Day 2: Orisson to Rochesvalles

The was the hardest, happiest hike I've ever taken. Leaving the albergue early in the morning as the sun was just breaking over the peaks was utterly awesome. It was brutally windy, however, and higher I hiked, the windier it got. At the Virgin of the Clouds I had to huddle behind a rock just to catch my breath out of the wind.

Communal dinner at Orisson 

Pilgrims were spread out along twelve miles of trail, far above tree line. A Brazilian hiker, Milton, was celebrating his 70th birthday on the Camino. He hiked very slowly but smiled and waved to me from ridge to ridge. We had lunch together with another pilgrim who sang Happy Birthday in Portuguese! We spoke no common language but at 5500 feet, words were not needed to have a party!

Milton's 70th birthday at 5500 feet! 

I logged a red kite and formations of griffon Vultures and a few life bird dances! The semi-wild Basque Navorra ponies were everywhere, each herd watched over by an attentive stallion. At one point a herd blocked the trail, refusing to move. A pilgrim traffic jam formed! These are prized horses, bred for a thousand years to survive the brutal Pyrenees winters. Some horses are rounded up for work in the valley fields. Herders ride them to follow the main herds through the steep country.

Basque Navorra stallion, wearing his bell.

A mother and foal navigate a steep hillside with ease.

The winds were unrelenting. As the line of pilgrims approached the pass, the highest point on the mountain crossing at 6000' it was hard to stay upright. Some hikers dropped to all fours and scrambled through the pass. I was happy to be standing at the top. Cheers went up as resting pilgrims encouraged those still climbing. It was a thrilling moment to stand at the summit pass!

Hikers approaching the pass.

At the top we rested, about twenty pilgrims, but after a few minutes we had to move or risk being blown off! The trail followed the ridge for three miles, then began a descent towards the village monastery at Rochesvalles. Seven hours later we were off the mountain and descending towards the bells of the church, exhausted and breathless.

An old shepherd hut now serves as emergency shelter on the summit.

This section of the Camino is a dangerous trek. Every year there are rescues, often involving helicopters and high altitude rescue teams. Some hikers, unfortunately, make poor decisions to attempt this section in poor weather. Some perish. Pilgrims have been making the trek for hundreds of years, a test of faith and resilience like no other. Today's modern equipment, however, offers a false sense of safety and maybe over-confidence. I'm happy we had excellent weather!

Day 1: SJPP to Orisson

I met my Camino family today in St. Jean Pied du Port, France! I stayed a beautiful albergue, owned and managed by Josef and family. The place, like most of the old walled city, was built during the early Medieval period. Huge beams of oak, harvested in the 900s, loomed over my head in my top bunk. A quick nap to help with jet lag, then the call to dinner! Introductions for twenty people, then a communal meal.

At the table my new Camino family.

Albergue Beilari

Next morning I woke early and started my climb into the Pyrenees. It was wickedly steep walking. One of the people i was following became quite sick hours into the walk. It was all he could do to take a step at a time. The road was like climbing steep stairs for miles and miles. I stopped often to catch my breath, scan the skies for birds, and take pictures.

Six miles of steep walking took four hours!

The Pyrenees surrounded us, hundreds of pilgrims streaming up into high peaks, most having started at SJPP, some having walked from as far as Munich, Paris, and Rome. We were in Basque country - fiercely independent and rooted to the earth. This is not France nor Spain, I was informed by one Basque hiker. These mountains have been home for thousands of years, long before France or Spain were even imagined.

A land of shepherds, a land of the Celts, Euskadi.

I took breaks every hundred steps trying to catch my breath. Many people just strode upward, many more struggled. The sick pilgrim, now far below, was advised to turn back. Pilgrims passed word up the mountain that he insisted on continuing . I learned today (three days later as I write this post in Zubiri ) that the man, in his forties, collapsed at Orisson and died. But at the time of my own climb, news of his condition was being passed forward: Pray for this pilgrim. Offer him help to come off the mountain.