September 27, 2001
St. Jean- Roncesvalles sunny/hot
14.2m/22.7km - 14.2m/22.7km

Last night I was awakened twice. First, by a late arriving pilgrim spreading his sleeping bag out on the bunk above me and second, by my bladder telling me it was time to take a walk to the bathroom. Since the only bathroom I know about is downstairs, I try to ignore it but my bladder is insistent. The location of the bathroom is not the only reason I do not want to leave my sleeping bag. I need my flashlight, which is buried in my pack, and I do not want to wake anyone else by digging for it.

Finally, I get up and creep quietly out of the room. That wasn't so hard. A faint glow coming in through the open window lights my way. When I get into the hallway it is very dark and I put my hand out and follow the wall around to the doors into the sitting room. I quietly open them and step into the room. I am disappointed to see that the door to the entry hall is closed. I know this because I cannot see the hall light. I carefully inch my way around the table and baby step my way to the other door. CRASH! BANG! What the hell was that? I stand still a minute stunned by the noise, wondering where it came from. I move my hands out in front of me and they brush against wood. Then I realize the noise was made by me walking into the door to the hall. I stand there and wait for the creeping, oozing feeling of blood dripping down my forehead-nothing. I put my hand to my head, nothing, no blood. I reach for the door handle and when I put it towards me, the door rattles a little in the frame. I must have kicked the door right before my head hit it, causing the door to slam into the frame. Since I was barely moving I did no damage to myself. I pull the door open and am blinded by the entry way light. Five minutes later I manage to make it back to my bed without killing myself.

This morning we met the other person who slept in our room, J from Ireland. We eat breakfast in the kitchen downstairs and about a half an hour later we are all in front of the refugio, filling our water bottles from a fountain that is straight across the street. Then we hesitate, not sure if we should get started, when J say, "Let's go", and starts walking down the street. We follow him across the bridge over the Rio Nive, through the Porte Notre-Dame and then, further down, through the Porte de Espange- the door to Spain. We are following the Route de Napoleon, which is off the main road, and said it be spectacular. It is harder walking but I think it's going to be worth it.

The walk over the mountains is beautiful. I walk most of this section with T. At the beginning we follow a narrow road that weaves straight up. We pass herds of cows and sheep. All are wearing bells. The sheep bells make a light tinkling sound and when all the sheep are moving they sound like small wind chimes. The cow bells are a lower pitch, like the sound of those large hollow tube wind chimes.

By early afternoon we have climbed above timberline and stop for a rest at the bottom of a large pile of boulders on which sits a statue of the Virgin Mary holding baby Jesus. As I sit there eating cookies, I examine the statue above me and think something about it is odd. I climb up to look closer at it and see that Mary's eyes are blackened out and that she has pit marks near the bottom of her gown. I glance around and see that she is the highest point for several miles around. Then I see that baby Jesus' head is gone and I realize that the statue must have been struck by lightning. Baby Jesus' head was blown off when this happened and someone replaced his missing head with a rubber doll head. This touches me. Someone cares about this statue so much they could not bear to have baby Jesus sitting there without his head and they brought him another one.

Later that afternoon T and I reach a path that goes straight down a mountain, through a wood of beach trees and then directly to the monastery in Roncesvalles where we will spend the night. The path down the mountain is so steep that I walk at an angle and make big S shapes as I weave my way down. When we get to the woods I cannot believe how ancient the trees feel. It is very quite in there and the light filtering through the leaves has a greenish tint to it. I keep expecting to see a hobbit peeking out from behind one of the trees.

At dusk we near the monastery and cross a small stream. By this time my legs are so tired that I am dismayed to see that the monastery is up a small hill. At the bottom of the hill we see a wooden information board covered with a small roof; like the kind they have at trailheads in the US. We stop to read it and I squat down to rest my legs. When I try to get back up I can't, my legs are too tired to lift the extra weight of my pack. I ask T to grab the top of my pack and pull up at the count of three. At three, I push with my legs and she lifts the pack up enough that I manage to stand up.

After we reach the monastery and check in we are lead to the top floor and the room we will spend the night in. We pick our beds (metal bunkbeds) and then head for a shower. Later we walk over to a nearby restaurant and make reservations and pay for our dinner, which will be served after Mass at the church in the monastery. This is the Pilgrim's Mass and the blessing is given in seven languages. It is very moving. We leave joking that we are now "churched up", meaning we are now blessed and protected until we get to the Pilgrim's Mass in Santiago.