I've been sort of biased against cyclists for a long time. My first encounter with Camino cyclists was in 2001. They were either Italian or Spanish. We saw at least 50 of them during the course of the trip. They were loud, stinky, rude, and Matt will swear to this day that one of them stole his watch somewhere in the León portion of our excursion. Cyclists have been a rare sight on this trip, and the first cyclist we encountered was not only incredibly attractive, but also very well mannered and seemed to appreciate the value of a shower. The second one we encountered made up for that.
He's about 70. At least that's how old he looks. He's missing his front teeth and smokes like a 1970's era Pinto. He REEKED. And Carrie got to sleep in the bunk above him in Deba. He wandered around the albergue in his undies and a shirt (the thought makes me cringe still), and when he finally turned in for the night, began emitting the foulest odors I've ever smelled in my life. And then he started grunting and moaning in his sleep. I thought there was hand to hand combat going on in the bunk next to me at 3am. By the time we got up at 5:30, it was all I could do not to gag. I had to get out of that place. It smelled like something died. Thank God he's doing at least twice the mileage we are each day.
Today was supposed to be the hardest day of the entire hike across the Spanish Basque country. It was a hilly route that reached one of the highest altitudes we'll see on the entire Camino. The hospitalero in Deba was pretty dire about his explanation for the day and made it clear that things were going to get rough. Annie is getting blisters and has friction brusies on her back from the pack she's carrying. Carrie's boots are starting a pressure wound on her right leg, making it pretty painful for her to walk at all, and anything downhill is sort of out of the question. My asthma has been acting up because of the cold, damp places we've been staying (yes, Mom, I have my inhalers with me), and my pack has been putting pressure on a weird spot in my back that makes my leg go just numb enough that it hurts like hell. We're really pretty right now. We mentally prepared ourselves last night for a seriously painful day.
And then it wasn't. Annie still has blisters and tender spots on her back, but she made it down the mountain reasonably intact, despite the sharp descent (read: cliff we practically skied down) at the end. My iPod stayed charged for the entire day, and my pack and I sort of made peace with each other to the point that I was actually comfortable at the end of the day.
Carrie wins the bad ass award for the day. She knew she couldn't put her boots back on and make it to Markina-Xemein, so Annie offered up her Keen flip flops as replacement shoes. With no better option, Carrie took the flip flops that are 3 sizes too big and hiked up a mountain. With an enormous backpack. Several mountains, actually. She made it to the albergue in rare form, exhausted and hungry, but intact, and in much better shape than she'd been in the 3 days prior. She is my hero.
Unfortunately, the hot water heater was on the fritz at the Carmelite monastary where we stayed last night. We got resourceful and heated up a few tea kettles for bath time. We managed to knock a little of the nasty off ourselves, but we'll be due for a real shower tomorrow. We had the good fortune of another welcoming hospitalero who couldn't do enough for us. He got up in the middle of his lunch to put water on the stove for us to bathe, insisted on washing our dinner dishes for us, and was full of helpful information. I can't get over how nice everyone has been to us over the last week - it's sort of humbling how willing people have been to help us with even our most trivial requests.
I need to learn French, stat. We spent our 3rd night with the delightful Belgian woman, and I really wish I could talk to her. Carrie can sort of understand her every once in awhile, and she and I work through very rudimentary conversations involving lots of gesticulating and nodding. Today we looked at pictures of her adorable grandchildren (I was sort of shocked that she's a grandmother - I hope I have her legs when I'm that age), and giggled in the corner when a group of cranky Germans from the albergue in Deba made a repeat appearance in our albergue today. Carrie thinks she called the crankiest one a witch in French, but we can't be sure. Regardless, I sort of want to pack her up and take her with me. She rocks.
There's a Japanese guy who we've seen almost nightly since San Sebastian. He has been travelling through Europe and Asia for the last two years. I was floored when I heard that. He wanted to see the world, but didn't have enough vacation time at his job to travel, so he quit his job with the intention of travelling for three months. Three months turned into six, then nine, and two years later he's still going. Last night he was telling us about Yemen. Completely fascinating.
Observation: We 3 Americans like to stop for snack breaks. Europeans like to stop for smoke breaks. It is absolutely BEYOND me how these people can scale some of the ridiculous mountains we've been climbing after a cigarette. Insanity.
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