Roncesvalles, Spain – a look back at the start

Monday night found us in the largest albergue we’re likely to sleep in.

Think of a giant five a side football hall then put 60 bunk beds in it, with 1 meter seperating “twin” bunk beds. If you got in first the row at the end of the hall was just bunk beds but then they became doubles – which would be good if it was empty, it wasn’t.

It reminded me of the way Iain did the floor plan for George Street – except there was more room between the desk there!

I was thinking the home office could learn a thing or two from the monks and the pilgrims. Or maybe that’s what the french modelled their wee village, sansgat, or whatever on.

Either way you turn up show your passport pay your 5 euro, get handed a pillow and follow your heart to the bunk of your choice.

If you were on your own you’d no idea who’s face you’d wake up to which is probably why there are so many swingers here. No problem for me I knew it’d be the Ribena boy wonder Si – which is Navarro for “face been in sun too long – hill was too high”.

So we threw our pillows down on the bunk unfurled our flags and went off on the pub crawl. We’d ordered the pilgrims meal – they charge you 8 euro for it and give you a ticket, which you put in your pocket somewhere – and then you turn up at the pre-appointed time of 7pm and your ushered through to the restaurant.

There on the tables are wine and water and a big terrine of soup. Fill yer boots we said and we still couldn’t finish it, then the trout with chips and a full head staring at you. Si was feeling brave so decreed “you can eat the head I think”. I tried to remind him that the one thing he proved conclusively on a daily basis was that thinking was for wimps and he was no wimp. Within 5 minutes he’d retreated behind that tried and tested mantra – “you know I don’t do thinking”.

The wine was that why be 11% and drinkable when we could make it 13% and leave you gasping for air.

With a yoghurt to finish with it seemed good fair for a fiver. I thought we could get this lot in to do the prison catering instead of Group 4 or Reliance.

As we tottered back to the ranch, we discovered the beauty of the camino and as I lay on my bed all my prayers were answered. Si said there was nobody above us so he would take the double upper. I suggested waiting until the prison lights went out at 10 but he felt confident.

I later gave the following statement to the local police.

“I was rudely awoken at 9.38pm by these two gentlemen who were shaking Simon. They said they had booked the beds and put there pillows on them in the time honoured way. Simon in his defence had mentioned that he’d seen the pillows but thought he’d just got lucky that he had 3 pillows he could dribble on. He duly to the driest one and returned to his previous bunk. It was then at 2.46am that he snorted, I need the torch, I need the toilet. I duly awoke and reminded him of the place where the torch was and he went to the toilet. I of course then needed to go as well but having been blessed by a father who grew many carrots, I had no need for a torch. The latter was just as well for he duly hid it in a different place. Luckily it was dark out in the morning so we discovered straightaway that he hadn’t put it back in the bag.”

We were find 10 euro for wasting pilgrim police time and told to get on with falling out.

Next up the tale of 2 trews. Tracky bottoms that never ripped and fancy dan detachables – that did. Guarding against impatience is one of the primary teachings in the way of the Pilgrim. We will never learn more easily that a stitch in time saves nine – or act in haste repent in leisure.

In short I had to take my boots of as the tracky bottoms would rip – I can now cut them so they fit over my boots. Simon of course not only has ripped the zip off his detachables but got bitten by an adder or a mossy or something.

Ribena leg man has a red rugby tattoo on his anterior calf and is now on drugs for his ailment!

Give me a week I’ll be sending for Jackie!

Al