Even post-washing, Steph can't stand the smell.

And while both Fidos and FiveFingers are well worth the investment, I owe it to my readers to divulge the stinky truth: halfway through the pilgrimage my girlfriend could hardly walk behind me without gagging at the smell produced by my FiveFingers.

On the Camino I had only running water and my peppermint Dr. Bronner’s soap to work with. While Dr. Bronner’s is impressively versatile and a perfect solution for pilgrims, it lacks the industrial strength needed to tame the near-visible stink lines emanating from my shoes. Instead of relief, I got peppermint-scented foot odor.

Had I found the FiveFingers’ weakness? Was there any way stop my shoes from smelling like a skunk with gangrene had died in them?

The research began when I returned home. As I expected, the smell immediately improved once I stopped wearing my FiveFingers ALL DAY EVERY DAY FOR A MONTH. But this wasn’t enough; the smell had been downgraded to a non-gangrenous, dying skunk, but that left them still smelling like a dying skunk.

Running them through the wash made the smell somewhat more tolerable still, but had the unwanted side effect of making the rest of the clothes in the washing machine smell like they were in the vicinity of a slightly under-the-weather skunk.

I was on the verge of giving up hope. I guessed I’d have to deal with my FiveFingers being the most fun, natural, stanktacular footwear I’d ever owned.

Then, on a day not unlike any other, @VibramFiveFingers tweeted something so crazy I thought it just might work:

For those of you unfamiliar with Efferdent, it’s a denture cleansing tablet: you put your dentures in a glass of water, throw an Efferdent tablet in there and plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is (that I still have teeth and only need Efferdent for my shoes)!

I bought the Efferdent at Walmart (I figured they’re used to unusual purchases), returned home and filled the kitchen sink with water. After dunking the FiveFingers I dropped in four tablets and watched as the water turned a bubbly blue soda pop.

After fifteen minutes of soaking I removed the shoes and gave them a smell from 10 inches away. Nothing! I moved my nose closer. Still nothing! Finally I went in for a real close-encounter sniff. Skunk!

Still, I was impressed. This was a skunk that minded its manners, and the smell was something I (and my girlfriend) could live with.

And that, my friends, is how I became a regular customer of Efferdent denture cleansing tablets.

For a more thorough and detailed look at eliminating the funk from your VFFs, check out The Definitive Guide to Cleaning Vibram Five Fingers.

In the byline, Honeycutt complains that the movie is “A spiritual journey that comes off more as a travelogue without much drama.”

Watch the trailer at the official website, or check out the Youtube version dubbed over in Espanol:

This is certainly a disappointment to anyone who’s walked the Camino, but there is a silver lining – the review gives major props for the way “The Way” captures the beauty of the ancient pilgrims route: “Estevez’s crew does nothing to spoil the scenery or snap-shots of life along the Camino de Santiago.”

The lack of drama and long running time (129 minutes) may unfortunately keep “The Way” from a wide-release in the U.S., where blockbuster movies require robot velociraptors to tackle helicopters every five seconds in order to keep the audience’s attention (you’d totally watch that, admit it), but the star power of Sheen and Estevez alone should spark at least some interest.

At the very least, I’ll be watching “The Way” to get a healthy dose of Caimino nostalgia through a high-quality camera lens. Besides, by the time “The Way” actually arrives to DVD, it might be the only movie that can be watched without 3D glasses.

Paris

I can’t find the ticket counter.

On top of that, I’ve slept for maybe forty-five minutes in the last thirty hours. Forget finding a ticket counter, I can barely find my hands.

My girlfriend, Stephanie, and I are lying on a concrete bench in the Austerlitz Train Station in Paris, or as Steph calls it, “Auschwitz” Train Station. Getting this far has been tough – lost luggage, a missed train – but Steph’s accidental rechristening of the train station reminds me things can always be worse.

I knew this wasn’t going to be a typical vacation. When Stephanie approached me about walking the Camino de Santiago, a 500-mile pilgrimage crossing northern Spain, I had more questions than I could count, not the least of which was “Why on earth would I want to do that?”

Week 1

Shave down the pointy mountains tops and lose Julia Andrews and you have the Pyrenees.

The Pyrenees and Julie Andrews

“Traveling is just hurrying to get to the next place you have to wait.”

Or so says the burly German pilgrim (with equally burly nose pores). The Pyrenees, with their rolling green peaks, look as though they’re straight out of The Sound of Music. Inspired, Steph does her best Julie Andrews impression: “The hills are ali-i-i-i-ve with the sound of mewzi-i-i-i-k.”

We reach Roncesvalles after seven hours of walking. The small village contains only a handful of buildings surrounded by trees and mountains as far as the eye can see.

At some point we crossed the border into Spain, I never saw a border marker of any sort, and I feel slightly ripped off. Where’s the border crossing photo op? Where’s the sign warning you of the photo op? Where’s the photo-op information center? Already Spain is proving to be very un-American.

Week 2

A couple hundred miles down, a couple hundred miles to go

Cola-Cao, wine, water

Once other pilgrims start stirring, it’s time to get up. There’s no way you can sleep in when dozens of other pilgrims are zipping and unzipping their backpacks, rifling through their possessions, and splashing their headlamps across the walls and ceiling like manic spotlights.

We eat a typical breakfast of bread with jam, yogurt, and Cola-Cao (think European Nesquik) and leave our hostel the city of Estella behind us, searching for a rumored wine fountain along the pilgrim route somewhere in the hills north of town.

After an hour of walking groggily through the early morning dark, we stumble straight into it: the Fuente del Vino – the Fountain of Wine.

The small miracle of a free wine fountain immediately perks us up. Forget that it’s seven in the morning. Forget that it’s still dark and I can see my breath rising in front of my face through the yellow light of my headlamp. We’ve hit the jackpot.

I tip my water bottle, emptying the water onto the cobblestones at the base of the fountain. I pull back the silver tap like a slot machine and dark wine gurgles into my bottle.

It doesn’t even matter when the wine tastes gritty, like it’s been ageing in a concrete tomb instead of a barrel. Asking for the wine to taste as heavenly as the rest of the wine in the Rioja region of Spain would be asking far too much. It’s a free wine fountain, and that’s good enough for me.

After a few more sips, I dump out the remaining wine and refill the bottle with a more practical pilgrim’s drink: water.

Boring, non-alcoholic water.

Week 3

plaza, parade, horse-sized dogs

In León Steph and I take a break from the shower-sharing, bunk-bedding life of a pilgrim and get a private room. The room has a terrace with a string of red flowers hugging the railing that overlooks the Plaza de San Isidoro.

Before heading out to find dinner, Stephanie peaks out the window and notices that the people milling in the plaza below are beginning to form patterns. As the sky dims and the lights of León t

ake over, the grouping continues until the plaza is ringed by onlookers.

We hear the drums before the parade comes into view. Minutes later, the procession appears – a reenactment of the coronation of King Alphoso IX. Men in chain mail on horses, women in layered lampshade dresses, and mastiffs so oversized they look unreal.

Finally, rows of drummers appear at the rear. The noise from the drums swells rapidly as they spill row by row into the plaza. The medieval procession continues through the plaza and past our window out of sight.

Mouths agape and bored looking, the mastiffs lumber by, followed by horses with a barely discernable size advantage. The drummers chase them out of view, their drums fading; an echoing, ominous thud. If the plaza had a Starbucks, the ambiance might not have felt as authentic. As it is, we had the perfect view.

Ravenous from putting off dinner, we step out into the dispersing crowd and hunt for a restaurant.

Week 4

Candyland, Brazil, Oregon

We leave Cacabelos to wet pavement and threatening skies.

As we climb out of the valley the sun rises and the clouds part just enough to give us a view from Cacabelos back to Ponferrada and its lone skyscraper stacked haphazardly like children’s blocks.

A rainbow appears in front of us on the vineyard-covered hills and the scent of licorice root is in the air. Even the cow-pies dotting the path are starting to resemble some delectable chocolaty treat.

“Are we playing a grueling version of Candyland?” I ask Steph. She just looks at me like I’m crazy, which I probably am. Or maybe the trees peppering the hills in the distance mark the beginning of the gumdrop forest.

The rainbow eventually disappears but the clouds and the smell of licorice follow us all day.

The rain finally hits as we’re sitting down to dinner at Brazilian-ran hostel. The pilgrims pause momentarily, ears cocked to the growing roar of the downpour. Soon everyone is on their feet, running outside to rescue the clothes that had been drying on the clothesline.

Everyone returns giggling, and the multilingual chatter around the stout wooden table is animated. A different sound can be heard over the deluge outside; water is trickling close by. I look up and the back wall of the hostel is weeping.

Again all the pilgrims rise and hurry to relieve the wall of its various Brazilian paintings, masks, and decorations before the water ruins them. Everyone is laughing and wet and I smile and think for the first time of home.

Week 5

Santiago

We reach the cathedral in Santiago before the noon mass. The yellow mold and dark grime on the façade gives the cathedral ancient, almost mystical quality that makes me think of a temple from an Indiana Jones movie.

The plaza outside the cathedral is noisy. Pilgrims and tourists crowd the square and there is already a line for mass zigzagging down the stone steps of the front entrance.

Steph and I take a cursory tour of the cathedral, including the dubious tomb of the pilgrimage’s namesake, St. James, before escaping from the Sunday morning throng and heading to the pilgrim’s office to pick up our compostelas – a certificate verifying that we completed the journey on foot.

We display our pilgrim’s passports, which are filled with stamps from each hostel we stayed in, and are handed a piece of paper that reminds me of my high school diploma (though I think I’m more proud of having earned the compostela).

Once I have the certificate, all I can think about is rest. What it means to finally complete a 500-mile pilgrimage can catch up with me later – after a nap, and maybe over a glass of wine.

Day 1

The Holy Grail for winos

Paris

Where is that damn ticket counter?

Our lack of French comprehension skills leaves the information booth attendant befuddled. It has been three hours since our search for train tickets began. Steph and I return to our concrete bench defeated.

I’m sitting with my head held low in defeat when I see the footprints.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble. “Steph, look down.”

Steph bursts out laughing.

There they are. Footprints painted fire truck red and inscribed with the word billets – tickets. The footprints lead us directly to the ticket counter, which is located conveniently in the largest, most obvious room in the train station – a room that we somehow avoided during our hours long search.

Only half kidding, I ask Steph how we’re going to follow a trail 500 miles through Spain when we can’t follow childproof red footprints.

“Well,” Steph counters. “No matter what happens I’m sure as hell making it to that free wine fountain.”

“Why does my foot hurt?”

That’s the question asked by Christoper McDougall’s book Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Super Athletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen.

But my foot doesn’t hurt: my knee does.

If the Tarahumara can get wasted on corn booze and run 100 miles, why can’t I?

Five months prior to walking the Camino de Santiago, I had microfracture surgery on my right knee. My surgeon cleared me to walk, but warned me to wear

good hiking boots with ¾ insoles to protect my freshly repaired appendage.

Then I read Born to Run. McDougall’s simple question of “Why does my foot hurt?” leads him into Mexico’s Copper Canyon, where a tribe of natives called the Tarahumara manages to run distances that make marathons look like a trip to your mailbox. Not only that, but they often do it after an all-night drinking binge.

As far as I was concerned, the Tarahmara were the perfect role models for a twenty-something male like myself.

But more pertinent to my predicament was that they did it next to barefoot, and they never got hurt. The arches of their feet didn’t implode, their shins didn’t splint, and their knees… well, I’m pretty sure the average Tarahumaran has no idea what microfracture surgery entails.

Best of all, Born to Run provided the science to explain how this was possible, and it all boiled down to one thing: the human foot is not broken.

The book essentially pitted millions of years of evolution against a few decades of Nike research and marketing, and declared evolution the winner.

My mind was officially blown. I had to learn more. There was no way I was going to walk across a country without the best footwear option available.

Unable to find the contact info for the book’s author, Christopher MacDougall, I turned my search to two of the prominent, and almost mythical, figures from Born to Run: Caballo Blanco and Barefoot Ted.

I emailed Barefoot Ted first, mentioning I had just brought some swanky Solomon running shoes from REI (where I had practically been living over the summer as I gathered supplies for my long trek):

“Should I take them back?” I asked Barefoot Ted.

“Take the shoes back!!!” he replied. Three exclamation points. You can’t get much more adamant than three exclamation points. “I would go with huarache sandals if I were you. Or with FiveFingers… or barefoot… I know one Chilean doctor who did it barefoot!”

But I’m not Chilean. Or a doctor. Or crazy. Caballo Blanco gave me much simpler advice: “Put one foot in front of the other and have fun – :]”

A shepherd in the Galicia region of Spain laughing at my FiveFingers.

The smiley face didn’t make the message any less cryptic, but maybe I was worrying too much. Maybe just going for it in a pair of sandals or FiveFingers would be fine. If a doctor walked the Camino sans sneakers, then doing so is practically doctor prescribed, right? One out of one doctors surveyed agrees!

But I’ve never been much of a wraparound sandals kind of guy; too many years of seeing Birkenstocks paired with socks on the mean streets of Seattle and Eugene has permanently turned me off to the idea. So I went with the only remaining option given to me by Barefoot Ted, and one week later I was the proud owner of a pair of Vibram FiveFingers.

The science of going barefoot may be compelling, but I wondered if it was sound to take that science and applying it to 500 miles of walking – post-knee surgery – after only a few weeks of training in my new barely-there shoes.

At first the FiveFingers were difficult just to put on. It felt strange having my toes separated into individual sheaths of “thin, abrasion-resistant stretch polyamide fabric.” But one week later I was running comfortably for the first time since my surgery – and not just running, having fun running.

I could feel every change of running surface – dirt to grass to pavement – and my movements adjusted accordingly. I could feel what I was running on, without the pain of being entirely barefoot.

I was lighter on my feet, something Born To Run had suggested would come naturally, and my knee could tell the difference. Two weeks before the pilgrimage I was convinced; I would bring only the FiveFingers and a pair of flip-flops. At the very least, my minimal footwear decision would cut down on weight and space in my backpack. Besides, I had three persuasive exclamation points backed up my decision.

Did the shoes work? In short, yes. The long answer is a bit more complicated (and painful).

During my trek, did I ever have to ask myself why my foot hurts? Most definitely. That kind of mileage doesn’t come without some pain, no matter what’s on your feet.

But after each and every mile I walked, one important question never once crossed my mind:

“Why does my knee hurt?”

Click map for larger image (http://gunn.co.nz/map/)

The key on the left represents the number of pilgrims (duh), with each country displaying a corresponding color. Countries in gray sent less than 10 pilgrims to the Camino, and therefore weren’t counted.

As the map shows, the Camino is still relatively Euro-centric. Over half of the 145,877 pilgrims from 2009 were Spanish (79,007), and about 90% of all pilgrims hailed from Europe. Here’s a different version of the map to give an idea just how wide the gap is between countries like France and Peru:

Click map for larger image (http://gunn.co.nz/map/)

Western and Spanish speaking countries are obviously well represented due to a larger Catholic population and the fact that Spanish is the primary language along the Camino. In the east, South Koreans seem to travel relatively well (1079) pilgrims, and of course there’s the always travel-ready Australians (1015).

Only 4 Malaysians walked in 2009, making the Malaysian woman I met the most unlikely nationality I talked to during my pilgrimage last September/October. So rare, Malaysia didn’t even meet my “over 10″ criteria. There I go being all selfish again.

Click map for larger image (http://gunn.co.nz/map/)

The list of countries: United States, Canada, Mexico, Australia, England, Spain, Argentina, Malaysia, South Korea, France, Switzerland, Italy, Slovenia, Holland, Israel, New Zealand, Sweden, Japan, Ireland, Belgium, Finland, Denmark, Brazil, Portugal, Norway, Scotland, Latvia, Austria, Hungary

That’s 5 North and South American countries, 6 from Asian and Australasian, and 18 European countries.

And these are only the people I talked to enough to learn their nationality; the total number of nationalities I encountered is probably closer to 50.

Complete statistics on the number of pilgrims walking the Camino as broken down by nationality are kept by the Archbishops office in Santiago de Compostela. If I can defeat my overwhelming laziness, maybe I’ll create a more detailed infographic map based on the official statistics…

About an hour past Estella, next to the Museo del Vino, the wine fountain lies in plain site next to the path on the Camino Frances route. Is the wine good? Not particularly. But it is wine, and that was good enough for me. As far as I’m concerned, free alcohol makes the Fuente de Vino a Can’t Miss Camino Sight. Pics below.

7am may not be the best time for wine

Lest you walk past this small Camino miracle

The wine museum itself was closed, but Spain is chock-full of random gastrointestinal museums. See for yourself…

Willy Wonka's got nothing on this

This would definitely be called a "MuseeHAM" in the U.S.

Below is a my one-sheet, which I learned about yesterday. After much research I think I have  a good grasp as to what makes up a one-sheet, so maybe this will be a helpful example or template for other prospective writers. It should also give you a bit more info regarding what my Camino memoir will include. (Turns out it’s going to include massive wine consumption.)

The bad news is I only learned about one-sheets yesterday. That means I had just a few hours to whip something up in Word with my minimal design skills, then throw words haphazardly at what is supposed to be the most professional looking document a writer produces.

Oops.

Well, as this will be my first writing conference, I’m fully prepared to take my knocks and learn as much as possible. Without further ado, my one-sheet:

SO if you want to get a good sense for the different terrain and towns along The Way, or if you just want to step back into nostalgia, watch the video already!

Watch the HD version here: http://vimeo.com/4677724

*Be sure to catch the punchline to the question “Why do cows wear bells?” around the halfway mark on the video. It’s cheesetacular.

ORIGINAL CAMINO PACKING LIST_________________________________

Big Items:

Even a light backpack can get you stuck in a fence

• lightweight backpack - My pack weighs just 29 oz. while providing great support. I recommend getting fitted for a pack at an outdoor store.Your shoulders will get sore on the Camino, but a well-fitted pack can minimize thediscomfort.
• lightweight sleeping bag - My bag weighs barely more than a pound. Sure, it’s only rated to 45 degrees F, but you’ll be sleeping indoors.
• travel pillow - Pillows are usually provided in hostels, but very helpful for plane/train travel. Mine weighs 12 oz. and rolls up to a relatively small size.

Clothing:

• 2 lightweight t-shirts, one cotton t-shirt - For all your clothing, lightweight is key. Additionally, anti-microbial (less smelly), moisture-wicking (less sweaty), and quick-drying are huge bonuses. Most travel outfitters carry shirts of this type, but if you want a good combo of style and practicality, Prana clothing is super chic, though a bit pricey.
  
• micro-fleece jacket - Fleece is both warm and lightweight. Layer it with a water-resistant, wind-cutting jacket to get complete protection on cold, wet, and/or windy days.
• lightweight rain jacket - I went with a breathable, wind-cutting Marmot jacket weighing 8 oz.
• 2 pairs of lightweight shorts - I snagged some shorts/swimming trunks – multi-use ftw!
  
• lightweight cargo pants with zip-off shorts - You might want 2 pairs of pants and only1 pair of shorts if you’re walking Oct-April.
• 

  Don't buy shoes you hate so much you throw them onto a telephone wire once you reach Santiago

  beanie - I didn’t see one other person wearing a beanie, but it worked wonders for me on cold mornings.

• Footwear: FiveFingers and flip-flops – FiveFingers are a somewhat extreme option, but definitely an example of getting the lite version. This also eliminated my need for socks. (1 lb total)
• long-sleeved cotton shirt
• 3 pairs of cotton underwear

Other:

• water bottle - Get a bottle you can hook onto an easily accessible area of your pack. Taking off your back to get your water bottle out will get old by mile two.
• packing cubes - Packing cubes help separate your clothes and other items into different compartments for easy access. Not a required item, but the convenience to cost/space/weight ratio is impressive.
• small lock - The Camino felt very safe in terms of theft, but don’t let feelings get in the way of precaution.
• 2 books and a journal - Two books should tide you over until you can find an English-language bookstore in one of the bigger cities: Pamplona, Logrono, Burgos, Leon, and Santiago to name a few.
• 2 pens - I ran out of ink three times from all my journal scribblings, but pens aren’t hard to come by.
• toiletries kit - razor, deodorant, tweezers, toothbrush, toothpaste, bug repellent… adjust necessities to gender
• Dr. Bronner’s all-in-one soap - I used Dr. Bronner’s to wash my body, hair, clothes, and anything else that needed washing. Heck, you can even use it to wash your teeth! (I’m not that hardcore.) A great example of a multi-purpose item. My favorite type is peppermint.
• microfiber towel and wash cloth - Microfiber towels save space and drying time.
• small tote bag - The tote I use weighs less than 2 oz. Great carrying option for short trips away from your hostel.
• earplugs - Most earplugs don’t work for me. These do. Don’t let a roomful of snoring pilgrims keep you awake.
• 

  If you need a pack mule, you're doing it wrong

  safety pins - For hanging your clothes when clothes pins aren’t available.

• headlamp - The average pilgrim wakes up pretty early, which means waking up in the dark — especially in fall, winter, and early spring. A headlamp can serve as a flashlight as well.
• alarm clock - I used a phone, sans calling ability, to keep track of time and wake up.
• camera
• first-aid/blisters kit
• wallet/passport
• sunglasses
• sunscreen

—

Total weight: about 17 lbs

Weight of big items (backpack, sleeping bag, pillow): under 4 lbs

Weight of clothing (including footwear): under 6 lbs

HINDSIGHT CAMINO PACKING LIST ________________________________

Add:

• 

  My girlfriend also mastered the art of spoonless yogurt ingestion

  packframe poncho - They make you look a little bit like the front end of a two-person camel costume, but you’ll be glad you have a packframe poncho at the first sign of rain – I didn’t have one the first time I was caught in a downpour, and it left me cold and miserable. The next day I bought a poncho and was surprised by how little room it took up.
  

• corkscrew - Not all hostels have one, and your bottle of wine will mock you if you have no way to reach its delicious innards.
• utensils – Although I became expert at eating yogurt without a spoon, I could have spared myself the rigorous learning curve by bringing a set of reusable utensils.

Change:

• 3 pairs of cotton underwear lightweight underwear - Maybe I wouldn’t have gone for the skimpy man panties (manties) I saw most European men wearing, but cotton boxers took up more space than I expected and took forever to dry. I often had to pin them to my backpack to day the day after washing – not an attractive look. Instead, go for a moisture-wicking and quick-drying option.
• cotton long-sleeve shirt, cotton t-shirt lightweight long-sleeve shirt and t-shirt - Though I did buy a few articles of lightweight clothing, I thought throwing in a few tradition cotton/poly blend shirts wouldn’t hurt. It did. Washing a sweaty cotton shirt is no fun, and drying takes ages. A moisture-wicking, anti-microbial shirt works wonders for quick-drying and holding the stink at bay. Rely on layering: a t-shirt, long-sleeve shirt, lightweight fleece jacket, and lightweight rain jacket should be the most you ever need. If you’re still cold, you’re probably not in Spain.

Subtract:

I did pretty well here. I took the lightweight packing challenge seriously and only ended up with a few necessary changes and additions, but no items I would consider unnecessities. If there are changes/additions/subtractions you would make to this list, I’d love to see them in the comment section!

YOU MAY ALSO WANT TO BRING___________________________________

• Camino guidebook - I didn’t bring one and I enjoyed the mystery of not knowing exactly what was around each corner,  but if you want to know what to expect here’s a great list of books that won’t take up too much space.
• CamelBak hydration system - I prefer water bottles, but the convenience and carrying capacity make this hydration alternative very appealing, especially in the sweltering summer months.
• Sun hat - If your dome is bare or your skin is sensitive to the sun, a quality hat is vital.
• Hiking poles - I used a walking stick occasionally, but for the most part I believe hiking poles are an unnecessary hassle. Anything that changes your natural gait is trouble on a long walk. As with prescription medication and cake: use only as needed.
• Moneybelt - A moneybelt is an excellent option for your passport and credit cards, though I confidently rely on the humble pocket for my security needs.
• Hiking shoes/socks - I went for an extremely minimalist approach to footwear and loved it, but near-barefoot isn’t for everyone. Practice in whatever footwear you plan on using for at least a month prior to the pilgrimage. That said, I’m entirely convinced – from research and experience – that lighter is better. Go for lightweight hiking shoes over the bulky, clunky alternatives. I’ll discuss my personal story regarding minimal footwear in future posts.

—

Lightweight packing keywords:

moisture-wicking, microfiber, quick-drying, anti-microbial, multi-purpose or -use, waterproof, breathable

* Note: I relied heavily on my local REI, but many other retailers provide the same or similar options to those I listed (Rick Steves’ travel store is another great online option) By all means shop around for the best price.