22 September
Zumaia, Basque Country
I had heard there was a coastal route from Zumaia to Deba but couldn’t find anything official. The normal way to go is via an interior route, pastoral and calming.
Since I was taking another day off to kick this cold summarily down the trail, I used the time to go exploring, looking for the rumored coastal route which wasn’t described in the trail guide.
As I passed through the church yard, a pilgrim sitting in a shadow, smoking and, frankly, looking pretty rough, spoke to me, and when I only nodded back, he got up to walk alongside me. Trilingual (although he said his English was not good so I chose French over Spanish), he was the ultimate wanderer, starting in Paris this time, then on to Bordeaux, Biarritz, Bayonne, and now to here, sleeping on beaches along the way.
Pablo was one of those pilgrims who sometimes appear, disappear and then occasionally reappear down the path. And if you can manage to do a good job describing him just as he is, then you have your own Canterbury Tale with no need to make up anything beyond. Reality becomes the best tale of all.
We discovered this.
...and looking in the other direction, this (more about the Flysch later)...
...and back to the west, this.
After a nice chat, he disappeared, but I won’t be surprised if I see him again.
Walking on, I spent some time in wonder as I gazed at this hill, knowing this would be the path I would take tomorrow as I started out on the coastal route.
You are a brave one!
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