Always Spin the Egg
My head hit the pillow and I was out immediately last night. Breakfast started at 8 a.m. Since I was only going 17 km (about 10.5 miles) today, I didn't mind starting a little later.
I took my packed bag downstairs at 7:45 a.m. and it appeared the breakfast area was open, so I asked if I could start. It was a nice spread with fresh bread, croissants, yogurt, fresh fruit, and some hard boiled eggs for protein. Or so I thought. As I tapped my first egg on the table I discovered it was, in fact, uncooked. This was my first gaffe for the day. I attempted to discreetly clean it up with a couple of napkins, but somehow this restaurant seemed to have napkins that repel moisture and raw egg. The lesson here is to always spin the egg before cracking it. A hard boiled egg spins easily—raw eggs do not.
Having survived breakfast, I was ready to set out. My hotel was offset a bit from the trail and I could see other walkers from my window. Instead of going back up and into town, I decided I could find a shortcut. That was mistake number two for the day. Every time I tried to cut a corner I was blocked by railroad tracks, a stream, or barbed wire. In all, my "shortcut" added about a half mile to my journey.
The initial climb out of town was shaded, so that was easy going. The sun rose without mercy and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. About a mile in, the trail ran along and then under a highway. Once I passed through the pedestrian tunnel, I could still hear traffic for the next two miles. Not exactly tranquil, but those moments would come later.
When I looked back from the hilltops, I couldn't see anyone behind me. On the flats, I move along at about 3.3 mph. That slows down significantly going uphill or coming down more precarious descents. It wouldn't be until mile number five that I caught up to anyone, but it wasn't a race.
I saw a memorial for the film director, Louis Malle, who was born Jewish, raised Christian, and witnessed his Jewish classmates taken away to concentration camps during WW2. His autobiographical film "Au revoir les enfants" (Goodbye, Children) is a stunning work.
To call some of the places I passed through towns or villages would be an exaggeration. Most of them had a church. If there was a church and a hill, the church would be at the top of the hill. I wonder if it was put there for more than a prestigious position? Was it some type of mind game where people would have to exert themselves to get up the hill to free themselves of sin and then, unburdened both morally and by gravity, they could descend to their homes or businesses more easily? Just thoughts as I walk.
At about the 7-mile mark there was a gite also serving as a snack bar. There were chairs with backs, and shade, and cold beverages, so I took a break. There were probably 15 to 20 other walkers relaxing there as well. I recognized a few, but because I've roomed and dined by myself, I haven't experienced the communal aspect of staying in the gites, where travelers eat together and get to know each other better.
Anyone doing one of these walks might want to consider the pluses and minuses. I'm okay walking on my own, having social interactions with the people I meet along the way. When it comes to sleeping, I like to be the only person in the room—not one in a dorm of 10 or 20.
In conversation with a couple I met two days earlier, I was informed that I still had 10 miles to go. That seemed odd, since I thought I had only 10.5 miles to walk in the entire day. It turns out the total figure was closer to 17 miles … And that would be Gaffe Number Three.
I wasn't devastated. It didn't really matter. Sure, it almost doubled what I had planned to walk for the day. But that's what I came here to do. I felt good and it was still under 90 degrees out.
The rest of the day moved smoothly. I think I fulfilled my quota of errors for the day. There were incredible sweeping views over and over again. Much of today was on flat fields and a little too much on roads for my taste. The black top added to the heat. And once again, it's hard to get in the Camino mood when Citroens and Renaults are buzzing past you at 70 mph.
There were many more people out on the trail today. I think the majority were day hikers. Many were going the opposite direction and doing a loop, while others had light backpacks or none at all, indicating they weren't going the distance.
The miles ticked off, and I had joyful moments of appreciation for the time and place. I also passed some time going through what I could remember of Simon and Garfunkel and all their songs. I have to give credit to my sister, Jeri, for turning me on to their music.
First I tried to remember the sequence of albums, and the time passed quickly as I remembered what songs were on which album. I do remember that the first version of the song "Sounds of Silence" was on the first album, and then it was altered and re-released later as the title track of the later album. It struck me in a weird way that I first heard this music so long ago, and how the song "Old Friends" includes the line, "how terribly strange to be 70." That was so far from me when I first heard it, it almost seemed absurd.
On one of the tallest hills was a circular structure that showed each of the mountains in perspective from where you were standing. A few miles after that I passed through another small village where there was potable water available. If you enlarge the picture of the trough where the water drained into, you can actually see tadpoles swimming around in it. I didn't drink the water from that spigot, but I did drench my hat and scarf in it to cool off a bit.
Cattle in the fields have their own water source, a big tank with a water trough attached. Plus in the fields there were several salt blocks put out for the cattle. Record heat here is putting pressure on the livestock as well.
Today was pretty much spent by myself, about 90 percent. Once again, that's part of why I do these walks.
At each rest stop you could still see people doing maintenance on their feet, and occasionally some would be hobbling along trying to complete the day despite their injuries. I walked behind a family where a teenage boy must have slipped and fallen, because there was an injury from just above his left knee all the way into the line of his shorts. With each step he would tug at the material to keep it off the injury. There was nothing else to do.
My calves complained a bit during one one hill climb. A quick stop and some Gatorade alleviated that problem. Today I went through two 20 oz. bottles of Gatorade that I mixed from powder, about two liters of water out of my Camelback, and two small glasses of water at the rest stop. Between the heat and the altitude (most of it above 3,000 ft.) there was only one short pit stop for me during the day.
It seems there's always one more hill to climb before arriving at the destination. It was a gentle slope into town, but the traffic was crazy. Since it's a Saturday, it appears this is a good destination for day tripping. I'm staying at a place that also serves as a bicycle-rental business. There must have been a dozen or so bikers on the trail today. Only one of them rode an electric bike.
My room was ready and my luggage was here when I arrived at about 3 p.m., check-in time. So everything lined up, even though I did more miles than I expected to. As a young man showed me into my room, he was annoyed that nobody had made the bed. The linens sat on top of the mattress. I assured him it wasn't a big deal and that I would take care of it. I just wanted to get into the shower and then into the sheets.
I think the last time I made a bed with flat sheets was between junior and senior year at college during Air Force ROTC summer training camp. There we would have daily inspections to make sure we had tight “hospital corners,” and that when we folded our socks it looked like they were smiling up out of the drawer. I don't think I would pass inspection with the way I put the sheets on the bed, but when my head hit the pillow it seemed perfect.
Turns out that I'm very close to the fire station. I discovered this about 20 minutes after I passed out, when the sirens suddenly blared. There were also two churches in town and they each toll the hour. I'm hoping that they stop at a reasonable time. Sometimes they do, and sometimes they go all night.
My wash is done and is drying on a rack by the window. I stepped out for dinner to a restaurant recommended by the proprietor of my accommodation. Saturday night and the place was jumping. They were kind enough to seat me at one of the less desirable tables, and of all things, I had lamb chops for a second time. The options of pig's feet or calf's head sounded exotic, but beyond what I was interested in having for dinner. Maybe the most interesting part was that they have an actual Aligot girl. She comes to the table with a big pot and stirs the potatoes and cheese together and then dollops it onto the plate.
She said something to me in French. I didn't quite understand and she was kind enough to say it in English. It turns out that it is unlimited Aligot. One serving was plenty for me. All the food was good and the restaurant was alive with activity. Based on the interactions of people in this small community, I believe I was the only non-local there.
Just after 8 p.m. back in my room, away from the two open restaurants, the town seems deserted after all the frenetic activity of the day. Because I couldn't find a hotel in the town at the end of my next day’s walk, I'm catching a van at 10 tomorrow morning to skip ahead. When I first booked the trip I thought I could handle 40 km (about 25 miles) pretty handily. But because it is so hot, I think I'm making a good choice. There are plenty more miles ahead for me to cover, and anyone I see on the trail tomorrow will be a new face.
