St. Jean Pied de Port

Scripture reading: Exodus 12:31-39, 13:20-22
v. 34 So the people took their dough before the yeast was added, and carried it on their shoulders in kneading troughs wrapped in clothing.

The Israelites had to leave in a hurry (v. 33) and didn’t have time to plan their journey, but they had a lot to take with them: flocks and herds, clothing, treasures of gold and silver (v. 32, 35-36). They needed lunch, too, but without time to prepare anything they just grabbed their unleavened dough (v. 39). How did they manage to transport everything they had to take with them? “They had carts,” said Maurice (he saw the movie). Well, maybe they had some, but probably not one per family; some things would have had to be carried. “So they took their unleavened dough and carried it on their shoulders,” and not just the dough but the kneading troughs too, everything wrapped in extra clothing, with perhaps some special pieces of gold and silver stashed inside the bundles. How heavy was all that, and how awkward? I don’t suppose they had internal frame backpacks in lightweight tech fabric to move the load onto their hips. And how far is it from Rameses to Sukkoth? No idea (and no internet to find out). Yet they managed, all 600,000 men of them, with their families. Surely I can manage carrying my carefully selected and fitted pack with its agonized-over and tediously weighed contents. “That’s nothing,” said Army first sergeant Eric when he picked up Maurice’s loaded pack the other day, and mine is several pounds lighter. Sheila came over on Saturday and helped us make sure the packs were adjusted properly. So we should be able to do this. But on the flight from Frankfurt to Toulouse we met Kiwis Yvonne and Fred. They recognized that we were walking somewhere by our sturdy footwear. Their packs are so small they don’t even have a waist belt. “Just two of everything,” said Yvonne when I commented admiringly. But they don’t have sleeping bags, and I don’t think they have extra shoes, and probably neither they nor any other pilgrims have the pounds of tech gear we have. What else do we have that takes up so much space and weight? A few toiletries, a first aid kit, rain jackets, fleece vests and lightweight gloves (and a pair of tights for me) for colder days as we progress, and one half-pound guidebook. Well, plus a tech towel each and 17-gram washcloths (half the weight of a normal one!), and our standard vitamins and my thyroid pills (with backups, so we can have some in both packs). I have a small notebook with two pens (an extravagance) and Maurice has a plastic bag with a few art supplies. And we have flip-flops for albergue floors and showers of uncertain sanitation (my flips are only 104 grams). Lord, thank you for your provision for our pilgrimage. Please give us strength for the journey and wisdom to know what to cast aside and leave behind.

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Dinner on the plane was usual airline food but it came with wine and Bailey’s. We arrived in Frankfurt 11pm/5 am. At the end of the flight to Toulouse we retrieved our boxes with the backpacks, unscathed. My, the packs seemed heavy! Of course the poles are attached and we haven’t slept much. Maurice led us to the bus depot; he had looked at it on Google Earth before we left and knew where it was. We got to la gare through morning traffic. I inquired whether we could change our tickets from the 12:30 train to the 10:30. The clerk blabbed on at length. My French skills have plummeted and I was clueless, hearing neither a yes nor a no. It turned out we could just use them as is, no change necessary (even though the e-tickets we printed at home said “valid for this train only”). And it was so, as the ticket taker on the train didn’t bat an eye. When we got to Bayonne about 2 pm the little station was filled with people wearing backpacks, which surprised me, though I don’t suppose it should have. It was hot. The toilettes were out of order and locked up tight. I wandered the streets out front, discovering the lovely Gothic interior of a nondescript church building, until I got enough nerve to just walk into one of the restaurant/bars and look for the loo, getting back to the station before Maurice got too panicky. We found seats together on the next train, hot and filled with pilgrims.

We got off in St John Pied de Port, the end of the line. So did everyone else. Maurice, having looked at the map at home, knew right where to go, and we walked around corners and uphill to the Errecaldia B&B, our home for two nights.

Errecaldia B&B

We have a lovely corner room with a canopy bed and our own bathroom, though no screens on the windows (and certainly no AC). After a brief rest we walked around town a bit, found the view of the bridge I’d seen so many pictures of, and sat down at a busy corner cafe for dinner. Maurice got a calzone and I ordered the pilgrim menu–vegetable soup, roast chicken, pommes frites, and 1/4 liter of wine, with gateau Basque for dessert (a flat little cake with delicious almond cream filling). We also ordered water, which came in a bottle. I asked our waiter for another glass, since I wanted both wine and water. “Non, non,” said the waiter. “You are a pilgrim.” And he didn’t get me another glass. (He didn’t get a tip either.)