I was woken this morning by the sound of thunder. It was soon followed by the barks of a dog somewhere in the building. And as I lay there, I could hear the rain pounding off the plastic sheeting on the outside of my window. It was not a good omen, and as an omen, it was correct.
I was determined, and also, I had made arrangements for tonight’s accommodation, so I had to get on my way. I got up, prepared my gear, had breakfast, and got under way. The wind was blowing a gale, and coming from somewhere about north-west, so it was coming straight for me as I made my way towards the beach. A beach in normal times and in good weather can suggest happiness and jollity, but a deserted beach in bad weather is depressing. San Sebastian has one of the better urban beaches that I have come across, with bars and restaurants along a good promenade. But with the beach deserted, the bars and restaurants closed, and the waves lashing the sand, it did nothing for my spirits. Amazingly, there were joggers about, though their exercise cannot have been pleasant. There were some surfers at the western end of the beach, but they seemed to be just limbering up as I was passing.
My route took me out of town at its western end, and up into the hills beyond. After gaining the height I came to a fork where it said that my walking time to the next town, Orio, would be four hours There was nothing for it but just to put my head down and keep going. I would like to say that there was lots of interesting scenery along the way, but there wasn’t. There was an occasional glimpse of the sea, and sometimes a scenic farm view, but that was it. Even if there had been interesting sights, I am not sure it would have mattered. This was a day when paths became streams and small roads became rivers. It was not a day to hang around taking pictures.
I met three other pilgrims on the way into Orio. They were likewise in bad humour because of the weather. We chatted a bit on the way into town, before separating. I needed something to eat. I was full of praise for Pasaia yesterday, and it would be nice to report that Orio was similar, but it wasn’t. There are none of the little streets that were in Pasaia. The town is busier too, and the people seem to have less time. I got my lunch of a hot sandwich and a beer and went on my way
Ny route followed the western side of the estuary towards the sea before climbing over a small hill. There was a farm on the way with donkeys sheltering under the eaves of a barn. In the rain, even the animals look downbeat.
Coming over the crest of the hill, I got my first views of Zarautz, my destination for the day. Like everywhere today, it was also under a cover of cloud and rain.
My route into town took me past some kind of coastal ruin. At first, I thought it might be the remains of some old fort, but a nearby explanatory board indicated that it was some kind of cargo handling facility. Why it was built there on such a rocky shoreline, and what ships would come there is another question that I cannot answer.
And so I came on into Zarautz. I know I said yesterday that part of the test of character that is the Camino is whether the pilgrim can walk successive days in the rain and bad weather. So part of me was for going on tomorrow. But a man also has to know his limitations, and mine are governed by the condition of my equipment. Everything is wet after today. My boots have let in water and need to be dried out. Even with the cover on my rucksack, several things are damp.
I found out this evening that what I am calling “bad weather” today actually has a name: Storm Alex. It is an Atlantic storm that has caused severe damage in Spain, France and Italy. It makes me feel good that I walked right through the storm. But it also makes me understand the severity of what I experienced. So I have made the executive decision to rest here for a day before going on. Tomorrow will be a day of recovery.
And my step count for the day: 40,180
Walkingman 