Day 5 - Deba(+) to Zenaruzza Monastery
Date: Wednesday June 19
Start: (beyond) Deba, Gipuzkoa, Basque Country
End: Zenaruzza Monastery, Ziortza-Bolibar, Biscay, Basque Country
Daily Mileage: ~18.3mi (29.5km)
Total Mileage: ~67mi (107.8km)
After yesterday’s rainstorm, we woke to a clear bright blue day, beautiful clouds wafted and billowed every which direction across the sky. Since the forecast had been for rain through the day, this was a nice surprise.
Beautiful view from the guesthouse.
We started out from the guesthouse just before 8am. The sun filtered through the trees, splashing in patches across the road and trails, and the hillsides were a lush green, vibrant with color after the heavy rain. It was a beautiful morning.
The morning was a combination of country roads, forested trails, and rocky paths, the trails under tree cover nice and cool. Birds chirped away, busy about their morning song.
Today the route would take us away from the coastline for the next ~50 miles until Bilbao, though we maintained views of the sea in the distance for most of the morning. The whole of the morning, actually, would offer such astounding views - between the rolling hills of the countryside, the fantastic cloudscapes, and the sea in the distance - that I could hardly stop taking photos at every turn.
A little over three miles in, we entered the very small town of Olatz, which - other than scattered countryside homes, appeared to be little more than a small church and a restaurant (very well reviewed but only open at night). The most important thing in this town for us was the water spicket, as it was apparently the last one until Markina Xemein, still 9+ miles away.
After a quick snack, we filled up and continued onward toward the biggest climb of the day, about 1000 feet, which began gradually before climbing steep roadways to a forest path at its high point. The day was becoming warm and my shirt was soaked through with sweat by the time I reached the top - where Shawn sat waiting patiently, having arrived long before me. Status quo for us.
A little over a mile later, we emerged at the intersection of a small country road, where several pilgrims were taking a break in a small shaded shelter house. We had read a comment in a mapping app that just two weeks ago someone had set up a small stand here and had been selling sodas and pastries, but unfortunately this was not the case today. We contented ourselves refilling water bottles, as the spicket here was also a surprise.
The next seven-ish miles to Markina Xemein undulated along small trails and gravel roads, though mostly logging roads. These gave Shawn flashbacks to the many roads like this we had hiked on the CDT... the difference being the scenery here was much much better and these roads would lead us into a town with restaurants and refreshments within the next couple hours, which made the situation far more tolerable.
When it was time to descend to Markina Xemein, it seemed there were many paths... and, after a pivotal juncture, Shawn and I each found ourselves on different routes.
He had been ahead of me a bit, so I wasn’t sure which way he had gone, but when I reached the juncture, I followed the yellow arrows. Descending down a steep path for a bit, I decided to check the map. Oops. I was on the wrong path. This route would take me to Markina, however Shawn would have followed the main route... which this was not. I headed back up to reconnect with the main route.
Shawn had been waiting up for me at what he thought might be a tricky intersection and it was around this same time that he also decided to check the map. At this point he discovered he wasn’t on a marked trail at all. At least it wasn’t marked on the map. It was well signed on the road and would lead to Markina.
This is about the time his phone rang. It was moi. “Are you on the yellow line?” I asked, the “yellow line” a reference to the main route. No. He was not on any marked line at all. His route would lead to Markina though. I had already started down the yellow line, so we decided to just stick to the routes we were on and meet in town, about two miles away (regardless of route).
And so, that is how, after a winding muddy forest road + steep paved road for me, and a steep muddy descent for him, we reunited past Markina’s football (soccer) pitch at the Hermitage of Saint Michael of Arretxinaga. We took a cursory look at the 11th century hermitage with its three megolithic stones inside - quite unique/interesting - and then continued into town.
Entering the town center, we were about 13.6 miles into our day. We hadn’t been sure what time we would arrive here - the first chance for food along the route - so we’d packed a picnic lunch, which we now ate on a sidewalk bench before treating ourselves to drinks at a nearby bar/cafe. Shawn partook in the bar portion of the establishment, having a cold cerveza, while I opted for a coffee - both since we’d not yet had coffee today (!) and because it was a bit overcast and chilly at the moment.
With 4.7 miles left to hike, we didn’t linger too long in town. Tonight we were planning to stay at the albergue at the Zenaruzza Monastery, perched high in the hillsides beyond Markina. Staying at the monastery was noted as a unique Camino stay, both for its fantastic location and the experience of staying at a functioning monastery.
After routing outside of Markina’s town borders, the trail went along a river and farmland before climbing into the hillsides and through a few other small towns. One of these towns was Bolivar (Bolibar in Basque), the ancestral home of the famous liberator Simon Bolivar (he, however, was born in Venezuela several generations later). I thought that was kind of interesting, especially since good ‘ole Simon would famously help other nations become independent from Spain - something that likely resonates in Basque Country.
From Bolivar/Bolibar, we continued up a rock staircase, following a steep inlaid rock path the final three quarters of a mile to the Zenaruzza Monastery. Entering, the grounds were mostly quiet, though we eventually found the friendly David, who gave us the lay of the land and made sure we were squared away with bunks.
So this was probably a bad idea.
This was our first albergue of the trip... and, as we attempted to organize ourselves among a room of very noisy Italians and French, we were kind of regretting it. Dorm style sleeping has its downsides.
After setting up our bunks and taking showers, we spent the rest of the afternoon/evening chatting with the other pilgrims - the only real joy of communal living, IMO. There were pilgrims from Germany, Lithuania, the Netherlands, Catalonia, Israel, Hungary, the US, France, and Italy. The guy from the Netherlands had actually hiked from his home in the Netherlands - crossing through Belgium, France, and now Spain. He’d been hiking for about 80 days now. Someone asked him if he planned to hike all the way back home once he reached Santiago. “No, I will take the bus.”
Everyone in the group seemed to either be going all the way to Santiago or doing a section hike that would end in Bilbao.
At 7:30p, everyone attended a short service of song in the monastery... most of which I believe was in Latin (at least the singing), though there was a bit of Spanish from time to time. I am neither Catholic nor religious, nor do I know any Latin, all of which honestly probably made the whole experience that much more enjoyable.
After the service, everyone joined in the dining room for a dinner of pasta with vegetables and bread, all delicious. Following dinner, some went to another service in the monastery, though Shawn and I were tired and went back to our bunks with a couple others also ready for an early bedtime.
Now that everyone is tucked into their bunks and the lights are out, I am listening to all manner of snoring ... the loud. the soft, the gurgling, the choking, the kind that makes me wonder if they will survive the night ... my earplugs buried too far down in my bag to dig out. This could be the first and last albergue of the trip.