DAY 1
Day 1: Irun – Pasaia
16:00h-21:00h
16.7km
Plan is set. 7 days, more or less. Irun to Bilbao. I’ll be sure to set my foot in France so that I can say I walked from France to my apartment. That has a nice ring to it, right?
Packing light. Instead of a sleeping bag, a sheer sleep-sack. It’s damn hot here in Euskadi.
Two sets of clothes; one for walking and one for not walking.
- Walking
- Lightweight, fast-drying trekking pants from Decathlon.
- 6-year-old Lululemon running shorts that I originally bought for South America but are still in fantastic working condition.
- One wool Icebreaker tee.
- Chacos (also purchased for South America). Yes, I’m going hiking in “sandals” – but anyone who knows Chacos, knows that they aren’t your average dollar store sandals. They’re TREKKING sandals and are perfect for hot weather. They allow your feet to breath. No socks required. They are all terrain; water and land.
- Walking poles. Essential.
- Non-Walking
- One pair shorts
- 2 shirts
- 2 pairs boxer briefs
- Non Clothing Items
- Kindle
- Toiletries
- Sunglasses
- Earplugs
- Water bottle
- Journal
- Food
- Mixed Nuts
- Instant Coffee
- Stick of Fuet
- Bocadillo for the first dinner
I taught my last class of the day and then promptly grabbed a Blablacar to Irun to start the adventure. I told the French teenagers driving me to drop me off at “el puente internacional” in Irun; the river that separates Spain from France. I walked to the French side, took a few photos to prove I had stepped foot in a new country and began the process of following yellow arrows until I locate an albergue to sleep in.
The walk snaked through Irun, a pleasant yet not particularly amazing city. My expectations for the camino were to be out in nature, so I quickly hurried through the gran vía of Irun and was delighted when the arrows led me down a river offshoot into the heart of the countryside.
The next hour or so was a pleasant forest walk with minimal car traffic until I reached a sign giving me two options: continue on the gravel road for 11 km and only 100 meters of elevation or go on the mountain route which is also 11 km but closer to 500 meters of elevation. The sign gave a stern warning to avoid the mountain route if there are poor weather conditions and the forecast called for light rain. After a few minutes of debate, I took the obvious choice: the mountain road. I wanted an adventure!
My gamble paid off; I was treated to incredible coastal views of Irun and Hondarribia and the scenery was incredible. The path was poorly marked, so there were times when I wasn’t sure I was going the right direction, but I pushed on and had faith in the Camino. I came across herds of sheep, ancient ermitas, sweeping pastoral views of the countryside and a lot of lush greenery. A few hours later, I was still walking, the sun was beginning to set and then it started raining. Luckily it was a light misting but I decided to wear my poncho anyway.
I continued to trek on. Hunger began to set in. It was 8:00 at night. There was an hour of light left in the day and I had been walking for 4 hours. I was ready to find an albergue and call it a night. I reached another fork in the road. The sign informed me: 1.5 km to the pueblo of Lezo or 4.5 km to Pasaia where there was definitely an albergue. I decided to take a chance on Lezo and hope to find a place to stay there.
I stumbled down the hill and entered the pueblo. I packed away my hiking poles and wiped off the dirt from my clothes to try and appear less like a crazed mountain man and more like a respectable pilgrim when inquiring with the townspeople about possible lodging options. I asked 2 groups of people and both said there were no albergues in town and that I had to continue to Pasaia. Crap. I trudged onward. Looks like I chose wrong. Oh well, at least I got to get a glimpse of the bustling pueblo of Lezo.
At this point, there was only one thing on my mind: get to the albergue to secure my lodging for the night and then eat my bocadillo. I was ravenous. My tank was on empty. Food supplies were exhausted, my phone was completely dead and I had just hiked a mountainous 17km through mud and rain. It was a chore to form words in any language, but I dug deep within my energy reserves and inquired with the townspeople of Pasaia to get directions to the albergue. I was told that it’s up on the hill, next to the church. That seems easy enough, I thought to myself. Turns out, it wasn’t. People gave me wildly different instructions on which set of stairs to take to reach the top. I literally walked from one side of the town to the other 4 times looking for the damn stairs (it’s a small pueblo). Luckily, it’s a beautiful pueblo along the bay with a narrow, cobblestone street. Also, there was a fiesta happening (of course) so it was a festive environment. After what seemed like 45 minutes of wandering back and forth, I finally chose a damn set of stairs and starting walking up. It was dark by then. I stumbled to the top of the mountain and found the church and around the corner is the Albergue. ¡Por Fin! I’m finally here. I mistakenly believe that my struggles would end there….
When I arrive at the Albergue, there is a man standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. I have no idea if he is the manager of the albergue (this one is run by volunteers and the lodging is donation based) or just another pilgrim. I immediately get weird vibes from him. His spanish accent is strange. He starts questioning me about where I came from and how I could possibly be wearing sandals on the camino. Internally, I’m rolling my eyes but I try and calmly answer his questions and explain that they aren’t regular sandals, they’re trekking sandals. His attitude is hostile and unfriendly; exactly the opposite of what I expect when a pilgrim arrives after a grueling 5-hour walk. He comments that my feet don’t even look dirty. I assume he’s just giving me a hard time for wearing sandals and is a sarcastic guy. All I want to do is get checked in, eat my bocadillo and take a shower. He continues his strange questioning and behavior and then says “we’re full, call this number for a hotel in town.”
My heart sinks. Not only are they full, this guy is a complete jerk and not helpful. I tell him my phone is completely dead, that I need to charge it; I stumble into the albergue and see there are open beds. “You say it’s full but there are open beds….?” He scornfully replies “No eres peregrino, esto solo es para peregrinos.” You’re not a pilgrim, this place is only for pilgrims. At this point, I finally understand his behavior. He thinks I’m pretending to be a pilgrim so that I can get cheap accommodation. He’s flat-out accusing me of being a liar and a charlatan to save a few bucks on accommodation for the night!
The next 5 minutes were a frenetic blur but let’s just say that there was literal steam coming out of my ears. “ARE YOU F’ING SERIOUS?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!? Estás de coña?!? I DON’T BELIEVE IT. I’LL SHOW YOU MY STRAVA GPS, MY PICTURES, MY CREDENTIAL STAMP FROM THE CHURCH HALFWAY THOUGH. I DON’T BELIEVE IT. NO ME LO PUEDO CREER. YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS. HOW DARE YOU!!!” The friendly-looking young german couple eating dinner feet away from us had a look of terror in their eyes as this tense confrontation went down. In the chaos, I managed to hurl my Pilgrim passport at him which has a stamp at a church halfway through the hike. I also had GPS data and tons of pictures to support my case. Eventually, he realized his error and apologized to me. It took me a while to calm down, but after showering and eating my delicious bocadillo de chorizo y queso, I felt better. Wow, vaya bienvenida. What a great welcome!
The rest of the night was fun. The pilgrims were friendly and everyone was brimming with excitement about starting the journey; it was the first night for most people. There was a fiesta happening in the pueblo and there were beautiful fireworks at night. In the morning, the albergue boss apologized to me again, offered me some fresh coffee and all was good. In the end, it makes for a fun story; a wacky start to what would be a grand adventure on the Camino.
Rambles from my journal:
- Long solo walk.
- So stunningly beautiful.
- Is this Ireland?
- View from the rock above Irune/Hondarribia left me speechless.
- Glad I took mountain route. Misty, foggy, moist, so fucking beautiful.
- Ravenous / tired / exhausted by the time I entered Lezo. Hoping for an Albergue. Phone dead. Talked to people. Got directions, some bad, some ok. People friendly. Arrived in Pasaia. F’ing cool pueblo. On water. Very medieval feeling. Fiesta of course.
- THIS LAND IS STUNNINGLY BEAUTIFUL. I’M GLAD I LIVE HERE.
- YOU NEED TO TAKE UP SURFING. NEW ACTIVITY. The beach is near. Vball ain’t happening.
- EVOLVE
DAY 2
Pasaia to Orio.
9:00h-20:00h
24.9km
After a below average night of sleep (the mattress was uncomfortable and the albergue was HOT), I groggily rolled out of bed and slowly collected my things. The wake-up times at Albergues are usually around 6:30 AM – pilgrims get started early to avoid the heat and arrive at the next albergue before all the beds fill up. I took my time getting things ready and wanted to enjoy the morning after rushing to find the albergue before it got dark. I was all packed up and ready to go, when I heard some American English in what sounded like a Texas accent. I instantly had judgemental thoughts of my fellow Americans, “Clueless American tourists, they know nothing!” I quickly tried to squash those Ego driven thoughts and started chatting with them. As it turns out, they’re a friendly young couple (Cody and Ashley) from Texas doing the entire Camino, from Irún to Santiago. They literally started the Camino by walking off the plane at the airport in Irún. They spent a year planning the trip and had to fly halfway across the world with all the gear they needed for the trip. Respect! They didn’t have time to exchange their dollars for Euros, so I helped out my compatriots and spotted them the 1.20 euro fee to cross the bay in a boat so that we could continue the Camino. We ended up walking together all the way to San Sebastián. This section of the walk was quite stunning; the blue skies and shining sun made it even more epic. The walk snakes through lush mountains; to your left are scenes out of Jurassic Park; to your right is the stunning coastline. “Is this really where I live?!?” I kept asking myself. Parece mentira. It really puts things in perspective and reminds me to be grateful for the experience of living here.
It was fun to hang out with some Americans; speaking in your own language and being able to use idioms and sayings without any miscommunications is quite nice. Cody and Ashley were really fun travel companions; full of positive energy and enthusiasm for starting the Camino. Their moxy for life was contagious. We chatted about many topics, one of them being differences between the U.S. and Spain. They described how giant Houston is and how they live 20 minutes apart in car; and how it’s impossible to walk anywhere. Conversations like that only reinforce my desire to not live in America. Anyway, I enjoyed playing tour guide; I showed them a bit of San Sebastián and stopped in at my favorite bakery for the best pastel vasco in the universe. I tried to convince them to at least spend a night in the magical town of San Sebastián, but alas, they wanted to continue on the camino, understandably.
We continued through the town and re-entered the treacherous Guipúzcoan coastal mountains. The next stretch of the walk was equally as beautiful but extra hard; by this time it was 2 pm and the sun was crushing us. There was also quite a bit of climbing, followed by descending. The elevation profile looks like this:
Halfway through this section of the hike, I decided it was time to part ways with my new friends. When I walk, sometimes I enjoy moving at a brisk pace, entering a meditative zone where I focus on my breath and my strides. Especially for challenging stretches, I prefer to move quickly and attack the challenge head on. Each pilgrim walks their own camino at their own pace, so parting ways is a common occurrence on the Camino. I knew I would see them again eventually…maybe later that day, maybe in a week, who knows. 
Part of me was also worried about finding a bed in the next town. We had already met half a dozen pilgrims that were also heading to Orio. I had heard that there’s always a race to secure beds on the Camino Frances, but this is the Camino del Norte; much less crowded than the Frances. Then again, it’s August and the entire country of Spain is on vacation right now; high season, essentially. 
The last hour of the hike was a grueling descent. Luckily, I have my trusty hiking poles to help ease the burden on my knees and allow me to descend like a champ. I finally arrived in the forgotten coastal pueblo of Orio and navigated my way to the Albergue. This time, I was prepared to defend myself if I was accused of not being a “real pilgrim”. I made my way to the Albergue and there was a group of sad looking pilgrims outside of the Albergue. I instantly knew it was full. Not only was it full, the albergues in the next town (Zarauz) were also full. I was a bit worried because I didn’t have camping gear (some pilgrims bring a tent, mat and sleeping bag to take advantage of the warm summer weather) and was not excited about the prospect of sleeping outside or paying una pasta for a hotel room. In retrospect, I wish I brought some minimal camping gear; a sleeping mat, thin sleeping bag and bivy would have been perfect for some stealth camping. Next year. In the end, I was able to grab the last pension house available in town for 45 euros, not terrible considering the time of year. I was in no mood to sleep on a beach with no mat or equipment. I felt bad for ditching my fellow pilgrims (there was at least 10 of them that were in the same situation as me) but you have to do what’s right for you. I later found out that most of them camped in a construction ditch, not realizing that they were mere meters from a beautiful beach! In retrospect, I think it would have been a fun bonding experience to have not gotten the hotel and suffered the night in the ditch with the rest of the group. That’s how you make such fast friends on the camino; communal suffering and shared experiences! It makes for quick bonding and great stories. In the moment, I made the best decision for me and for my body; get a decent night of rest in a hotel room. 
On the way to the pension house, I needed to backtrack and walk against the grain of the camino. As I was strolling along, feeling kind of bad for leaving my fellow pilgrims, a group of 3 pretty lady pilgrims magically appeared out of nowhere, walking towards me in brightly colored backpacks and trendy sports gear. “Estaís haciendo el camino?” I asked them. Smooth, of course, they’re doing the camino. They perked up and excitedly answered “sí” in unison. I proceeded to warn them about the impacted state of pilgrim beds in Orio and the next town of Zauraz. They were appreciative of my warning and continued on their way. Bummer, not only am I leaving my group of friends but I’m missing out on getting to know the friendly, fun group of sporty spice girls that are heading in the opposite direction. Oh well, maybe we’ll meet again, I thought to myself…. 
The pension was nice; a shower to myself, a bed that I can stretch out on, no snoring pilgrims. After only 2 days I’m already pampering myself with amenities! And to think, the entire peregrinacion is 40 days.
I was dead tired but forced myself to check out the Pueblo of Orio. I had never even heard of it. I wandered along the river to the bay and saw a huge group of kids playing in the water, jumping off the bridge and treating it like a public swimming pool. It was cute. A fun, small town atmosphere. There was a nice historical center, plenty of bars with the terraces full of townspeople enjoying the warm summer afternoon. My mission was to buy una barra de pan and possible tomar una caña while writing in my journal and soaking up the ambiance. I strolled past a fruit shop and the peaches looked like a delicious snack for the summer heat. I ended up chatting with the shopkeeper about where to find the best bread in town and when he found out I was an American living in Bilbao, doing the camino de santiago, he was super stoked to talk to me. It was an authentic experience with a local, something I always strive to experience! Sometimes it’s hard to do that on the camino; many places are desensitized to pilgrims because there are so many of them, they are treated more of a nuisance (or ignored) rather than a unique human. I suppose it also helps to know the language and make an effort to chat with people. On the camino, there is an entire world of ‘peregrinos’ – one can easily stay in that world. There are endless opportunities to socialize, meet new people, make friends, have quick conversations, talk about life, etc. There is also the dimension of interacting with the outside world; exploring the pueblos, talking to the locals, learning about the history. Additionally, there is the aspect of being out in nature, getting in touch with yourself, meditating on life, being alone with your thoughts. The camino is multi-dimensional. Many lives are lived in a single camino experience.
Anyway, I grabbed that caña and scribbled some of my crazed thoughts in my journal in an attempt to crystalize and memorialize the 36 hours of camino’ing I had done. At this point, it felt like about 2 weeks. So many unique experiences, people, places. Grueling physical exercise. Suffering. Joy. Relaxation. The whole gamut of emotions. Some brilliant nuggets from my journal that day (note the sarcasm):
- Cute pueblo
- ¡BIDDIEZ!
- The entire f’ing bulletin board is in euskera
DAY 3
Orio to Deba
5:00h-14:00h
28.3km
My alarm jars me from my slumber at 5 AM. Twenty minutes later, I’m downing my instant coffee and heading out for day 3 on the Camino. This time, I’m prepared; starting early – I plan to arrive at the next Albergue early to ensure a bed.
I walk in darkness for the next 90 minutes. Through the sleepy town of Orio, I cross the mountain pass and descend onto the legendary surf pueblo of Zarauz. The epic sunrise that I was dreaming of was unfortunately marred by the typical overcast weather. Oh well. I marched on at a mean pace, I was in soldier mode. A man on a mission. Get to albergue and secure spot. I flew through Zarauz, not even stopping to glance at the beach. I’ll be back though. One day. The next thing I knew, I was in txakoli country (a typical white wine from this region), passing through stunning vineyards along the coast. 
I continued my bat-out-of-hell pace until I reached the next pueblo of Zumaya, yet another magical coastal pueblo. I also had a serious equipment issue: my Chaco sandal was in serious need of repair – the sole was coming undone and in grave danger of becoming completely unattached. A quick trip to the hardware store and heaps of powerful glue solved that problem. Level up! I now had a decision to make. It was only 10 AM and I had already traveled 15.5 km; the average daily distance is 20-25km. It didn’t feel right to stay in Zumaya when I still had a lot of daylight left. I decided to march on! 
The day was blazing hot by then. It would end up being in the upper 90’s. I started to regret my decision as I frantically applied a layer of sunscreen to my already sweaty exposed skin. I continued onward. It was hot and I was running out of water. Luckily, the magical camino led me to a camping area where there was a vendor selling cold drinks. I had a strange craving for Nestea and began my camino tradition adding Nestea into my water bottle and diluting it with water to help deal with the blazing hot days. The electrolytes and glucose gave me fuel to continue onwards. As I was mixing my concoction, I spotted the 3 sporty ladies from the previous evening and by coincidence, we were both taking off at the same time. We started chatting and it turns out they’re from Barcelona and we’re all born in 1984 during the summer! There must be a magical summer of 1984 connection that brought us together. They’re a fun group; friends from childhood; constantly laughing and making jokes. Good vibes and fun camino buddies. I was quickly brought on as a temporary 4th member of their cuadrilla and they got a kick out of making me pronounce famous celebrity names and movies. TEETAANIC!
After a few hours of beautiful scenery, scorching weather and good company, we entered the pueblo of Deba. The girls started calling albergues and places were already sold out. It was only 2 pm! We were told to go to the tourist office, where they could help us find the nearest albergue. We sprinted through the town to the office, “Los segundos cuentan!”. There was a line of pilgrims out the door. It was a repeat of the night before!!! Well, it wasn’t the end of the world, I met some fun people, I was in a beautiful beachside pueblo and the day was stunning. We ended up booking an albergue 5km up the Camino (in the mountains) and agreed to bend the rules and take a taxi; we were done walking and it was time to relax. After a delicious menú del día, we went to the beach for some much-needed frolicking in the water. The beach was packed but there was plenty of space to splash in the water. Everyone was so happy to be there. Babies, families, old, young; everyone together just enjoying the fuck out of the beautiful day. The weather is not so great in Euskadi; it rains a lot, there are clouds, it’s grey. But when it’s nice, people go crazy and really appreciate the great weather. 
The epic day continued at the albergue. The setting was incredible; in the mountains, lush forest, beautiful views, setting sun. The 1.5 euro cañas, comfortable chill-out area and flowing conversation also added to the experience. I met some more cool people at the Albergue; 2 father/son duos; one from Cataluña another from Madrid. Interestingly enough, the Dad was originally from Scotland but has been in Spain for 27 years. I didn’t detect any guiri accent; I suppose it will only take me 25 more years of living here before I can eliminate my acento americano. Anyway, the vibes were great at the albergue. Relaxing atmosphere, flowing conversation, a family of pigs and adorable piglets and a very handsome cat. Epic sunset, as well. All in all, a fantastic day. 
Journal scribbles:
- Repaired shoe with glue.
- Good chats.
- Great to join a group.
- That’s what’s awesome about the Camino – fast friends. It’s like we’ve known each other for years.
- Like camp experience.
- Shared experiences.
- Doing Camino is a great place to meet like-minded people.
- Best of both worlds…group travel, but you can go at your bola. Solo this morning.
- Basque country is FUCKING amazingly beautiful, how can you leave this?
- Friendly group from last night, Scottish dude who has been here for 27 years.
- BEACH DAY yesterday. So awesome. Entire world PLAYING at the beach pasandolo de puta madre