On my first Camino in 2019 and on my first day walking I came to a small building on the Spanish side of the border.  It appeared to be an opportunity for a respite in the middle of a storm.  I opened the door and stepped inside; the building was full of Peregrino’s who were standing together with their packs on.  There must have been a dozen people, and it was dark and eerily quiet.  I squeezed inside and closed the door to get out of the gale force winds.

              Just a few hours before, I woke up and got ready for my first day on the Camino.  I was excited and ready to begin my journey.  It was a beautiful April 23^rd morning just before sunrise.  I noticed in my weather App that there were squiggles starting about 9 am or so and I did not understand what exactly that meant.  I stood on the Camino marker in the middle of the cobble stone street and took my first step.  It seemed like I almost floated the first several kilometers and just over an hour later I arrived at Orrison for breakfast.  I had what became my go to breakfast of a Tortilla Patata, an Americano Café, and fresh squeezed Orange Juice.  About 9 am I left the Albergue and headed up the mountain.  While I was having breakfast some clouds came in and there was some wind.  I was already a third of the way to Roncesvalles and feeling good.  Little did I know what was to come.

              About a kilometer from Orrison the wind started to pick up and as the elevation increased the temperature started to drop.  Back home walking over a mountain I would be in the tall pine and fir trees of North Idaho.  But these French mountains were bare and there was literally no protection.  It also was not lost to me that if I was blown off the road and started rolling down the steep and bare mountain side I may not stop until I got to the bottom.  Is this how the Ophthalmologists son was killed in the movie “The Way”?  It was a very surreal moment as the wind picked up more and more velocity.  It became a significant struggle to move forward.  I don’t know what the wind speed was, but my best guess is 80 to 100 kilometers per hour, it was gale force winds for sure.  When I was beside myself the food truck appeared and provided some needed wind shelter.  One of my inspirations were the small Koren women who were carrying their giant packs and pushing on through the wind.  A couple of times another Peregrino and I grasp the arms of one of these women to help them along.  The wind was relentless, but we moved on, walking on the inside of the road so as not to get blown down the hill. 

              There is a place on the hill where the Camino diverts off the road and onto a path up a hill and around a ridge and behind a mountain.  It was a welcome relief, and it was along this trail that I crossed into Spain.  After I got back on the road and back into the wind it was then I came to the small hut that indicated it was a little Albergue for someone who wanted to stop.  The hut was about 10 feet by 12 feet at most, probably smaller than that.  I saw it as a good place to rest and get my bearings for the final ascent.  As I stood in the hut amidst fellow Peregrino’s in this quiet scene, all I could feel was fear.  The tentacles of fear were pulling me into this collective consciousness.  I had the immediate revelation that if I stayed any longer, I would not make it to my destination.  So no more than 60 seconds after stepping into the hut, I said loudly “I am leaving to get to Roncesvalles if anyone wants to join me.”  I stepped out of the hut into the wind and continued my journey.  The climb closer to the summit became steeper and I would have to walk 20 steps and stop and catch my breath.  I was thinking at the time that it could not get any worse than this and almost instantly it started to snow sideways because of the wind.  I almost fell on the ground laughing at the absurdity of it all.  I had no gloves, but fortunately my trek pole handles were cork and seemed to keep my hands warm enough.  Eventually I summited the mountain and dropped down onto the more rugged path to Roncesvalles which was out of the wind and took me into the trees where the walk became normal.  After a couple of kilometers, I caught some Peregrino’s who when they heard me turned around and said, “Congratulations, you made it”.  And yes, there was the Monastery at Roncesvalles.  It was 2 pm, 7 hours after I left St Jean de Pied a Port.  What a way to start the Camino. 

              I learned the next day that the Peregrino’s in the hut had to be rescued by the fire department in St. Jean.  It was such a valuable lesson in the power of fear and how to overcome it.  The importance of reaching my destination was greater than the fear I felt in the little hut.  I will never forget that day on the Napolean Route and 3 years later when I walked it again it was perfect weather all the way.  I did not have to fear the fear in the hut. 

Buen Camino,

Stephen Towles