Part 4: el Camino de Santiago

Larry Miller

17 years ago

Categories: Sports

Part 4: el Camino de Santiago

LARRY

My first night was spent in a refugio or alberque, in Estella. When I signed in I was reminded of an old Bogart movie, the smoky back room at a pool hall or some places I’d frequented that were less than the best places to be. James had told me to mess up my hair so that I’d fit in better. I could have messed up my whole body and fit in just fine.

Once signed in we went upstairs. It was crowded, overcrowded, but because James had made friends with the girl volunteering there I was able to get a bunk. Thanks James. James had talked it up that I was 65. Some people thought that meant I probably wasn’t able to do a lot of things that they could. Joanne asked if I would be able to get up to the top bunk. I thought about doing a one-armed vault onto the bunk but decided not to.

It was late by the time everything was taken care of, I didn’t really see a need to take my sleeping bag out of the cardboard box and organize the other gear that was in the box, so I slept in my clothes, something that I would continue to do most of the rest of the trip. (That little trick might just have saved me from the itch that James, and others we’d talk to, was to experience). James had told someone I was an ex-Navy seal. Not true. I had been in the Marines and put in for Forest Recon, but I guess they thought I was too skinny.

There were people sleeping on the floors and one of them was at the end of my bunk. Every 15 or so minutes he would wake up, turn on a large flashlight and after shining it around the room, look at his clock (the kind most of us keep at home next to the bed) and say, “I can’t get any sleep. All I do is lie here awake and I can’t get any sleep.” With that said he would lie back down and begin to snore loudly. Loudly enough that I couldn’t get any sleep! If I did accidentally happen to doze off, he would reawaken me when he woke up, turned on the light, looked at the clock and began his tirade.

By the next morning I was more than ready to hit the road.

JAMES

Camino – Day 5

Buenos dias Los amigos!

Today’s 27 km hike took us from Estella (Spanish for crap hole that should be smitten with a thunderbolt from on high) to Los Arcos (Spanish for surely we must get there soon) and then on to Torres Del Rio (Spanish for water hole on this horrible torture route).

I have realised that, if I am not careful, I might get the reputation as a whining pom – after all I have no idea who, if anyone, is reading this journal. I know that all I seem to do is say how hard things are but that is, I am afraid, because they just ARE! That is, 800 kms of unforgiving Spanish pathway that tries to burn you, sting you, trip you, trick you and spite you every one of those hallowed 1,000,000 steps to the promised gateway to paradise in Santiago.

I would love to say that for once today was different, that my feet glided across the Spanish plains untroubled – but, alas, NO!!! Today was by far my worst day and it started even before I woke up.

As the refugio assistant apologetically informed me, "At least you didn’t stay here when we only changed the sheets once a month – now that we do them once every 20 days we have far fewer problems with bed bugs!" Her name was Joanne, a girl from Oxford, and I wondered just exactly how long she could have been working there to utter those words in response to my flea bitten arms and chest, without so much as a blink! What a lovely start to the day!
Larry had arrived the previous night, (is that heavenly choirs I can hear?) and, in the ridiculous pantomime of trying to explain to a Spanish policeman that I didn’t want to discuss the Basque nation but wanted the bus station, we missed dinner completely. As I waved a friendly V-sign at the refugio owner and his army of nocturnal associates, I was starving, we all were, and I was like Biggles, my dog, on the hunt for food first thing in the morning!

We walked for 2 kms, past the monastery where there is a fountain that spurts red wine for free instead of water, I kid you not, and on for a lovely steaming breakfast at a little village that Alain assured us was supposed to be just down the road. When I say us, I mean Alain, Larry, Junky and me. When I say supposed, I mean because everything in this little promised oasis was shut!!!!

I was a little alarmed to say the least, but assurances of a Ritz-esque restaurant 2 kms down the road helped to calm my growing ire, even if it did not quiet the sound of my belly growling like an 80’s diesel engine! Larry and Alain turned on the pace up a few hills and before long I was trudging along behind them like a petulant child whose parents have told him he can’t have another ice cream. Nobody likes a whiner but I really didn’t care!

Then suddenly I was there – a shining cafe, surrounded by happy pilgrims, all of them stuffing their faces with lovely, wonderful cheese and bread! Just as I was starting to head towards the door I noticed that Larry and Alain had not stopped and were walking on down the hill! I shouted to them that they had missed the spot, but Alain informed me that the best restaurant was further down the hill.

On reflection, the expression “a bird in the hand is better than 2 in the bush” was very apt here. I shouldn’t have followed them, I did! The restaurant should have been there, it wasn’t! We should have accepted defeat and gone back the 1.5 kilometers up the hill to the other restaurant, we didn’t! We should have been smart like Junky and had breakfast in Estella in the first place, we weren’t!!!

We had walked 8 kms on nothing more than a mouthful of wine and now had 14 more to go to the next town with nothing on the way! I was not a happy camper, not at all in any way shape or form! Junky offered us each 3 small Japanese biscuits to ease the pain, but for me that was akin to trying to fuel a Jumbo 747 with a jerry can filled up at the local petrol station!

The next 3 hours were awful! The sun rose to beat mercilessly on us, my feet started to blister, I ran out of water and all the time my stomach shouted at me "you stupid prat – you can’t give me what I want, whenever I want it for 29 years and then go and pull this kind of crap!" By the time we got to Los Arcos I was broken. I mean I don’t want to do this anymore type of broken. I mean Rose send me a plane to take me home type of broken!!! I dropped into a chair in the square, announced that I would not be taking another step today, threw all of my toys out of my pram and began a sulk that will be talked about in Los Arcos for years! I ate 3 sandwiches, 2 quiches, 1 packet of peanuts, 2 diet cokes and an apple. I refused point blank to consider the idea of moving on the next 6.5 km – "As god is my witness I am not moving another step! You can all go and fxxk yourselves if you think there is any chance!" At that they realised they were wrong and I of course was right and there was no way I was going to be moved!

Half an hour later, I was trudging along a dusty road with Alain, the food surging energy through me so that I felt like a new man! The 5000 horsepower pistons under my decreasing gut were fully fueled and pumping at maximum revs – nothing could go wrong, nothing, until "Where is your stick?" I can honestly say I felt sick! It was at least a 2 km round trip to retrieve it from our lunch spot! Just as I was beginning to trudge back towards the town, Alain dumped his bag and informed me he would go back and get it and I should rest for a while. I almost cried! Here was a guy, who had walked in the heat all day with a damaged Achilles tendon, who was prepared to walk 2 kms to get MY stick that I had left behind! I was so stunned that I just let him go – I still can’t believe it! To do that speaks volumes about the man and his character – from zero to hero in 30 seconds (it was going to take something special to forgive the restaurant incident). All I can say Alain is thank you, thank bloody you! You were and are a star!

We arrived at Torres del Rio just in time to get some nice bunks in a lovely refugio with hot showers and clean sheets. Today has been one of those days that test your resolve and your character. I wouldn’t say I did it with finesse and grace but I am still here fighting and walking. Thank you to all of you who have mailed your messages of support – it means a lot to me. And to the person who mailed me today, during my darkest hour, thank you, you know who you are!

Buenos nochas los amigos and buen camino !

Chapter 6 Day one, no wine and rose’ (or white) and no breakfast.
LARRY

It was barely light when we met in the street in front of the alberque in Estella and began our trek north and then to the west. It was in front of the alberque where I first met Alain, James’ friend from South Africa who had done the Camino the year before. There was no mistaking that Alain had done his share of athletics.

Not far down the road we met up with a Japanese man who had walked part of the day before with James and Alain. James told me later that the man had every conceivable gadget the mind could imagine. The day before when they were walking up a particularly steep hill James heard a buzzing sound coming from behind him. He looked and saw the Japanese man had a tiny electric razor, round and about the size of a silver dollar, and he was in the process of shaving. Maybe he had too much stuff because a little while later he was out of sight behind and I never saw him again.

Not much further we came to a rock wall inside a fenced area. There were 2 faucets coming out of the rock face. Out of one came water, out of the came red wine. There was a waiting line at one faucet. I opted for picture taking only. Wine at 7:30 was a little early for me and it was a long road ahead.

Up we went to Villamayor de Monjardin and then down the other side toward Los Arcos 21K from Estella.

We had expected to be able to stop for breakfast but that never happened. In the first town there was no cafe or restaurant, in the second we passed by one that was a block off the trail because there was supposed to be another that was better about 5K down the road. When we got there it had been closed and we walked on toward Los Arcos.

We passed an old stone structure that covered an artesian spring. On a hill 1/2 mile or so away was an old and crumbling Moorish fortress.

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Larry Miller: I was born in Los Angeles in 1940. My father was a fighter pilot instructor during WWll and we moved from coast to coast, maybe thatâ€™s where I got the nomad in my blood. After graduating from high school in 1958 I joined the Marines. That lifestyle wasnâ€™t for me and upon my discharge I went on with my life, and have never looked back. I worked briefly for a Caterpillar dealer in Riverside, CA before moving back to N. California where I was a welder and truck driver for a chemical company. Truck driving wasnâ€™t my calling anymore than being in the Marines, and I went back to work for another Caterpillar dealer steam cleaning dirty tractor parts and welding. They sent me to schools, lots and lots of schools. I spent as much time going to trade schools as I did at work. I went from cleaning parts to apprentice field mechanic, to mechanic to the parts department to satellite store manager in less than two years. They wanted me to move to Sacramento and be a salesman: I moved to Oregon to learn to commune with nature. I went to work for another heavy equipment dealer and was later contacted by the Worldâ€™s largest Lorraine Crane dealer and offered the position of purchasing agent and general parts manager. In 1967 I was offered a line of automotive parts and supplies and went into business for myself. My business revolved around eleven race cars that we maintained for others, driving race cars professionally and maintaining high end sports cars. I was a championship and regional champion driver. My business was the largest import parts and service, non dealer, in the state until I sold it in 1979. We went sailing in 79, first to Mexico and then Hawaii. I was an award winning Trans-Pacific sailor and sailor of the year, Hawaii, Island of Kauai. An opportunity presented itself in Hawaii during 1981 and I was back in business, importing Japanese auto body and hard parts. I also felt the pull to write and began freelancing for magazines and newspapers in 1982. My main focus in my articles is, and always has been, health, wellness and fitness. Most of us have heard the saying, â€œTime is all we have.â€ I disagree. Our health is all we have, because without our health, we have no time. I was a US Olympic team hopeful in racewalking and held all the records for the state of Hawaii. As a sponsored athlete in my forties, I finished first in nine marathons in a row in my division, qualified for the IronmanÂ® and was the state USCF cycling champion five times in Hawaii and Oregon. Celinda and I were married in 1988 after a three year engagement. We sold our businesses and organic farm and sailed back to Oregon. After our sailboat boat was sold, we moved to Joseph, Oregon, two miles from the trailhead into the Eagle Cap Wilderness. We were caregivers for my mother the last ten years she was alive. We moved to New Mexico in 1995 because it was too cold for my mom in Oregon during the winters. Celinda designed, and I engineered and built our strawbale house. I began writing the weekly health column for a local newspaper in 1996, and still do. In 2000, I took the summer off to do a four month, 4000 mile, hike, bike and kayak odyssey. Iâ€™d been writing health, fitness and sports articles since 1982 and the journey produced a full-length, nonfiction, first person adventure book, Yol Bolsun, May There Be A Road, which can be bought from Amazon.com and others over the Internet. The summer of 2001 was spent hiking. kayaking, fishing and exploring the southwest. In 2002 Celinda and I spent the summer in Canada learning the hospitality business at a resort in preparation for doing promotion for the resort in the US. Most of 2003 was spent reestablishing the trees and landscape that had died during the stay in Canada. We had a house sitter and the house sitter had an ex-husband, and thatâ€™s a long story. In July of 2004 I did a solo kayak trip on the Snake River, taking pictures, writing articles and pencil sketching the journey. I hope to do another kayak adventure on the Snake River during the summer of 2008, on the section I missed in 2000 and 2004. In 2005, I returned to Canada to the resort where weâ€™d spent 2002. I was supposed to be there for the month of June. Iâ€™d contacted people Iâ€™d met in 2002 and they came back to Canada to fish, hike and spend time at the resort, Echo Valley Ranch and Spa, while I was there. My one month became five and then it was off to Spain to do the El Camino de Santiago as a travel companion with one of the guests whoâ€™d returned to Canada in June. During the summer of 2006 a friend from Ireland, who Iâ€™d met in Spain the year before, came to visit in NM and we fished, hiked and explored the White Mountains of AZ. Heâ€™d never slept out in the wild in a tent before, and it was quite an experience, for both of us. My newspaper articles were put on the Internet beginning in 2002. I was asked to give public speaking engagements, photo and video presentations, on various subjects for the library in Deming, NM and continue to do so. In 2006 I videoed and produced a DVD for the Smithsonian Instituteâ€™s travel exhibit â€œBetween Fences.â€ NMFILMS had a conference by invitation only, which I attended. While attending the conference, I realized that film making wasnâ€™t what I wanted to do but I still wanted to use my sixteen years of experience and enjoyment of videoing and photography. During the winter of 2005, I discovered that no one on record had ever run from the Arizona border to the Texas border, a distance of 165 miles. During the spring and summer of 2006 I trained for the run and the run was completed in October, 2006. In late 2005, I began building and maintaining websites incorporating all the things I enjoyed about video, photography, travel and the out of doors. 2007 has been a summer of upgrading the home and property which resulted in a downgrading of my enthusiasm for being located in one place. If we donâ€™t like whatâ€™s happening in our life, we need to change what weâ€™re doing. Celinda and I are ready to pull up roots and move on. I guess Iâ€™ve come full circle. Iâ€™m ready to revert back to my childhood, and a nomadic lifestyle.