Day 3: Roncesvalles to Zubiri
Well, after crossing the Pyrenees along the route Napoleon used to move his troops in and out of Spain, and arriving at Roncesvalles on day two, Andrew and I packed our gear for the arduous trip to Zubiri. We had a quick tortilla de patata with Michael from Poland, then said good-bye to him. The morning was a scorcher, and the temperature climbed to a ridiculous 42C. This is one Canadian girl who just can’t handle heat like that. Add a 16-pound backpack into the mix, a couple of blisters, and Spanish hills, and you have a reason to stay out of hell. Say your prayers all!

The morning started out beautifully. We passed through Burguete (again I missed seeing the bar with the piano signed by Hemingway), walked through pastures, past wild poppies, and onwards to a lovely stream that ran over dangerously slippery rocks. There was an alternate route, but pilgrims stayed by the stream and cooled their sore feet in the icy water. At one point we warned an elderly cyclist using pantomime about the slippery conditions, but he ignored us and wiped out hard. It was a hint of things to come.
The descent into Zubiri is famously hard, yet somehow I’d managed to forget most of it during the two years since my 2013 Camino. Andrew was so far ahead of me, that my only option was to tackle the rocky descent on my own. I sat on my ass and thought I’d slide over the shale, rather than slip on the flat rock face while on my feet. Don’t try this at home, kids. My Macabi skirt protected my buns for about two feet before I went into an uncontrolled skid. My hands scraped along the shale, my skirt rode up leaving my ass and legs unprotected. I stopped the skid with my hiking poles (worth their weight in gold) just as my Dutch saviour … not Andrew … and his wife happened along and offered me a hand.
After the adventure, California Kate and I pushed a stalled car up a hill with our last reserves of energy. Of course it was uphill! The guy was embarrassed that two girls with backpacks and hiking poles had to help. Ah, Spanish machismo!
Pictures to follow. Eventually. No pictures of the fall. Who the hell needs that visual?!
Ultreia. 
Penny