On this particular morning we were fairly late in leaving. Only an hour out of town lies the Irache Wine Fountain, but it did not open until 9:00, so we were not in a hurry. The Irache Wine Fountain is connected with a monastery that has given free wine to thirsty pilgrims for centuries. We did arrive near the appropriate time, and we enjoyed sipping wine from our scallop shells (tradition) and we also took some (a little) in our water bottles.
Not far after the fountain, the road splits with a high route and low route. There were many pilgrims of many nationalities and languages debating which way to go. I don’t remember now why we chose the low route, whether it was our tired bodies or lack of desire to climb, but everyone took the low route.
At the town of Montjardin, we stopped for a coffee. Leo had his lunch beer. I wanted to go into the small church but the lights were out. Then I noticed that for a Euro, I could turn on all the lights, so I paid it and went inside. Immediately all the other pilgrims in the plaza came inside to look. It was austere and beautiful.
I am glad I took the time, because as we were leaving town we bumped into April and Kevin, the two Irish kids we had last seen in Pamplona. They waved and shouted, and we discovered they were carrying Leo’s missing clothes! Kevin had accidentally packed them before bed that night in Pamplona, and since they were sleeping when we left, we had no idea.
We continued our very long hike through the rolling hills of the Basque country. Leo was much further ahead than me, but I kept company with a wonderful Basque woman who was very proud of her heritage. The day became very warm, so we were excited to approach a food truck in the middle of nowhere selling sodas, beer and wine. Of course, I still had the wine from the fountain, so I just relaxed and drank the rest of the bottle.
We continued onward, and reached Los Arcos in mid-afternoon. The town was so empty, I was afraid we would have to continue to the next village, but then we spied the Albergue de la Abuela. It had a great recommendation from the guidebook, so we checked in there. Surprise! We were sharing a room with three American women: Kay and her daughter, Maria, and Kay’s sister Jean. While the hostel seemed fairly empty, we discovered later that all the other beds had been reserved by a cycling group, I believe from Spain.
Leo and I went down to explore the plaza, and basically we ran into everyone we had met thus far on the camino. Susanne and Glaucia, Mass and Anna and Maria (Switzerland) and Fizz, the Fearn Family, and the Americans with whom we were sharing the room. There was a lot of gaiety in the air as it was Good Friday.
I went inside for the packed service at 7:00. It was amazing, even though I wasn’t sure what was happening. They slowly uncovered the body of the crucified Christ, then removed the crown and the nails, placing those on pillows, and then they lowered the body into a glass casket. Kay was sitting next to me during the service, and afterward she asked me if I had just recited the Lord’s Prayer in Spanish. Why yes I did! I studied for months, and only got to say it three times along the camino.
After the service, I went outside to join the throngs that were now lining the streets. The Good Friday procession came out of the church and along the main road. I had never witness anything quite like this. It was medieval and superstitious and third-world and amazing. Afterward we went back to the room to find the girls asleep.
I did not sleep well that night, but in the morning I was told that I snored louder than ever. Kay, Maria and Jean would become the second group of people that I think avoided Leo and I altogether because of our snoring. (The first group was the four others in the cramped room at Hotel Jakue.)
At the town of Montjardin, we stopped for a coffee. Leo had his lunch beer. I wanted to go into the small church but the lights were out. Then I noticed that for a Euro, I could turn on all the lights, so I paid it and went inside. Immediately all the other pilgrims in the plaza came inside to look. It was austere and beautiful.
We continued our very long hike through the rolling hills of the Basque country. Leo was much further ahead than me, but I kept company with a wonderful Basque woman who was very proud of her heritage. The day became very warm, so we were excited to approach a food truck in the middle of nowhere selling sodas, beer and wine. Of course, I still had the wine from the fountain, so I just relaxed and drank the rest of the bottle.
We continued onward, and reached Los Arcos in mid-afternoon. The town was so empty, I was afraid we would have to continue to the next village, but then we spied the Albergue de la Abuela. It had a great recommendation from the guidebook, so we checked in there. Surprise! We were sharing a room with three American women: Kay and her daughter, Maria, and Kay’s sister Jean. While the hostel seemed fairly empty, we discovered later that all the other beds had been reserved by a cycling group, I believe from Spain.
Leo and I went down to explore the plaza, and basically we ran into everyone we had met thus far on the camino. Susanne and Glaucia, Mass and Anna and Maria (Switzerland) and Fizz, the Fearn Family, and the Americans with whom we were sharing the room. There was a lot of gaiety in the air as it was Good Friday.
I went inside for the packed service at 7:00. It was amazing, even though I wasn’t sure what was happening. They slowly uncovered the body of the crucified Christ, then removed the crown and the nails, placing those on pillows, and then they lowered the body into a glass casket. Kay was sitting next to me during the service, and afterward she asked me if I had just recited the Lord’s Prayer in Spanish. Why yes I did! I studied for months, and only got to say it three times along the camino.
After the service, I went outside to join the throngs that were now lining the streets. The Good Friday procession came out of the church and along the main road. I had never witness anything quite like this. It was medieval and superstitious and third-world and amazing. Afterward we went back to the room to find the girls asleep.
I did not sleep well that night, but in the morning I was told that I snored louder than ever. Kay, Maria and Jean would become the second group of people that I think avoided Leo and I altogether because of our snoring. (The first group was the four others in the cramped room at Hotel Jakue.)
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