Turn to Wonder: 28. Ibiri to Bolibar

I had a great sleep last night. There were bunks for 16 in my room (there were two rooms) but only four were taken, including mine so it was pretty quiet. The mattresses were thin but they didn’t sag, which makes all the difference.

I rose at 7am along with most of the other pilgrims staying in the albergue and tucked into the breakfast bag I had purchased from the hospitalero the night before - an orange juice, a coffee capsule (for the machine in the kitchen), an apple, banana and an industrial looking and tasting croissant.

By 7.45am I was out walking. It was a climb from the get go but the morning was cool and still and incredibly peace so it was a delight.

Contemplative cows.

There were some muddy sections today but thankfully not too many, which brings me to Isobel’s comment in yesterday’s blog. You are right, Isobel most cobbles are quite tricky to walk on, especially wet ones on a slope and those that are more roughly laid (and there’s quite a few in these two categories in these parts!). Equally challenging are exposed rocky sections of wet limestone, and rubble generally (also quite a bit in these parts). Sloping clay is the next most challenging surface to walk on and then massive long sections of steps. Apart from that, it’s easy!!

This little guy was keen to connect and have his tummy rubbed. Not all dogs in this region are as friendly but there were a couple today like this guy.

There were more eucalyptus trees in evidence today too. I’m not sure if they are a blessing or a curse in Spain.

I am further inland than I have been on the Camino del Norte, in fact I didn’t see the sea at all today.

After a very steep descent off the plateau that had taken the morning to walk I entered the outskirts of Markina, a town that didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me in terms of structure. Nevertheless, it was a welcome lunch and rest point in the days stage.

This Ermita (chapel) is fascinating. It was build around two massive boulders so you have this very earthy rock feature inside a very ornate dome structure

Post lunch there was another ten kilometres of so to Bolibar, my planned destination for today. On I walked, the afternoon feeling decidedly warmer.

👣

I reckon this is one of Andy’s old boots! He purchased a new pair in San Sebastián because the soles of his others had worn out. I’m assuming he has offloaded this one because he has now broken the other pair in. He will be a couple of stages ahead of me because I paused for those two days in San Sebastián.

Bolibar is a nice little Puebla with about 60 houses, a massive church (as with almost every town in Spain), a stream running through, a nice central square, and quite a few symbols marking the Camino (such as this shell fence).

Here’s yhe albergue, narrow at the front but very clean and nice. So far, there is only one other pilgrims in my dormitory - Jennifer, a young French woman who hails from the Hautes-Pyrénées region and is riding her bike to Bilbao.

Which brings me to Charles’s question on the blog yesterday about conversation in polylingual settings such as last night’s dinner. Mostly, it seems we stumble and bumble along using the odd words we know from each other’s language. I am pretty hopeless at all languages, but many of the Europeans have at least basic English, which helps a lot. Last night we had a Basque host, a Catalan man, two French women (one of whom had slipped and fallen on the stage injuring her wrist), an Irish woman, a Canadian woman from Quebec, a German woman and me. We seemed to chat on quite successfully, no doubt helped by the hearty and healthy pilgrim meal.

Oh and note the Palestinian flag on the upper window or the albergue. There is a great deal of support for the people of Gaza in pays Basque, I have seen hundreds of such flags and plenty of graffiti condemning what is currently happening.

As the evening was falling I went for a stroll around the village. As I walked past the church an old man came up and asked if I would like to see inside. He let me in, turned on the lights and offered me a stamp for my pilgrim credential. The inside was cavernous, not too ornate but beautifully painted and clearly lovingly kept.