I love it : I'm staying in a converted monastery for 5 Euro that has WiFi. Hello again! Might even get photos up today!

WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND?

I have! It's on top of a mountain range in Navarre, nearly 800 meters above Pamplona. And that is not even the most remarkable thing to happen to me today. More on that later.

BUT FIRST, THE INSIDE STORY

Pamplona marks the turning of a corner for me in terms of my attitude and approach to the daily walks. I've always known the headgame is a crucial component of the Camino, but you never really know what that means till you're in it. I spent my first two days in a somewhat competitive state; I fretted about my pace, who was passing me and how often, and getting to the next town in time to find a bed and shower, eat, do laundry, etc (there is a surprising amount to do once you get off the road, and crash at 10pm). That had a lot to do with why Monday from Roncesvalles really sucked for me.

But I guess reaching Pamplona, getting some city time and feeling like I could be a tourist helped me relax a little more. From here on, there are regularly spaced villages where I can stop for the night if needed, so if I don't make my goal town, I'll be okay. And since it's largely reservation-free bed assignment, and there are always cheap hotels if needed, I don't need to hurry anymore. So I can legitimately go at my own pace, for as long or short as I like. It really has become a case of (stop me if you've heard this one) being about the journey, not the destination. This has affected my mood and ability to enjoy what the day brings,as well as my stamina, and is much closer to the spirit of the Camino. I'd heard that it takes 7-10 days to find one's groove on the road...so either I've found mine after only five, or it gets even better from here!

And just where was here today?

CHANGE OF PACE

We had a bit of drama in the middle of the night when some cops thought the open window of our dormitory was the sign of a burglary and stood outside hollering into walkie talkies until we told them to shut up and that it was unlikely someone robbed twenty of us in our space age train cabins while we slept. It was pretty funny except for it being 4 am. I got back to sleep till the usual rustles of people packing up for the road awake me around 6 am. Normally that's when I get in gear as well, but in keeping with my new relaxed state and enjoyment of Pamplona I didn't want to rush. So I futzed and took my time and repacked my bag, and was eventually ready to go at 8:45 -- my latest start time since the first day, and very late for most Camino walkers. But I didn't mind. It was overcast, which meant no wearying sun. And I got buttonholed by two Chinese students and their chaperone who were just starting out on the first of 4 days of walking, so it was cool to be able to show them the metal plates in the sidewalk and yellow spray paint arrows leading us out of town. They hurried on ahead, I strolled, enjoying the overcast day.

About an hour or so out of Pamplona I came to open field lands and the foot of a low mountain range. Along the spine of the ridge stand 40 wind turbines, and the famous iron sculpture that is a tribute to centuries of pilgrims walking over it along the Way. Nowhere to go but up, so off I went, still not quite believing I was going to cross all that turf.

Most of the way I walked alone, only occasionally overtaken by other pilgrims on the otherwise empty path. I don't mind; I like knowing there are other people about but do better keeping my own pace. I also talk into a digital recorder, about sights or thoughts or things happening as I go along. It's a great listener, and has become my new best friend on the road...many people admit talking to themselves as they walk, but I hope the recorder makes me look a little less loopy doing it.

Eventually I came upon a young woman trudging along slowly up a hill. As I came up alongside she looked up, and I was shocked and delighted to discover it was Ashleigh, the 23 year old Australian I'd met the very first night in Spain who had advised me about doing the mountain in 2 days and to get poles. How awesome to find her again five days later! Ashleigh was having a tough go; she'd lost a day in Pamplona due to cold, and was moving slowly overall. She'd decided to come do the Camino almost on a whim, after seeing THE WAY about seven or eight weeks ago, and her inability to train beforehand had reduced her present daily mileage to 10-12K daily. Still, she had 60 days to do her walk, and was out there doing it, and was chugging along...and she would only get stronger and go farther as days went on. I was just so delighted to see her again I walked with her a while so we could catch up. Funny coincidence: turns out she had met an older trio from Grande Prairie, AB that I'd seen on the train from Madrid the day I arrived, and then spotted on the road my first day up. It can be a small world, the Camino!

After a while Ashleigh urged me to go on ahead, and, understanding that feeling of going it alone I beetled off. But not 15 minutes later, I rounded a corner and who did I see resting and eating panuts but Pauline from Newfoundland, a funny duck of a woman who'd been my bunk mate three days ago in Roncesvalles! She too was having a tough go today, much like my bad Monday, so I walked with her a bit until she stopped to rest again. From there I hurried on to the top, keen to get to the windmills that had been so far away and were now right over me. And then suddenly, there I was! I stood on the Alto de Pedron before the famous rusty iron silhouette of pilgrims in progress which I'd seen so often in pictures and movies. Overhead, the giant turbines whirled, and I was so excited to have made it -- only 4 hours overall since Pamplona, 2 from the mountain base! -- I stayed on the windy ridge for a good half hour, enjoying the stunning view and wallowing in the accomplishment. Something about the convergence of ancient tradition and progressive modern development moved me further, and I decided to leave my sister Mel's rock from home, labeled with her name, on the mountain...I think she'd really like that place a lot.

Eventually I began the steep descent and walking toward the string of small medieval villages between there and my destination, Puenta de la Reina. As I walked through the towns and fields yellow with flowers as tall as myself, I considered my options. I could go straight on to Puenta and make reasonably good time. But there was an intriguing detour available to Eunate, where there is a mysterious round chapel of uncertain purpose or provenance but steeped in pilgrim lore... It's considered a jewel in the route. It would take me some 5K out of my way in the late afternoon, adding at least 2 hours to my lengthening day and journey...but I decided, well, why not? This is the point, right? Besides, I'd get another stamp in my pilgrim passport, which are fun to collect.So I deked left and headed into a farm valley.

Soon I noticed that, bloody hell, THE GERMANS were behind me! The Germans are a knot of middle agers who travel in a herd of about ten men and women, and who consistently seemed to come upon me toward every day's route, nod and smile in recognition, and bustle by me en masse. They were the only people following me to Eunate. Seriously? Come ON! Can I never shake these guys?!

Grumpily I let them pass and walked behind their chattering clusters till we got to the strange round chapel surrounded by 33 arches. Google Eunate and it should come up...it's striking, unique, and stands dramatically alone in a valley otherwise occupied by vineyards, plowed lands and sheep grazing. As we approached I could appreciate its compelling mystique...it's haunting.

We shed our bags and wandered around the path between the arches and the chapel, which was inlaid with a different paving technique than any I'd seen before: instead of flat cobblestones, these were oval river rocks set sideways in a herringbone pattern. Striking, and fascinating. One by one we drifted into the building, which offered a handful of pews before a simple altar and Virgin. It was cool and dim, a little dank almost, the way it so often is inside old Romanesque stone buildings.

Suddenly this beautiful Latin religious song erupted out of nowhere, a choral harmony that echoed perfectly within the small round dome in a moving, heavenly hymn. I thought it was a recording but then looked around and realized: IT WAS THE GERMANS. Somehow, without any cue I'd seen or heard, they had from various points in the chapel simultaneously paid homage in music. Stunned, I grabbed my tape recorder and caught most of the magical sound.

When they finished, there was a pause and then they began drifting out. I was still dazed by what had just happened and emerged a moment later. To my further surprise, I saw that several of them had removed their boots and socks, and were now circling the building on the herringbone path and getting a foot massage off the edges!

I watched for a minute and then, newly impressed with this lot, figured: okay, I'll try it. So off came the footwear and on came my soles to the rounded edges of the stones. I took a few steps and OHMYGOD it was FANTASTIC! I did a full loop and revelled in the gentle relaxation of my poor, hardworking foot muscles. It was AMAZING!

When I started walking in boots again my feet felt reinvigorated, and I felt like between that and the music I'd had a healing experience for body and soul. As we stood in line for our credential stamps, I asked one big guy in a red shirt and with enormous calves, "So...that was you singing in there?"
"Yes."
"It was lovely. What was that - who are you all?"
The big German smiled a little and said in a mock grave tone, "Ve arr MINISTERS."

Ahh. I was too shy to ask more, but that was enough to explain a lot. Newly impressed and respectful, I traipsed along behind them back to the Camino and on to Puente, thinking how my dad would have LOVED this story, and this experience. I am so, so glad I followed my new instincts and went out of the way to Eunate and got to do all that.

I eventually dropped back as we neared Puente a few klicks later...I notice that regardless of whether I walk far or short,
I really slow down and get fatigued right when I know the end is near. Besides, it was now my tenth hour of walking, for 26K, and with the sun coming out for the evening, it was now quite hot and humid. Trudging into Puente toward the albergue as 7 pm neared, I saw an Asian woman with two men wave to me. For a second, from a distance, I thought it was crazy Kim from Korea...but then I realized it was the trio from China I'd met this morning in Pamplona --they made it! They greeted me warmly and we chatted a bit (because that's how it is on the Camino with anyone you've exchanged five words with) and directed me to the former monastery down the way. I eased through a circle of boisterous young Italians loudly singing Figaro and the Mickey Mouse Show theme song, into reception. As I checked in, a voice said, "Marichka?"

I turned --and it was Mary from Grande Prairie, whom I hadn't seen since day one! The dynamic senior citizen and I caught up, and I laughed to discover she, I and her two travel companions Gary and Ann, were the only occupants of our dorm room. They went to dinner, but I ended up tripping over them when I went out to forage myself later on, and we had a great old dinner of Canadian company. What a nice way to close my day f magical moments and random reunions!

A few more random thoughts from the many poured into my tape recorder today:

-- There is a refreshing lack of mirrors on the Camino. I might have one when washing up or putting my hair up in the morning, and occasionally pass a reflection of my backpacked self in shop windows, but that's it. It's liberating. There is also a corollary lack of modesty that comes from sharing co-ed dorm rooms, but that's kind of refreshing too.

-- As proof that vanity is the first deadly sin to be purged on the spiritual trail: I'm wearing leggings. Y'all know I do NOT wear leggings. :-D

-- Much as I love music as I walk, iPhone shuffle is driving me crazy picking the same stuff over and over again. After 8-9 hours, five days in a row, it's managed to make my teeth grind at the sound of the Beatles coming on AGAIN.

--That said, sometimes the damn thing does get it right. Today's song is Cat Stevens' "Miles From Nowhere". It came on as I walked along one of those fields of yellow flowers as the sun was emerging, and perfectly embodies my new sentiments about the walking experience.

Wow, that was a lot...thanks for making it all this way! It's an epic Camino for the eyes! Thank you for your interest.:-)