(Roncesvalles to Viskarret:  19,000 steps)

Joshua 1:1-9
v. 9 Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Three times in this passage God told Joshua to “be strong and courageous,” and he says it to us too. Are you tired? Be strong. Shoulders hurt? Be courageous. “And don’t forget,” says the Lord, “I will be with you wherever you go.”

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At 6 am Maurice’s phone alarm went off, gentle harp chords. He did not hear it. I leaned over the bunk to hiss at him. He couldn’t find the phone. Then he couldn’t find the off button. But it didn’t matter. The Spanish wives were already in high gear.

Maurice went down to the basement to retrieve our laundry. It still wasn’t dry and select items were starting to smell moldy. Fortunately we hadn’t washed yesterday’s outer garments so we could wear them again. We started to get ready for the day and pack up. Obviously we don’t know what we’re doing, because by the time we were ready to go down and collect our hiking shoes from the boot room (meaning the packs had to be redone there to include our other footwear once we put on the hiking shoes), everyone else in our dorm was gone.

leaving the monastery albergue at Roncesvalles

Breakfast was available from seven at a nearby restaurant. When we got there at 7:30 the room was in disarray and cleared out. That was OK. We got all the leftover pitchers of orange juice from the nearby tables. We had signed up for the restaurant with the deluxe breakfast, which meant that along with yesterday’s bread, toasted hard and served with packets of butter and jam, we also got a muffin, an apple, a few slices of sheep cheese (which I cannot eat) and ham (pleasantly edible). A French couple soon arrived and I got to practice my French, which always makes Maurice happy. By the time I finished chewing enough hard toast to get me through the morning, and we brushed our teeth, and we posed for pictures by the road sign announcing the distance to Santiago de Compostela, and we started walking, it was 8:50.

The path went through pretty woods and countryside, up and down, and through two little towns, Burguete and Espinal. Then it was up to the Alto de Mezquirez, only 955 meters. I was really tired and my shoulders hurt. Even though we had gone less than twelve km, Maurice agreed that we could stop in the next little town, Viskarret, where there seemed to be a nice and inexpensive pension. Completo, said the sign in its window.

We walked back to the casa rural advertised by an old man handing out leaflets a short way back to select pilgrims who look like they can’t go on. We went in the casa to inquire and a solicitous woman immediately poured us pineapple juice, actually cold from the refrigerator. How could we walk away, even though it was a bit of a splurge? I was so tired. In short order we ate our lunch on the patio, hung our wet laundry in the breezy sunshine, showered, napped, got a few things at the local grocery store and settled down to draw or write. Our hostess cooked us a lovely supper which we shared with Ria and Ler from Finland, Ella from Switzerland and Kristoff from Germany. The last two had walked all the way from St. Jean today! As the conversation continued, we discovered that Kristoff had set off on his walk from his front door in Nurnberg eighty days ago. He especially enjoyed the Le Puy route through France, where Ella had joined him. He supports himself by writing a blog about his travels that has thousands of paying customers. Since he seemed to be an expert walker, I asked him if carrying the pack would ever get easier and he assured me it would. How long? Maybe a week, and Ella agreed. I keep thinking of Moses’ words to the Israelites: God led you in the wilderness “to humble you and to test you.” Am I going to pass?

Most of the laundry was dry, and we spread the remainder around the room. We sat our yogurt for the next day on the porch to chill, turned out the lights and slept soundly.