Camino del Norte Day 4: Deba to Ziortza
A Golden Day
April 23, 2025
18.7 miles | 30 km
I woke up with a start as if it was Christmas. Today was my twenty-third birthday, as well as my golden birthday. The wooden boards creaked under my feet as I gathered my things from the honest hotel room. Downstairs I found a delightful breakfast spread at the bar. Gray light seeped through the seaside windows and filled the space with cool morning light. I was the only guest in the dining room, although I could see a few pairs of hiking boots and trekking poles outside. Did I want coffee? The hosts were more than eager to serve me.
Breakfast at Casa Rural Pikua, Deba
After a hearty breakfast, I returned my key, paid for the other half of my stay, and thanked the hotel owner in what little Spanish I knew. The owner was most gracious and repeated, “Gracias, Sofía!” many times. I think he appreciated that I tried to speak his native language, lacking as my skill may be.
Ponies outside Casa Rural Pikua
On the way out, I made friends with some Shetland ponies. I think they could smell the golden delicious apples stashed away for later.
Casa Rural Pikua, where I stayed the night of my twenty-third birthday
The weather was cool and overcast—perfect for walking. I triple checked that I had everything and set out again through the lush pine forest to the Camino. Pale blue forget-me-nots graced the path on their dainty stems like little bits of sky that had been captured in flower form.
“God, Your creation is so beautiful,” I said.
wood forget-me-not (Myosotis sylvatica)
The path was wooded and rolling, passing through pastures and forests at intervals.
An overlook near Mutriko, Basque Country
I tried not to use technology for navigation but instead rely on trail signs. Most of the turns were well-marked with arrows and signs.
Below: 1) male fern (Dryopteris filix-mas) and 2) a typical Basque trail marker
“Donejakue Bidea” is the name for the Camino de Santiago in the Basque language. Most of the trail markers in Basque Country said “Donejakue Bidea” first and then “Camino de Santiago” second or not at all.
Above: European columbine (Aquilegia vulgaris)
Below: 1) 2) 3) Spanish broom 4) meadow beauty
Finally reached the top!
A quick painting from the top
Below: 1) white pasque flower 2) viper’s bug loss
Freedom
Views of Basque Country
Approaching Gernika
The quiet streets of Bolibar
Ascending the pathway to the monastery
Once at the monastery, I was greeted by a monk in a long black robe. He was on his way to prayer service, but I didn’t know that at the time. He welcomed me to the monastery, showed me to my room with the other pilgrims, showed me where I could shower, wash my clothes, and told me that the pilgrim dinner was at 8:00. As he left, he showed me the donation box.
“Please leave a responsible donation,” he said with bushy eyebrows.
I nodded and thanked him many times, grateful to have reached this haven of hospitality. The pilgrim dinner was joyous. Out of the fourteen people at the table, I was the only American. English was the common language, although I heard German, Dutch, and French conversations at various points throughout the evening. I met several other pilgrims about my age: Luuk from The Netherlands, Sam from Germany and lived in Norway, Zena from Leipzig, Lawrence from France, Naomi from The Netherlands, Aubrey, Laurent, and Olivia from France, two guys from Ireland, and two women from Canada. Sam spoke seven languages, which he did with ease around the table.
“Hot! Hot!” exclaimed the monk, suddenly appearing through the door with an enormous pot of something steaming.
Dinner was of pasta with vegetables and sun-dried tomatoes, bread and butter and jam, and I think yogurt for dessert. There was wine in white ceramic pitchers, and after dinner the table became quite merry. Zena asked me how old I was.
“Twenty-three today,” I said.
“We’ve got a birthday!” she exclaimed for all the room.
Everyone clapped and cheered as if their favorite team had scored. I felt my face turn bright red, but I didn’t mind. They all wished me a happy birthday and promised not to sing because “that would be embarrassing.” This was the first birthday I had spent away from my family. My heart was filled with the warmth and kindness of these fellow pilgrims, and in gratitude I lay my head down that night. It had truly been a golden day.
