We stayed in a very cute little house on the side of a mountain last night. It was quite a pain getting up that high, but our view of the trees, basque farms, and countryside below made it so rewarding. We spent most of the day walking in the rain, but the temperature wasn´t bad so we wrapped ourselves in various plastics and continued.
This morning breakfast was served at the hostel up the road, but in the very short window of 7-7:30. It was about a half a mile walk. When nobody else was ready I decided to go it alone, as we´d made the same walk the night before for dinner and it hadn´t been bad. At about 6:45 I headed up the road with coffee in one hand and fear in the other. I know next to nothing about French biodiversity, and what kind of spooky things could be hiding in those woods, so I walked apprehensively looking around at all times and feeling scared of what I couldn´t see.
I was already halfway there but I thought about turning back or waiting til someone else came to walk with, though I didn’t know how long that would be. I was scared. Scared of what I couldn’t see in the fog. Cliff on one side of me forest on the other. So I stood there dumbfounded weighing my options. I wasn’t going to turn back I told myself. I had gone too far to be worth it. I realized in that moment that I just needed to have faith. Not faith in God or anything in particular, but faith in everything. It’s something I have lacked my whole life and it makes me a scared person. I gathered my wits and went back to putting one foot in front of the other. I had faith in my feet, believing that they would keep me solid and balanced as they always had. I had faith in the nature around me, that so far, nothing had ever attacked me and it probably won’t ever. I had faith in some sort of spirit or light to guide me through it, and most importantly, I had faith in myself to make the right decisions. And of course the walk to breakfast was fine. It would’ve been fine either way. But it was the spirit and the mindset that stuck out. For the day ahead of me I would need that faith. For the life ahead of me I would need it too. After a small breakfast of baguette, jam, and coffee from a bowl, I bought a sandwich (which is just another baguette with chorizo on it) and waited for Hillary and her parents. They had decided to walk this day with us, and I like to think it was fate because I couldn’t have gone through what followed without them. We were making the walk from Orrison to Roncesvalles on the Napoleon trail. It’s a 17 km walk (about 10 miles), that takes you up a mountain 750 m (2460 feet) and then back down 500 m (1640 feet) before you reach Roncesvalles. It started out calm, a little cold, but nothing you wouldn’t think a morning to bring. We saw horses and their foals playing, and all sorts of basque sheep and cows. Then we started climbing. And climbing. And climbing. The same fog had set in again and we were unsure of how high we even were. Then the rain started. It started light and without general direction, but it was cold so we increased our pace. We were past the tree line on lime green grass and gray rock when it started raining hare followed by the wind. Soon all my “water proof” clothing was soaked through and I dug my wet hands into my pockets trying to steal the warmth from my legs. As we climbed the wind became colder and stronger. All my wet gear whipped around my body as the temperate dropped more and more. Around a bend there was a sight for sore eyes. A man who lived down the mountain had set up a gazebo that was trying hard to blow away on the side of his truck and was selling hot chocolate, coffee, and snacks. All the miserable pilgrims crowded around him, although the way he was parked offered no shelter from the elements. In the back of the line, another pilgrim offered me the end of his second cup. As I removed my hand from my pocket to take it from him, I realized I couldn’t feel it. I drank the hot chocolate anyway. When we reached the front of the line, I ordered hot chocolate, a granola bar, and a triangle of goat cheese. When I went to unzip my jacket to pay him, I couldn’t. I had lost most dexterity in my right hand. It was massively swollen and red and white. I had to use my left. We continued on after that. After a few meters we dropped back down into the trees and changed the wind for mud. At least 6 inches of red brown slop covered the trail. We skated. Then there was a different kind of obstacle. The trail had been covered in bright red leaves from the trees around it and they had collected and began to compost, creating a spongy, slick, damp carpet that had broken someone’s femur two days before. I was colder than I had ever been in my life. We had one pair of dry gloves and Hillary and I shared them. Fortunately I had the right. Fog enveloped everything. Then we began to see numbered markers encouraging us to the end. We marched on. Snow began to appear on the ground between trees around us. We laughed as it validated how cold we were wearing only fleeces and rain jackets. Then more snow. And more. Until snow and melt covered the trail too. We came around a corner and there was a hill with a %10 grade, covered in snow. I cursed loudly. We pushed on, walking as fast as we could. Partially to keep warm and partially because the faster we walked the sooner we could be out of it. I was dizzy. I was exhausted. I kept drinking water but it wasn’t enough. Every time I stopped walking the world started spinning. Lew dug me the hunk of cheese out of my backpack and before I knew what I’d done, I’d eaten most of the triangle. It was better but wasn’t enough. Stopping wasn’t an option anymore. My feet pounded, my heart raced. I just looked down. No one had expected this. But we had to keep going. There was no easy was out. Either you walked out or you didn’t. Then started the descent. There were two ways down. Someone had told Lew that when the road forks down into the forest and onto a road, take the road. The forest slope went through the center of the trees on a two foot wide dirt mud path that sloped straight down. We took the road to the right. After time the snow started disappearing. When it was all gone I wanted to scream/cry/kiss the grass. The last 3 km were nice. There was even sun. We went through a corner of the woods and ended up finding abandoned WWII outposts that had grown into the hills. The hostel was an old monastery. It had 118 beds and was built before the lives of many of my ancestors. Upon arriving I felt like a different person than when I’d gotten up that morning. I looked at the stormy snow covered mountains behind me and it sparked something. Yesterday I never would have imagined that I could look such a fear and such an exhaustion in the eyes and conquer it. I am far stronger than I’ve ever known and all it took was faith.
