St Jean Pied de Port to Roncesvalles

My Camino started proper the night before my first walking day, when I checked into the albergue (hostel) in St Jean Pied de Port.

I had started the day a little bit nervous and not quite myself, but I took shelter from the rain in a cafe and ended up having a two hour chat with the lovely owner, Luis, and he even gave me my second cup of coffee for free ☺️ (well, they do say the Camino provides).

This chat had lifted my spirits and on the back of this, as soon as I entered the albergue I felt right at home. I honestly don't know how I managed to find so many inspiring and interesting people in one room.

There's Greg from the US, who is sixty-five and losing his sight. When he was diagnosed in 2008, he thought it was the perfect time to take up marathon running and in the past five years he's run a marathon in every state of the US. He told me he chooses the most beautiful place in the state to run, then takes his wife for a long weekend. And now, with failing eyesight and only tunnel vision, he's walking the Camino. I know.

After getting to know people last night, I was invited to walk the first day with two awesome Dutch girls, Martine and Anne. Martine has already been on her Camino for a month, having started further up in France, and Anne is joining her for a week before heading to China where she's going to build the rig on ship for the Chinese navy. Seriously, could you want better company?

They say the first day of the Camino is the hardest, and so I had real trepidation the evening before, however after a night of great chat with fellow pilgrims (I declared I was going to bed at 10pm and didn't actually get there til 11pm) I went to bed feeling energised and ready for the challenge ahead. And what a challange.

The first half of our sixteen mile climb to Roncevalles in Spain was mostly on the road and I was feeling pretty good by the time we reached Valcarlos at eight miles; we had already passed over the Spanish boarder and I felt like a Von Trapp at the end of The Sound of Music.

The final eight miles was a different story. It was an incredible hike, but when you're climbing 2,000ft, there's an awful lot of 'up'.

Martine, Anne and I had already agreed that we'd all 'do our own Camino' - and it came as no surprise to me that my personal Camino resembles that of a snail. But I was one determined snail.

The last three miles were a bit of a killer, and it felt like my Fitbit was taunting me by the end (12.1m....12.4m...12.6m - come on!)

To make it even more fun, there were two points where giant trees had been blown over, blocking our path. I'm not that manoeuvre-able at the best of times, never mind with a 14lbs backpack.

Thankfully by this time I was still walking with Anne (Martine had powered ahead like a superwoman), and we'd been joined on the road by Klaus from Austria and two Korean guys. I'm not sure of their names but one insisted I let him drag me up the side of a muddy bank to get over the second tree - I had visions of me pulling us both down into oblivion, but we made it.

Trees averted, I kept plodding on, and on, and on. By now my feet were pretty sore and I'd been on the go for seven hours, but the reward when we reached the highest point at Puerto Ibañeta was incredible.

Looking back over the gorgeous Pyrenees, with blue skies and the sun shining was more than enough compensation for the day's efforts and thoughts of aching calves etc just melted away as I battled with the wind to get a good selfie.

So eight hours after I left the albergue in the morning, I made it to Roncevalles.

There's no stopping the snail now!