I said my good-byes to Elena, the world’s warmest host, and walked out of Obonos towards Puente La Reina. My destination was Cirauqui, 14k away.
Obanos seemed to be very prosperous, with lots of new houses, some of them substantial! I didn’t remember Obanos being that big in 2013.
In less than an hour, I entered Puente La Reina. The first thing you see on the outskirts of town is Hotel Jakue. That’s where I stayed with my Camino buddies in 2013. It has something for everybody: a hotel and an albergue, and private albergue rooms. I remember pilgrim dinner being fun and my friends kidded me for “working the room.” I’d just left my position as associate rector, so I was used to circulating on purpose. It was fun to see it again.
There were two artistic treasures I wanted to see in town, the Y-shaped crucifix and the Black Madonna. The crucifix was in the first church walking into town.
The crucifix is thought to have been donated by a German pilgrim when the second nave was built in the 14th century. Some think it has a connection to the Knights Templar. Its shape has also been linked to something called The Game of the Goose, a medieval children’s game set on the Camino. Geese were associated long ago with fertility and the sacred feminine spirit in pre-Christian times. There’s a tradition that signs in the shape of the goose foot can be found along the Camino. The shape of the goose foot is Y-shaped like this crucifix, so some think there’s a connection.
Beneath the crucifix there was a book to write prayers in, which I did. I’ve been praying for our country all along the Way.
I didn’t see the Black Madonna, but I discovered an interesting statue of St. James. All along the Camino you see statues of St. James, the Pilgrim. This one was especially handsome, and is known as Santiago Beltza or Black St. James, like the Black Madonnas.
Then it was time to cross the Queen’s Bridge, Puente La Reina, over the river. It was built by one of the Queens of Navarra in the 11th century to facilitate the heavy pilgrim traffic at the time. It’s stunning. The open spaces in the bridge are for when there’s heavy water flow.
I thought I remembered what the trail was like after the bridge but I was wrong. Soon I was walking way out in the woods and for the first time I thought I could be lost, and, for the first time I felt a little vulnerable on the Camino. The trail went up steeply into pine woods; it felt like Tahoe. What spooked me was seeing no pilgrims for over an hour. Finally I saw several pilgrims pushing their bikes uphill, it was so steep.
After sitting on a Camino mile marker to catch my breath, and eat a tangerine, I made it to Maneru, which also seemed much bigger than I remembered. The path then opened into open green wheat fields, with fluorescent red poppies, and a dark sky.
I had to pick up the pace to beat a thunderstorm brewing overhead. Cirauqui is a compact hill town with a church on the top. I was headed to Albergue Maralotx.
I was the first to arrive at 1:00 so my worries about possibly having a top bunk were all for naught. I got a cozy lower bunk, and was happy to see a French female pilgrim I’d run into earlier on the path unpacking her pack on the bunk next to me.
She’d been struggling to find her rain gear in her enormous pack as the sky darkened on the way to Cirauqui. I’d shared that I was staying in Cirauqui. She said she didn’t have a reservation, and then our ability to communicate between French and English broke down, and I said Buen Camino and walked on.
It turned out that our albergue wasn’t sold out so she was able to stay. As we were unpacking our stuff for the night, I realized one reason her pack was so big; she was carrying a full-sized CPAP machine with multiple hoses and masks!
Before the rain started I was able to check out the church, which faced the albergue. It looked to be medieval with 18th century classical updates. It had a fascinating early medieval entry portal. I’d hoped that it would be open but the host said it was open once a month at the most and on their feast day.
Soon another French woman joined us in the room, and she revealed that she also had a full sized CPAP machine! There was a lot of laughter in the room and solidarity. They were also old-school pilgrims carrying all their stuff and not making reservations.
I also sensed they were glad to have each other to talk to. I’ve noticed that people who only speak French or only German can have a more challenging time on the Camino. Having some facility with English and/or Spanish are the common denominators.
I realized that the host was working solo, doing everything that needs to be done once the pilgrims arrived. He checked people in, showed them their bunk, which can be involved when it’s a three story building.
The official office, tiny bar and dining room were accessed by another door on the side of the building. He was in charge of selling snacks and glasses of wine, too. I was appreciative of the way he made it clear to us that he could do one thing at a time in a non-defensive way. He seemed to be a British expat who spoke fluent Spanish.
Walking shorter stages gives you more time to hang out in the afternoon, and I really enjoyed sitting on the terrace and sketching the view of the church, and some architectural details. The rain and thunder made it cozy.
Dinner was downstairs in the former wine cellar. It was an extra 10€ and well worth it. There was salad and a garbanzo stew, red wine, and flan. The host was serving everything; I think his wife was the chef,
I sat next to a French guy who had started walking in le Puy. I said I was American and he said “Trump? and made boxing motion with his fists and laughed. I laughed too. I’m always impressed with pilgrims who hike across France.
Across the table was a couple from North Carolina who were Episcopalian. We hit it off and after dinner they showed me their private room (the only one in the albergue). I felt somewhat embarrassed because before dinner I’d told the host I’d settle my bill but instead went upstairs with them. When I came down he said no worries he’d charged my card, (which was fine), since I’d booked through booking.com. But I felt a little high maintenance.
The other folks in the bunk room were a Spanish couple who talked on FaceTime with their family at great length before dinner, and a couple of German men. Everyone was over 50.
Everyone turned in early, and there was no snoring, (thank you God for those CPAP machines)
One Footestep at a Time 