Yes, this is the foot (pied) of the pass (port) through which goes the Napoleon Route at the start of this 33 leg route known by Camino de Santiago. Let me give you the view of the albergue where I am staying tonight. It’s a nice space, clean and welcoming, which I’ll be sharing with two roommates from Vermont. I promise more pictures in the future, but I’m still wrestling with some pretty squirrely wifi.

Perhaps you expected me to be posting this afternoon from the Spanish side of the pass, but need for sleep got in the way. I wish now I could have spent more time in Bayonne, where I landed last night way to late to do anything but find an affordable hotel and wait for today to travel the one hour further, by train, to SJPP. When the alarm went off at 6am, urging me to find my way to the train station for an 8am departure, I reset it and went back to sleep. I feel pretty good today, even without a morning cup of coffee, but have to remind myself that although it is after 5pm here, it’s not yet noon in SA. Good morning, y’all!

Got my Pilgrim Passport which will allow me to stay in the numerous public albergues along the way. More importantly, you get a distinctive stamp at each stage of the 33 to get to Santiago de Compostella. I think this gets you a free pass to heaven, or something like that. It’s certainly a memento which will remind me of the experience. But for now the “way” is ahead and I’m looking forward to the challenge and what the experience offers. I just hope I’m alert enough to know what I’m being offered.

For now, I will leave you while I figure out how to get pictures from my phone over to this tablet so I can share them with you couched in my unsolicited prose. Bye for now.

Three legs of air travel ended tonight with arrival at the small airport in Biarritz, FR. Well over 5000 miles are behind me, making the coming 500 on the Camino de Santiago seem reasonable. But can’t celebrate just yet. I’ve got a train to catch first thing in the morning.

I had hopes that when I arrived tonight in Biarritz/Bayonne I would be able to find transportation to St. Jean Pied de Port, but it was just too late and these are relatively small towns. Interesting, because I had anticipated there would be other trekkers arriving on the flight I came in on, from London, and together we’d figure out the logistics of getting to SJPP. A couple of women at the airport helped me get a hotel room, not so nice, not that cheap, but all the other hotels in the immediate area were full. They also checked the train schedule for tomorrow and provided a map for getting to the train station. Previously, I had found it impossible to get info on the trains in this part of France, especially anything going to SJPP. Chat groups were almost universal in saying the service is, at best, unreliable and, at worst, out of service. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.

First train leaves in the morning at 7:42 and arrives in SJPP at 8:40. If I indeed get to SJPP at the advertised time, I will visit the Pilgrim office, get my Pilgrim Passport, pick up some food to munch on, and head on out, hoping to get leg one, through the pass, behind me. Haven’t checked the forecast today, but a day or so ago rain was forecast both Thursday and Friday, with Friday being a greater chance. I would rather take my chances with 40% than 70.

I have to say it’s great to be out of the big cities after a barrage of San Antonio, Austin, DFW and London in succession. Surprisingly, the countryside I saw around London was rolling and green; but I was in airplanes and airports for almost 24 hours straight. I’m ready to get my boots on the ground. Also ready to get some sleep, but not before seeing if I can import a couple of cell phone pictures from the flight over France. It seemed so tranquil.

Oh well, more time to fill this blog with unsolicited advice and comments. I’m just happy the bluetooth keyboard, which was badly misbehaving earlier, has mended its ways and is no longer inserting double letters into practically every word I type. Checked my bag after earlier being told I was too early. Anyone who knows me realizes that is an impossibility, but that’s what happened, on a stack of Bibles. And now the departure board tells those of us flying to Biarritz that they have not yet assigned a gate to that flight – check back in an hour, it says. If I were a duty free guy, I guess I would walk through the impressively large collection of duty free shops here at Luton Airport – but I’m not.

I did accomplish adding London to my life list though it took a lot of walking to find a little spot devoid of asphalt. If you haven’t the slightest what I’m talking about, you haven’t read a previous post. Get with it!
As near as I can tell, Luton (pronounced Lou-ton) is mainly a departure/arrival hub for budget carriers. I’m flying EasyJet from here. That said, it’s a bustling place, with a diversity of races and languages. Speaking of, did you know that they speak English here. Remember that. It may be your ticket to Jeopardy.

In the category of unsolicited travel advice. Be patient. Get there early, though I think I outdid it when putting together this itinerary. The warnings I read advised allowing a minimum of 4 hours to make the transfer from Heathrow to Luton. I was dropped off less than an hour after I boarded the bus. And now I sit with crowds of other waiting people listening for the call to our respective boarding gates. We will all be in far different places than London when we finally arrive.

This will be the first of two passes through London and only a short one this time. Coming back will afford me a bit more time. This reminds me of passing through Prague years ago on the way to Romania. It was my first time in Europe and the stop in Prague was only for refueling of the Russian charter we were on, we being me and my colleagues with the UT Jazz Ensemble. I convinced myself and several other guys in the band that we couldn’t say we had been in Prague until we actually stepped foot on Czech soil. Once we were on the tarmac, under watchful eyes of Communist soldiers, I led the dash to the nearest soil I could see. We made it! We were officially in Czechoslovakia . . . but with 4 or 5 gun toting guards in pursuit. Could they have thought we were looking to defect?

This is all to say I’m not sure, in my jet lagged stupor, if I thought yet to step on London earth or not. Best take care of that before I go through security and have to put an asterisk next to London until I come through in October humming London Again Suite.

Pardon the big marathon reference here, but this is somewhat the feel. Over the past weeks I’ve felt as though I might never see the starting line, not to even speculate on the finish! Now my corral no. 15 has inched up, start by start, within sight of the starting line. It’s getting real. I fly away to London, then Biarritz, FR in a couple of days, embarking from St. Jean Pied de Port on a 500 mile journey which I am still a little reluctant to call a pilgrimage, an attitude sure to change once I’m crossing the Pyrenees by the same route taken by Charlemagne and Napolean in times long ago.

I picked up the Robert MacFarlane book, “The Old Ways”, after having set it aside months ago, and leafed to the chapter in which he examines the practice of walking paths, and why.

He writes: “The words ‘pilgrim’ and ‘pilgrimage’ have become, at least to secular ears, tainted with a tiresome piety. But the people I was meeting on my walks were inspiring and modest improvisors. All were using walking to make meaning for themselves – some simply, some elaborately; some briefly, some life-dominatingly – and I couldn’t find a better name for them than pilgrims.”

I am sure I will learn a great deal on my camino and perhaps will finish comfortable to be called a pilgrim. But now the starting gun is about to sound, and I’ve still a few more miles to go before the official mile zero. I will likely see you next from another time zone.

Good question! I’m in the final dash to get everything done which will allow a clean conscience when I fly away to the Camino de Santiago next week. One of the major tasks at hand is production of sufficient weeks of my radio show, Classics a la Carte (CALC), to fill my Friday 7-9 pm spot on the dial. This does require listening to music, a sure perk of my business of producing classical music programming for radio, and I enjoy the process immensely.

I just finished up another hour of CALC which had me listening to recordings by John Eliot Gardiner. I’ve listened to Maestro Gardiner over the years and decades and he has grown on me. There might have been a time I would have asked what his business was conducting Brahms, Beethoven, and Berlioz, in addition to that other “B” (stands for Bach), but I’m thankful for Gardiner’s persistence and for my finding time to spend with his Revolutionary and Romantic Orchestra, listening to Brahms symphonies in a fresh, new way over these last several days.

But now that the Gardiner/Brahms/Bach hour of programming has been produced I now find myself with a full out John Eliot Gardiner mania going on. It’s such great musicmaking that it’s hard to put it aside so I can get back to the task at hand of producing more segments of CALC.

So why AM I still listening to Bach, hooked in on the Brandenburgs now? Because it’s so much fun, even if the tempi are at times faster than I’m accustomed to. Gardiner and his musicians show such commitment to what they are doing! Don’t even get me started on his Bach Pilgrimage of years ago! And don’t think I haven’t thought of carrying some of that music along on my own “pilgrimage” which is a week away.

OH! And now I find this and a companion disc! Truth is, I’m already planning to carry within my playlist a great deal of Jordi Savall, plus Alicia de Larrocha’s Albeniz and Granados. This, of course, along with my normal running mix of a little of everything. It makes a quite eclectic mix. I won’t be listening to music the whole 33 days of the trek, but when I begin to meet the ghosts of pilgrims past these additions to the playlist may prove just right.

I’m not sure what people are thinking as they see me hiking my neighborhood with loaded backpack and, now the click and clack of a pair of trekking poles. No one has asked yet and most won’t believe me when I tell them I’m about to embark on a 500 mile hike across Spain. I’m reminded of my friend Ron Moore who would always ask the same question when I would say I was training for a marathon. “How long will this marathon be?” he would ask and everytime I would answer 26.2 miles as his face showed he had no idea what the 26.2 mile distance meant. No offense, Ron, if you should ever read this.

With the Camino de Santiago, there are so many meanings that confusion is understandable. I know many take the shortest trek which will earn them their “I did the Camino” credential, the 135 km from Sarria to Santiago. Some start a little further out, but according to some statistics I saw referenced today, most of the pilgrims arriving daily at the Basilica in Santiago, something around 2900 just a few days ago, have walked one of the lesser distances. This is by no means diminishing the accomplishments of those who walk the hundred miles or so in their pilgrimage. But just as many think that a 5k race, or 10k, is a marathon when they are only 1/5 or 1/10 of a true marathon, there’s a difference between trekking 500 miles from St. Jean Pied de Port to Santiago de Compostela and the alternate trek from Sarria to Santiago.

Anyhow, I think 500 miles still is a meaningless distance to many. “Heck, 500 miles don’t even get you to El Paso.” But now, in the interest of transparency, I’m not even sure what 500 miles feels like, taken in 16-18 mile daily doses, and I still don’t have a grasp on this challenge ahead. But what I do know is that in less than two weeks I’m about to take those first steps. Meanwhile, I’m doing what I can to get myself prepared mentally and physically, though most of the answers as to why I’m doing this and whether I am capable of doing it will only come as I put one foot in front of the other, just like in a marathon.

Hey! Wrote this all while sipping my Starbuck’s Americano. My little tablet and bluetooth keyboard blogging kit is testing out A-OK. Now, back to the road and back home. It’s a wonderfully mild summer evening here with a nice breeze. Good night for walking. “Ain’t It a Pretty Night!” Thank you Carlisle Floyd.

Embarkment day is still 10 days away, plenty of time to read posted adventures and advice from the many who have documented their various Caminos, a term which does not necessarily have to mean the Camino de Santiago. I just read an account of a recent “camino” on a route which ties together Sweden and Norway, called St. Olavsleden. I don’t know anything about the trek, but the title of the post says a lot: “St. Olavsleden went South – assumption is the mother of all screw ups.” Here’s a link if you want to read the very well written post:

https://www.caminodesantiago.me/community/threads/st-olavsleden-went-south-assumption-is-the-mother-of-all-screw-ups.57284/

In a nutshell Purky, the writer of the post, bit off more than he and his wife could manage when setting out on their camino from Sundsvall (Sweden) to Trondheim (Norway). “It turned out,” wrote Purky, “that I am a pilgrim, and she is a hiker . . . I can embrace everything the path throws at me because overcoming discomfort and difficulties on the way is an integral . . . part of the path for me.” He continues: “Walking for her is about enjoying nature, culture, meeting people . . . it’s a holiday, for chrissake!”

Needless to say, Purky and his wife failed, victims of ill-made assumptions and disagreeable weather. What made me laugh out loud was toward the end when Purky warns “if someone wants to react to this story, please don’t quote ‘the camino doesn’t give you what you want, it gives you what you need.’ Please!”

I must acknowledge that Purky is a veteran pilgrim, so I don’t mean to make light of his experience with the title of my post – Failure is (not) an option. Rather, I just hope I don’t have to consider plans b, c, d, etc when adversity knocks me to the ground. My running buddy, Paul, knows that I’ll probably just get up and keep walking.

Planning for my Camino de Santiago pilgimage continues in a scattershot sort of way. I’ve been laying things out for weeks now but without much order to it. Today I actually made a small, neat stack of the few clothes I will be taking along. It’s one of the common areas of most packing lists I’ve looked over: 2-3 pairs of underwear, 1-2 pairs of hiking shorts, 1 pair long pants, a few shirts which can be layered when necessary. This is pretty much my normal “uniform” except for rare instances of going out to eat with respectable friends. Never had a meal with me that I wasn’t dressed in hiking shorts and a running tee? I guess that makes you less than respectable and probably a good friend.

I am resisting throwing into the pack a down vest, though I may regret it on some of those upper 40s mornings. Perhaps the chill will incentivize me to get my feet onto the camino, or to find a sunny spot to sit and sip coffee. OK. Clothes. Not finished yet. Two pairs of socks, sandals for wearing once I’m off the path for the day, a hat, and because many have suggested it, a pair of light gloves and a warm cap for offsetting the chill.

There will definitely be some rainy days, so the poncho I carry will earn its keep and I will be thankful, I’m sure, for the water resistance of my boots and good quality socks. The poncho will also keep the pack dry.

Planning what to take is, I suppose, time and effort well spent. Poring over maps, lists of albergues, etc. is interesting, but to a large extent meaningless until I get there. It’s not like an orchestra tour, where every detail has to be negotiated in advance. Besides, that’s always been taken care of by management, and I’m fortunate to have always had good people taking care of such details for me. This pilgrimage will have a bit more of a follow your nose feel about it – or maybe better said, follow the scallop markers which show the way. Considering I arrive late into St. Jean Pied de Port after two days travel, I will try to make some sort of reservation ahead of time. But beyond that, I’ll hope for the best, that there are few “no room in the inn” crises to deal with over the subsequent evenings, weeks of them.

So, that’s where I am now as the final 12 days or so tick off before I present my passport and boarding pass at the airport. Those days will offer me less and less time to plan, so I’m at least glad to have wardrobe figured out and that it essentially means to carry on with the familiar clothes I wear day to day, week to week, month to month. It may seem boring, but it seems awfully comfortable to me.

Still trekking with gear on my back, I think pretty close to the load I will carry on the Camino de Santiago. Great late afternoon for this walk though the sun will be down by the time I’m back to the car. That’s OK, but I will keep this post short as it is mostly just shaking out the tech things I need to be familiar with for blogging from Spain. Hope everyone who is signed up is getting these posts, or at least seeing them on FB. If you don’t care, then you don’t have to pay attention, but I’ve had enough wanting to track along with my 500 mile adventure that I want you to know this blog will be the likely lifeline.

OK. Gotta go. My feet want to keep moving.