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13 miles(but I got lost in the rain/forest), 200 feet elevation

I’m turning into a mushroom. Hiked 4 hours in pouring rain. Some old Basque farmer saved me today. He hiked me back to a trailhead that wasn’t correctly marked and showed me the way. He couldn’t believe I was alone. He kept saying: “Solo? Solomente, por que?  I finally told him; “No Amigos.”  He looked really sad for me.

You hike down into Bilbao after hiking up a severe hill. It is impressive. He are a few pics: 

    

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

 

19.1 miles, 600 feet elevation

Relatively flat with three fairly interesting churches one in each town:San Esteban, which contains some Roman remains, Santos Emeterio & Celedonio, which honors 2 Roman legionnaires who were martyred for their faith. (In 1991 upon restoration  several cool murals were revealed and they have significant artistic importance), and Santa Maria includes a Greek cross and a 15th century statue of Our Lady.

It rained all day until I meandered into Lezama. The walk followed low lying dirt trails that got really mucky in parts. No pictures to speak of because of the downpour. Nothing earth shattering to report. Nappy time. Below is the final Basque farmhouse I’m staying in. This is a modern imitation and I think I’m basically on the out skirts of Bilbao. Tomorrow’s suppose to be the shortest day….thank god! 

  

  

  

  

    

21 miles, 2,100 feet elevation

“You are the wipers of other men’s bottoms!”   Vic will remember this from the trip we took to Poland. When one of our Aunts or Uncles or Cousins would rattle away at one of us in Polish, pinching our cheeks or what not, one of us would say this.

As I finally waddled into Gernika, I pulled out a map to find my hotel. A dapperly dressed elderly gentleman grabbed my arm and check out the hotel address. He spoke to me passionately in Spanish for what seemed like a couple of minutes, apparently giving me directions, waving the cane he carried in his left hand and gesturing rapidly with his right. I said “Si” twice and of course he thought I understood perfectly.  I didn’t have the heart to tell him, and I was so fucking tired all I could think of is that he was telling me that I, in fact, was the wiper of other men’s bottoms. I nearly broke out in delerious laughter. I bit my lip.

I took my first fall today. I still bounce pretty well.  I followed a river most of the way from Markina. I saw a half dozen deer, flocks of sheep, cattle and more horse ranches. The sheep, some cow, and a few horses carry these enormous bells around their necks and one hears the constant bell ringing throughout the hills.

Gernika is a larger town than either Deba or Markina. Franco employed Hitler and Mussolini’s air forces to twice saturation bomb Gernika during the Spanish Civil War. Picasso did a famous painting, which shares the town’s name, illustrating the destructive nature of modern technology and the savegery of fascist militaries. I hope to see it tomorrow. The original is in a museum in Madrid…the one here a mural copy. Here are a few picks from the walk today. 

   

   

 

16? Miles , 5,300 feet elevation                  

One crosses the Deba Rio and  climbs up out of Deba and joins the national forest. They cannot mark the national forest with the yellow conch shells or the yellow Camino arrows, the typical Camino markers, so I wandered around in the rain forest. ( I don’t know if it is an official rain forest, but it was pouring down and everything I’ve ever seen green grew in this forest:fern,ivy,fauna and flower of a multitude and trees of a wide variety.

I was rescued by Anthony, a Basque electrician, who was on his normal Saturday hike. He reminded me of  my cousin Andrew, Andrew’s namesake.  My Polish cousin who had the congenital heart difficulty. Anthony stopped at one point to adjust something that helped control a pacemaker he had. This is by way of pigeon English and Spanish and him showing me his massive chest scar. He has a 15 year old son and a 13 year old daughter and a wife he called “boss”.  He let out an affectious laugh when he said “boss”.

He showed me the correct path and walked with me to Olatz. My first Spanish friend. We parted ways and I stopped at a quaint Basque home/ cafe and had a torta pintxos, an espresso and a bottled water for 3 euros. The Spanish/omelet/torta was to die for.  How does anyone make any money charging so little.

There were 5 ,that I counted, extremely steep ascents and more painfully 5 very abrupt downhills. Some so steep coming down I thought I would slip and fall. The down hurt much worse. Along the way, deep in the forest, I saw a couple banana slugs the size of small cats. (if that is what they were?)  A handful of light green tree frogs and a lizard-gecko, bright green with black spots a little bigger than the geiko gecko, zipping around like he was on crack or something. And one very curious pony who wanted badly to eat my backpack. 

I limped into Markina and landed in an Irish bar. I had an address but no idea how to get to Casa Rural Intxauspe at Barrio Atxondoa, número 10. When I showed the gal bartending the name and address, she immediately took out her cell and made a call. In 5 minutes the lady running the 17th century Basque farmhouse came and picked me up. It’ s a couple minutes away overlooking town but way cool. I have some pics but they have to wait, I have no wi if. 

  

  

  

  

      

  

   

    

15 miles, 5,000 feet elevation – DEBA       

By now The National BigTimeWrestling Association, also known as the NBA, will have decided if not who will win their honorable, illustrious championship, at least how to get it to seven games, and fill the 1%ers pockets as full as possible. With all the honor and integrity of big time wrestling of old, rumor has it next season the NBA will experiment with a best out of 13 series and finish right around August 1st.

All kidding aside, Ry, what the hell is this Basque spelling all about? X’s, T’s, Z’s and all together making words impossible to pronounce, spell and absolutely no correlation with any language I’ve ever heard of: not Spanish, French, English…not even Tamil. It’s a trip! I took a picture of a brightly yellow painted sign that read: “HELLO, PILGRIM!”   I immediately thought of John James.

Today I climbed up and down and over two relatively small peninsulas. Less mileage more elevation. I passed through dairy farms, more vinyards, small farms and sheep pastures.  My little hotel is a broken down old spa on the Deba Bay. The room’s small but the mattress is firm and I’ll be in bed asleep before nine. I ‘m sitting In a piazza sipping a Pilsner Urquell in an outdoor cafe, fearing what it will feel like to try to stand up and to walk the 100 yards back to the hotel. (Here are a few pics from today. I realize that those of Donostia do NOT do the town justice)

    

  

  

  

  

    

  

  

  

  

 

23 mile, 3,700 feet elevation.       Getaria

Tomas & Jeanne, a French couple I met at the end of the San Sebastián promenade, helped me find the Camino del Norte trailhead.  Although awkward, we managed to converse; some Spanish, a little English and much gesticulating with hand and sign language. I refrained from using the only French I know: counting to 5, ordering wine(red or white) or beer(up to 5 at a time), or finally asking them to sleep with me. Somehow none of which seemed quite appropriate.

The trail begins near the funicular. (Ry, I’m sure you know where that is). Climbing the funicular/lighthouse hill kicked my ass, and that was just the beginning of the coastal hills. The pathway skirts the coast and passes farms, and vinyards before descending back to the coast itself. It’s beautiful. Orio is a coastal port town at the mouth of a river. I stopped in Orio for water, coffee and a short break. It rained for the next hour or so. Zarautz is a bit bigger than Getaria and a cool marble paved walkway joins them. (What’s with these slick Spanish stamped marble sidewalks; I slip-slid, ice skating part time in my hiking shoes.) They are roughly 3 miles apart and you can see Getaria jetting out from the coast as its own little peninsula. 3 Baleen Whales frolicked a 100 yards off shore, as if greeting me.  A couple of posted signs at vista points along the way notified me that this was a common occurrence.( side note before I forget: Fin, you and Suzi would absolutely love San Sebastián!)   

  

   

     

  

  

  

  

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2:35 June 8th at 33,000 feet above California headed for the Windy City: then Munich, then Bilboa. Due to land in Bilboa, Spain 5:55 pm, disembark and bus to Donostia.

Fatigue, excitement, apprehension and really bad coffee breathe from the fat guy sitting next to me fill my world of the exit isle and seat 20C. What a weird and wild transition from St. Bernard’s Parish, New Oleans to Spain. By the way boys, major kudos for a great week of work and exploration!

June 9th I arrived in “Donostia”-Basque for San Sebastián at 7:30pm. The bus from Bilbao conveniently stopped outside the bus stop next to the Hotel Silken Amara. Wiped out but still adrenaline corsing  through me, I walked to old town and had 4 pintxos: one crab and shrimp, the other three were various seafoods as well, but I couldn’t tell you what they were. They tasted exceptional though. [Ry, I walked right by your old apartment.]

I thought I began walking the 10th, but I realize that Macs Adventure Tours set it back to the 11th due to the length of the flight. Good thing. I’m somewhat of a zombie. 

June 10th I got acquainted with San Sebastián. Breakfast at 7:00 am, walked to Playa del Concha (many surfers even at that hour). I strolled the beach, had coffee and sat at the same table as we(Cher, Ry and me), did when we visited in the winter(Cafe Zurriola on the promenade; the same sidewalk I nearly killed myself slipping like a bad ice skater on the tile sidewalks in my worn smooth sole shoes). I  ran into the red double decker tour bus stop, so for 12 euros I jumped on. I managed to take quite a few pictures, although having difficulty uploading them, before a summer thunderstorm brought a heavy downpour. Took refuge in the cafe bar Iruna and had lunch while waiting for the storm to lighten. It didn’t. Got soaked walking back to the hotel. Here are a few pics of this gorgeous little city. 

                            

  

          

           

St Bernard’s Parish – Ninth Ward, work sight 5514 Baccich Street. Americorps Volunteers: Paris, Chaz, Michele, & Ben. Mudding, taping, sanding scrapping, painting, sweating 7 – 1. Visiting Loyola N.O., Tulane, Cafe du Monde, Audubon Zoo, I Max ‘The Great White’, Aqurium, Gumbo, Red beans and rice,  Jumbalya, “The Joint”, (barbecue), Parkway Bakery and Tavern, (‘Po Boys’ , or rather “Poor Boys” as the locals prefer); the Garden District, the Bywater, Treme, Central City, Uptown, Frenchquarter, Frenchman’s Street, St. Charles, Magazine, Oak, E. Judge Perez, L. Armstrong Park, Chalmette, Crawford Landing, Slidell …………..Bienvenidas Crescent City! 

 

I leave for San Sebastián, Spain June 8th, but not before I take 10 students for a week to rebuild housing lost in the Ninth Ward due to Hurricane Katrina. The trip before the pilgrimage/quest trip.

 The Jedediah Smith Memorial Trail, or more commonly known as the American River Parkway. (A view from the Old Fair Oaks Bridge) It has been the geography of my youth. The playground of Tom Sawyer-like summer frolic; my first fight, first beer, summer swims, rafting, rope swinging to near death, and more recently running and riding the decomposed granite trails that snake along the river. I can’t possibly count the races I’ve run here, the miles of pounding, jumping the occasional rattler, avoiding the galloping horses with rider. I have taken the beauty of the parkway for granted.