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Camino de Santiago, Day 1 | From Saint Jean Pied de Port to Roncesvalles

~ 24.9 km

By Noemi NemethPublished 5 years ago 7 min read
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Orrison at 800m

So it begins…

I still can’t believe that I took the first steps, did the first kilometers, experienced the first uphill and the first dead point already. Like 3 times. So with this, I would like to wish a Happy Birthday to Me—something to remember for sure.

2nd of May, big 30th and the 1st day of my Camino

I remember everybody was like, oh yea it’s a bit challenging but not too crazy, everybody can do it. Lie.

Ok, fine… every year, over 250,000 people from all over the world walking on the Camino Frances, which is the main path across Spain. 800 km from Saint Jean Pied de Port to Santiago de Compostela, plus 87 km to Fisterra. And in the end, I did it, yes, so you can too… but still…

What I’m sayin’ is, it’s not as easy and it’s not a cotton candy-bubblegum joy as I was previously reading it in articles… And while I was dying somewhere in the middle of the Pyrenees, I decided that on my blog I will tell the real deal…

My way

… And Bitch, it’s rough.

I thought that I’m kinda fit. I go to the gym, work those legs and booty—obviously. I like running, a good hour is just a warm-up for me. At work, I had the step-counter in my pocket and a shift was like 15-17 km of running around. I thought I would fucking DESTROOOY this challenge. Well, I didn’t. It destroyed my ego—big time—during the first 2 days and a couple times after.

During breakfast, the hospitalero (a host along the path) already told us, "Buen Camino, and no pressure but Roncesvalles is already full." Everywhere. There wasn’t much I could do about it then since I haven’t booked anything for that night… Plus I just couldn’t believe that there’s absolutely no bed left at all. So holding on to this spirit, at 8 in the morning, I met Angie, Flavia, and Sam from Liverpool—what a small world, I’m living in Manchester. I got my first birthday wishes and we took a deep breath and…

… started to walk.

We discussed if anyone wanted to go slower or faster it would be fine, we would catch up later. Everybody should enjoy and do their own path and speed.

The weather was pretty bad; it was raining, dark foggy grey and cold—it felt like I ended up in fucking England again. I didn’t sign up for this, I mean… Spain?!… Hello?!

We saw snow guys. SNOW.

But even like this, I was really enjoying the first few hundred meters, and then all of a sudden I started to feel the uphill coming.

Unfair though that on the pictures nothing looks as bad as it was in real life

After 2 km I thought I would die. That’s when I hit the rock bottom for the first time. The view was amazing up there, but my energy level dropped and I started to feel my backpack—waaay too early for these kinds of things.

… Another 4 km till Orisson.

I don’t even remember how I crawled up there, seriously. I had lunch with Angie and Cindy, and Flavia was like Road Runner *beep beep*, nowhere near to be seen; she probably already reached Santiago. I got my first ever camino bocadillo with chorizo, cafe con leche and of course zumo de naranja—the essence of all the meals here pretty much, after the vine.

The weather was still awful. By this time, you could see nothing further than a few meters, the fog was massive, rainy and super cold. I was freezing…

Meanwhile, according to Google, the view from Orisson should’ve been like this:

... well mine was like this:

Enjoyable, right?

I’m not saying I was disappointed so far, 'cause that would be a harsh big word to say, but maybe I was a bit…

Sam stayed there, and she suggested maybe we should too, but I felt like it was too early to stop, so we said Buen Camino, see you later, but sadly, this was the last time I saw her. We carried on. And on. And on. At one point I was so tired, cold and sad that I just sat down on a piece of wood thinking about how much I failed.

I think it was right here, so crazy to look at it…

I’m not gonna lie, and looking back on it—now that I finished it and am sitting back home—it’s crazy and sad, but right there at that moment somewhere in the Pyrenees, I felt like I couldn't do it. I don’t want this, and this was a stupid idea and I want to go back to Paris. I had no idea where Angie and Flavia or actually anyone I already knew at least a little bit was… I was in a very dark and negative moment. I was actually planning how to quit. Thoughts were running through my mind about how to reorganize my tickets, 'cause from Santiago I had to go to Madrid, from Madrid to Budapest. How and what should I do, and what will people think when I admit to them that I failed?

And then all of a sudden Cindy appeared, like an energized pink rainbow unicorn from the grey dark foggy tunnel.

"Are you okay?"

"No."

Her energy was unbelievable ;she was there with me for a few minutes and then made me stand up from my sad ass and made me carried on.

"Come on, we will sing and celebrate your birthday on the fucking top of the hill, and that’s special."

And from that moment I got stuck with her, or she got stuck with me, I don’t know, but spoiler alert:

We finished the Camino together.

Col de Lepoeder, the top – 1429 m.

We were so happy, 'cause we didn’t know that the 5 km long downhill part that was coming would be a bumpy ride as well. There’s 2 way down, one is through the woods with a very rocky path, the other is 800 m longer but much easier apparently. Well, we ended up in the fucking woods, of course. To be honest, the visibility was kind of zero and I didn’t even realize where a turn to the other easier path was. I didn’t even see when we crossed the French-Spanish border, although there should have been a rock there saying Navarra. There was an emergency point in the woods somewhere with a map, and that’s when we realized…

Bienvenido a España (Welcome to Spain)… Apparently.

It was really rocky, slippery and dark, and it felt like we were shooting the new Blair Witch Project. And to top all the good vibes, we started to hear a baby crying. I know, so cliché and you are not believing it right now as you read it, I wouldn’t either… but yes, we heard a baby screaming somewhere in the woods. Cindy was like, "Please tell me it’s not a baby left behind in a basket…" Both burst out laughing, but fuck…

Well no, in few hundred meters we saw a hiker couple with a baby carriage or stroller or whatever it’s called walking the Camino de Santiago with their 10 months old baby. They gave up a bit right there in the woods I guess, but I totally understood why.

But of course, the story is not quite ready to end yet…

Finally, we arrived to the albergue (hostel) and the number of people there was crazy, but it was already full. So my dreams of a relaxed evening ended pretty fast. The hospitalero said that everything was full in Roncesvalles, so we had to go to the next town, maybe they have something. We met a guy before Clemens. He arrived earlier, so he was lucky; he got a bed here. Flavia appeared finally and later on Angie too. And people kept coming. It was uncontrollable after a while, so the hospitaleros started to call taxis and literally sent us away to the next available hostels. We took a taxi 'cause it was literally impossible for me to walk anymore. The driver stopped in many hostels, and everything was full, and then, thank fuck, he found a place for us to stay in Espinal—3 km after Roncesvalles. I wasn’t happy to skip a bit like this from the next day’s walk but whatever 'cause it felt like one of the most amazing thing ever when I saw my bed finally. I didn’t even care anymore about the mixed dorm. Whatever, just don’t snore.

It was a nice evening with great company. During dinner, I met my other Camino sister Marianne from Canada, guys from the US, a Brazilian, another from Taiwan, a group of Spaniards, an English girl, a Dutch man, a Chinese couple and many more… I was just looking around and smiling. All these different people from every corner of the world. Unbelievable. And we were all there to end a horrible day with good food...

... my birthday dinner, actually

... and a few bottles of wine. That’s the Spanish way I guess… I’m so happy I made it. All the bad moments were gone and forgotten as soon as I arrived to the albergue…

I felt like I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else now, I wouldn’t wanna spend my birthday differently. Not at all.

I am where I should be

I don’t wanna go home anymore.

See you tomorrow,

Buen Camino,

Noemi

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About the Creator

Noemi Nemeth

Hungarian travel writer based in Manchester, England

Infatuated with Spain and Latin America

Currently walking the Camino de Santiago

www.theworldthroughmyglasses.org

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