...Over The Pyrenees

 

There are dark shadows on the earth, but its lights are stronger in the contrast.  Charles Dickens

Day one of my camino, I awoke long before my alarm went off at 4:30am, abuzz with nervous energy.  I tried to savor my pot of tea before I made the final adjustments to my pack, and headed out the door.  I was a bit surprised to find the moon still bright in the sky with all of her celestial friends, as I hadn't really considered the implications of such an early hour.  The mist was heavy, almost like the mountains were still under their own cozy blankets.  I spent the first few minutes mentally scrambling, trying to remember how to survive an animal attack.  Are there wolves here, or bears?  Even worse, what about skunks?  I managed to get over myself pretty quickly though, as I've long cherished the rarefied beauty of night.  

I began the ascent through the moonlit mist, above the quiet of the sleeping town.  I was grateful for the solitude, and even a little choked up.  I felt alone but not lonely, a little afraid but not unprepared.  I slowly realized I was heading up at the same slow and steady pace of the sun.  It was otherworldly, witnessing the dawn of the day, the first sleepy breaths of the mountains waking up all around me.  I did my best to stop every so often and take in all that was around me.  I didn't want to miss a single second, or in the words of my friend Libby, a single step.

Somewhere Between France and Spain

Thankfully the weather remained cool, as I was beginning to really warm up.  The ascent became considerably steeper as I continued to adjust to walking with sticks.  I am indebted to some jolly Canadian men for such sound advice, I'm already pretty sure those shiny aluminum poles are going to save my tail.  About a third of the way up, I paused to eat my second breakfast, and watch a pair of hawks circling below me, a vantage point I've never had before, and one I won't soon forget.

I found different rhythms along the way, losing track of time for hours.  I met people from all over the world, but spent the majority of the day pretty solo, which I preferred.  As I continued up up up through pastureland,  I was awestruck by the unique and dazzling beauty of each of the surrounding peaks and valleys.  The enormity, the majesty of being in the middle of such a place was so very humbling, I didn't want it to end.  Eventually though, I arrived to the dreaded descent, the part I maintain is always the most difficult.  Thankfully, with the help of those staggering down with me, I arrived in Roncesvelles.

Headed Down

I checked into the monastery along with everyone else before attending the brief mass held exclusively for the pilgrims.  I have no idea what was said, but it didn't matter.  It was rich, and a blessing.  I used the men's restroom several times, and was standing in line (in my towel) with several playful Frenchmen in their skivvies before one of them finally told me that there was in fact a women's restroom, immediately beside theirs.  They were more than accommodating though, "Of course you can shower with us if you want to!"  

I don't know what's to come, what the next 790 kilometers will hold, and that's okay.  For today, I climbed some mountains, met some charismatic characters, and got comfy in a men's restroom.  Not a bad start, I'd say.