The Pyrenees Ain´t no Ozarks

So, I underestimated the Pyrenees a bit. I thought they were similar in altitude to the Ozarks. What did I know? First, let me say, the walk across was absolutely stunning. The smartest thing that I´ve ever perhaps done in my life is paid a service to carry my backpack across the mountains for me to my first stop, Roncevalles, which was about 18 miles away. That was the best 8 euros I´ve ever spent in my life!

To summarize my first day:
--I walked up a mountain
__I saw some horses just grazing on the side of the road--it was cool, they were like wild horses because they weren´t fenced in, but they belonged to someone because you could see their tags
--I kept walking up the moutains
--I saw flocks of sheep grazing on several different occasions
--I walked thru fog
--I kept walking up the mountain
--Saw some cows
--Helped several Europeans practice their English (because of course I didn´t know a word of their languages)
--Made these two nice Dutch ladies who I had met the night before laugh: Thru the fog, all they could see was my orange poncho, so they called me ´Caspar´the orange ghost. Then they said that pèrhaps I was their angel, but really, I think that ´Caspar the orange ghost is more áppropriate.
--Kept walking up mountains
--Walked thru mud
--Started walking down the mountains
--Walked thru a beautiful beech forest
--Walked thru even more mud ( I won´t be able to return my boots now)
--Kept walking
--Arrived Roncevalles around 6 p.m. I was so tired I didn´t even make it to dinner (and we all know that is a first.)
Having fun, Gina