… And More Rocks

I was mistaken that it was two miles to Cruz de Ferro; it was 2K and nowhere near as steep or rocky as the walk into Foncebedón had been. I was a little surprised when I rounded a curve and there was the iron cross. The tradition is to leave a stone brought from home, which represents the physical and spiritual burdens you wish to release.

I had wanted to bring one of the polished rocks from Lake Winnipesaukee, which represented our last summer there. I had buried some with Jerry and thought I had some left, but I couldn’t find them, so I brought no rock. Instead, on the second day here, when we dropped down from the top of the mountain into the woods, I commented that it felt like the Appalachian Trail. Carrying a rock from there felt right, so I picked one up. Not a particularly heavy one, and to be fair, JacoTrans carried it some, until I remembered to move it to my daypack.

I left my rock at the foot of the cross, but the experience as a whole seemed anticlimactic. Perhaps if the approach had been the culmination of the difficult climb out of Rabanal rather than a fairly easy start to the day, or if it hadn’t been The Week of First Anniversaries, which already involved a lot of releasing. It’s a touching tradition; you can see how much it means by the tributes people leave. It just didn’t particularly touch me.

We walked through some lovely wooded sections. Today I had all the fluttering about me I ever could have imagined — flies. Not one or two but several. When I caught up to Yvonne and Tom I asked her if I smelled like a cow. She said everyone was battling the flies, swishing hats and swatting them away. I did note, however, that she never denied I smelled like a cow.

Then the descent began. I’m surprised they didn’t give us one of those percentage grade signs, because it was steep in sections. Steep would have been fine without the rocks — the pointy ones, the loose ones, the ones that looked embedded and pointy but were loose and pointy. It was very slow going, picking my way down the path while deciding which patch of dirt looked least treacherous.

At one point I stopped mid-trail and said, “I’m done. This isn’t fun. I don’t want to be here. Can I please just get airlifted out. Just over it.” Yvonne agreed and proved it by announcing at the first town that she was taking a taxi the rest of the way. She has been fighting blisters since the beginning and is finally in a good place; this section wasn’t worth putting her back at square one. Mim and Kathy were behind us, so she decided to wait in case they made the same decision and wanted to share the taxi. (They did.)

I wanted to hike it, but it was at least twice as much of the same, and I felt lucky I’d made it this far. Tom decided to hike, so I did, too. I thought at first that the difficulty had been oversold, because we had a nice, wide, relatively-rock-free path for a mile or so, but that turned in to the same old rocky road I knew and hated. Tom is faster than I am, and he was ahead chatting with the dental school grads who for some reason chose the Camino rather than an exotic beach as their celebration. I was so grateful to see the road into town!

Molinaseca is very cute. I wish I’d been able to get in earlier to spend more time, but I loved what time I did have. As I walked across the bridge I saw the crew outside at a bar waiting for me. I had a drink then went to Yvonne’s hostel to try to get a bed. Turns out it’s only rooms, and it was full, but the owner sent me next door. I asked him if I owed him anything for having sent my pack to his place, and he truly seemed puzzled as to why I would. He also asked if I would like to come to the Brazilian dinner they put in for guests. Yvonne had mentioned it, so I said sure. He told me to be there promptly at seven.

I went to put my feet in the river and found Mim and Kathy already there. When our feet were turning blue we laid in the grass on the riverbank, watching the clouds roll in. Today was hot — not just the sun on you hot but the actual air is hot kinda hot — and the breezes all felt like a hairdryer blowing on your face. A thunderstorm, the first rain we’ve had since I’ve been here, came through and cooled everything down considerably.

I showed up next door wearing my best hiking dress. The hosts are from Brazil. He did the Camino in 2013, then moved to Spain and opened his hostel the next year. He explained all the dinner components and how to assemble them. We had shots to start, then he and his wife faded back to let us talk to each other. I’m so glad he asked me to be part of it.

Because tomorrow is a relatively flat day, I’m going to carry my pack. I have a room booked, which means there’s no pressure to get there early to try to find something, so it seems a good time to get back on the horse. Or get the horse back on me. Or something.Read more