The Fourth /of July, Roncen'valles, Spain

I'm one day behind on posting due to not having an Internet connection in the Pyrenees at Orisson, France and due to the fact that the Fourth of July was a very rough day. We awoke at about six am to the sound of heavy thunder and the loud sound of running water. Looking out the window we saw rain as heavy as I've ever seen it in a Phoenix monsoon storm with a river of water running down the street. we debated what to do. Some were in favor of returning to Saint Jean. There were notices everywhere saying not to attempt the pass over the Pyrenees in bad weather. The only place to take shelter between Orisson and Rocenvalles are two Alpine huts near the top of the pass.

Then a small group of pilgrims arrived from Saint-Jean who must have walked up during the worst of the storm.They were soaked through despite wearing rain ponchos, but they had made it. In addition, the storm eased up into a steady rain. It was also very cold. Then one of the Swiss guys started up the road. He was 30 years younger than I, but I was not going to let age defeat me. I started up the mountain behind him.

When I reached the top of the pass, there was a point where I should have turned off onto a path that leads through a cow pasture and eventually through a forest and descends the other side of the Pyrenees to Roncenvalles. I missed it and walked on several kilometers before a car came in the other direction with two elderly Basque guys inside. They told me I was way off course and told me get in the car, and they would take me back to the turn-off, which they did.

I wasn't wearing my glasses, because it was so foggy and rainy (I was up in the clouds) that I couldn't see through them. Apparently I dropped the glasses when I got out of the car and didn't discover it until later. I thought I had probably dropped them when I got into the car, and if I backtracked that far, I would never have the strength left to push ahead. I kissed the glasses goodbye and walked on. 

Later on the trail, I caught up with Miriam from Ireland and walked with her the rest of the way to Rocenvalles. I knew her from the Orisson refuge. I told her about my misadventure, and she said that her friend, who was walking behind us, had picked up a pair of glasses and was carrying them in her backpack. Later, when she arrived at Rocenvalles, I got my glasses back. What luck.

I was shivering from the cold, and my clothes were drenched. Neither my "waterproof" Goretex jacket nor my "waterproof" backpack cover had withstood the storm. However, after a warm shower and a change into some dry clothes, I began to feel human again.

 The following is a picture of my bunk with the sleeping bag and my tablet computer laid out.

 

At Rocenvalles there is nothing but a monastery with hundreds of beds for pilgrims and a few restaurant/bars. The bunks are in cubicles lined along the monastery's long halls with four bunks to a cubicle. Miriam had the bunk across from mine, and she threatened to tell people that she had slept with me in a monastery. The following picture is of one of the halls lined with bunks.

The following two pictures are of parts of the monastery and church.

 

Below some of us are seated at supper at a so-called pilgrims' restaurant. The earliest one can eat the evening meal in Spain is 7 pm, so that's the time we all showed up. Everyone gets the same meal, which includes wine.

 

Finally, here's the sign that greeted me as I left Rocenvalles: only 790 kilometers or 491 miles left to walk.