Planes, Trains, and Automobuses...and Bikes.

"Get off the train!"  The conductor said to my friend Mark as he helped me get situated in my seat.  The conductor spoke in Spanish, and Mark understood.  Mark is the warden of St. George's Church, Barcelona and he has helped me get around these last two days so that I can begin my Camino. (The Way to Santiago de Compostela)
   

The last bit of help he gave me was getting me on my train with my over sized bicycle bag and my one man back pack.  Well it was a crazy way to say farewell.  Having the conductor tell you to get off the train.

That’s not the way I would have envisioned it. 

But off the train he went.  We didn't even get to shake hands.  We waived goodbye through the tiny window in the door.

And off on my cycling pilgrimage I go.

The train ride was peaceful; there were extra seat so no one bothered climbing over me to get to the water closet (train toilet).  For four hours I began to think that things were coming together.  Perhaps I'd even have the opportunity to get a bus ticket after all to St. Jean Pied de Port to start my Camino there.

The Pamplona station was just a concrete platform, a moderate sized ticketing room with an attached a café. Complete with flickering Coca-Cola light. 

I had five hours of daylight left and thought I might still make it to SJPP.
I made a few calls. There was no bus to St. Jean Pied, nor half way there to Roncevalles.  I felt like getting on the train was such a blessing that God would see fit to provide me a bus to St. Jean Pied de Port.  He did not.

I had a coke and a bocadilla con jamon y pimiento at the café. That's a ham sandwich on a baguette.  I wouldn't recommend it for the price. 

Once the crowd cleared the platform the area was cool and tranquil.  There was a little  alcove outside to the left of the platform that I could unpack and assemble my bike.  So I did.  I was missing one washer for the left pedal.  But decided not to let that disappoint me too much.  God would work it out. 

Facing East toward Jerusalem I read Evening Prayer.  I then and mapped out a few hostels (cheap places for pilgrims to stay) on my phone.  I road into the old city but couldn’t find the hostel.  Found some wonderfully narrow and ancient streets to ride on, and parks and plaza teaming with people, playing, exercising, etc. People walking their dogs in the park.  Old men walking their wives through the parks.  There were parks and plaza squares at the foot of churches.  It was beautiful.

At nine o'clock my alarm went off to read Compline (bedtime) prayers and I pulled into a green plaza just adjacent to San Miguel's Church.  I said my prayers and decided I had to give up on finding a cheap hostel tonight.  I'd either keep riding to the next town, sleep in the park, or spend a lot of money on a hotel.

I got on my bike to think it through, turned the corner and stumbled across Arrieta Pension. (Pen-see-own is a boarding house in an apartment)   A little old lady and her husband run it.  I only had to carry the bike up ½ a flight of stairs before little Maximo came up to help me with the other flight of stairs.  It was kind.  Pensions cost a little more than the hostels, but hopefully once I hit the small towns the hostels will be easier to find. 

I have had so many frustrations trying to get to where I want to start, that I've finally surrendered to the idea that St. Jean Pied de Port won't be the starting point for my Camino.

 

Plan and research and reading are thrown out the door, because what happened when I got here didn't fit the plans and research and reading.  After train reservations failed and bus routes never materialized the best solution I've managed is to get to Pamplona by today. 

So I've booked a room in a mom and pop boarding house and tomorrow I'm heading west to Santiago!

And each time my best laid efforts fail, I just have to say, "Well Lord, I guess we'll go with your plan.