Saint John Pied-du-Port

Bonjour! It is my last day of hiking.  I started this morning grumpy and sad.  I couldn't decide if I was feeling that way because I hated for it to end or if I just wanted to see the finish line.  I'll stick with "because I always hate for the journey to end." Turns out, when I finally found a place that had Diet Pepsi, late in the hike, I immediately felt better.  I don't drink coffee (not against it morally, just don't like the taste) and must have needed the caffeine.

Today was not nearly as tough of a hike as yesterday and it was only 13.4 miles (the book said 10.6 but they lied).  Still, the scenery was beautiful and I didn't have to work so hard for the views. 

Now, this was an obstacle!  I had to walk up in the tall grass to get around him.

So many cats--so little time!

Basque houses are almost always white with a red roof and red shutters.  They look so quaint when you see a whole village of them. Every great once in a while, I see a house with black shutters but not often.

I took this photo for the bottom showing the bees.  I never had a problem with them but they were everywhere.  Now I know how important bees are to our survival because they pollinate our fruit trees. I used to think they were pests but no more.  Save the Bees! 

This shepherd was herding them on a bicycle.  I stepped aside and they completely surrounded me.  They had cute little spotted faces.

More views.  It was sunny and clear today.

Look at this pretty face! Some babies need to nurse and help this old girl out.

A typical Basque house. They almost always seem to be square.

Another Chalet.  There were four of these towers, one on each corner.  Most unusual and very castle looking.

The Basque churches are vastly different with white sides and red trim.  Taller steeples.  This one was particularly interesting because the steeple was black tile(?) and stone.

The altars are quiet pretty--not as showy as the earlier altars but beautiful in their own way.

And there seems to be beautiful wood in each of the Basque churches.

Mutt and Jeff? They posed nicely for a photo and then the brown one bit the spotted one on the rear and they both headed out to the pasture at a gallop.

From a distance, I couldn't figure out what this was. It is a disposal site for old batteries.  What a clever idea.  I never know what to do with batteries.

The French have to drive to these sites to dump their trash and they are very picky about recycling. Evidently, there is no trash pickup.  If only we were so good (and that "we" certainly includes me).

The beautiful gates of Saint Jean-Pied-du-Port. My destination point! Here quicker than I could imagine...like life!

My total mileage (give or take a mile or two) is 510.6.  Whew!  Just looking at that number makes me tired and yet, I could certainly be up for walking all the way to the Compostela, another 500 miles.

Dennis and I were having a glass of wine and people watching.  I was very smugly (shame on me) pointing out the new boots and clean clothes..all ironed and creased.  I look like I escaped from the Goodwill Box at a homeless shelter. My nose is sunburned and I have a farmer tan.  Those newbies won't look so pristine after the trip over the Pyrenees but if they don't give up they are in for the journey of their lives.

These poor old boots will find their final resting place here in Saint-Jean.  They have certainly been good to me!

You have a lot of time to reflect when you hike.  I kept coming back to the point that a long Camino is a lot like life.  You start out green and need a lot of babying.  You want someone to take your hand and show you the way but you are still on your own. You don't understand the markers and have to learn the trail language. And it changes with each and every different Camino. There are so many things you have to learn. You learn humility when you have to ask for help (over and over).  No one does this journey alone. You learn perseverance because you have to put one foot in front of the other and just keep going, in spite of injuries, blisters and sore muscles.  You make trail friends, some for a short time and some for the whole journey. Often the scenery is beautiful and sometimes it is just mud and rain. You make mistakes. You learn to treasure your meager belongings because each and everything in your pack is important and there is no replacement along the trail.  They are not disposable. You get off the trail and lose your way, sometimes for miles and sometimes for just a few steps.  And just when you think "I've got this," you get on the wrong trail again. You learn to have a sense of humor, like when you are on the toilet and the light goes out and you don't know where the paper is or where the light switch is.  You learn to ask for divine guidance, often in a semi-panic.  It is amazing how often that prayer is answered with just one person or sign that makes all of the difference.  You fight exhaustion and weather and yourself--most of all yourself. But in the end, you would do it all over again.  You see the journey, not as perfect but a job well done. And lastly, when you head home there is nothing more important than looking up and thanking God for the experience.

So we are off to Biarritz for two days and then home.  God bless and keep you all!