Well, we went a while without an update, sorry about that! And I've got my own computer back, which means you get a monster update for the final chapter of this Camino saga. Make yourself a sandwich, this might take a while.
I did it. It sends huge chills and shivers of awe and wonder through me to even think those three words, much less say them out loud. Makes me smile uncontrollably and hang my head in reverence for what I've accomplished. I walked the Camino Frances from start to finish. Eight hundred kilometers, thirty days from one end of Spain to the other, all one step at a time. I walked up and over the Pyrennes, along the path of the Encerrio in Pamplona, through endless fields of grapevines and vineyards in Rioja, across the flat, vast, dry, hot expanse of the Meseta, along the streets of Leon with balconies exploding with pink and purple flowers, through the fog and rain in the mountains of Galicia, and finally, after days and weeks of sometimes excruciating walking, I made it to Santiago de Compostella.
You can read the story of the Camino all over my body. From my puffy, stiff, calloused and blistered feet; to the slow, measured, pained way I walk; to the way I push myself up out of my seat with my hands to avoid putting undue strain on my knees; to my thin stomach and gaunt cheeks; to the tan on my arms, legs and neck and my long, sun bleached hair. The Camino certainly took its toll, and after the thrill of finally having made it to Santiago faded I was overcome with a sudden, incredible weariness.
Turning the corner and finally seeing the cathedral in Santiago for the first time, where the Camino officially ends, was nothing short of incredible. They say that it's the journey and not the destination that matters with these sorts of things, but reaching the end point of my pilgrimage, this thing that I had been walking towards for over four weeks, was just unreal. It made every 6 AM wake up, every tight and unyielding muscle, every limp at the end of a 40 kilometer day worth it. The last 20 kilometers that I had to walk that day were some of the hardest of the entire trip, and I just plodded my way along for the whole way. The psychological effect of being so close to the end and knowing that I was almost finished really sapped my energy. All of that disappeared when I saw the facade of the cathedral for the first time. It was even bigger than I imagined it, and had such a grand and awe inspiring presence, full of statues and pillars and pinnacles and towers and facades, all of it over 800 years old. I walked the last few steps to a staircase close by, sat down hard and just looked at it, an indescribable feeling swelling in my chest, grinning like an idiot and shaking my head and getting funny looks from everybody walking by. I swear I almost cried, but just as all those beautiful emotions were reaching their peak a gypsy came up shaking a cup and asking for money. Sorta brought me back down to earth, but didn't disturb the atmosphere too much.
And what did I do it for? What kept me going for those 30 days? How did I bring myself to get up so early every morning and hobble out the door of the albergue to the next village? Why didn't I just hop on a bus and head to Madrid or Barcelona or Sevilla and spend what precious, limited time I have left in Europe doing something comfortable and relaxing? Sometimes even my fellow pilgrims didn't understand why I was doing the Camino, since it's hard enough just to get over to Europe as an American and there's so much else to see.
I guess at first I wanted to do something really special to finish this year and bring everything to a close. I've grown and changed and learned and experienced so much ever since September last year when I first arrived in Cologne, fresh off the airplane and totally ignorant of what these past 358 days would be like. It seemed like a good way to finish an adventure like the one I've had--a pilgrimage, not just a backpacking trip, but a journey with a meaning behind it, a reason and tradition and spirit.
At least that was the conception I had of the Camino before I went into it. I had no idea how physically challenging it would be. Sure, I've done weekend backpacking trips with backpacks that were three times as heavy as the one I had on the Camino, but the Camino is no simple backpacking trip, it's a marathon. The endless walking day after day really wore on me, and even after day one my legs were in terrible condition. My first 100 kilometers took me just over four days to complete, which is very slow, but it was an incredible feat at the time, one I celebrated with a long breakfast in Cirauqui. Initially I wanted to walk the whole way of course, but with all the difficulties I was having I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it. I slowed down my pace, falling short of my 25 kilometer goal almost every day, and eventually I came to tell myself, "OK, it'll be great if you can walk this whole thing, but if it's just too hard then you can take a bus to make up for lost time. No shame."
And so the importance of the Camino as a pilgrim's path faded for me. It changed into something I did for the pleasure of it rather than the sacrifice. I wasn't really a pilgrim, I was a sightseer, a tourist. But as I continued walking the power of the thing took hold of me. As I walked I met some amazing, committed people, pilgrims and hospitaleros alike. People who had sacrificed so much time and who had sometimes planned for the Camino for years, who had started literally from their front doors in the Netherlands and France and Austria and who had been walking for months. I stayed in a number of parochial albergues in the backs of cathedrals and churches and monasteries, and felt such love and respect from the volunteers who worked there--hospitaleros who weren't in it to game you for your money, but who wanted to make sure you were as comfortable and taken care of as humanly possible. After spending a couple of weeks on the Camino and really discovering the heart and soul of it I decided to finally give the it it's due. To walk every single painstaking and brutal kilometer and and pay the respect to it that it deserves.
The reward of reaching the end has been incomparable. Knowing that I was capable all along of walking the whole thing from beginning to end, meeting so many wonderful people from so many different countries and walks of life and being able to hear their stories, turning the corner of that alley and seeing the cathedral and feeling that incredible rush of knowing that I'd done it, that made every centimeter, every pained step of this journey worth it, and I am so glad that I had the chance to experience it.
And that, as they say, is that! I hope you enjoyed reading, I enjoyed writing it down. With the end of the Camino de Santiago my travels are over, and on Tuesday I'll finally be flying back to the USA after a year away. Until next time my friends :)
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Camino day 24 and kilometer 600
Here we are at the home stretch of this thing finally. I've only got six days left on this whole adventure, and as of this afternoon only about 180 kilometers left until I reach Santiago de Compostela. Like always, the idea of stopping is a little strange. For the past month and a half I've constantly been on the move, living out of a backpack, seeing and tasting and breathing in all of these beautiful places that I would have otherwise never seen. Speaking in a crazy mix of English, German, and a bizarre pidgin Spanglish to get around in Spain when I can't use either of the first two. Meeting people from all over the world with a million different stories. On one hand it's sad to think of it all coming to an end, especially in the sense that once I'm finished with the Camino it's going to be time for me to finally go back to Utah and the USA after living for a year on this amazing continent, but on the other hand it's going to be nice. I think I'm finally reaching the limits of what my body is capable of. I've THOUGHT that I've reached my limits plenty of times in the past three weeks of course, but this morning the Weariness plunged to a whole new depth. I stopped ten kilometers short of my goal today, and was dragging some serious ass down the trail all day, barely able or willing to take photos of or even look at all of the amazing scenery I was plodding my way through.
But the Camino is, of course, constantly leaving me awestruck and bewundert with every passing day. I had heard before getting to Galicia that this is the most beautiful part of the Camino, and that has aboslutely proven to be true. As I walk up and over and through these mountains and hillsides covered with vinyards and these beautiful little towns I'm getting flashes of what I thought it would be like before leaving. For a vast majority I'm walking on nice dirt trails, far removed from the highway and civilization, with vast, sweeping views of the mountains around me after every turn. It has really been some of the best scenery of the whole trip, and it's been a great way to bring the Camino to a close.
For the most part the new pilgrims aren't disturbing the experience as much as I thought they would. Sure, you can tell who are the novices and who are the experienced pilgrims almost instantly when you see them, but I'm trying to avoid getting snotty about it. I can't help the occasional "Yep, too much stuff in your backpack terrible shoes waist strap is too low and you're walking too fast" thought flashing through my head, and the atmosphere on the Camino itself is a lot less personal than it was before León (not to mention more crowded), but fortunately the albergues are still the same as always. You have to get there pretty early in the day sometimes, but the people you're sharing the albergue with, whether they've been walking 60 kilometers or 600, are still as friendly and open and inviting as they've ever been.
Met some funny characters too, one Italian in particular. I don't know his name, I refer to him as Bacchus in my head. For the past three days or so we've been staying at all the same hostels, and he seems to be intent on being as loud and drunk and merry as he possibly can at all times of the day. One night, when I was sitting at a table with a bunch of Spaniards and Italians, he was constantly refilling glasses from a big jug of wine he had with him. When he got to my glass he'd yell "Hey! America boy! Italian Style!!!" each time, at one point taking me by the shoulders and putting me back on the bench with the others when I tried to go back inside, despite my polite yet forceful protestations that I'd had quite enough Italian Style and just wanted to go to sleep. When he walks he has a big Italian flag that he flies from his walking staff, and he shouts "Italia Numero Uno!" to everybody he sees on the street. Interesting guy to be sure.
But the Camino is, of course, constantly leaving me awestruck and bewundert with every passing day. I had heard before getting to Galicia that this is the most beautiful part of the Camino, and that has aboslutely proven to be true. As I walk up and over and through these mountains and hillsides covered with vinyards and these beautiful little towns I'm getting flashes of what I thought it would be like before leaving. For a vast majority I'm walking on nice dirt trails, far removed from the highway and civilization, with vast, sweeping views of the mountains around me after every turn. It has really been some of the best scenery of the whole trip, and it's been a great way to bring the Camino to a close.
For the most part the new pilgrims aren't disturbing the experience as much as I thought they would. Sure, you can tell who are the novices and who are the experienced pilgrims almost instantly when you see them, but I'm trying to avoid getting snotty about it. I can't help the occasional "Yep, too much stuff in your backpack terrible shoes waist strap is too low and you're walking too fast" thought flashing through my head, and the atmosphere on the Camino itself is a lot less personal than it was before León (not to mention more crowded), but fortunately the albergues are still the same as always. You have to get there pretty early in the day sometimes, but the people you're sharing the albergue with, whether they've been walking 60 kilometers or 600, are still as friendly and open and inviting as they've ever been.
Met some funny characters too, one Italian in particular. I don't know his name, I refer to him as Bacchus in my head. For the past three days or so we've been staying at all the same hostels, and he seems to be intent on being as loud and drunk and merry as he possibly can at all times of the day. One night, when I was sitting at a table with a bunch of Spaniards and Italians, he was constantly refilling glasses from a big jug of wine he had with him. When he got to my glass he'd yell "Hey! America boy! Italian Style!!!" each time, at one point taking me by the shoulders and putting me back on the bench with the others when I tried to go back inside, despite my polite yet forceful protestations that I'd had quite enough Italian Style and just wanted to go to sleep. When he walks he has a big Italian flag that he flies from his walking staff, and he shouts "Italia Numero Uno!" to everybody he sees on the street. Interesting guy to be sure.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Camino day 20--León and beyond
Finally on the downhill slope of things. As of tomorrow I will have been walking for three weeks straight, which is really a crazy thought when you think about it. You can peg numbers and distances onto it--788 kilometers, 488 miles, 30 days--but even after having walked all of those kilometers (500 as of today) and spent so much time on the Camino it's still incredibly difficult to grasp and understand in your head. Yesterday I was in León, and I looked at a map in the albergue I stayed at, and discovered I've basically walked two-thirds of the way across Spain. There is so much experience and memory and so many fellow pilgrims that I've met in those 500 kilometers (not to mention a hell of a lot of walking), it's really just incredible. Puts you in a reverent state of mind when you realize the power and scale of it all.
León turned out to be really nice. I've found I'm not a big fan of the large cities on the Camino. Sure, they're big, they've got more going on than the smaller little villages along the way, and there's more to see, but they also have such a different atmosphere. The walking for one is much less pleasant. The approaches into cities like Burgos and León and even Pamplona have all been really nasty and ugly, full of car dealerships and suburbs and sixteen wheelers, and the Camino is always either right alongside a highway or on the highway itself, which is never fun. Plus finding accommodation in a big city has proved to be a challenge for me. The first time I encountered a full albergue was in Burgos. After having walked 40 kilometers into Burgos in the first place it was just so depressing to get turned away and think that I had to sling my backpack on once again and go out into the city to hunt for another place (fortunately I found an albergue with rooms on my second try).
León turned out to be even worse. The walking wasn't as bad or as long, and beforehand I had actually planned to have a fellow pilgrim reserve me a spot in the municipal albergue in León. Of course, when I got there the place was full, and turns out you can't even make reservations there. Right as I was leaving the second albergue in town called the front desk to let the lady know that they were full as well. I was pretty pissed to say the least, and made my way to the tourist information office to see if there were hostels in town that I could stay at. After trying three in a row and getting turned down three times, I was ready to walk out of town to the next village, but fortunately ended up running into my friend again at a cafe. She had had problems at the municipal as well, and just made the reservations at the second place in town. If only my cell phone hadn't gotten broken when it was raining in Roncesvalles this situation could have been avoided...
Anyway, like I was saying, León was a beautiful city. Streets with apartment balconies on both sides exploding with purple, red and pink flowers, one of the largest and most beautiful cathedrals I've ever seen, winding alleyways full of restaurants and ice cream shops and bars with tables spilling out into the streets, it had a fantastic atmosphere. Not really a city you go to to see the sites, but it would be a great place just to relax for a few days and go cafe hopping with a book and a journal. If I had to choose three places to return to (if I ever come back to Spain) it would be Pamplona, Viana and León. And, as has been the case in every big city, pretty much everyone who I've met on the Camino ended up convening all in the same spot, so it was great to see pilgrims who I'd met in the first few days of the trip and hadn't seen again for a while.
These next few days will be really interesting. Most people who do the Camino don't do the whole thing from St. Jean Pied de Port, but start later down the trail, usually in the last 100 kilometers so they can get their compostela (essentially a certificate of completion) from the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela. People have been telling me horror stories about the last 100 kilometers, and I fear they may prove to be true. By 7:00 in the morning I was one of the last 10 pilgrims to leave the albergue, and I saw so many damn people just burning their way out of León this morning, really booking it down the Camino just so they wouldn't get locked out of a place to sleep for the night. I hope the atmosphere doesn't get too competitive. The best thing about the Camino so far has been the amazing communal atmosphere on the trail and the people you meet along the way, and I don't want to feel like I have to get up at four in the morning just to beat everyone to the next village, which would be the exact opposite philosophy I think you should treat it with. We'll see though. Staying optimistic for the time being anyway, which isn't hard when you're surrounded by so many warm, friendly people.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Camino day sixteen: the Meseta
Sorry for the gap in between updates. Ended up staying in a whole series of little one-street towns with no internet access, so I've been incommunicado for a little while. I am currently in Calzadilla de la Cueza, yet another small one-street town right smack dab in the middle of the Camino. A few days ago I finally got to the most infamous part of the Camino: The Meseta. The Meseta is a long stretch between the cities of Burgos and León, about a third of the Camino, and it has a bit of a reputation amongst pilgrims. It runs through Spain's breadbasket, which basically means it runs through Spain's Nebraska. The whole thing is incredibly flat, and stretches on for miles and miles with little to see in any direction aside for endless corn fields and enormous mountains of straw bales.
At times it has been incredibly beautiful, with the path taking me along deserted dirt roads through empty, rolling fields with nothing but the blue sky above my head and the faint outlines of mountains behind and in front of me, the world completely silent and eerily still. At times--like today--it has been boring as hell. The walking today reminded me of an old Looney Tunes cartoon, where Bugs Bunny is running away from Elmer Fudd and you see the same scenery repeating over and over again in the background. There was a particularly brutal 18 kilometer (11 mile) stretch where the Camino was literally a stock-straight dirt road with no civilization to be seen and no other pilgrims. Sometimes I feld like I was walking on a treadmill, and was constantly talking/singing/beatboxing to myself to keep myself from going crazy. I was bored and hot and dusty by the end of it, and stopped at the first albergue I found.
That's been the scenery for the past few days anyway. At first I had been toying with the idea of skipping the Meseta since it has such a bad reputation, but I'm really glad I didn't. It's been challenging at times (like today), but it's actually been some of my favorite walking of the whole trip. Plus, after over two weeks of walking 25-30 kilometers a day, I feel like my body and my mind have adjusted to constantly being on the move. Everything is easier, the kilometers go by quicker, and I'm having a fantastic time. When the end comes I'll be a little sad to say goodbye to it. Not too sad--by the time I reach the end I'll have walked over 500 miles--but a little for sure.
Anyway, other news that I couldn't fill you in on:
-In the past few days I've become really commited to the idea of doing this whole thing from start to finish and walking every kilometer. At first I think I approached the Camino more as a tourist. I figured I'd take my time, see what I wanted to see, walk as far as I felt like walking, and then if I didn't have time to finish it all by foot I could just take a bus and not feel guilty about it. Since then, though, I've had a lot of time to think about it, and I don't want to cheat or cut things short if I can help it and give the Camino its due respect. I recalculated things and figured I need to walk about 28 kilometers every day to finish on time, which I've been keeping to pretty well so far. So, excepting illness or injury, I've really decided I want to walk the whole way, kilometer by painstaking kilometer. When I started walking I was a tourist, and now I've made the transformation into a pilgrim. It has been a powerful experience.
-Ended up walking a really brutal 40 kilometer (24 mile) day to Burgos a few days ago. Initially I had been planning to stop about 10 km before Burgos and stay the night in a village there. Turns out, however, that there wasn't actually an albergue in said village, which I only figured out after checking in my guide book upon arriving and not seeing anything. In total I was walking for 11 hours, most of which was on some sort of paved surface (road/highway/sidewalk), which is much harsher on your legs, feet and knees than nice dirt roads, and all of which I did by myself, which gets lonely. I have since learned to read my guide book a little more carefully.
-Stayed at what is surely the most amazing albergue on the whole Camino two nights ago. The albergue, the Hospitalero de San Nicolás, was a squat, square stone and mortar building off the side of the Camino just before the town I had intended to stop for the day. I saw some of the Italian pilgrims I had befriended on my third day of walking, and they were staying there for the night, so I figured I'd stop just a little early and enjoy their company a little more. Plus the albergue was very highly recommended in the book. The place is run by an Italian cofraternity, and the interior of the building isamazing--like a 15'th century Spanish church. No electricity, no running water, when it got dark we lit the place with candles. The Camino de Santiago is hundreds of years old, and in previous years a lot of albergues like this one were built along the path to house and take care of the millions of pilgrims who would walk it in the Middle Ages. Most of them are ruins now, but this one was very well preserved. Before the communal dinner that night the volunteers who worked there performed a ceremony to welcome us. They all donned capes, and performed a foot-washing ceremony, which mirrors a scene from the Bible where Jesus washes the feet of his disciples in Galilee. We all sat in a half-circle, and had our right feet washed and kissed by the leader of the cofraternity in a bronze basin. The next morning when I left the leader blessed me in front of the enormous wooden door and wished me a safe journey. Unbelievable experience, and one I really value.
At times it has been incredibly beautiful, with the path taking me along deserted dirt roads through empty, rolling fields with nothing but the blue sky above my head and the faint outlines of mountains behind and in front of me, the world completely silent and eerily still. At times--like today--it has been boring as hell. The walking today reminded me of an old Looney Tunes cartoon, where Bugs Bunny is running away from Elmer Fudd and you see the same scenery repeating over and over again in the background. There was a particularly brutal 18 kilometer (11 mile) stretch where the Camino was literally a stock-straight dirt road with no civilization to be seen and no other pilgrims. Sometimes I feld like I was walking on a treadmill, and was constantly talking/singing/beatboxing to myself to keep myself from going crazy. I was bored and hot and dusty by the end of it, and stopped at the first albergue I found.
That's been the scenery for the past few days anyway. At first I had been toying with the idea of skipping the Meseta since it has such a bad reputation, but I'm really glad I didn't. It's been challenging at times (like today), but it's actually been some of my favorite walking of the whole trip. Plus, after over two weeks of walking 25-30 kilometers a day, I feel like my body and my mind have adjusted to constantly being on the move. Everything is easier, the kilometers go by quicker, and I'm having a fantastic time. When the end comes I'll be a little sad to say goodbye to it. Not too sad--by the time I reach the end I'll have walked over 500 miles--but a little for sure.
Anyway, other news that I couldn't fill you in on:
-In the past few days I've become really commited to the idea of doing this whole thing from start to finish and walking every kilometer. At first I think I approached the Camino more as a tourist. I figured I'd take my time, see what I wanted to see, walk as far as I felt like walking, and then if I didn't have time to finish it all by foot I could just take a bus and not feel guilty about it. Since then, though, I've had a lot of time to think about it, and I don't want to cheat or cut things short if I can help it and give the Camino its due respect. I recalculated things and figured I need to walk about 28 kilometers every day to finish on time, which I've been keeping to pretty well so far. So, excepting illness or injury, I've really decided I want to walk the whole way, kilometer by painstaking kilometer. When I started walking I was a tourist, and now I've made the transformation into a pilgrim. It has been a powerful experience.
-Ended up walking a really brutal 40 kilometer (24 mile) day to Burgos a few days ago. Initially I had been planning to stop about 10 km before Burgos and stay the night in a village there. Turns out, however, that there wasn't actually an albergue in said village, which I only figured out after checking in my guide book upon arriving and not seeing anything. In total I was walking for 11 hours, most of which was on some sort of paved surface (road/highway/sidewalk), which is much harsher on your legs, feet and knees than nice dirt roads, and all of which I did by myself, which gets lonely. I have since learned to read my guide book a little more carefully.
-Stayed at what is surely the most amazing albergue on the whole Camino two nights ago. The albergue, the Hospitalero de San Nicolás, was a squat, square stone and mortar building off the side of the Camino just before the town I had intended to stop for the day. I saw some of the Italian pilgrims I had befriended on my third day of walking, and they were staying there for the night, so I figured I'd stop just a little early and enjoy their company a little more. Plus the albergue was very highly recommended in the book. The place is run by an Italian cofraternity, and the interior of the building isamazing--like a 15'th century Spanish church. No electricity, no running water, when it got dark we lit the place with candles. The Camino de Santiago is hundreds of years old, and in previous years a lot of albergues like this one were built along the path to house and take care of the millions of pilgrims who would walk it in the Middle Ages. Most of them are ruins now, but this one was very well preserved. Before the communal dinner that night the volunteers who worked there performed a ceremony to welcome us. They all donned capes, and performed a foot-washing ceremony, which mirrors a scene from the Bible where Jesus washes the feet of his disciples in Galilee. We all sat in a half-circle, and had our right feet washed and kissed by the leader of the cofraternity in a bronze basin. The next morning when I left the leader blessed me in front of the enormous wooden door and wished me a safe journey. Unbelievable experience, and one I really value.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Camino day ten
Hello again from lovely, sunny, hot Grañon!
So, officially on the way of St. James for a week and a half now. Yesterday I spent the night in Azofra, a small little town in the Rioja region of Spain. Azofra was special because it was the 200 km mark from St. Jean Pied de Port! I have to say, the second 100 were a million times easier than the first 100. I think my body is much better suited to doing this than it was. Sure, my backpack has white lines of dried salt on it from all of the sweat off of my back, my calf muscles have grown so big that I can´t roll my pant legs up, I´m drinking on average 8 litres of water a day and still thirsty, I´m more tan than I´ve ever been in my entire life and my hair is starting to bleach from the sun, and I´ve graduated from 100 mg pills of Pericetimol to 600 mg horse suppository-looking pills of Ibuprofen, but it´s the psychological things that make the difference. I´m taking things at a much better pace I think--lots of little breaks during the day with a moderate walking pace--and I´ve lost the competitive attitude I was treating things with at the beginning. At first when I would see people behind me who were gaining on me I´d think, "Well, people are catching up, time to kick it up a notch so I can stay ahead," but nowadays it´s no big deal. I get passed all the time, but I figure I´ll just go as fast as I can manage, and everyone will get there when they get there.
Today was insanely hot. In Rioja (the region of Spain I´ve spent the past few days in) things actually cooled off a bit, which made walking through the vinyards that cover the region really pleasant, but as I make my way towards the Meseta things are starting to heat up again. I had images of Wilie Coyote chasing Roadrunner down dirt roads in my head from about 12:00 to 2:00 when the bastard Spanish sun was getting really hot, and there were heat waves shimmering and distorting the horizon all over the dry, yellow, dead fields of grain that the Camino passed through. I could see Grañon from about 2-3 kilometers away after I left Santo Domingo de la Calzada, and it was like a mirage in the distance: always on the horizon, never quite getting closer. One of the things I´ve come to notice about the villages here is that no matter how small they are, the buildings are always close together and a minimum of three stories so the inhabitants can get as much shade as possible in the afternoons. Very smart indeed.
Grañon, however, has proved to be quite nice. Tiny town of course, with only a few bars and cafes along the main road, but the albergue I´m staing in here is in fact the attic of the local cathedral, which is just cool as hell. There are sleeping mats all over the wooden floor, and a really classy, big-ceilinged living room right below it with old couches and a long wooden table. Also, it´s donation based, which means it´s about half as expensive and 10 times cooler than a lot of the places I´ve stayed in so far. Not the first church I´ve stayed in either, I stayed in a similar place in Viana.
Some other little tidbits:
-Been hiking with a couple Austrian girls for the past couple days, Leona and Theresa. Theresa just graduated high school, and is spending the next year traveling. First she´s doing the Camino, next spending seven weeks in the US visiting her old host family in Michigan and traveling the east coast, then heading down to Peru to do some volunteer work for eight months. Leona, her friend, is still in school. They´ve been pretty good travel buddies. I think I lost them today unfortunately (they got up pretty early and walked farther than I did today), but they were good walking company, and we spoke 100% German the whole time, which was wonderful. I even got to learn a few little bits of their dialect--nice to learn a different flavor of German for a change.
-A couple days ago a guy came up to me around 7:30 as I was making my way down the trail and introduced himself, asking if I was a native English speaker. I said I was, and he asked if he could walk down the trail with me to the next town. He was 48, formerly worked as a cook, but since the economic troubles in Spain has been without a job. Every morning for weeks now he´s walked this stretch of the Camino looking for people to practice his English with. I figured why not--he was a super friendly guy, actually spoke really great English (a rarity in this country, believe me), just with a super thick Spanish accent. We talked about a lot of things: the Basque country and the complicated politics that goes into that, the Catalán region of Spain, his time in England working as a cook, where I´m from in the USA, his trips to New York City and Washington D.C., it was actually a good time. He bought me a coffee when we reached the next town as a way of saying thanks, and caught a bus back home afterwards. Really nice little interaction actually, I enjoyed it a lot. I´ve had relatively little contact with the actual culture of Spain thus far for lack of speaking the language and always being with other pilgrims, so it was really cool to talk to him and get to know him a little.
So, officially on the way of St. James for a week and a half now. Yesterday I spent the night in Azofra, a small little town in the Rioja region of Spain. Azofra was special because it was the 200 km mark from St. Jean Pied de Port! I have to say, the second 100 were a million times easier than the first 100. I think my body is much better suited to doing this than it was. Sure, my backpack has white lines of dried salt on it from all of the sweat off of my back, my calf muscles have grown so big that I can´t roll my pant legs up, I´m drinking on average 8 litres of water a day and still thirsty, I´m more tan than I´ve ever been in my entire life and my hair is starting to bleach from the sun, and I´ve graduated from 100 mg pills of Pericetimol to 600 mg horse suppository-looking pills of Ibuprofen, but it´s the psychological things that make the difference. I´m taking things at a much better pace I think--lots of little breaks during the day with a moderate walking pace--and I´ve lost the competitive attitude I was treating things with at the beginning. At first when I would see people behind me who were gaining on me I´d think, "Well, people are catching up, time to kick it up a notch so I can stay ahead," but nowadays it´s no big deal. I get passed all the time, but I figure I´ll just go as fast as I can manage, and everyone will get there when they get there.
Today was insanely hot. In Rioja (the region of Spain I´ve spent the past few days in) things actually cooled off a bit, which made walking through the vinyards that cover the region really pleasant, but as I make my way towards the Meseta things are starting to heat up again. I had images of Wilie Coyote chasing Roadrunner down dirt roads in my head from about 12:00 to 2:00 when the bastard Spanish sun was getting really hot, and there were heat waves shimmering and distorting the horizon all over the dry, yellow, dead fields of grain that the Camino passed through. I could see Grañon from about 2-3 kilometers away after I left Santo Domingo de la Calzada, and it was like a mirage in the distance: always on the horizon, never quite getting closer. One of the things I´ve come to notice about the villages here is that no matter how small they are, the buildings are always close together and a minimum of three stories so the inhabitants can get as much shade as possible in the afternoons. Very smart indeed.
Grañon, however, has proved to be quite nice. Tiny town of course, with only a few bars and cafes along the main road, but the albergue I´m staing in here is in fact the attic of the local cathedral, which is just cool as hell. There are sleeping mats all over the wooden floor, and a really classy, big-ceilinged living room right below it with old couches and a long wooden table. Also, it´s donation based, which means it´s about half as expensive and 10 times cooler than a lot of the places I´ve stayed in so far. Not the first church I´ve stayed in either, I stayed in a similar place in Viana.
Some other little tidbits:
-Been hiking with a couple Austrian girls for the past couple days, Leona and Theresa. Theresa just graduated high school, and is spending the next year traveling. First she´s doing the Camino, next spending seven weeks in the US visiting her old host family in Michigan and traveling the east coast, then heading down to Peru to do some volunteer work for eight months. Leona, her friend, is still in school. They´ve been pretty good travel buddies. I think I lost them today unfortunately (they got up pretty early and walked farther than I did today), but they were good walking company, and we spoke 100% German the whole time, which was wonderful. I even got to learn a few little bits of their dialect--nice to learn a different flavor of German for a change.
-A couple days ago a guy came up to me around 7:30 as I was making my way down the trail and introduced himself, asking if I was a native English speaker. I said I was, and he asked if he could walk down the trail with me to the next town. He was 48, formerly worked as a cook, but since the economic troubles in Spain has been without a job. Every morning for weeks now he´s walked this stretch of the Camino looking for people to practice his English with. I figured why not--he was a super friendly guy, actually spoke really great English (a rarity in this country, believe me), just with a super thick Spanish accent. We talked about a lot of things: the Basque country and the complicated politics that goes into that, the Catalán region of Spain, his time in England working as a cook, where I´m from in the USA, his trips to New York City and Washington D.C., it was actually a good time. He bought me a coffee when we reached the next town as a way of saying thanks, and caught a bus back home afterwards. Really nice little interaction actually, I enjoyed it a lot. I´ve had relatively little contact with the actual culture of Spain thus far for lack of speaking the language and always being with other pilgrims, so it was really cool to talk to him and get to know him a little.
Monday, August 1, 2011
First week on the Camino
And all of a sudden I´ve been at this for a whole week! Seven days and seven stages of the Camino come and gone, crazy thought. It´s really interesting how quickly you get used to some things. A few days ago getting up so early, walking 15 miles and going from place to place day after day was very challenging, but now after so much time on the road my body has gotten used to things more or less. Hitting the 100 kilometer mark had a big psychological effect I think, once I got over that milestone everything got a lot easier. The pain has (inevitably) spread to my right knee, but it´s sort of a baseline thing nowadays--something that´s always there and just a little annoying instead of something that has me hobbled on the side of the trail grabbing my legs in pain as pilgrims 20 years my senior pass me by. Stairs are still my greatest enemy, and I absolutely loathe the sight of them, but the constant walking on the trails isn´t half as bad as it used to be. The feet are ok: always tight and a little tender, but the pain isn´t too bad, nor are the blisters really giving me a lot of trouble.
Today´s stop is Viana, an incredible little town in between Torres del Rio and Logroño. My goal today was initially Logroño, 29 kilometers away from Los Arcos, where I had spent the previous night. A lot of the fellow pilgrims I´m walking with were headed there, and after having looked at and consulted my guidebook a bunch I figured Logroño would make the most sense in terms of distributing out the distances between cities. But I got to Viana this afternoon around 1:00 and was just blown away, which got me to thinking that I should just stay here. One thing about the Camino is that it takes you through some kind of crappy backwater places sometimes, and on some days the towns have been a little underwhelming. After a little thought, I figured I would just stay here and enjoy myself since the energy of this place spoke so much to me. I´m behind schedule as it is in terms of finishing on time, and will have to take a bus at some point to make up for lost kilometers (probably through the Meseta section, which is a little barren and boring as I understand), so I figure I´ll just let myself move along as I please and see what I want to see. Every travel writer I´ve ever read always complains about how the travel schedules they have to keep really get in the way of them having fun, which was kind of the case with me when I was in the UK with those absolutely insane train days, so I´ll try to avoid that as best I can.
I´ve really been speaking a lot of German in the past few days, which is just awesome. I stayed at an Austrian-run hostel last night, which was of course full of German speakers, so I got to meet and greet a lot of the Germans and Austrians that are on the path with me. I spent the first couple hours this morning walking and chatting with a couple of the Austrian students I met a couple days ago, which was a lot of fun. I´ve always liked the accent (very different from the High German I was speaking and hearing up in Hamburg), and have noticed a big improvement in my fluency from having spoken the language so much. It´s a globalized world nowadays I guess--you come to Spain and end up speaking German the whole day. I´m not complaining anyway; it´s always a blessing meeting German speakers who actually want to speak German with you.
The past few stops have been: Estella, Los Arcos, and Viana today. Estella was ok--ít´s reedeming quality was the albergue I stayed in, which was really nice after an INCREDIBLY hot and dusty day of walking, plus a lot of the pilgrims I´ve befriended along the way ended up staying there too. Los Arcos was nice. It was also a hot and dusty day to get there, but not so bad as Puente la Reina to Estella, and the pilgrim´s menu I found there was really excellent, and that was also where the Austrian albergue was.
Tomorrow´s stop will ideally be Ventosa, but I may just end up stopping in Navarrete, about 7 kilometers closer. We´ll see I guess! Until then.
Today´s stop is Viana, an incredible little town in between Torres del Rio and Logroño. My goal today was initially Logroño, 29 kilometers away from Los Arcos, where I had spent the previous night. A lot of the fellow pilgrims I´m walking with were headed there, and after having looked at and consulted my guidebook a bunch I figured Logroño would make the most sense in terms of distributing out the distances between cities. But I got to Viana this afternoon around 1:00 and was just blown away, which got me to thinking that I should just stay here. One thing about the Camino is that it takes you through some kind of crappy backwater places sometimes, and on some days the towns have been a little underwhelming. After a little thought, I figured I would just stay here and enjoy myself since the energy of this place spoke so much to me. I´m behind schedule as it is in terms of finishing on time, and will have to take a bus at some point to make up for lost kilometers (probably through the Meseta section, which is a little barren and boring as I understand), so I figure I´ll just let myself move along as I please and see what I want to see. Every travel writer I´ve ever read always complains about how the travel schedules they have to keep really get in the way of them having fun, which was kind of the case with me when I was in the UK with those absolutely insane train days, so I´ll try to avoid that as best I can.
I´ve really been speaking a lot of German in the past few days, which is just awesome. I stayed at an Austrian-run hostel last night, which was of course full of German speakers, so I got to meet and greet a lot of the Germans and Austrians that are on the path with me. I spent the first couple hours this morning walking and chatting with a couple of the Austrian students I met a couple days ago, which was a lot of fun. I´ve always liked the accent (very different from the High German I was speaking and hearing up in Hamburg), and have noticed a big improvement in my fluency from having spoken the language so much. It´s a globalized world nowadays I guess--you come to Spain and end up speaking German the whole day. I´m not complaining anyway; it´s always a blessing meeting German speakers who actually want to speak German with you.
The past few stops have been: Estella, Los Arcos, and Viana today. Estella was ok--ít´s reedeming quality was the albergue I stayed in, which was really nice after an INCREDIBLY hot and dusty day of walking, plus a lot of the pilgrims I´ve befriended along the way ended up staying there too. Los Arcos was nice. It was also a hot and dusty day to get there, but not so bad as Puente la Reina to Estella, and the pilgrim´s menu I found there was really excellent, and that was also where the Austrian albergue was.
Tomorrow´s stop will ideally be Ventosa, but I may just end up stopping in Navarrete, about 7 kilometers closer. We´ll see I guess! Until then.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Camino adventures, day four
We´re at the end of yet another day of hiking the camino. It´s starting to get pretty serious now. I read somewhere that most pilgrim´s first few days on the camino are a "physical experience," and I would definitely have to agree. The knee is pretty much ok for the most part--it still hurts, but only when I´m not moving or when I´ve been going downhill for too long. I don´t know if that´s an indication that it´s getting better or that I´m just getting desensitized to the pain somehow. Discovered my first blister a day or two ago, and have the second one coming right up in the same spot on my other foot, but aside for the typical aches and pains everything else is in order.
It has gotten hot as hell too. Day one was just rain, and day two was partly rainy, but got a lot nicer around the afternoon. Yesterday it started heating up a little bit, and today the heat was really on. I must have drunk like three gallons of water, and every time I got to a fountain I chugged at least a litre (sometimes almost two) before refilling my bottles, but I still couldn´t get enough water in. I had that really uncomfortable, unpleasant puffy-hand sensation you get when you´re dehydrated, even though I almost felt like throwing up at a few points from drinking so much water. Also, I´m pretty sure I got sunburned THROUGH my shirt sleeves today, which I didn´t know was physically possible. Spain in the summer is no joke, and I´m in the northern part.
But it´s still been a really great time! Even with all of the physical troubles I´m experiencing. I´ve been discovering the wonderful, wonderful thing that is the pilgrim´s menu at a lot of restaurants along the camino do for dinner. Lots of places do a special deal where you pay between 9-15 euros and get a really awesome meal. Three courses, desert, wine, and the company you sit with at the table is always fellow pilgrims, so you get a ton of really nice dinner conversation out of it too. The multiple course thing is also important in that I get really hungry after walking 15+ miles, so I´ve been taking advantage of the offer wherever I can find it.
The towns I´ve stayed at for the past few days have been: Zubiri, Pamplona, and today it´s Puente la Reina for those keeping track at home. Zubiri didn´t have much going on, but it had a really nice refugio where I spent the night. Pamplona was the first major city along the camino, which was very cool considering it´s been all farms and tiny towns with 200 people so far. I also ended up staying at a refugio in Pamplona staffed and frequented pretty much 100% by Germans (the Camino is very popular and well know in Germany), so I was able to speak German the whole time I was there, which was really nice considering how long it´s been since I´ve really used the language.
Puente la Reina is on the smaller side, but one thing that IS going on this week, and something I only found out about 30 minutes before it started, is a running of the bulls!! The biggest and most famous is in Pamplona actually, but I missed it by about a week and a half, so it was awesome to get here and have the opportunity to check out one for myself. The atmosphere at the place was just electric, and I got quite the shock when the bulls came running down into the arena. The main street was blockaded off with gates to "direct traffic," as it were, and all of the shop fronts had metal grates in front of them to keep the bulls from destroying the storefronts. The town square had a spectator ring set up around it, with 4-5 inches of dirt thrown over the cobblestones in the middle. It wasn´t a bullfight with a matador--basically just a bunch of the local 20-somethings who were feeling up to the challenge. Pretty much anyone could jump in or out of the arena to try their luck. As they were dodging the bulls a lot of the guys were attempting to put big metal rings about 3-4 inches across over the bulls´ horns, and every time they managed to do it the crowd exploded with applause. The whole ordeal lasted aboiut two hours.
Still haven´t picked tomorrow´s destination yet, but I´m definitely getting an early start. I´ve been heading out around 7:30-ish for the past few days, but the earlier you get out the door the less time you have to spend walking in the heat of the afternoon, so I´m gonna try to get up and go as soon as possible tomorrow morning.
It has gotten hot as hell too. Day one was just rain, and day two was partly rainy, but got a lot nicer around the afternoon. Yesterday it started heating up a little bit, and today the heat was really on. I must have drunk like three gallons of water, and every time I got to a fountain I chugged at least a litre (sometimes almost two) before refilling my bottles, but I still couldn´t get enough water in. I had that really uncomfortable, unpleasant puffy-hand sensation you get when you´re dehydrated, even though I almost felt like throwing up at a few points from drinking so much water. Also, I´m pretty sure I got sunburned THROUGH my shirt sleeves today, which I didn´t know was physically possible. Spain in the summer is no joke, and I´m in the northern part.
But it´s still been a really great time! Even with all of the physical troubles I´m experiencing. I´ve been discovering the wonderful, wonderful thing that is the pilgrim´s menu at a lot of restaurants along the camino do for dinner. Lots of places do a special deal where you pay between 9-15 euros and get a really awesome meal. Three courses, desert, wine, and the company you sit with at the table is always fellow pilgrims, so you get a ton of really nice dinner conversation out of it too. The multiple course thing is also important in that I get really hungry after walking 15+ miles, so I´ve been taking advantage of the offer wherever I can find it.
The towns I´ve stayed at for the past few days have been: Zubiri, Pamplona, and today it´s Puente la Reina for those keeping track at home. Zubiri didn´t have much going on, but it had a really nice refugio where I spent the night. Pamplona was the first major city along the camino, which was very cool considering it´s been all farms and tiny towns with 200 people so far. I also ended up staying at a refugio in Pamplona staffed and frequented pretty much 100% by Germans (the Camino is very popular and well know in Germany), so I was able to speak German the whole time I was there, which was really nice considering how long it´s been since I´ve really used the language.
Puente la Reina is on the smaller side, but one thing that IS going on this week, and something I only found out about 30 minutes before it started, is a running of the bulls!! The biggest and most famous is in Pamplona actually, but I missed it by about a week and a half, so it was awesome to get here and have the opportunity to check out one for myself. The atmosphere at the place was just electric, and I got quite the shock when the bulls came running down into the arena. The main street was blockaded off with gates to "direct traffic," as it were, and all of the shop fronts had metal grates in front of them to keep the bulls from destroying the storefronts. The town square had a spectator ring set up around it, with 4-5 inches of dirt thrown over the cobblestones in the middle. It wasn´t a bullfight with a matador--basically just a bunch of the local 20-somethings who were feeling up to the challenge. Pretty much anyone could jump in or out of the arena to try their luck. As they were dodging the bulls a lot of the guys were attempting to put big metal rings about 3-4 inches across over the bulls´ horns, and every time they managed to do it the crowd exploded with applause. The whole ordeal lasted aboiut two hours.
Still haven´t picked tomorrow´s destination yet, but I´m definitely getting an early start. I´ve been heading out around 7:30-ish for the past few days, but the earlier you get out the door the less time you have to spend walking in the heat of the afternoon, so I´m gonna try to get up and go as soon as possible tomorrow morning.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Day one on the camino! Done.
Well, short update again, I´ve only got about nine minutes left on the computer, but wanted to tell you all that I´ve got the first stage of the camino behind me! Wanted to make it to Roncesvalles, and I got the whole way there. Unfortunately it was pretty much raining the whole day, so I got wet and a little cold and wasn´t able to see too much through all the clouds. I understand the Pyrennes are beautiful, guess I´ll have to imagine all of peaks and valleys...
Knee ended up (mostly) not being a problem. Almost instantly when I set out this morning it started hurting, which really scared the shit out of me. A little joint pain is fine, but a little can turn into a lot after 800 kilometers and 30 days of back-to-back hiking. Fortunately, 90% of the day was uphill, which feels almost normal compared to downhill, so the only time it really gave me any trouble was for the last little stretch before the end. Plus I was eating Perecetimol like candy the whole day, so that helped as well. Met some Irish girls along the way who were doing the path as well, and one of them actually had an extra set of walking sticks that she didn´t want or need, so she let me have those. Very thoughtful and nice, and something that actually ended up really helping.
Never the less, walking a little bowlegged, as are pretty much everyone else in this refugio (refugios are hostels specifically for pilgrims on the camino). I´ve got dinner in a few minutes, and at 8 they actually do a service for the pilgrims in town, so I was going to go to that as well. And get to sleep extremely early.
So! We´ll see if there´s a computer at the next refugio. Until then.
Knee ended up (mostly) not being a problem. Almost instantly when I set out this morning it started hurting, which really scared the shit out of me. A little joint pain is fine, but a little can turn into a lot after 800 kilometers and 30 days of back-to-back hiking. Fortunately, 90% of the day was uphill, which feels almost normal compared to downhill, so the only time it really gave me any trouble was for the last little stretch before the end. Plus I was eating Perecetimol like candy the whole day, so that helped as well. Met some Irish girls along the way who were doing the path as well, and one of them actually had an extra set of walking sticks that she didn´t want or need, so she let me have those. Very thoughtful and nice, and something that actually ended up really helping.
Never the less, walking a little bowlegged, as are pretty much everyone else in this refugio (refugios are hostels specifically for pilgrims on the camino). I´ve got dinner in a few minutes, and at 8 they actually do a service for the pilgrims in town, so I was going to go to that as well. And get to sleep extremely early.
So! We´ll see if there´s a computer at the next refugio. Until then.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
London...finally. Spain tomorrow!
After a harrowing day yesterday, and a little more adventure than I really intended out of the trip over here, I'm finally here. Got in around 7:30 last night, and am currently writing from an internet cafe around the corner from Piccadilly Circus (pretty much the Times Square of London, really awesome part of town).
I guess I should clarify what I meant by "adventure." I picked this little quote up somewhere, can't quite remember where, but it goes, "It's not an adventure until something goes wrong." I guess the travel part of the day actually went pretty well, so far as a 15 hour journey is concerned (could have driven almost the whole way from Ithaca to SLC along I-80 in 15 hours, or flown from Dublin to London 15 times). Got up around 2:30 to make my way over to the bus station for a 3:30 bus down to Rosslare. Dublin on a Friday night was a little scary actually--full of drunken mobs of Irish people and tourists stumbling around and yelling at each other. I guess Hamburg had a bigger party scene, but it had such a different energy, wasn't as crazy. Made it to the bus station without trouble though, and made the journey to Rosslare in a few hours. Caught the ferry after that, and then took a train from Fishguard in Wales to Cardiff, and switched to a train to London after that.
The adventure part of the day started after I got off the train. London is crazy enough during the summer at the height of the tourist season, and the whole place is permanently under construction in preparation for the 2012 Olympics, so it was enough trouble just getting to my hostel period. I had made a reservation a few days previously for the 24'th, but given the bus/train/ferry schedules to London (or lack thereof), I had to head over here on the 23'rd. I sent an email to the hostel a day or two before leaving asking them to extend my reservation for the night. I didn't get a reply back, but assumed that they had received it and just not written back for whatever reason. Plus, Piccadilly Backpackers is one of the largest hostels in London, so I figured even if they hadn't received my email for some strange reason that I'd be able to negotiate some other deal for the night.
Well, I guess you've probably figured out how it turned out: I got there and was turned away. Not only had they not even received my email (there was some sort of internet trouble with their computers), but they didn't have a single free room for the night. I was too cracked out and exhausted and jaded after traveling so far for the words to really even register a response at that point, but the situation at that point was pretty damn dire: I was stranded in London--a massive, crazy, incredibly expensive city--at 8:00 PM on a Saturday night at the very peak of the tourist season without a place to stay for the night. Even before looking online for another accommodation option, I knew it wasn't going to be good.
I wasn't going to find anything anywhere near the center of the city, and was also not prepared to pay $150+ for a hotel room for the night. I considered the options: Couchsurfing? Nope, too short notice. Ask somebody on the street to sleep on the floor of their hotel room? Nope, too sketchy. Grab a case of beer and some food and just chill out on a bench all night? Nope, wouldn't make it the whole night before falling asleep and probably getting arrested. For a minute I was seriously considering finding a park somewhere and laying out my sleeping bag. Hyde Park was too busy, but maybe there was a smaller one somewhere out of the way? Do I sleep with my backpack next to me or stash it somewhere so I don't get robbed in the middle of the night?
Not expecting to find anything, I found an internet cafe and logged on to a hostel search website, going through the formality before resigning myself to some sort of extreme measure. One result, however, ended up showing up: the London House Gay Hostel out in Edgware. I guess beggars can't be choosers. It was pretty reasonably priced, only £18 a night. The only problems were 1) it was way the hell out at the end of the Northern Line in Zone 5 (there are only 5 zones in the London Underground network), and 2) it involved another 30-45 minute walk from the Tube station to get there, which, after 15 hours of travel, seemed really, really unappealing. I considered not taking it, thought about getting woken up by a London police officer at 4 in the morning while trying to catch some sleep behind a bush somewhere, and reluctantly hit the "Reserve" button on the website.
The trip out was ok, and once I got out of the train I booked it down the street like a bat out of hell to make the walk as short as possible. I showed up around 9:30 and checked in. The guy who ran it, Spencer (who looked and sounded exactly like a old, pudgy Alan Rickman) was nice enough. The hostel was his apartment at one point I'm guessing, which he converted to a "hostel," aka added a handful of bunk beds to the rooms at the back. The place was nice, though, and there weren't too many others there, so it ended up being a nice place to finally fall asleep (although I'm sure anywhere would have been nice after the day's adventures). I did, however, have to sleep right next to a framed black and white photo of some naked dude pouring water all over himself with a big metal watering can. Oh well.
The hard, fast walking down to the place with a heavy backpack after a whole day in trains and ferries and buses took it's toll though: my left knee has been aching since this morning. Pretty sure sign of tendinitis, which is not a good way to start off five straight weeks of hiking. I've been taking it really easy all day and taking escalators and elevators where I can, so hopefully it'll be gone by the 26'th by the time I start the Camino. If not...well, we'll deal with it if it gets too bad. Bringing along plenty of pain killers in my bag.
Flying out tomorrow though! And officially starting down the trail the day after. I've been looking forward to this for months now, so it's really exciting to finally be on the edge of it. If I can find a computer I'll definitely chime in with how it is.
I guess I should clarify what I meant by "adventure." I picked this little quote up somewhere, can't quite remember where, but it goes, "It's not an adventure until something goes wrong." I guess the travel part of the day actually went pretty well, so far as a 15 hour journey is concerned (could have driven almost the whole way from Ithaca to SLC along I-80 in 15 hours, or flown from Dublin to London 15 times). Got up around 2:30 to make my way over to the bus station for a 3:30 bus down to Rosslare. Dublin on a Friday night was a little scary actually--full of drunken mobs of Irish people and tourists stumbling around and yelling at each other. I guess Hamburg had a bigger party scene, but it had such a different energy, wasn't as crazy. Made it to the bus station without trouble though, and made the journey to Rosslare in a few hours. Caught the ferry after that, and then took a train from Fishguard in Wales to Cardiff, and switched to a train to London after that.
The adventure part of the day started after I got off the train. London is crazy enough during the summer at the height of the tourist season, and the whole place is permanently under construction in preparation for the 2012 Olympics, so it was enough trouble just getting to my hostel period. I had made a reservation a few days previously for the 24'th, but given the bus/train/ferry schedules to London (or lack thereof), I had to head over here on the 23'rd. I sent an email to the hostel a day or two before leaving asking them to extend my reservation for the night. I didn't get a reply back, but assumed that they had received it and just not written back for whatever reason. Plus, Piccadilly Backpackers is one of the largest hostels in London, so I figured even if they hadn't received my email for some strange reason that I'd be able to negotiate some other deal for the night.
Well, I guess you've probably figured out how it turned out: I got there and was turned away. Not only had they not even received my email (there was some sort of internet trouble with their computers), but they didn't have a single free room for the night. I was too cracked out and exhausted and jaded after traveling so far for the words to really even register a response at that point, but the situation at that point was pretty damn dire: I was stranded in London--a massive, crazy, incredibly expensive city--at 8:00 PM on a Saturday night at the very peak of the tourist season without a place to stay for the night. Even before looking online for another accommodation option, I knew it wasn't going to be good.
I wasn't going to find anything anywhere near the center of the city, and was also not prepared to pay $150+ for a hotel room for the night. I considered the options: Couchsurfing? Nope, too short notice. Ask somebody on the street to sleep on the floor of their hotel room? Nope, too sketchy. Grab a case of beer and some food and just chill out on a bench all night? Nope, wouldn't make it the whole night before falling asleep and probably getting arrested. For a minute I was seriously considering finding a park somewhere and laying out my sleeping bag. Hyde Park was too busy, but maybe there was a smaller one somewhere out of the way? Do I sleep with my backpack next to me or stash it somewhere so I don't get robbed in the middle of the night?
Not expecting to find anything, I found an internet cafe and logged on to a hostel search website, going through the formality before resigning myself to some sort of extreme measure. One result, however, ended up showing up: the London House Gay Hostel out in Edgware. I guess beggars can't be choosers. It was pretty reasonably priced, only £18 a night. The only problems were 1) it was way the hell out at the end of the Northern Line in Zone 5 (there are only 5 zones in the London Underground network), and 2) it involved another 30-45 minute walk from the Tube station to get there, which, after 15 hours of travel, seemed really, really unappealing. I considered not taking it, thought about getting woken up by a London police officer at 4 in the morning while trying to catch some sleep behind a bush somewhere, and reluctantly hit the "Reserve" button on the website.
The trip out was ok, and once I got out of the train I booked it down the street like a bat out of hell to make the walk as short as possible. I showed up around 9:30 and checked in. The guy who ran it, Spencer (who looked and sounded exactly like a old, pudgy Alan Rickman) was nice enough. The hostel was his apartment at one point I'm guessing, which he converted to a "hostel," aka added a handful of bunk beds to the rooms at the back. The place was nice, though, and there weren't too many others there, so it ended up being a nice place to finally fall asleep (although I'm sure anywhere would have been nice after the day's adventures). I did, however, have to sleep right next to a framed black and white photo of some naked dude pouring water all over himself with a big metal watering can. Oh well.
The hard, fast walking down to the place with a heavy backpack after a whole day in trains and ferries and buses took it's toll though: my left knee has been aching since this morning. Pretty sure sign of tendinitis, which is not a good way to start off five straight weeks of hiking. I've been taking it really easy all day and taking escalators and elevators where I can, so hopefully it'll be gone by the 26'th by the time I start the Camino. If not...well, we'll deal with it if it gets too bad. Bringing along plenty of pain killers in my bag.
Flying out tomorrow though! And officially starting down the trail the day after. I've been looking forward to this for months now, so it's really exciting to finally be on the edge of it. If I can find a computer I'll definitely chime in with how it is.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Trouble on my mind.
Well, here we are at the end of day two of Dublin. For those keeping track at home, I was only supposed to be here for one day in the city, but the inevitable problems that seem to show up in even the best laid travel plans seem to have caught up to me yet again.
To put it short, rail travel in the UK is just not up to the standard I would have expected. In fact, I won't sugar coat it, it's absolutely wretched. I guess I was pretty spoiled living on mainland Europe for so long (especially in Germany, where EVERYONE gets around with the train), but even for such a tiny couple of islands, Scotland, England, and Ireland seem to just not have it together in terms of getting you where you need to go. After sorting through a big list of travel options to get from Dublin to London--aka banging my head against the keyboard and weighing one crappy option against another--I have to leave a day earlier than I intended and take a bus at 3:30 in the morning tomorrow just so I can make my ferry over to England in time. Fifteen hour day total tomorrow, and just to get from the western coast of England to London (near the eastern coast) is going to take five hours. The distance is comparable to going between Hamburg and Berlin, which takes about an hour and a half by comparison. I considered getting a cheap airline ticket instead and sacrificing a day of travel on my Interrail pass, but my card wasn't working for some reason when I tried to hit the payment button.
Which actually serves as a nice segue to my other problem: my debit card has split almost in half. And not along the middle either, where the problem would have been reasonably easy to fix, but right along the magnetic strip. Old card + brittle plastic + it being in my wallet for so long + me sitting on my wallet a lot = breakage. This presents certain problems for withdrawing money over here, which also causes difficulties when it comes to eating, paying for accommodation, and generally surviving for the next five weeks. I'll spare you the long list of things I went through for two and a half hours trying to get this fixed, which at one point included a money transfer to my German bank account, involving a signature notarization from an Irish lawyer which would have cost 60 Euros, but ultimately I tried taping it back together in a last ditch effort, which actually worked. Treating it with the utmost care until I get back home and praying it works out.
But anyway, enough with the negative aspects of everything! I've actually really enjoyed my time in Dublin so far, and the travel problems also had the hidden benefit of giving me an extra day in the city, here's some of the stuff I've seen and done:
-Spent a lot of time walking around the first day and seeing the sights. Headed into the Dublin Writers Museum first thing on Thursday, which was really cool. Lots of original manuscripts and portraits and different things from a bunch of Irish writers who lived in the city. Great geek material for English majors.
-Saw the General Post Office, from which the 1916 Rebellion was staged (really, really big revolt against England in Ireland).
-Went to the Irish National Museum and Art Gallery today, very cool stuff for sure. Plus the big national museums in the UK are all government sponsored and free.
-Had a few good coffees in a couple cafes and, of course, a number of Guinnesses. People have told me they taste different in Ireland for years, and I was always a little skeptical, but it is, in fact, true. They're less watery, much creamier, definitely a ton better.
-Got myself formally outfitted for the Camino (starting down the trail in four days officially! ah!). I was leaving the rest of my purchases to make in Dublin, and now I'm 100% equipped.
-Finally, saw a play at the Abbey Theatre last night. The Abbey is pretty much the birthplace of modern Irish drama, and I had taken a seminar on Irish Drama in my senior year at IC, so of course I had to go see the place. As luck would have it, they were actually putting on one of the plays we read in that class: Translations by Brian Friel, also one of my favorites. The tickets really weren't that bad at all, so I figured I couldn't turn it down. The production definitely didn't disappoint. The play is all about a British army survey team who comes to Ireland in the late 1800's to make a new map of the country and "standardize" (aka anglicize) all of the Irish place names. It has lots to do with language and culture and history and heritage and a lot with British imperialism in Ireland, really interesting stuff.
So I'll be in trains and ferries (again) all day tomorrow. Picked up a copy of A Game of Thrones for new reading material, which clocks in at almost a thousand pages, so we'll see how far I get through that. I'll be very thankful to just be down in Spain in a few days and get to leave all of the craziness with these awful train schedules behind. Nothing but boots and trails will be a nice switch.
To put it short, rail travel in the UK is just not up to the standard I would have expected. In fact, I won't sugar coat it, it's absolutely wretched. I guess I was pretty spoiled living on mainland Europe for so long (especially in Germany, where EVERYONE gets around with the train), but even for such a tiny couple of islands, Scotland, England, and Ireland seem to just not have it together in terms of getting you where you need to go. After sorting through a big list of travel options to get from Dublin to London--aka banging my head against the keyboard and weighing one crappy option against another--I have to leave a day earlier than I intended and take a bus at 3:30 in the morning tomorrow just so I can make my ferry over to England in time. Fifteen hour day total tomorrow, and just to get from the western coast of England to London (near the eastern coast) is going to take five hours. The distance is comparable to going between Hamburg and Berlin, which takes about an hour and a half by comparison. I considered getting a cheap airline ticket instead and sacrificing a day of travel on my Interrail pass, but my card wasn't working for some reason when I tried to hit the payment button.
Which actually serves as a nice segue to my other problem: my debit card has split almost in half. And not along the middle either, where the problem would have been reasonably easy to fix, but right along the magnetic strip. Old card + brittle plastic + it being in my wallet for so long + me sitting on my wallet a lot = breakage. This presents certain problems for withdrawing money over here, which also causes difficulties when it comes to eating, paying for accommodation, and generally surviving for the next five weeks. I'll spare you the long list of things I went through for two and a half hours trying to get this fixed, which at one point included a money transfer to my German bank account, involving a signature notarization from an Irish lawyer which would have cost 60 Euros, but ultimately I tried taping it back together in a last ditch effort, which actually worked. Treating it with the utmost care until I get back home and praying it works out.
But anyway, enough with the negative aspects of everything! I've actually really enjoyed my time in Dublin so far, and the travel problems also had the hidden benefit of giving me an extra day in the city, here's some of the stuff I've seen and done:
-Spent a lot of time walking around the first day and seeing the sights. Headed into the Dublin Writers Museum first thing on Thursday, which was really cool. Lots of original manuscripts and portraits and different things from a bunch of Irish writers who lived in the city. Great geek material for English majors.
-Saw the General Post Office, from which the 1916 Rebellion was staged (really, really big revolt against England in Ireland).
-Went to the Irish National Museum and Art Gallery today, very cool stuff for sure. Plus the big national museums in the UK are all government sponsored and free.
-Had a few good coffees in a couple cafes and, of course, a number of Guinnesses. People have told me they taste different in Ireland for years, and I was always a little skeptical, but it is, in fact, true. They're less watery, much creamier, definitely a ton better.
-Got myself formally outfitted for the Camino (starting down the trail in four days officially! ah!). I was leaving the rest of my purchases to make in Dublin, and now I'm 100% equipped.
-Finally, saw a play at the Abbey Theatre last night. The Abbey is pretty much the birthplace of modern Irish drama, and I had taken a seminar on Irish Drama in my senior year at IC, so of course I had to go see the place. As luck would have it, they were actually putting on one of the plays we read in that class: Translations by Brian Friel, also one of my favorites. The tickets really weren't that bad at all, so I figured I couldn't turn it down. The production definitely didn't disappoint. The play is all about a British army survey team who comes to Ireland in the late 1800's to make a new map of the country and "standardize" (aka anglicize) all of the Irish place names. It has lots to do with language and culture and history and heritage and a lot with British imperialism in Ireland, really interesting stuff.
So I'll be in trains and ferries (again) all day tomorrow. Picked up a copy of A Game of Thrones for new reading material, which clocks in at almost a thousand pages, so we'll see how far I get through that. I'll be very thankful to just be down in Spain in a few days and get to leave all of the craziness with these awful train schedules behind. Nothing but boots and trails will be a nice switch.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Last day on Skye
Writing from the Abbey Court Hostel in Dublin, Ireland! After two days of really hardcore train traveling (8 hours yesterday, 11 today) I'm finally here. When I was crafting this trip way back a couple months ago and penned in "SKYE->DUBLIN" I didn't quite take into account/bother to look up train schedules, expecting Deutsche Bahn ICE train speeds in the UK and...well, not quite getting them as you can see. But I'm finally here anyway, if short a day in Dublin, which was a little disappointing.
My last day on Skye, though, was nothing short of perfect. The rain and clouds and fog which dogged me on my first day pretty much disappeared on the second, and I had an absolutely wonderful day filled with blue sky and sun and fluffy clouds and amazing scenery. The first hike I did was the Quiraing mountain range, from north to south, which is on the Trotternish Peninsula (if these names sound trollish, they're all half-Gaelic half-Norwegian from the Viking influence). I accidentally (yet again, fortunately) took the bus in the wrong direction on the loop around the peninsula, and got to see pretty much the whole Trotternish coastline. Got to hang around and chat with a couple Italian hikers from my hostel who were up seeing that part of the island as well, and an old British guy who was up there for a short holiday.
I got off the bus right after the village of Flodigarry into a really thick fog. Resident Evil-type stuff. It was actually really cool to hike in for a little bit since it dampened the noise around me so much, but I was hoping the sun would come out so I could actually see what I was hiking through. After about 20 minutes I came across a lake at the bottom of a valley (presumably) between some mountains, and I finally saw some rays peeking out from behind the soup. Another fifteen minutes and the clouds disappeared in big billowing wisps, and the most amazing craggy peaks were hiding behind them. It's all volcanic rock I understand, and it looked like some angry Norse god took an axe and hacked away in swift up-down motions at the mountains on Skye until he was satisfied with the weird, unlikely formations he left behind. Exactly the type of scenery I was hoping to see up here, I was absolutely floored. And, since I had taken the bus the wrong way, I ended up doing the hike backwards according to all of the Skye guidebooks, which meant I was totally alone for the first half, and only had to put up with all the day trippers and families with bored, exhausted kids for a half second as I passed them going down the trail as opposed to hiking with them. Not only that, but the fog closed in on me as I hiked up over a pass between the first valley and the next, so I hit the perfect window for seeing the Quiraing.
Once I reached the parking lot for the Quiraing trail I headed straight across to check out the Biode Buidhe. Yes, the Gaelic language did in fact develop on the same island as English did. Not even the people at the hostel knew how to pronounce that one. This one was shorter, with no trail, but was just as amazing in scope. It was about 30 minutes of hard uphill until I reached the top, with a big, expansive view of the rest of the Quiraing range as it extended further south, and the Storr range in the distance beyond that. I picked a nice outcrop of rock with my feet practically dangling into the valley below and had my lunch there--some scones I took from the hostel breakfast.
Finally, I made my way further south on the peninsula to do the last hike: the Old Man of Storr, the most famous and well-visited attraction on Skye. A bit of a letdown to be honest. For one, I didn't have much time to see it as I had to dash up and back down in about two hours so I could catch the last bus down from Portree to Kyleakin, and two, it started getting foggier and cloudier right around that point in the day, so I was only able to see it through the wisps and billows of fog flowing around it. Not bad at all, still very cool, but I definitely saw better stuff in the first half of the day. After that I went back to the hostel, got my stuff together, said goodbye to the amazing, wonderful, super friendly staff who helped me out so much (stay at Skye Backpackers if you're ever up there), and caught the train down to Glasgow the next day--my layover spot on my trip to Dublin.
Anyway, got in kind of late today, so I haven't seen too much of the city yet, but I will of course report in once I've seen a little bit of it!
My last day on Skye, though, was nothing short of perfect. The rain and clouds and fog which dogged me on my first day pretty much disappeared on the second, and I had an absolutely wonderful day filled with blue sky and sun and fluffy clouds and amazing scenery. The first hike I did was the Quiraing mountain range, from north to south, which is on the Trotternish Peninsula (if these names sound trollish, they're all half-Gaelic half-Norwegian from the Viking influence). I accidentally (yet again, fortunately) took the bus in the wrong direction on the loop around the peninsula, and got to see pretty much the whole Trotternish coastline. Got to hang around and chat with a couple Italian hikers from my hostel who were up seeing that part of the island as well, and an old British guy who was up there for a short holiday.
I got off the bus right after the village of Flodigarry into a really thick fog. Resident Evil-type stuff. It was actually really cool to hike in for a little bit since it dampened the noise around me so much, but I was hoping the sun would come out so I could actually see what I was hiking through. After about 20 minutes I came across a lake at the bottom of a valley (presumably) between some mountains, and I finally saw some rays peeking out from behind the soup. Another fifteen minutes and the clouds disappeared in big billowing wisps, and the most amazing craggy peaks were hiding behind them. It's all volcanic rock I understand, and it looked like some angry Norse god took an axe and hacked away in swift up-down motions at the mountains on Skye until he was satisfied with the weird, unlikely formations he left behind. Exactly the type of scenery I was hoping to see up here, I was absolutely floored. And, since I had taken the bus the wrong way, I ended up doing the hike backwards according to all of the Skye guidebooks, which meant I was totally alone for the first half, and only had to put up with all the day trippers and families with bored, exhausted kids for a half second as I passed them going down the trail as opposed to hiking with them. Not only that, but the fog closed in on me as I hiked up over a pass between the first valley and the next, so I hit the perfect window for seeing the Quiraing.
Once I reached the parking lot for the Quiraing trail I headed straight across to check out the Biode Buidhe. Yes, the Gaelic language did in fact develop on the same island as English did. Not even the people at the hostel knew how to pronounce that one. This one was shorter, with no trail, but was just as amazing in scope. It was about 30 minutes of hard uphill until I reached the top, with a big, expansive view of the rest of the Quiraing range as it extended further south, and the Storr range in the distance beyond that. I picked a nice outcrop of rock with my feet practically dangling into the valley below and had my lunch there--some scones I took from the hostel breakfast.
Finally, I made my way further south on the peninsula to do the last hike: the Old Man of Storr, the most famous and well-visited attraction on Skye. A bit of a letdown to be honest. For one, I didn't have much time to see it as I had to dash up and back down in about two hours so I could catch the last bus down from Portree to Kyleakin, and two, it started getting foggier and cloudier right around that point in the day, so I was only able to see it through the wisps and billows of fog flowing around it. Not bad at all, still very cool, but I definitely saw better stuff in the first half of the day. After that I went back to the hostel, got my stuff together, said goodbye to the amazing, wonderful, super friendly staff who helped me out so much (stay at Skye Backpackers if you're ever up there), and caught the train down to Glasgow the next day--my layover spot on my trip to Dublin.
Anyway, got in kind of late today, so I haven't seen too much of the city yet, but I will of course report in once I've seen a little bit of it!
Sunday, July 17, 2011
First day's hikes on Skye
Internet access is proving to not be a big deal at the hostel, so I figure I'll seize upon the opportunity and send updates while I have the chance (sometimes it's tough to find a computer where you can sit down and really type something substantial out).
Anyway, just got finished a few hours ago with the first day's hikes on Skye, and I am completely hooked on this island already. Just unbelievable stuff all around. It was raining the whole day, but that didn't even deter me from enjoying myself as I made my way along the trails. After basically a lifetime's worth of admonishing and warnings about the dangers of cotton clothing in inclement weather from my dad--the consumate outdoorsman--I went out into the elements today dressed in jeans and cotton socks, which promptly got completely soaked through. All things considered, though, it really wasn't THAT bad. Could have been wetter and colder for sure, and it only dampened my mood a little bit towards the end where it started getting bad.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Fortunately/unfortunately, scheduling placed my first day of hikes on a Sunday, which meant no bus service on the island. I wasn't sure how I was gonna get around, and really didn't want to spend the whole day cooped up in the hostel after having traveled so far to get here, so I asked up at the front desk about my options. A few of the staff told me to hitchhike. The locals, it seems, are pretty sympathetic to the fact that you basically can't get around without a car on a Sunday up here, and they all said it wouldn't be a problem, even to the smaller towns. I was skeptical to say the least. My old roommate, Ryan, spent the whole summer after graduation hitchhiking across America East to West, and posts like these really made me question whether things were as easy as the hostel staff made them out to be.
(Before I continue, Mom, I didn't catch any rides with Jeffrey Dahmer. There's a lovely small-town atmosphere up here: just a bunch of other tourists and rural Scottish folk who are looking to help out. Don't worry!)
Anyway, I picked out some hikes close to Kyleakin (didn't want to push my luck too far and get stuck way up north with no way to get back), headed down the road to the junction with A87 around 9 AM, found a good spot, made a sign for Broadford, and practiced my best "I'm cold and wet and need a ride!" face. To my great surprise and relief, I only had to wait about 20 minutes. A father and son, who were on the way to Broadford to pick up some gifts for family members, pulled over and gave me a ride down the road. Worked like a charm.
The first hike took me to the old marble quarries on Skye. The trail ran along the old railway line that connected the mines to the town, so I set off down it. Really cool stuff all along the trail: abandoned stone houses with just the walls remaining, little streams and waterfalls, fields full of sheep and cows that would stare at me as I walked past, and, of course, the ferns and heather that are all over the place up here. That lasted until the middle of the day, and ended at an old abandoned and ruined church. I ate my lunch up the hill a little bit and got a view of the church and valley below, and hoofed it cross-country for a bit to meet up with the road to Elgol, which ran parallel alongside the trail.
Elgol was my next stop--a small town on the coast of one of the penninsulas on the southwest corner of the island. I was more nervous about this one. Broadford, on a major road in Skye and just 10 minutes away from Kyleakin, was one thing, but something as small as Elgol was something else. I got out my notebook, made my "ELGOL? :)" sign, put it up, and literally within about 60 seconds scored my second ride of the day. Unbelievable. This time it was a Scottish couple from Kyle of Lochalsh who were going to see their nieces and nephews in Elgol. Not too talkative, but they were nice enough. They took me down the road and dropped me off, and I set out on the hike. The second one took me to Prince Charlie's Cave, a coastal cave about an hour's hike from the town. I timed it well with the tides, so I was able to wander along the shore a bit and actually get inside the cave and take some photos--very cool stuff.
Again, at the end of the hike I wasn't sure I was going to get out of Elgol and back to Broadford, but yet again I was proven wrong. A bunch of English people who lived in Broadford were on a Sunday drive out to Elgol and picked me up on their way back. They had lived in London for a long time, and eventually got tired of the city life, so decided to move up to Skye, buy a house, and start up a fish and chips shop. Really funny group of people, very chatty, very friendly, it was a great drive back to Broadford. My final ride back to Kyleakin was from a Japanese couple on a roadtrip tour of Britain. They dropped me off right where I had scored my first ride, and I was back around 6:30. Fantastic day to say the least.
Anyway, I think I'll be buying a day ticket on the busses tomorrow since they're running. I'll be traveling farther north on the island to the Old Man of Storr, and the other hike I really wanna do (if it's possible without a car) is the Fairy Pools, farther south. We'll see if that works out. But there's no shortage of trails up here, whatever I do aside for Storr will be wonderful I'm sure.
Until next time!
Andy
Anyway, just got finished a few hours ago with the first day's hikes on Skye, and I am completely hooked on this island already. Just unbelievable stuff all around. It was raining the whole day, but that didn't even deter me from enjoying myself as I made my way along the trails. After basically a lifetime's worth of admonishing and warnings about the dangers of cotton clothing in inclement weather from my dad--the consumate outdoorsman--I went out into the elements today dressed in jeans and cotton socks, which promptly got completely soaked through. All things considered, though, it really wasn't THAT bad. Could have been wetter and colder for sure, and it only dampened my mood a little bit towards the end where it started getting bad.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. Fortunately/unfortunately, scheduling placed my first day of hikes on a Sunday, which meant no bus service on the island. I wasn't sure how I was gonna get around, and really didn't want to spend the whole day cooped up in the hostel after having traveled so far to get here, so I asked up at the front desk about my options. A few of the staff told me to hitchhike. The locals, it seems, are pretty sympathetic to the fact that you basically can't get around without a car on a Sunday up here, and they all said it wouldn't be a problem, even to the smaller towns. I was skeptical to say the least. My old roommate, Ryan, spent the whole summer after graduation hitchhiking across America East to West, and posts like these really made me question whether things were as easy as the hostel staff made them out to be.
(Before I continue, Mom, I didn't catch any rides with Jeffrey Dahmer. There's a lovely small-town atmosphere up here: just a bunch of other tourists and rural Scottish folk who are looking to help out. Don't worry!)
Anyway, I picked out some hikes close to Kyleakin (didn't want to push my luck too far and get stuck way up north with no way to get back), headed down the road to the junction with A87 around 9 AM, found a good spot, made a sign for Broadford, and practiced my best "I'm cold and wet and need a ride!" face. To my great surprise and relief, I only had to wait about 20 minutes. A father and son, who were on the way to Broadford to pick up some gifts for family members, pulled over and gave me a ride down the road. Worked like a charm.
The first hike took me to the old marble quarries on Skye. The trail ran along the old railway line that connected the mines to the town, so I set off down it. Really cool stuff all along the trail: abandoned stone houses with just the walls remaining, little streams and waterfalls, fields full of sheep and cows that would stare at me as I walked past, and, of course, the ferns and heather that are all over the place up here. That lasted until the middle of the day, and ended at an old abandoned and ruined church. I ate my lunch up the hill a little bit and got a view of the church and valley below, and hoofed it cross-country for a bit to meet up with the road to Elgol, which ran parallel alongside the trail.
Elgol was my next stop--a small town on the coast of one of the penninsulas on the southwest corner of the island. I was more nervous about this one. Broadford, on a major road in Skye and just 10 minutes away from Kyleakin, was one thing, but something as small as Elgol was something else. I got out my notebook, made my "ELGOL? :)" sign, put it up, and literally within about 60 seconds scored my second ride of the day. Unbelievable. This time it was a Scottish couple from Kyle of Lochalsh who were going to see their nieces and nephews in Elgol. Not too talkative, but they were nice enough. They took me down the road and dropped me off, and I set out on the hike. The second one took me to Prince Charlie's Cave, a coastal cave about an hour's hike from the town. I timed it well with the tides, so I was able to wander along the shore a bit and actually get inside the cave and take some photos--very cool stuff.
Again, at the end of the hike I wasn't sure I was going to get out of Elgol and back to Broadford, but yet again I was proven wrong. A bunch of English people who lived in Broadford were on a Sunday drive out to Elgol and picked me up on their way back. They had lived in London for a long time, and eventually got tired of the city life, so decided to move up to Skye, buy a house, and start up a fish and chips shop. Really funny group of people, very chatty, very friendly, it was a great drive back to Broadford. My final ride back to Kyleakin was from a Japanese couple on a roadtrip tour of Britain. They dropped me off right where I had scored my first ride, and I was back around 6:30. Fantastic day to say the least.
Anyway, I think I'll be buying a day ticket on the busses tomorrow since they're running. I'll be traveling farther north on the island to the Old Man of Storr, and the other hike I really wanna do (if it's possible without a car) is the Fairy Pools, farther south. We'll see if that works out. But there's no shortage of trails up here, whatever I do aside for Storr will be wonderful I'm sure.
Until next time!
Andy
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Kyleakin, Isle of Skye
Currently writing this from the hostel computer in Kyleakin, Scotland, on the Isle of Skye! After an amazing 9 hours in a couple trains through the Scottish Highlands (Edinburgh -> Inverness and Inverness -> Kyle of Lochalsh), I've arrived, and am set to start hiking around here tomorrow. The trains, even though they were a little slow and took much longer than I was expecting, were just unreal. I didn't quite know what to expect out of Northern Scotland, but my jaw just hit the floor at a couple points. I was constantly jumping out of my seat and dashing to the window to take photos as we rounded bends around these amazing lochs (lakes), waterfalls, mountainsides covered in ferns and heather, it was just unreal. Real shame I can't share photos with you at this point, but I suppose I'll be able to do that when I get back.
For the next couple days I'll be hiking around. Skye is famous for its scenery, so I'll be trying to pack in as many hikes as I can. Potential destinations for the next couple days include the Quiraing, the Fairy Pools, the Old Man of Storr, and just today I was able to do Caisteal Maol from the front door of the hostel (you can look up some pictures of all of that I'm sure).
For the next couple days I'll be hiking around. Skye is famous for its scenery, so I'll be trying to pack in as many hikes as I can. Potential destinations for the next couple days include the Quiraing, the Fairy Pools, the Old Man of Storr, and just today I was able to do Caisteal Maol from the front door of the hostel (you can look up some pictures of all of that I'm sure).
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Back on land in Aberdeen
After an incredible, amazing, memorable ten days on sea, I've finally arrived in Aberdeen: first stage of the summer's travels completed. It was an unbelievable time to say the least. I didn't know what to expect out of the trip, but I learned so much about sailing and saw some really cool things. Multiple whale sightings, big waves on the North Sea that would rock the ship up and down, little coastal towns in Denmark and Scotland, it was such a unique and wonderful experience. I actually got to spend a lot of time at the wheel of the ship holding the course, and when all the sails were set, with the sun shining, the boat on a 20 degree keel and doing 10 knots, it was just indescribable. Really calming and sublime. So glad I was able to take part in the trip.
As with all things, though, the journey was not without its problems. I had suspected that the leadership at ELSA was a little disorganized in the weeks leading up to the departure date, but I had no idea to what extent until I got on board the ship and set sail. On the Gulden Leeuw (our ship), there was one lady who was the organizinger, two teachers plus myself, and Burkhard, who runs the whole show. There was incredibly poor communication between all of us on the ELSA side and between the ELSA people and the 10+ member crew on the ship, to the point where the ship and the daily routine almost couldn't function and everyone was confused and frustrated as to what was going on. Burkard would disappear for big stretches of time, and proved to be basically incompetent and clueless--a really terrible leader. He is a heavy alcoholic, which I didn't pick up on at first, but towards the end of the trip he was drunk and angry quite a lot ot the time. Last night we had a team meeting to discuss how the trip went and things to improve for next year, which he showed up drunk to, and everything quickly degraded into a two hour yelling session with a lot of really childish comments and personal attacks (not the first time this happened on the trip, by the way). This morning around 8:30 I caught him sneaking to the back of the ship to down a glass of red wine before having breakfast, and the other teachers said they saw him bringing whole boxes of wine down to his cabin to drink in private. You can't do anything worthwhile without proper guidance and leadership and organization, and when the guy responsible for the whole thing is trashed all the time everything things fall apart. We were all very upset with things by the end.
So all in all a pretty negative experience so far as the teaching side goes. The kids paid a lot of money to go on this trip, and while everyone had fun in the end, it could have been so much better. I was really frustrated at some points, feeling like there was so much wrong with it, wanting to make it better somehow, and faced with the reality that there was really nothing I could do to fix it in my position.
But don't let that mislead you! Even with all of the insanity with the work side of the trip, the sailing side of the trip made up for everything a hundred times over. If I didn't already have my whole summer basically planned out I would have tried to stay on board and sail as a volunteer for the summer, I enjoyed it that much. The crew was full of super friendly, quirky, hilarious, and down to earth people from all walks of life, and much bullshitting and joking around was to be had in the boathouse during watches, on the deck pulling ropes and setting sails, in the galley cooking meals, up in the rigging on the masts of the ship tying up the sails not in use, the list goes on. I really hope that's not the last time I get to go sailing, I think the time I had on the ship pretty much got me addicted.
Anyway, that's about all for now! I've got one day in Aberdeen, and I'm meeting up with Jessie in about four hours! We'll be spending the night here, and then heading down to Edinburgh for another two days. She'll be flying back after that, and I'll be taking the train up to the Isle of Skye in Northern Scotland to do a little hiking! Look up some pictures of the Old Man of Storr. That's my goal for that part of the trip, and there's a lot of other awesome hiking to be done on the island.
As with all things, though, the journey was not without its problems. I had suspected that the leadership at ELSA was a little disorganized in the weeks leading up to the departure date, but I had no idea to what extent until I got on board the ship and set sail. On the Gulden Leeuw (our ship), there was one lady who was the organizinger, two teachers plus myself, and Burkhard, who runs the whole show. There was incredibly poor communication between all of us on the ELSA side and between the ELSA people and the 10+ member crew on the ship, to the point where the ship and the daily routine almost couldn't function and everyone was confused and frustrated as to what was going on. Burkard would disappear for big stretches of time, and proved to be basically incompetent and clueless--a really terrible leader. He is a heavy alcoholic, which I didn't pick up on at first, but towards the end of the trip he was drunk and angry quite a lot ot the time. Last night we had a team meeting to discuss how the trip went and things to improve for next year, which he showed up drunk to, and everything quickly degraded into a two hour yelling session with a lot of really childish comments and personal attacks (not the first time this happened on the trip, by the way). This morning around 8:30 I caught him sneaking to the back of the ship to down a glass of red wine before having breakfast, and the other teachers said they saw him bringing whole boxes of wine down to his cabin to drink in private. You can't do anything worthwhile without proper guidance and leadership and organization, and when the guy responsible for the whole thing is trashed all the time everything things fall apart. We were all very upset with things by the end.
So all in all a pretty negative experience so far as the teaching side goes. The kids paid a lot of money to go on this trip, and while everyone had fun in the end, it could have been so much better. I was really frustrated at some points, feeling like there was so much wrong with it, wanting to make it better somehow, and faced with the reality that there was really nothing I could do to fix it in my position.
But don't let that mislead you! Even with all of the insanity with the work side of the trip, the sailing side of the trip made up for everything a hundred times over. If I didn't already have my whole summer basically planned out I would have tried to stay on board and sail as a volunteer for the summer, I enjoyed it that much. The crew was full of super friendly, quirky, hilarious, and down to earth people from all walks of life, and much bullshitting and joking around was to be had in the boathouse during watches, on the deck pulling ropes and setting sails, in the galley cooking meals, up in the rigging on the masts of the ship tying up the sails not in use, the list goes on. I really hope that's not the last time I get to go sailing, I think the time I had on the ship pretty much got me addicted.
Anyway, that's about all for now! I've got one day in Aberdeen, and I'm meeting up with Jessie in about four hours! We'll be spending the night here, and then heading down to Edinburgh for another two days. She'll be flying back after that, and I'll be taking the train up to the Isle of Skye in Northern Scotland to do a little hiking! Look up some pictures of the Old Man of Storr. That's my goal for that part of the trip, and there's a lot of other awesome hiking to be done on the island.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
In Kiel, T-Minus 12 Hours
Well, here I am up in Kiel! This will be the starting point for the sailing trip, and at 9:00 tomorrow morning we'll be setting sail. Unbelievably excited to be going, hopefully the weather improves a little. I gave my second-hand rain jacket a spin last night during a rain storm in Hamburg, and it let a lot of water in. The weather is supposed to improve though, so fingers crossed.
I spent most of the morning today tying up loose ends and taking care of all of the things I couldn't pack away or clean yesterday. Jessie, my girlfriend, was visiting, so she helped me out a ton with getting everything prepared. We headed over to my old host family's place, who have very graciously agreed to let me stash my stuff at their place over the summer, and had a little breakfast with them. As it turns out, they were heading up to Kiel for a family get together today, so I caught a ride with them at 1:30. In about a half-hour I'll be heading to the dock with the ship and meeting up with Burkhard, the guy running the whole show. He said I can overnight on the ship, so that's where I'll be tonight.
Unbelievable to finally be out here and doing this. I've planned and thought about it for so long, and to be standing on the threshold of it all is indescribable. I feel unhindered, free to go out and explore and experience without anything tugging on me or holding me back. Let's get out there and do it.
Until the thirteenth, when I dock in Aberdeen!
I spent most of the morning today tying up loose ends and taking care of all of the things I couldn't pack away or clean yesterday. Jessie, my girlfriend, was visiting, so she helped me out a ton with getting everything prepared. We headed over to my old host family's place, who have very graciously agreed to let me stash my stuff at their place over the summer, and had a little breakfast with them. As it turns out, they were heading up to Kiel for a family get together today, so I caught a ride with them at 1:30. In about a half-hour I'll be heading to the dock with the ship and meeting up with Burkhard, the guy running the whole show. He said I can overnight on the ship, so that's where I'll be tonight.
Unbelievable to finally be out here and doing this. I've planned and thought about it for so long, and to be standing on the threshold of it all is indescribable. I feel unhindered, free to go out and explore and experience without anything tugging on me or holding me back. Let's get out there and do it.
Until the thirteenth, when I dock in Aberdeen!
Saturday, July 2, 2011
And here we go.
Welcome to the blog! Here I'm going to be detailing (as best I can) my travels in Europe during July and August 2011. I've been planning this trip for a long time, and everything is starting up tomorrow morning. I'm extremely excited to say the least, this is going to be one hell of an adventure for sure.
Anyway, to save myself a little reiteration I'll link to the rough travel outline here so you guys can get an idea of where I'll be going and what I'll be doing: http://fulbrighthamburg.blogspot.com/2011/06/summer-plans.html
I make no promises of keeping this up to date or timely. I am, after all, heading out on this big adventure to DO it, not to sit at some computer in a hostel common room and write about it. I'll try to keep everything updated, but if I go for a while without a post then that means I'm having too good a time to stop and write it out!
So, here we go! I'll leave you with a little poem out of the Lord of the Rings, which is also the inspiration for the title of the blog, and a poem I personally enjoy a lot. Until the next update.
Anyway, to save myself a little reiteration I'll link to the rough travel outline here so you guys can get an idea of where I'll be going and what I'll be doing: http://fulbrighthamburg.blogspot.com/2011/06/summer-plans.html
I make no promises of keeping this up to date or timely. I am, after all, heading out on this big adventure to DO it, not to sit at some computer in a hostel common room and write about it. I'll try to keep everything updated, but if I go for a while without a post then that means I'm having too good a time to stop and write it out!
So, here we go! I'll leave you with a little poem out of the Lord of the Rings, which is also the inspiration for the title of the blog, and a poem I personally enjoy a lot. Until the next update.
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
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