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27 kilometers, 7 hours, passing through Markina-Xemein and Bolívar.
Stayed at a monastery for the night, but more on that later.
From the Albergue Izarabide, the Camino continued to climb inland into timber country. The trees are grown in plantation rows and cut when about fifteen inches in diameter for paper and lumber products. There were also some quarries for aggregate and large blocks of granite above Markina.
This day turned out to be much nicer than the day before with fog giving way to bright sun. Never too warm, thankfully. The route happily delivered a lot of climbing, then down into Markina-Xemein where, after stopping in at the Chapel of San Miguel de Arretxinaga, I ran into Hendrik in the main plaza. Happy for the company, I joined him and ordered a sandwich and a soda. Fuel for the next climb up to Zenarruza.
Visiting into the Chapel is a must and is right on the Camino path (a norm for all Camino paths; you must go by the church). A good writeup on the history and significance of this chapel, which houses three giant rocks leaning against each other, has been elusive. Spend time if you can. It’s quite the sight, and certainly worth a few minutes.
There were many from Germany on this Camino. I met four at dinner the evening before. I sat between Hendrik and Claudia, thankful that they spoke English to include me. There was also the Spanish man, Alfonso, and the French couple that only spoke French. Oh, the French. Also, at the albergue, but not at dinner, were four from Russia and a young woman from Shanghai, China.
So now the monastery: About twenty beds are in a newer part of the large complex called a lodge. The lodge, built beside the church in 1997, is two stories, with restrooms and showers in a basement. The albergue rooms are in the lower level. The entrances to those rooms are sort of out of the way around back. The older parts of the complex are stunning. The monastery dates back to the ninth century and is constructed of pre-Romanesque and Romanesque architecture.
The monks also provided dinner and a simple breakfast—all on a donation basis. Pay what you will. Also, the monks brewed their own beer, which could be purchased in—of course—the gift shop.
A few of us went to vespers that evening to hear the monks sing and give a pilgrim blessing before dinner. Jody, our new friend from Australia—now living in Berlin—wanted to go to the services but wasn’t sure of her attire. When not trekking, she never wore shoes or socks. This concerned her, so she asked me about her bare feet in the church. I looked at her bare shoulders and pointed out that would be more of a concern. So, she donned a wool poncho and stretched the legs of her lounging pants down, mostly, over her feet. We all smiled at her attempt and entered the church.
Later, the monks brought a big pot of pasta and veggie soup and loaves of fresh bread. We sat around gorging ourselves and talking until doing the dishes and planning the next day. At dinner: Sheng, Jody, Amil, Hendrik, myself, and three others I would never see again. That’s how it is on long treks: people come and go; they travel at different paces or have more or less time than you or take a different route. What forms a Camino family is those that for whatever reason find themselves together a lot. People that are in it for the long haul, on the same path, travel at about the same pace as you, with the same motivations as you, well, they tend to get close. You learn about each other and want to spend time together. Best of all, they become life-long friends.