I have sometimes said that walking this route, whether you call it the Camino, or Jakobsweg, or Chemin de Saint Jacques, is a test of character in certain ways. It is not about whether you can walk 20 or 25km each day, or perhaps even 30km on some days. It is not even about whether you can walk 20 or 25km in the rain. But where it does become a test of character is whether having walked all day in the rain, can you get up the next day and do the same again, in the rain?
And that is how it was today, in many ways. I left Irun in the rain, after rain yesterday. Not everything was perfectly dry after yesterday, but the critical things were dry enough, so I donned my gear, and got under way. The route goes out of Irun, heading west. The early part involved a lot of road walking, but that soon turned off onto a track. Well, it should have been a track, but with all the rain, it was more like a small river. But I am not easily deterred, and I kept on going, and before long, I reached the church of the Santuario de Guadeloupe.
The 17th century in Europe was an especially bloody period, and several countries still bear the scars of the Thirty Years War, a religious based conflict. During that war, a French army besieged the nearby port of Hondarribia, but the garrison there held out for more than two months. When they were relieved by the arrival of a Spanish army and the defeat of the French, there were reportedly only 300 people left in the port city. Their holding out was credited to the Virgin of Guadeloupe, and every year on 8th September, the anniversary of the lifting of the siege, there is a procession to the church in her honour.
The main altar in the church presents, not a figure of Christ, but one of the Virgin of Guadeloupe, such is the veneration to her.
Looking back from the church, there are good views of the Bidassoa estuary, with the towns of Irum, Hondarribia and Hendaye.
After that, there followed a long stretch of relatively uninteresting walking. The trail winds through the forest for 12km. It is not exactly flat, but neither does it go up or down very much until the final descent into Pasaia Donibane (Pasajes de San Juan). The effect of this walking without much variation in height is that it made me a little unsure haw far I had come or how far I had to go at any time. Of course, the rain didn’t help either. At times it would seem to ease off, and just as I would get a little optimistic, back it would come with another squall. But eventually the trail reaches some junctions and begins the descent into Pasaia. And Pasaia, I have to say, is a little gem. The town is situated on a natural harbour and I walked through the old streets to find the ferry crossing
I arrived at lunchtime, and I knew I would have to take the ferry across. I was also hungry, but I decided to take the ferry first. The ferry is for foot passengers only. It is the little green boat on the left side of the photo below.
What I didn’t realise is that most of the tavernas are on the eastern side, so I had to find one on the west. I turned towards the town on landing from the ferry, and I was approaching a taverna when I saw a piece of graffiti saying “TOURIST GO HOME” I cannot say whether it is just a response to these pandemic times, or some xenophobic sentiment, but I decided to look elsewhere. And fate guided me to a little taverna called Taberna Muguruza Ardoak. It is a small place, decorated inside as dockside bars and tavernas are worldwide with net floats and amateurish artwork of coastal scenes. It seems to be run by three women, and I can honestly say that it had the best value I have every got in a lunchtime meal. It is the place in the left of this picture, with the green awning.
Thus fortified, I was on my way again. The weather had improved before I reached Pasaia, and I had taken off the raingear on arrival. Leaving Pasaia, and going along the coast towards San Sebastian, the sun actually began to appear, and I reckoned the jacket might come off as well. But as if to punish me for such thoughts, the weather gods brought back the rain, and I was forced at one point to stop and get the raingear out again.
With the raingear back in service, I continued on and came into San Sebastian. I had booked into a small pension in a little side street of the old town.
Right now, I am suitably fed, and about to take some rest, and prepare for tomorrow. The weather gods are not being kind to me, and the forecast is for more rain tomorrow. But as I said, that is part of the test of walking the Camino.
And to finish, my step count for the day is 42,438.
Walkingman 