“Everybody was so stressed about climbing the Pyrenees yesterday that making new friends was the last thing on their minds,” a young friend suggested today.
We were marveling at how social everyone had become overnight.
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What was I thinking?
I won’t lie to you, today was the toughest day of hiking I have ever experienced in my life.
And not just the first five miles, from St Jean Pied de Port to the cafe/hostel Refuge Orrison.
A lot of people want to stay at Orrison in France to break up the trek across the Pyrenees Mountains into Spain. The alternative is hiking the entire 24 kilometers to Roncevalles where the ancient monastery houses 238 weary pilgrims every night.
Continue readingGround Zero for Camino Frances: St. Jean Pied de Port
The energy on the street builds like a pressure cooker as pilgrims arrive from all directions, register for their Camino, hunt for food and drink, check into auberges for the night or trundle up the road to the Pyrenees.
At 10 am when our train arrived from Bayonne, St. Jean was oddly quiet.
“Where is everybody?” I asked a Dubliner named Guy in the Camino registration office.
Continue readingAfter a long day of travel, finding gold in Bayonne
So, this is France. Nice place. Bayonne, specifically. Having left San Miguel de Allende on Sunday morning by ETN bus, it is now Monday night and I got to Bayonne just in time to catch the sunset.
Let me tell you that between there and here, not much happened. In Mexico City, I sent my Uber driver to the wrong terminal at CDMX.
No problem. That’s what the tram is for.
Continue readingCamino-living: Cramming a 224-pound life into a 17-pound backpack for the next 43 days.
That’s it. That’s as light as I can make it, 17 pounds (or 7.711 kilograms).
I am now relieved that I picked the Osprey Manta 34-liter bag because there isn’t a cubic inch left to spare. I’m also relieved that I opted to jettison the 2.5-liter HydraPak that came with it.
I needed that space for, you know, clothing. As for hydration, a couple of water bottles in the side pockets will do nicely.
People like me, we find ways to fill an extra-large suitcase just as easily as we fill a medium-sized one.
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These boots are made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do — well, one pair will
On Sunday, I leave Mexico to walk the Camino Francés.
That’s about 500 U.S. miles of walking over perhaps 34 days.
Unlike the Adirondacks, the Pacific Crest, or the Appalachian trails in the U.S., the Camino has cell service, probably too many people (to which I am contributing), and many indoor sleeping options, from bunk-room auberges to hotels with saunas and pools.
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The magic in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge
I’m looking out over that Golden Gate Bridge
On another gorgeous sunny Saturday.
— Doobie Brothers, “Listen to the Music”
Most bridges, if they lead into a city of any size, lack pizzazz. Oh, they may be architectural gems, but you barely notice this.
Why?
Because most bridges are surrounded by distracting urban clutter.
High-rises, highway on- and off-ramps, shipbuilders, warehouses, industrial stacks, skyscrapers, condo towers — the stuff that makes cities be cities. This stuff bustles up against the entrances and exits of bridges. Suddenly, you are crossing a span with little sense of its architectural might. Rarely do you get to appreciate the majesty of a span uncluttered.
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Painted ladies of San Francisco
Walking along San Francisco’s waterfront, something about this row of fishing boats struck me as familiar.
Of course, I realized, this is the aquatic complement to the iconic Victorian “painted ladies” across from Alamo Square Park. Every spindle of tourist postcards in San Francisco has one of the “painted ladies.” They are as well-known as the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, Coit Tower, and the homeless sleeping in Tenderloin doorways.
There are colorfully painted Victorians all over San Francisco but this row is by far the most iconic.
Continue readingFirst fantasy of the new year: Let’s buy a Scottish castle
I’m a little quick off the mark, but my first full-blown fantasy for 2026 is already in:
I want to buy a 20-bedroom castle on the Isle of Rum in the Inner Hebrides. (I think it might include the whole Isle of Rum. Not sure.)
I don’t think I need to say more.
But I will.
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San Miguel lights up the sky — and the Christmas tree
The shining tin stars are stretched out above the cobblestone streets. The fairy lights hang from the trees, and the poinsettias fill the garden. Storefronts are decked in holiday apparel.
And tonight, the community Christmas tree was lit amid a splendid fireworks display.
Feliz Navidad, from San Miguel de Allende.
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