< Norte Day 2 — Norte Day 4 > < Norte Index >
28 kilometers, 7 hours, passing through the seaside towns of Getaria, Zumaia, and Deba, then inland and climbing to Ibiri.
That night I checked into the Galena Hostel, a private hostel on the back streets of Zarautz. I eventually found the Galena on the opposite side of the train tracks that ran through town. The first place I saw coming into town, built over a gas station by the main road, did not appeal to me. Zarautz is a surfer town with a beautiful beach and some nightlife. Away from the beach, the town is mostly nice apartment buildings housing families and retirees.
Leticia, the lady running the desk at Galena, recorded my passport details, stamped my pilgrim credential and accepted my payment, then showed me to a room full of bunk beds, one of three such rooms. The price for the night, fifteen euros, included breakfast, a self-served affair. Leticia showed me where everything was and at 5:30, she left. She left me with a code to the door and a map of dining options.
Leticia offered some ideas for places to eat and I ended up at the Txiki Polti on a plaza in the center of town. Excellent pinchos, then a menú del dia (menu of the day) with salmon. In the Txiki Polti, and by observation, I learned you can have your pinchos heated up if you like and some more of the Spanish language. ¿Puedes calentarlo? (Can you heat that?) works magic for a piece of fried fish on a sliced pan (bread). I could have made a meal of the pinchos selection in that place.
When I returned to the hostel, I found Nuria. It was the two of us for the night—in a place that could hold thirty-six. The surfboarding season was over. Nuria is from Montevideo, Uruguay. The Norte was her fourth Camino. We talked well into the evening and until I nodded off. She stayed up and made phone calls to family in Uruguay.
Stepping out into the rain that morning I recalled the previous night and considered the day ahead. It was raining hard as I planned my clothes at the start of the day. Within five minutes, I decided I had overdressed and took off the raincoat. The walk out of Zarautz along the coastline was beautiful and the rough seas added to the splendor. There’s a fantastic walking path beside the N-634 highway called the Paseo Marítimo Getaria. This path links Zarautz with the next town, Getaria. An overland option for the Camino exists, but I recommend the Paseo. Even in bad weather, it was a beautiful trek.
It continued raining off and on during the day, though mostly on. The day’s challenge lay in not overheating during the climbs after Getaria and not get too cold when the rain poured down and the wind blew the showers sideways. Losing that battle, I often trekked through the offered wetness in a single layer: a long-sleeved synthetic top and walking pants. This was usually warm enough for me while making a fast pace. Only at higher elevations and blustering winds, would I don my rain jacket.
Most days, the sun would later appear, and I’d be dry again in an hour or two.
I took an inland route, later wishing I had stuck to the coast. So beautiful the scenery, though, I quickly got over my regrets. This section of the route went from the sea, then inland through farmlands, and back to the sea. A mix of pasture lands, verdant rolling hills, and pine forests filled these hours between the coast well to my right and higher climes and cloud-topped mountains to my left.
At Deba, the route drops into town down a series of streets, alleys, and stairways. As I negotiated this section, I came upon a young European man that seemed quite lost (though everything was there in front of him). Tall and thin with a shock of curly and brightly dyed hair atop his head, he got my attention before saying a word. As quick as that, he became the antagonist in my newly developing storyline. The poor fellow may never know.
I had reserved a bed in Ibiri at the pilgrim albergue Izarbide but didn’t need to. It was just fun to do it over a smartphone app. Albergue Izarbide was a super nice place with good rules to keep out bedbugs. You cannot bring your backpack into the dorm rooms. They have lockers in a separate room where you can store them safely. A slightly inconvenient practice, but I fully understood. A bed bug infestation could kill a wonderful small albergue like this. The hosts at Izarbide also provided dinner and breakfast if you wished. Yes, I did. Dinner was served family-style to eight of us. They served a huge, wonderfully fresh ensalada mixta (mixed salad) and an even larger platter of baked chicken and potatoes.
For the previous two years, I lived on a plant-based, vegan diet. Within these first few days on the Camino del Norte. I had pretty much given up on that. I called it a “vegan holiday.” The only practical way to eat a vegan diet in Spain, on Camino, is to do it yourself. That means a lot of logistics and do-it-yourself meals. That also means shopping when you can, packing that food with you, making sure that where you plan to spend the night has a decent kitchen, and then actually doing the work.
I have seen people do this—and it usually looks and smells scrumptious. But my priorities lie elsewhere during this trip. I needed to walk an average of 27 kilometers per day and to write and study. At the end of the day, I usually wanted, no, needed someone else to cook for me.
At dinner that night, I met Hendrik, a young German man, a French couple of about my age (in our later years), Alfonso, a quiet fellow from Spain, Janika and Eva, from Germany, and Claudia, also from Germany.