Spring is a fine time to walk the “Way of Saint James” from the south of France and across northern Spain to the great cathedral at Santiago de Compostela. It can mean fewer crowds and cooler (if unpredictable) weather. On the other hand, some things are still closed early in the pilgrimage season, not least the challenging but spectacularly scenic option for crossing the Pyrenees.
Nine years ago, when I first walked a Camino to celebrate a 70th birthday in early April, the route was still closed to pilgrims by snow and unpredictable mountain weather. Now in 2025, to celebrate being halfway through my 80th, I was taking advantage of a dry, warm autumn.
Les Portes de Cize
The customary starting point of the classic French Camino is the lovely little Basque town of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port in the foothills of the Pyrenees. The district, known as Cize in medieval times, is the gateway (“port”) to two routes into Spain, both converging on the great abbey, collegiate church and pilgrim refuge at Roncesvalles (Orreaga in Basque).
One option parallels (and partly uses) the modern road through deep, wooded Valcarlos (the Vale of Charlemagne). As far back as the 12th Century a pilgrim guide, the Codex Calixtinus, described this as the preferred route for pilgrims who “do not want to climb the mountain”. But although lovely, it came with significant risk of being robbed or killed by bandits. Happily, today there are plenty of welcoming places for refreshment or spending a night, and I have many happy memories of that walk.
The alternative is a strenuous and exposed mountain route, popularly called “Route Napoleon”. It’s a long, challenging, twenty-five kilometre climb, ending in a steep descent to Roncesvalles. The route was known to the Romans, offering the military advantage of avoiding risk of ambush in the steep, wooded valley below. That wasn’t an idle fear. Valcarlos got its name from Charlemagne, whose rear guard, commanded by the legendary knight Roland, was ambushed and wiped out by Basque forces there in 778. The ridge above remained the preferred military route into the 19th Century when some of Napoleon’s troops used it during the Peninsular War (1808-1814). But he never travelled it himself. The popular name is a late 20th Century romanticisation.
Setting Out
A month before leaving home, preferring mindful pilgrimage to a physical endurance test, I decided to break the journey in two, booking a bed at the pilgrim refuge at Orisson, eight kilometres beyond Saint-Jean. That proved to be wise. Even booking online a month beforehand I just caught the last available bunk. And the walk was indeed steep. Eight kilometres uphill with a full pack under a hot sun was quite enough for one day.
Trekking in Nepal had taught the value of plodding steadily, taking frequent stops to breathe and savour the moments. Nonetheless, after six hours of that I breathed a sigh of gratitude at the sight of Orisson appearing around a corner and the prospect of a cold beer on its patio.
That evening, the 28 pilgrims staying overnight gathered for a communal meal, followed by each introducing their name, where they were from, and why they were walking the Camino. The mix was young and old (I had the dubious distinction of being oldest by eight years) from Canada, France, New Zealand, Korea, Russia, the United States, Taiwan, and others I now forget, with as many motives as there were pilgrims.
The next morning, a hearty breakfast and gorgeous sunrise made for an uplifting start to a long day.
Orisson to Roncesvalles
Today we would gain as much altitude as yesterday, but the route was twice as long so, on average, not as steep. Much of it reminded me of what a tough, cheerful guide in Nepal used to dismiss as mere “Nepali flat”. Seven kilometres beyond Orisson the route leaves the road and branches off for the climb into Spain and the high point at Col de Lepoeder, 1,400 metres above Saint-Jean. Then there is a decision to make.
One option is a steep, rugged and potentially slippery path through beech forest direct to Roncesvalles. The other is slightly longer, but safer, easier on the body and historically interesting. A shady trail leads to a paved road zigzagging down to the modern chapel at Ibañeta, the traditional site of Roland’s defeat, built on the site of an ancient pilgrim refuge pre-dating Roncesvalles. I chose that option, not least because the Pilgrim Office in Saint-Jean had recommended strongly against the woodland trail, meaning that costs of an accident wouldn’t be covered by travel insurance – not an unimportant consideration when you’re in your 80th year.
It proved a good choice. On an extremely hot afternoon, the shade of the Ibañeta chapel made for a welcome break before the final leg into Roncesvalles. Ironically, it’s the high point of the Valcarlos route where, nine years earlier, I had been equally grateful to shelter from cold, driving rain.
Roncesvalles
Roncesvalles is an impressive complex of buildings, some dating back to the 12th Century. Although the facilities of the great Collegiate are for pilgrims, it’s also a popular tourist spot that can get crowded and a bit hectic. Nonetheless, the dining room of an adjoining hotel is booked for a convivial evening pilgrim meal, and sleep comes easily with the satisfaction of achieving a strenuous camino challenge.
The next morning I set out toward another experience missed in 2016; staying at the little convent and church of Saint Esteban at Zabaldika which then was still closed for the winter.
But that’s another story.
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All photos are mine except the 2016 pictures of me in Valcarlos and the chapel at Ibañeta, both of which were taken by fellow pilgrim Leni Mori from Brazil. The aerial photo of Roncesvalles is from the Kingdom of Navarre website at https://www.visitnavarra.es/en/roncesvalles.