I saw someone remarking some time ago of “yes, another XII Century church” and I suppose it may get monotonous in some way. So allow me to say that I currently sit in the shadow of Iglesia San Andres, thought to have been built in the mid XII Century. I don’t know I will have a chance to go inside, but I am certainly enjoying the massive bells ringing on the hour and quarter hour. I keep my recorder handy but usually by the time it boots up, the bells have finished their ringing. Neverthelss, this will not deter me from recording a wide range of bells, not only church bells, but the bells tied around the necks of sheep, cattle, and horses. I’ve got them all.

This is day four of walking to Santiago de Compostela and my body begins to weary. There’s been a different challenge every day and tomorrow begins with stoney uphill track to a peak topped by a huge steel cross. Along the ridge which ascends to the peak is an array of wind turbines. They seem to be taunting Don Quixote or any other latter day clone to try his lance on them. The steep uphill is followed, according to the guide book, a steeper downhill which finally mellows out as it arrives at where I would have liked to arrive today.

It was not to be. I needed to stick around Pamplona to absorb its atmosphere a few hours more. Maybe I needed another night there, but I decided to keep moving after getting a Spanish sim card installed into my phone. Seems to be working fine, though I haven’t tried to use the phone as a phone. Maybe sometime later.

I still had thoughts I might make it a little further along, but things went awry. I’m glad the blame is not on the Gitana whom I skirted around after a Spanish gentleman gave me warning with the finger to the eye – danger ahead – signal. Haven’t seen that since Mexico, but the situation reminded me of a time in Florence back in 1993 when the Gitana managed to pick my passport out of a fanny pack. I wasn’t about to allow that again.

All I can say is that it would be pointless for you to ask me “Do you know the way to San Jose?” or any other place. I’m admitting it. I have a talent for getting lost, losing my way, and even Google Maps didn’t help. I had just congratulated myself on following the Camino signs so carefully, had even stopped to take a picture of one so I could brag later. That’s when I missed one as I was leaving Pamplona. I became nervous when I hadn’t seen one in quite a long while, so I turned around. A group of young university looking people came around the corner, with packs on their backs. I thought surely they were pilgrims like me, but whatever their quest was wasn’t mine. They landed at a large outdoor table in front of a restaurant. I admitted to them I was lost, so someone immediately called up a map on their phone and said “go this way and you’ll find the Camino.”

Their advice to go “this way” didn’t seem to be working. I had doubts but wasn’t ready yet to hail a cab. I could see the windmills in the distance, and the cross high atop a peak, so I knew I had to go that direction. But still I was flummoxed and losing courage. I just wanted to see one of those signs for the Camino, or someone ahead of me carrying a backpack. That’s when a police car pulled up. I told them I was lost. Donde esta el Camino? I asked. One guy jumped out of the car and said “Mira.” He pointed a direction. Go that way past “dos puentes” and you will find the path. I walked and walked, searching for that second bridge.

I guess my distress was sending out an SOS, for a young college girl named Gloria came along and asked if she could help me. She actually walked me to the next sign, not quite holding my hand, but certainly reassuring. “Thank you. Gracias,” I said. She replied “Buen Camino” as I went my way and she her’s. That’s the way my day went. How was yours?