Leaving St Jean Pied de Port at dawn we wound our way uphill on small roads as the sun burnt through the morning mist, leaving us looking out over a dreamy landscape of sheep-filled hilltops and cloud-filled valleys.
We were lucky enough to have a cool but sunny day, rare enough in March in these parts. I'm not sure I could have faced it in the rain. Several hours of uphill later we were striding across high hills with beautiful views of snowy peaks. Stopping for lunch with more than half the kms complete, and almost all the height gained, I thought we were doing well. So well that when we crossed into Spain and passed a fountain I looked at my half litre left of water and thought it would easily see me home.
Error. At the 8k left stage, with just one final peak, we came around a corner into snow. We'd been told at the pilgrims office we could continue if there was snow, but not to do it alone. It became obvious that the reason was the moderately high likelihood of breaking something crucial while sliding around on a rotting snowfield at an angle of (about) 45 deg. When we occasionally passed out of the snow and back to just uphill slogging, it felt like a breeze.
The final downhill was also tricky but really beautiful, through ancient beech forest.
Arriving in Roncevalles a little too early to check in (get us!) we adjourned for a beer and Luibor, impressively, decided to walk on to the next refuge.
My feet agreed with my heart that staying in this beautiful monastery was the right plan. Must remember to imbibe some water as well as beer this evening...
Blister count: none of note, though a bit of that 'walking on coals' feeling going on. Photo count very high indeed!
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