly what I was looking for, and the sign that I had reached the CBD and was nearly finished. A very helpful women eating lunch in the cricket grandstand looked at my map, agreed it was no use at this point and told me if I followed the path to the right I'd find the kiosk (the one recognizable thing on the map and the place where the toilets are) just past the duck pond. Funny advice as it turned out because you can see the kiosk before the duck pond.
What neither the map or woman had mentioned is that the kiosk and toilets are accessories to the Auckland Wintergardens, a tourist attraction on the Hop on Hop off bus tour. I love gardens and happily spent an unknown period of time in the Victorian buildings which house the Cool house, the Hothouse and the Fernery all situated around a Roman style portico surrounding an atrium style formal pond with mosaic fountains at each end. The hothouse had an hypocaust to heat it too, which was a Roman central heating invention. Quite gorgeous.
Then I checked out the duck pond before leaving and getting lost. It wasn't until I saw the War Museum, sitting in isolated splendour on top of the hill, that I was sure I was going the wrong way. I did get a good picture of it though. Sadly I later realised it was from the back.
So then I had to trudge back and head into the city proper. Once again I passed Auckland Uni, but the city campus this time. They have a lovely Gaudi-esque clock tower. Once again I got lost but this time it took me outside a Northface shop with a 50% off sale on backpacks. Seeing mine was fraying that was great. Then I worked out where I was and headed down to the Wharf. I wandered along and was wondering how I would know when I'd got to the end when I came to a sign that said Coat to Coast Finish! I'd done it! I promptly took a picture of the sign. Later Atawhai asked if I'd got someone to take a picture of me with it and I confessed it had never occurred to me.
So I took myself off to Britomart and stepped straight into a train. I imagine it must have been unpleasant to sit next to me but everyone was polite. It was a busier peak hour too with about six people standing!
Friday 8 March 2013
Wednesday 6 March 2013
Rangitoto
Yesterday I spent the day climbing and walking on Rangitoto. Rangitoto is the youngest volcano in New Zealand being only 600 years old and is in the Auckland Harbour in the Hauraki Gulf. Rangitoto roughly means blood in the sky (it has a much longer translation than that) which you'd think would be appropriate for a volcano but, in fact, it commemorates the death of a Maori chieftain in a battle which reminds you once again that this was a warrior culture and this is not your (my) culture.
The trip started with an attempt to catch the train from Swanson to Britomart, the central Station in Auckland, which was delayed by my dash home for my reading glasses - I always forget something. Pene lives in West Auckland which is practically on the west coast and is quite rural, so the journey was from single story shopping centres, to double stories, to the famous Eden Park rugby Stadium and then suddenly into the modern CBD and the port. Britomart is the most futuristic train station I have ever been in but only has 5 platforms which was a big surprise to me.
The ferry was only a block and 25 minutes away and I got a bit of a guided tour of the broke thrown in as well, which was good because it cost more than $20 which was more than I expected. On the way we saw a Lighthouse which seemed tiny but the guide said the Lighthouse keeper lived there with his family and rowed his children to and from school every school day. I just could not imagine how much effort that lifestyle would take, nor living in such a small space with children. People really do love extraordinary lives!
We arrived about 11.00 and weren't being collected until 3.30 but that still meant that choices had to be made about what parts of the Island could be seen in the time available. I was a bit annoyed by the map which only gave times that it took to walk from spot to spot and no distances which made it quite hard to estimate. As it turned out the cartographer wasn't much chop anyway! I decided to go straight to the top and see the views of the Harbour and then see the Lighthouse and walk the Eastern coast back.
As usual on the way over on the ferry, everyone else was in shirt sleeves while I wore three layers of clothes, but as we arrived the sun came out so I zipped down to shorts and a sleeveless top and loved the sun. Everyone here complains about the heat but I can't say I've noticed it, even though they are in drought. But I was glad I'd lost weight first before heading up the hill. I hate going uphill. Mind you, taking my puffer at the bottom rather than the top might have been helpful!
Walking through the lava fields was quite extraordinary. They looked like someone had got a giant garden fork and forked over rich, black, moist, garden soil; that any gardener would be green with envy over. There were great hillocks of them and they stretched out like giant back yards from shrub line to shrub line. I couldn't help testing them out and I climbed in, but sadly they really were fields of black, clinking rocks, light as anything, easily disturbed and highly disturbing.
I kept on and puffed my way to the top to fabulous views covered in a bus load of school kids on excursion with panting parents and a long suffering group of teachers lead by an enthusiastic and megaphone-voiced head teacher. I took my photos hurriedly and a couple for two stunned young women and in my rush to leave accidentally took the wrong path and went back the way I came.
Lessons learnt in Spain stood me in good stead so I waited to see what good would come and found that I was on my way to the lava caves, which I had wanted to visit. Somehow, I was walking all by myself, having passed a group of school children who were coming back and I suddenly had this amazing sense of quietness and stopped. All I could hear was the breeze and my own breath. After a few minutes the birds started to sing and move around in the trees. Although there were many people on the island, for about ten minutes it was just me and the Bush until I moved on. Bliss.
I thought about mindfulness and gratitude. Some would want to be grateful to God or the Higher Power or Whatever for the moment and some would not. I think that any person can be mindful of the moment and grateful for their capacity to do so and that that can bring us great joy and be a huge antidote to many of the negative things in life.
On I went to the caves, once again following painted poles with little yellow arrows to show me the way - NZ and the Camino have had many parallels. I climbed down into the lava cave and was still quite alone. I discovered that flash photography makes very dark caves look much brighter and less scary than in real life. But in my head I could hear these voices (which for some odd reason sounded like my kids as tiddly teens) saying "come on, you can do it! What are you, a wuss? Girly??" So I got my mobile phone torch app out and climbed in. As I climbed I thought now if I sprain my ankle I can climb out and call for help and someone will hear me. If I break my leg and can't climb out Pene will send someone to find me when I don't come home and I've got plenty of food and water. (Of course not long after I got out I realized I'd drunk way more water than I'd realised! ) How mortifying would that be? I got to a point where there was a break in the roof and light came in and the way forward looked even darker and decided that I had been quite have brave enough for long enough and it was time to go back. Of course that seemed to be harder and take longer - it was uphill and we all know I hate going uphill. As soon as I got out people arrived and my time alone was over, then another class arrived and it was over with a vengeance.
Looking at the map it seemed I had to head back to the summit to find the coast track so back uphill I trudged once again. Of course I couldn't find the track on the map and after asking several people, I realized that that part of it didn't exist, but another megaphone teacher, with another class informed me that that if I took the 4 wheel drive track I'd previously been told not to take, I'd find the track I was looking for.
I was now starting to worry about time. The last ferry left at 3.30 and we'd been specifically warned not to get left behind our we'd have to pay private fees (and be mortified). So, as it was downhill, I started jogging. And I was on my own again. This made me quite light hearted and silly, so I was going downhill, half skipping and half jogging and singing a bit in that jiggly way you do when you don't get your breath properly, with back pack noises as accompaniment, when I came around some s bends to find four young men of Indian accent sitting around the tourist tractor train starting at me open mouthed. I waved and said Hi guys and tried to walk off insouciantly. But one fellow said Miss, miss, how long? Once I worked out he meant how long had it taken me to come down I said 10 minutes although really I didn't know. I couldn't work out from their reactions whether they were amazed at how quick I was or horrified at how slow I was! Either way it was time to leave!
Just after that I came to a sign that said 30 minutes to the Lighthouse and Mckenzie's Beach. So off I went. I figured I had just enough time to do that and the 90 minute walk from there to the Wharf. In fact I thought I'd better jog part of the way because by 3.00 I'd have been going pretty well non stop for 4 hours and it was a long time since I'd done that and I needed to leave myself leeway for slow walking if I wore out. So I jogged and walked and jogged and walked and when there was no sign of the Lighthouse after 20 minutes I started to panic. At the 25 minute mark I finally saw the Lighthouse and boy, was I disillusioned! I'd expected a big white manned (well not any more but used to be manned) Lighthouse on the beach. Instead it was a cute red and white candy cane striped Lighthouse out in the Bay that you could see from the beach. I was robbed! Entirely by my own mind of course. On the other hand the water was the most gorgeous turquoise and aquamarine shades with gnarly black lava rocks sticking up in post modern fantasy sculptures. So beautiful. I did wonder then if I would miss the ferry through taking too many photos.
So I walked back to the ferry for my last surprise. The map showed little baches on the path near the ferry which I think must be short for Bachelor pads, although women lived there to. On the other hand it might be Gaelic for hut. Many of the huts are still there and still occupied. I was astonished as I thought they'd been pulled down. Those that are gone are commemorated by little plaques of information about when they were built, by whom and how. I was fascinated.
Just as I was nearly back to the ferry the clouds came over and it started to rain. I'd actually made it with 20 minutes to spare so I had time to put warm clothes on, eat and read before doing the trip back (in the very relaxed Auckland peak hour) to find that Pene had cooked me a steak dinner.
The trip started with an attempt to catch the train from Swanson to Britomart, the central Station in Auckland, which was delayed by my dash home for my reading glasses - I always forget something. Pene lives in West Auckland which is practically on the west coast and is quite rural, so the journey was from single story shopping centres, to double stories, to the famous Eden Park rugby Stadium and then suddenly into the modern CBD and the port. Britomart is the most futuristic train station I have ever been in but only has 5 platforms which was a big surprise to me.
The ferry was only a block and 25 minutes away and I got a bit of a guided tour of the broke thrown in as well, which was good because it cost more than $20 which was more than I expected. On the way we saw a Lighthouse which seemed tiny but the guide said the Lighthouse keeper lived there with his family and rowed his children to and from school every school day. I just could not imagine how much effort that lifestyle would take, nor living in such a small space with children. People really do love extraordinary lives!
We arrived about 11.00 and weren't being collected until 3.30 but that still meant that choices had to be made about what parts of the Island could be seen in the time available. I was a bit annoyed by the map which only gave times that it took to walk from spot to spot and no distances which made it quite hard to estimate. As it turned out the cartographer wasn't much chop anyway! I decided to go straight to the top and see the views of the Harbour and then see the Lighthouse and walk the Eastern coast back.
As usual on the way over on the ferry, everyone else was in shirt sleeves while I wore three layers of clothes, but as we arrived the sun came out so I zipped down to shorts and a sleeveless top and loved the sun. Everyone here complains about the heat but I can't say I've noticed it, even though they are in drought. But I was glad I'd lost weight first before heading up the hill. I hate going uphill. Mind you, taking my puffer at the bottom rather than the top might have been helpful!
Walking through the lava fields was quite extraordinary. They looked like someone had got a giant garden fork and forked over rich, black, moist, garden soil; that any gardener would be green with envy over. There were great hillocks of them and they stretched out like giant back yards from shrub line to shrub line. I couldn't help testing them out and I climbed in, but sadly they really were fields of black, clinking rocks, light as anything, easily disturbed and highly disturbing.
I kept on and puffed my way to the top to fabulous views covered in a bus load of school kids on excursion with panting parents and a long suffering group of teachers lead by an enthusiastic and megaphone-voiced head teacher. I took my photos hurriedly and a couple for two stunned young women and in my rush to leave accidentally took the wrong path and went back the way I came.
Lessons learnt in Spain stood me in good stead so I waited to see what good would come and found that I was on my way to the lava caves, which I had wanted to visit. Somehow, I was walking all by myself, having passed a group of school children who were coming back and I suddenly had this amazing sense of quietness and stopped. All I could hear was the breeze and my own breath. After a few minutes the birds started to sing and move around in the trees. Although there were many people on the island, for about ten minutes it was just me and the Bush until I moved on. Bliss.
I thought about mindfulness and gratitude. Some would want to be grateful to God or the Higher Power or Whatever for the moment and some would not. I think that any person can be mindful of the moment and grateful for their capacity to do so and that that can bring us great joy and be a huge antidote to many of the negative things in life.
On I went to the caves, once again following painted poles with little yellow arrows to show me the way - NZ and the Camino have had many parallels. I climbed down into the lava cave and was still quite alone. I discovered that flash photography makes very dark caves look much brighter and less scary than in real life. But in my head I could hear these voices (which for some odd reason sounded like my kids as tiddly teens) saying "come on, you can do it! What are you, a wuss? Girly??" So I got my mobile phone torch app out and climbed in. As I climbed I thought now if I sprain my ankle I can climb out and call for help and someone will hear me. If I break my leg and can't climb out Pene will send someone to find me when I don't come home and I've got plenty of food and water. (Of course not long after I got out I realized I'd drunk way more water than I'd realised! ) How mortifying would that be? I got to a point where there was a break in the roof and light came in and the way forward looked even darker and decided that I had been quite have brave enough for long enough and it was time to go back. Of course that seemed to be harder and take longer - it was uphill and we all know I hate going uphill. As soon as I got out people arrived and my time alone was over, then another class arrived and it was over with a vengeance.
Looking at the map it seemed I had to head back to the summit to find the coast track so back uphill I trudged once again. Of course I couldn't find the track on the map and after asking several people, I realized that that part of it didn't exist, but another megaphone teacher, with another class informed me that that if I took the 4 wheel drive track I'd previously been told not to take, I'd find the track I was looking for.
I was now starting to worry about time. The last ferry left at 3.30 and we'd been specifically warned not to get left behind our we'd have to pay private fees (and be mortified). So, as it was downhill, I started jogging. And I was on my own again. This made me quite light hearted and silly, so I was going downhill, half skipping and half jogging and singing a bit in that jiggly way you do when you don't get your breath properly, with back pack noises as accompaniment, when I came around some s bends to find four young men of Indian accent sitting around the tourist tractor train starting at me open mouthed. I waved and said Hi guys and tried to walk off insouciantly. But one fellow said Miss, miss, how long? Once I worked out he meant how long had it taken me to come down I said 10 minutes although really I didn't know. I couldn't work out from their reactions whether they were amazed at how quick I was or horrified at how slow I was! Either way it was time to leave!
Just after that I came to a sign that said 30 minutes to the Lighthouse and Mckenzie's Beach. So off I went. I figured I had just enough time to do that and the 90 minute walk from there to the Wharf. In fact I thought I'd better jog part of the way because by 3.00 I'd have been going pretty well non stop for 4 hours and it was a long time since I'd done that and I needed to leave myself leeway for slow walking if I wore out. So I jogged and walked and jogged and walked and when there was no sign of the Lighthouse after 20 minutes I started to panic. At the 25 minute mark I finally saw the Lighthouse and boy, was I disillusioned! I'd expected a big white manned (well not any more but used to be manned) Lighthouse on the beach. Instead it was a cute red and white candy cane striped Lighthouse out in the Bay that you could see from the beach. I was robbed! Entirely by my own mind of course. On the other hand the water was the most gorgeous turquoise and aquamarine shades with gnarly black lava rocks sticking up in post modern fantasy sculptures. So beautiful. I did wonder then if I would miss the ferry through taking too many photos.
So I walked back to the ferry for my last surprise. The map showed little baches on the path near the ferry which I think must be short for Bachelor pads, although women lived there to. On the other hand it might be Gaelic for hut. Many of the huts are still there and still occupied. I was astonished as I thought they'd been pulled down. Those that are gone are commemorated by little plaques of information about when they were built, by whom and how. I was fascinated.
Just as I was nearly back to the ferry the clouds came over and it started to rain. I'd actually made it with 20 minutes to spare so I had time to put warm clothes on, eat and read before doing the trip back (in the very relaxed Auckland peak hour) to find that Pene had cooked me a steak dinner.
Saturday 2 March 2013
Smaller travelling
It's a while since I blogged about travelling and I've been thinking about why that is.
I'm in New Zealand at the moment, visiting my friend Pene in Auckland, and of course that's a smaller trip than hiking across the north the Pyrenees and the North West of Spain. But there are all kinds of travelling and they are all important. I wonder why I've been tricked into thinking that only the big, expensive and long trips count?
Over the last few days, as I've spent time with Pene and Ataphai, I keep being reminded that I am in a different culture and a completely different land, and it's an adventure. At Te Henga, where the black and yellow sand is in separate stripes in some places (with completely different properties), and blended in others, I wondered if this was a metaphor for multiculturalism, or just for all human relationships. If so, what does that mean for how we should them better?
I'm in New Zealand at the moment, visiting my friend Pene in Auckland, and of course that's a smaller trip than hiking across the north the Pyrenees and the North West of Spain. But there are all kinds of travelling and they are all important. I wonder why I've been tricked into thinking that only the big, expensive and long trips count?
Over the last few days, as I've spent time with Pene and Ataphai, I keep being reminded that I am in a different culture and a completely different land, and it's an adventure. At Te Henga, where the black and yellow sand is in separate stripes in some places (with completely different properties), and blended in others, I wondered if this was a metaphor for multiculturalism, or just for all human relationships. If so, what does that mean for how we should them better?
Monday 26 September 2011
Day 25 Ruitelan again
I haven´t written up the last few days because I have been so tired - probably because I have an infection. Today Carlos, the hospitalero, took me to the Communidad Salud Centre (community health centre) where the doctor confirmed my blisters were infected, prescribed antibiotics and ordered me to have today and tomorrow off. The doctor was free and I got the antibiotics and packets of anti-inflammatories and paracetamol for under EU10 all up.
The trip back to Villafranca was an eye opener because that was yesterday´s walk. Definitely not the 16 km in Margit´s book - closer to the 26 km in my book.
I was ok with the rest until Carlos informed me that tomorrow Margit would walk to O´Cebreiro and he would drive me and then drive me to the next albergue. That was a bit of a shocker. I had thought that I would rest until well enough and then walk. But no one asked what I wanted and I don´t have enough language to tell.
Margit is distressed because her card has stopped working. We try to arrange something with her brother over the phone but it is messy. She needs to skype the bank tomorrow so she is going to talk to the hospitaleros to see if that is possible. 26 year old Sonja, having walked all the way from Austria, is also resting here today due to the pain in her hips. She has finally come to the conclusion that she will have to stop and come back some time to complete the trip. She is emotionally more settled having decided.
The size of the box of antibiotics shocks me until I realise that I have four sachets not pills. I have been given fast acting dissolvable stuff. I keep asking should I take the first dose now and the next at seven pm and being told no, wait until seven and then take one at seven in the morning again. I take Sonja and Margit to the cafe for coffee and hot chocolate and to give the hospitaleros space then come back and sleep most of the afternoon. Margit tells me that it is from the antibiotics and I tell her again that I haven´t taken any yet. When we discuss it we realise that there has been a misunderstanding and I should have taken one this morning. Now she is worried that I am running a fever. I´d already worked that part out and am taking paracetamol. Roll on seven!
Hopefully tomorrow I will be somewhere I can write up the days a bit. Got to get something out of an enforced rest. Also I have been able to upload some photos so hopefully those who read this can also access the photos. Let me know if you can´t.
The trip back to Villafranca was an eye opener because that was yesterday´s walk. Definitely not the 16 km in Margit´s book - closer to the 26 km in my book.
I was ok with the rest until Carlos informed me that tomorrow Margit would walk to O´Cebreiro and he would drive me and then drive me to the next albergue. That was a bit of a shocker. I had thought that I would rest until well enough and then walk. But no one asked what I wanted and I don´t have enough language to tell.
Margit is distressed because her card has stopped working. We try to arrange something with her brother over the phone but it is messy. She needs to skype the bank tomorrow so she is going to talk to the hospitaleros to see if that is possible. 26 year old Sonja, having walked all the way from Austria, is also resting here today due to the pain in her hips. She has finally come to the conclusion that she will have to stop and come back some time to complete the trip. She is emotionally more settled having decided.
The size of the box of antibiotics shocks me until I realise that I have four sachets not pills. I have been given fast acting dissolvable stuff. I keep asking should I take the first dose now and the next at seven pm and being told no, wait until seven and then take one at seven in the morning again. I take Sonja and Margit to the cafe for coffee and hot chocolate and to give the hospitaleros space then come back and sleep most of the afternoon. Margit tells me that it is from the antibiotics and I tell her again that I haven´t taken any yet. When we discuss it we realise that there has been a misunderstanding and I should have taken one this morning. Now she is worried that I am running a fever. I´d already worked that part out and am taking paracetamol. Roll on seven!
Hopefully tomorrow I will be somewhere I can write up the days a bit. Got to get something out of an enforced rest. Also I have been able to upload some photos so hopefully those who read this can also access the photos. Let me know if you can´t.
Saturday 24 September 2011
Day 1 to Roncesvalles
Up at 6, stuff the not quite dry washing in, get dressed, have 2 cups of tea and some baguette for breakfast. Talk to some of the other guests at breakfast - 2 Australian women, two french couples, a French woman, an Irish woman, a German woman, a New Zealand woman, a German man, a French man, a mother and son of Korean heritage who now lived in Melbourne although he was born in Paris, two Belgian women, two Spanish speaking men, an Irishman and others.
Today's walk is 27 km. The first 20 km are up and down but rising to a height of 1500m from the 200m above sea level that is the start. The last 7 km are a very steep descent. There is only one formal stopping place on the way and that is only 8 km out. One very long, challenging and exhausting day is coming up!
We were waiting for daybreak at seven to set out as none of us felt confident about setting out in the dark on the first day. I started walking with Barbara, Eileen, Carina, LuisMiguel and Federico. As the first 23 km were uphill and rose from 200m above sea level to 1400m above sea level I knew I was going to be really slow. Carina ended up walking with me and we just pottered along. We stopped at Orison, 8 km along, and bought 'sandwiches' which were really rolls and I had a nut and fruit mix so we were set. It was absolutely beautiful at the same time as being hell on earth. The day started out misty and then stayed a bit overcast until eleven which was a blessing.
We were waiting for daybreak at seven to set out as none of us felt confident about setting out in the dark on the first day. I started walking with Barbara, Eileen, Carina, LuisMiguel and Federico. As the first 23 km were uphill and rose from 200m above sea level to 1400m above sea level I knew I was going to be really slow. Carina ended up walking with me and we just pottered along. We stopped at Orison, 8 km along, and bought 'sandwiches' which were really rolls and I had a nut and fruit mix so we were set. It was absolutely beautiful at the same time as being hell on earth. The day started out misty and then stayed a bit overcast until eleven which was a blessing.
We found water fountains at places along the way which was fabulous as it got really hot. Large groups stopped at the various fountains and we all chatted and compared experiences and those who had studied their guide books and remembered the details shared their knowledge of what was ahead with others. The big questions were how far have we come and far do we have to go? Once past Orison we were stuck with no places to stop for the night before Roncesvalles without turning back, and Orison was booked out. Not that I had any intention of turning back. So off we went. I kept getting breathless and Carina kept getting giddy. Carina had had no sleep the night before due to snorers and I was still jet lagged and wasn't sleeping well so we were a pair. Carina was an Argentinian born American and we talked all day. We stopped for lunch and picniced on a ridge with more beautiful views before heading on.
After 11km we came to Jan's van - an oasis in the desert!
to St Jean Pied de Port
I know these are out of order but it has taken some time to work out how to get them here from my tablet. I'll update the missing days as I can.
Got myself to the right station and then tried buy a ticket to Bayonne from the vending machine but it didn't recognise my travel card. I should have paid attention to that as I can't buy a recharge on the phone or an internet booster as it doesn't recognise it or my credit card. Very frustrating and leaving me feeling quite vulnerable (yes I can hear all of you less technically interested people sneering) as I had planned to use Google a lot. Anyway, I wondered around until I found a ticket seller who spoke enough English to help, got my ticket and found I was an hour early but not stressing. When they called my train to board I had to walk past an 18 carriage train first and then our train was 10 carriages. Clearly train travel is big in Europe.
Arriving at Bayonne. I walked across to the old part of town and took Photos and looked at the impressively fortified looking church. Although not tall and elegant, it looked very much part of the community with buildings butted right onto it. It was so hot though cooler in the old town where the buildings were three stories high and close together creating breezeways. Then back to the station where I find once again I can't buy automatic tickets and embarrass myself by trying to buy my ticket with pounds instead of euros. I could not understand what the poor woman was saying until I stopped listening for the words and suddenly I understood the whole sentence. I was so excited by that I was grinning broadly and she clearly thought I was crazy although she was very polite. The train to St Jean Pied de Port was almost all pilgrims. I could have just followed the crocodile. The scenery was quite pretty on the way mostly following a river.
On arrival I once again followed the wave of pilgrims to the Accueil. I was able to get my passport or credencial to have shaped along the way as my proof that I have done the journey I claim. They also gave each of us a map and written instructions for the next day and recommended somewhere for us to stay. The Refugio was already full so I had to go a pension. They told us we were the biggest day of the year. 250 people had come in that day already and 230 the day before. That's more than they had in summer in the peak time. I guess we were all trying to miss the rush! I booked in to the private Refugio which cost €12 plus €10 for dinner. Dinner was gazpacho, beef stew with baked potatoes and green beans on the side and desert all accompanied by sangria and red wine. This was my first menu del Peregrino.
Arriving at Bayonne. I walked across to the old part of town and took Photos and looked at the impressively fortified looking church. Although not tall and elegant, it looked very much part of the community with buildings butted right onto it. It was so hot though cooler in the old town where the buildings were three stories high and close together creating breezeways. Then back to the station where I find once again I can't buy automatic tickets and embarrass myself by trying to buy my ticket with pounds instead of euros. I could not understand what the poor woman was saying until I stopped listening for the words and suddenly I understood the whole sentence. I was so excited by that I was grinning broadly and she clearly thought I was crazy although she was very polite. The train to St Jean Pied de Port was almost all pilgrims. I could have just followed the crocodile. The scenery was quite pretty on the way mostly following a river.
On arrival I once again followed the wave of pilgrims to the Accueil. I was able to get my passport or credencial to have shaped along the way as my proof that I have done the journey I claim. They also gave each of us a map and written instructions for the next day and recommended somewhere for us to stay. The Refugio was already full so I had to go a pension. They told us we were the biggest day of the year. 250 people had come in that day already and 230 the day before. That's more than they had in summer in the peak time. I guess we were all trying to miss the rush! I booked in to the private Refugio which cost €12 plus €10 for dinner. Dinner was gazpacho, beef stew with baked potatoes and green beans on the side and desert all accompanied by sangria and red wine. This was my first menu del Peregrino.
The pension is a four story 16th century building~ beautiful but terrible plumbing and we were strictly forbidden from going barefoot in case we got splinters in our feet. The village was gorgeous. While wondering around I saw a plaque dedicated to the memory of a lieutenant who died a martyr for the Resistance, but his date of death was 1959 or something similar. I couldn't work it out until I realised he was a Basque separatist and was probably in ETA! Later I would realise how much this is still an issue but it never affected any pilgrims that I am aware of.
At dinner I met two women from Melbourne and earlier I had met two other Australian pilgrims, mother and son. She was born in Korea and he was born in Paris. I bet their story is fascinating but I never learn it. I meet the group I would walk with the next day (more about them later) adn Marion, the Irish strider, and Karin, a young German women whose English was great courtesy of a long stay in NZ. They would show up again later too. Of course there were many more from all over the world and I was fascinated. I attended Mass with other pilgrims but was disappointed by the rote way it was conducted. Still the blessing for the pilgrims was nice.
I slept on the top bunk with a French man in his 60's on the bottom and a French couple, Francois et Claudette, on a double bed. Getting organised was tricky- I knew the theory but not the practice. I realised I had left my towel behind and had to buy another. I was exhausted by 10.00 (lights out) but couldn't sleep as I was too exhausted and too keyed up about starting the next day.
Buen Camino to me!
Paris
Paris
my 19 hours in Paris is nearly over. Once again I am awake at 3.30 in the morning so at least I have time to write this up. I guess once I start the serious walking I will sleep longer - I won't need to worry if I have set the alarm properly either.
I barely slept last night in London due to the the other hotelnresidents partying and thought that would keep me asleep this morning but no such luck. Luckily I've had a lifetime of coping with little sleep so mostly I'm doing fine. Although as this is the first time I've been completely alone in a country where I don't speak the language I was nervous last night but this morning with the benefit of sleep I am much more sanguine. If I buy the wrong ticket and end up in the wrong place I will just stay a night and sort it out in the morning. As it is the information about where to catch this morning's train from was wrong. I thought it was clever to stay across the road from the Gare de L'Est so I could sleep in and catch the later train. Instead I have to get to Paris Montparnasse and buy a ticket to Bayonne (which I am clearly not pronouncing correctly). Then get to Bayonne in time for the last train to St Jean Pied de Port at 3.30. I had planned to be looking out the window at the passing world but much of the tracks are surrounded by walls, embankments or tunnels. Still it was visibly different enough to be clear I was in France so I can still hope to see more today before I get up close and personal and actually become part of the landscape in the Pyrenees.
I've had an interesting time with language today remembering far more vocabulary than I had realised. I could manage to work out far more than I realised. My accent is atrocious though which has led to me not speaking any French at all which of course leads to absolutely no improvement. The Parisian road system is a history lesson in itself being named after significant people in history. I did a three hour walking tour with Michael and Lauren after brunch and was surprised how much history I remembered as well.
I left the fabulous new camera and several other significant bits in my hotel room which I was upset about. Luckily Michael was able to put their photos onto my tablet so I have them with me. The poor decision making about what to take with me on the walking tour came about when, after organizing for them to meet me on arrival, they weren't there. I hadn't organised my internet access before I went and hadn't realised I had little credit left either - too little to pay for the internet booster text. So suddenly I was alone, didn't speak the language, had no cash and no phone and was desperate to go to the toilet. I found the toilets but they cost 70c. I was harassed by a young mute (maybe) girl for money which I later found out was a begging scheme but got away from that with my temper in tact. Finally went back to the arrivals spot to find Michael and Lauren just arriving. They had not set the alarm properly and slept in. Then we had to try to find the hotel without the benefit of Google maps which I had counted on. Of course we managed but started to cut it fine to fit in lunch before finding the walking tour.
Of course the walking tour was great and we certainly got to see many of the significant parts although we spent no real time on any of them. Then we had either a very late lunch or very early dinner in a restaurant recommended by the. We decided to walk to the Eiffel Tower which was impressive and debated whether or not it was beautiful. Lauren says not but it is extremely iconic. We agreed it has whatever the Harbour Bridge has. Then we got back on the Metro and found our way back I stopped to get my ticket for tomorrow and got the bad news. We stopped at my hotel then walked to theirs in Montmatre, got lost, then reoriented, found it and got organised to have dinner together. Sadly we didn't enjoy the food. On my part it was. at least partly because I was so tired.
On the way from mine to theirs, we walked up one particular street where there were groups of men congregated all up and down the long street socializing together. They were clearly mostly of African descent with some wearing the most beautiful robes. I had already noticed that there were few unaccompanied women on the street. They didn't appear to be drinking, not even coffee, and it was quire odd. Some were talking very animatedly I assumed about politics or football but Michael thought more likely about women. I wondered if the women and children were elsewhere or whether these were all unattached men. One man proudly promenaded with his identical twin sons. I noticednthat these were all men in their late twenties or older although no obviously old men. It didn't feel menacing but I was profoundly uncomfortable. I told Michael and Lauren I wouldn't be walking back that way and I got the Metro home.
Later, in Montmarte, we di d see some threatened violence with a group of younger men and then there was a large mixed group of tourists clearly partying. Many more women around but it was all about outdoor dining rather than a sense that people were living out their lives there. I kept wondering where were the locals? Mind you I didn't see grocery stores of significant size so no doubt I was missing a lot. I came away profoundly curious though. I'd love to come back and try to work it out. With the men in particular I wondered whether I was seeing patrircy in action, another culture in action, or a deeply isolated group or something else again that I just couldn't imagine.
There have been groups of men congregated on the footpath of the Boulevard outside my window all night. There doesn't seem to have been any disrurbances but I can hear them talking, and on one occasion, singing, and wonder what is going on.
Well time to get organised and go. I wonder how this will turn out?
my 19 hours in Paris is nearly over. Once again I am awake at 3.30 in the morning so at least I have time to write this up. I guess once I start the serious walking I will sleep longer - I won't need to worry if I have set the alarm properly either.
I barely slept last night in London due to the the other hotelnresidents partying and thought that would keep me asleep this morning but no such luck. Luckily I've had a lifetime of coping with little sleep so mostly I'm doing fine. Although as this is the first time I've been completely alone in a country where I don't speak the language I was nervous last night but this morning with the benefit of sleep I am much more sanguine. If I buy the wrong ticket and end up in the wrong place I will just stay a night and sort it out in the morning. As it is the information about where to catch this morning's train from was wrong. I thought it was clever to stay across the road from the Gare de L'Est so I could sleep in and catch the later train. Instead I have to get to Paris Montparnasse and buy a ticket to Bayonne (which I am clearly not pronouncing correctly). Then get to Bayonne in time for the last train to St Jean Pied de Port at 3.30. I had planned to be looking out the window at the passing world but much of the tracks are surrounded by walls, embankments or tunnels. Still it was visibly different enough to be clear I was in France so I can still hope to see more today before I get up close and personal and actually become part of the landscape in the Pyrenees.
I've had an interesting time with language today remembering far more vocabulary than I had realised. I could manage to work out far more than I realised. My accent is atrocious though which has led to me not speaking any French at all which of course leads to absolutely no improvement. The Parisian road system is a history lesson in itself being named after significant people in history. I did a three hour walking tour with Michael and Lauren after brunch and was surprised how much history I remembered as well.
I left the fabulous new camera and several other significant bits in my hotel room which I was upset about. Luckily Michael was able to put their photos onto my tablet so I have them with me. The poor decision making about what to take with me on the walking tour came about when, after organizing for them to meet me on arrival, they weren't there. I hadn't organised my internet access before I went and hadn't realised I had little credit left either - too little to pay for the internet booster text. So suddenly I was alone, didn't speak the language, had no cash and no phone and was desperate to go to the toilet. I found the toilets but they cost 70c. I was harassed by a young mute (maybe) girl for money which I later found out was a begging scheme but got away from that with my temper in tact. Finally went back to the arrivals spot to find Michael and Lauren just arriving. They had not set the alarm properly and slept in. Then we had to try to find the hotel without the benefit of Google maps which I had counted on. Of course we managed but started to cut it fine to fit in lunch before finding the walking tour.
Of course the walking tour was great and we certainly got to see many of the significant parts although we spent no real time on any of them. Then we had either a very late lunch or very early dinner in a restaurant recommended by the. We decided to walk to the Eiffel Tower which was impressive and debated whether or not it was beautiful. Lauren says not but it is extremely iconic. We agreed it has whatever the Harbour Bridge has. Then we got back on the Metro and found our way back I stopped to get my ticket for tomorrow and got the bad news. We stopped at my hotel then walked to theirs in Montmatre, got lost, then reoriented, found it and got organised to have dinner together. Sadly we didn't enjoy the food. On my part it was. at least partly because I was so tired.
On the way from mine to theirs, we walked up one particular street where there were groups of men congregated all up and down the long street socializing together. They were clearly mostly of African descent with some wearing the most beautiful robes. I had already noticed that there were few unaccompanied women on the street. They didn't appear to be drinking, not even coffee, and it was quire odd. Some were talking very animatedly I assumed about politics or football but Michael thought more likely about women. I wondered if the women and children were elsewhere or whether these were all unattached men. One man proudly promenaded with his identical twin sons. I noticednthat these were all men in their late twenties or older although no obviously old men. It didn't feel menacing but I was profoundly uncomfortable. I told Michael and Lauren I wouldn't be walking back that way and I got the Metro home.
Later, in Montmarte, we di d see some threatened violence with a group of younger men and then there was a large mixed group of tourists clearly partying. Many more women around but it was all about outdoor dining rather than a sense that people were living out their lives there. I kept wondering where were the locals? Mind you I didn't see grocery stores of significant size so no doubt I was missing a lot. I came away profoundly curious though. I'd love to come back and try to work it out. With the men in particular I wondered whether I was seeing patrircy in action, another culture in action, or a deeply isolated group or something else again that I just couldn't imagine.
There have been groups of men congregated on the footpath of the Boulevard outside my window all night. There doesn't seem to have been any disrurbances but I can hear them talking, and on one occasion, singing, and wonder what is going on.
Well time to get organised and go. I wonder how this will turn out?
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