The Long Goodbye
Yesterday in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 30 °C
Suddenly there’s so much to do. I texted Yvonne the night I finished to take their time in the last stages, soak it up, and stay in the bubble as long as possible. Logistics and real life come back hard and fast; even though we’re still on ‘vacation’, it suddenly feels like so much pressure getting everything done, even the things we are choosing to do.
On the Camino there just isn’t a lot you have to deal with. Will there be a pharmacy or grocery store in town? Will they be open? Should we eat in this bar or that one? Salad with tuna or without? Hand wash all my clothes or wait for laundromat? Nap then shower, or shower then nap? Leave at 5:30 or 7 am? It’s not easy, but it’s really a very simple life.
Today, on the other hand, I actually wrote out a to do list to be sure I got everything done and was where I needed to be when. We knew what time Tom and Yvonne planned to start, giving us a rough idea of when we should be at the cathedral to meet them, and she had agreed to text us at 5K out.
I wanted to attend Mass again, this time the 7:30 am. I had some very specific prayers to be said, and I needed to visit the crypt of St. James, which I hadn’t done yesterday. It lies under the altar, accessible by a short, narrow staircase. It’s a small space, so going when it wasn’t crowded gave me more time to truly experience it.
Then I stopped by the Pilgrim’s House to drop off my shoes. I’d read on the Camino message boards that volunteers will do regular pickups from there and take items to the homeless shelters. It was only little after 8:00 am; hardly anything was open and very few people were out. It was so still and peaceful in town. I was lucky to find an open coffee shop, where I lingered as long as I could, watching the street cleaners start, some shops open, and a few very early pilgrims walk in. I went back to the hotel to finish packing and check out before my massage at 9:30.
The forecast called for heavy rain, which was an unfortunate way for Tom and Yvonne to finish. The day I finished has been declared the hottest June day on record in Spain since 1950, and I still think that was better than walking in the rain. My dirty little secret is that I sent my raincoat home with Missy. That was during the first heat wave, and I decided that I’d rather be wet from rain than from sweat while wearing a raincoat. As long as I had my hat to keep the rain off my face I figured I’d be fine. I certainly never mentioned that to anyone — what better way to jinx myself! I thought the morning in Palas de Rei when it was lightning and had 96% chance of rain that I’d finally pay for that decision, but nope. No rains ever came until the afternoons after we were settled.
Until today.
When I left my massage there was a heavy drizzle. My hat, of course, was in my pack at the hotel. I had assumed that each of the many (many) souvenir stores in the old town would have a rack of ponchos available for purchase and planned to just grab one of those. Except they didn’t. I could have bought an umbrella fairly easily, but I just wanted a cheap, disposable poncho to get me through the day.
I gave up and met Kathy and Mim at our agreed-upon spot.
“I hate to tell you,” Kathy had said last night, “but it makes the most sense to wait in the tunnel by the bagpipe guy.”
I told Yvonne later it was a testament to how much I cared about being there for their arrival that I did that. I did get a brief respite when I went to the luggage storage place on the other side of the cathedral to grab a poncho I’d seen in there. I hadn’t been back long when Yvonne texted that they were about to come through the tunnel. We hugged them, took their pictures, and showed them where to find the pilgrim’s office. The plaza was much emptier since people weren’t lingering in the rain like they had on the heat.
While they got their certificates we got a table at one of the nearby restaurants for a celebratory/goodbye lunch. Kathy had a bus to Porto at 4:30, and I had a train to Madrid at 5:30. Mim is staying another day in town, as are Tom and Yvonne. We said our teary goodbyes in the restaurant, lots of hugs and promises to keep in touch. Kathy went to the bathroom, and Yvonne was looking up directions to her hotel. Kathy came back to find us all still there, so we all walked with Tom and Yvonne to their hotel, where we had another round of teary goodbyes and hugs and promises to keep in touch. After which, Kathy and Mim helped me find a specific store in which I’d seen a gift I wanted to buy. That done, we had round three of teary goodbyes and hugs and promises to keep in touch.
And then we really did leave.
I grabbed my backpack from the hotel and found a bar on the way to the train station for one last cerveza con limón. I hadn’t yet booked a place to stay in Madrid, and I had a blog post to catch up on.
I spent the night in Madrid in a pod-style hostel, spent the morning looking for my last chocolate croissant, and spent the flight back to the states already missing it.Read more
The End of the Earth
June 24 in Spain ⋅ 🌫 19 °C
When I planned this trip I built in time at the end so that I could walk from Santiago to Fisterra, “the end of the Earth”, if I chose.
I chose not to.
It’s called the end of the earth because that’s what the early mapmakers thought; they walked to the edge and saw no more land, so the sun setting must be going down into an abyss. The Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela considers the shrine of St. James at the cathedral to be the official end, but many pilgrims keep walking to Fisterra and/or around to Muxia. That section has its own certificate.
Just because I didn’t want to walk an extra 110K doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see it. Bus tours go there regularly from Santiago, as do regular buses, if you don’t want to be herded around. With three of us, though, we could rent a car for about $95 and have total flexibility.
Kathy slept in while I went to Mass at the cathedral. Because it wasn’t the noon pilgrim’s Mass, it wasn’t very crowded; however, there was a group of teens there. It is a big deal at the cathedral to see the botafumeiro swing during Mass. It’s traditionally used on Holy Days, but groups can also pay to have it swung while they are there. (It takes six people to swing it!) The best view is from the side pews, so when that’s where the teens were sitting, I thought they were going to finally make themselves useful. They did not. No botafumerio.
I met Kathy and Mim outside their hostel. Mim had brought me tortilla and churros leftover from when she’d been out earlier. Second breakfast doesn’t usually come so soon, but I hardly objected.
We walked to the train station to pick up the rental car, then headed for Muxia, a small fishing town near Fisterra; the plan was to start there, then drive over to Fisterra for the beach and dinner. We had a great lunch sitting on a deck in the sun looking out over the water.
We walked around a bit, including down to the beach, but Mim and Kathy didn’t want to get wet before getting back in the car. By the time we got to Fisterra, though, it was chilly, windy, and almost completely fogged in. We walked up to the lighthouse and had coffee at the hotel on the cliff above. I imagine there would be an amazing view from there on a clear day.
We were too full from lunch to have dinner; instead, we drove back to Santiago along the coast, stopping at a couple of beach access points so they could at least put their feet in the water and we could have a drink. The day didn’t go quite as planned, but it was still great, and I’m so glad we went.
When we got back I desperately needed to do laundry.
I knew when I’d bought the skirt that I wouldn’t like it, and I didn’t wear it to the beach, but it did serve the purpose of giving me something to wear while every piece of hiking clothing I own was in the wash. I discovered that I was missing my blue sun shirt, a pair of underwear, and the one pair of socks that survived the Great Sock Cull of ‘26. I really can’t figure what happened to the shirt; it hardly ever came out of my pack, so when could I have lost it? I don’t mind, like I did my dress; I’m just flummoxed. The underwear I’m sure some poor housekeeper found hanging over a window handle to dry in some hostel. The socks I eventually found in the side pocket of my pack.
Tom and Yvonne finish tomorrow. Then it will really feel like it’s over, I think.Read more
I Did It!!
June 23 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 34 °C
When we walked into the plaza, it was crowded but not crazy. Having seen other people’s pictures I always wondered how they got such a good, empty shot in front of the cathedral, but people seem to instinctively stay off to the sides. Many teens were there having group pictures taken. There was a proposal happening. Erika and Christina came over and asked if we’d had our picture taken, then took them for us. It was all a little overwhelming.
We wanted to get registered at the pilgrim’s office and get our certificates. Erika led us the exact opposite way, and we stood in a very long line for a couple of minutes until I said that was the line to get in to the noon Mass. So at least we knew how to find that when we were ready.
We traipsed back through the plaza and down a ramp on the other side. The office was on a side street, and we identified which restaurant we’d be celebrating at as soon as we were done registering. The person at the door asked how many were in our group, and I instinctively said five. He told us we had to go to the group check-in downstairs. I wasn’t sure if I’d said the right thing; there were five of us, but we weren’t really a group, we just happened to be there at the same time. Plus, downstairs meant coming back upstairs. However, hardly anyone was down there, so it went really quickly.
We each entered our information into a computer, including the date we started and from what location. When all five of us were done, an assistant submitted it and gave us a ticket with our group number. He also took all our passports to be stamped. I asked if the cathedral had a stamp. The stamp they give counts as the cathedral stamp, and it goes in the front of the book, so I still have an open square. Guess I shouldn’t have been so cranky at that nun after all. Our number was called within two minutes, so except for having to walk back up the stairs, it was a very good decision to be a “group”. We each had our newly-stamped passport, a distance certificate, and our Compostela, printed with our Latin name. The Compostelas are free; the distance certificates cost three euros; and the tube to protect them costs another two or three. I had my tube with my halfway certificate in my pack, so I used that. Then I remembered I probably ought to take pictures of them before they become permanently rolled.
The restaurant we had planned to go to was full, and the one across the street wasn’t shady enough, so we had to walk back up the ramp, through the plaza, past the now-playing bagpiper, up the stairs, and up a hill before we found more restaurants. On my way in, because our destination was downhill for once and because it was so crowded, I had retracted my poles and stowed them in my pack. That was a hard uphill with no poles!
Just outside the arch we ran into Donna and Tom, part of the original Borda crew. I didn’t realize they were still in town, but Nick, who we’d run into yesterday and who’d hiked some with them, saw them and told them we were coming in, so they came looking for us. Tom showed off the shell tattoo he’d gotten the day before (after seeing the one Andrea had gotten after he arrived); Donna was still deciding. Kathy is strongly considering one, so she had lots of questions.
We finally made it to lunch, insisted another couple we all knew have a beer with us while they were waiting for someone, and tried to process that we’d actually done it. We hung out there until everyone was able to check in. Kathy and Mim were staying very close to the cathedral. Erika and Christina were about five minutes in one direction, and I was five in the other, so we all said our goodbyes and went to crash.
My hotel has AC but no tub, so I soaked my feet in the trashcan. I napped and showered and looked up where to find a sports store so I could get some new socks. The original ones are too tight, and the replacement ones are so gunked up with adhesive residue and sheep’s wool stuck to it that I can’t bear to put them on. However, because I didn’t wear socks on this outing, the pattern on the soles of my Tevas hurt my blisters. When I went in to look at socks the saleswoman kept following me around the store. I don’t know if she thought I was going to grab an armful then hobble away, but I’m pretty sure it was clear it would be a slow-speed chase.
The grocery store on my block was closed for some unknown reason. (I would know the reason if I could read Spanish.) That meant going back out for food, but I needed to let another Tylenol kick in before I even considered it. Mim and Kathy enticed me out later by suggesting ice cream; none of us was in the mood for another heavy meal. The new socks helped, but when I realized I’d mapped to the wrong ice cream shop, I didn’t have it in me to walk back to the right one. I did get ice cream before I left, though. Girl’s gotta eat.
I also found another grocery store not too far away. This one had clothes, so I bought a t-shirt and a skirt just to have anything other than my hiking clothes to wear, then got my usual gazpacho but was too tired to bother with bread or cookies.
My hotel is just outside the old town area. When I was in the grocery store I had a strong feeling that I needed to get back to the old town, to “my people”, the fellow pilgrims, because I didn’t belong out here in the city. Half the people in old town are tourists, here for the summer solstice festival, so that didn’t even really make sense. I think reacclimation may be harder than I thought.Read more
And Then There Was One
June 23 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 34 °C
You know what happens when you leave super early? It’s super dark. Only one other time did I need the phone flashlight, and that was when Missy was still here. We ran into (almost literally) someone we’d met earlier, also when Missy was here. I’d seen him in pictures with some of the Borda folks who are ahead of us, so I was surprised he wasn’t finished, but he took some rest days for an ankle injury.
I wore the hiking dress today. It seemed appropriate, since I am so grateful to have had it returned. And, you know, it was clean.
The weirdest thing we saw today was a woman walking out of the hostel just as I met Mim. She had a daypack on and hopped on a razor scooter and scooted away. I assume she takes the bike route, but it seems like a lot of work. I had scheduled a pickup, so dropped my daypack in with Mim and Kathy’s. I wanted to carry my pack today, but I did not want the weight of my hiking shoes. I wore my Tevas since the trail was supposed to be very straightforward, and it was only 12 miles. I don’t want to wear the hiking shoes, because I now have a big blister on the ball of the other foot, and I can’t wear the trail runners I bought since they screwed up the tops of my toes, so both of them went in to the daypack.
Despite the dark (and lack of a razor scooter), we made good time and were having breakfast at 4.5 miles. The first place in town wasn’t open, but the second was, and was offering bacon and eggs. A lot of pilgrims came in behind us, so our timing was good. We peeked in the chapel across the street, then ran into Annette as we were leaving. She made a comment about the first place being crazy busy, and, sure enough, it was open and overrun with teens. Did I mention our timing was good?
We stopped again a couple of miles later for some Aquarius and water. Somewhere along the way we passed the marker that showed 9.95K to go. There was one point where we felt like we had “our” Camino back. It was quiet and peaceful, and we’d encountered several people who had been walking for weeks, not days.
We’d seen a beautiful picture from Andrea the day he finished showing the cathedral in the distance. Unfortunately, we never saw it. We also missed two apparently large statues indicating that you can get your first view of the cathedral. We saw the place where they are; we discussed the place where they are as we passed it. Actually see them in said place? Nope.
Walking into Santiago de Compostela inspired some mixed emotions. The “I can’t believe we’re here!” was tempered by the fact that we were only on the outskirts with more than a mile to go and that the quiet countryside became in-your-face city with one curve of the road. As we kept walking, though, the businesses and restaurants became apartments — still crowded, but quieter. We followed the arrows along some cobblestone streets, and the buildings took on that distinctive stone “old town” look.
Eventually we could see the cathedral peeking over the surrounding buildings, looming larger the closer we got. When we reached the steps down to the arch to pass through to the Cathedral plaza, there was a bagpiper playing, apparently part of the “welcome and congratulations”. Yay. Mim and Kathy stopped walking, waiting for him to start again. I seriously debated leaving them behind, but I waited so they could have their experience. He, on the other hand, was talking to some guy and didn’t seem to plan to start playing again any time soon, so we finally walked down the stairs.
The Camino does provide.Read more
The Sheep Was The Highlight of My Day
June 22 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 33 °C
Before we left this morning, I read the Buen Camino app description of this stage: “The penultimate stretch is a transition stage. It's a simple section without major slopes, where pilgrims start to adopt a more relaxed attitude as they sense that the journey is coming to an end.”
One — what do they consider major, because first thing out of the hostel I was going uphill. Of course, anything higher than a speed bump I consider elevation.
Two — my attitude, it was not relaxed. I was distinctly cranky most of the day and had to keep reminding myself, “It’s a pilgrimage; it’s a pilgrimage.”
And who started it today? A nun.
We had our coffee at the last stop in Arzúa, then headed down the hill out of town. Mim and Kathy were chatting with some fellow pilgrims, and I spotted the place where sisters of the Daughters of St. Mary Province (Guanellians) stamp credentials. I stopped in to say hello, but she was all business, hand out for my passport. She then smacked down two different stamps, taking up some valuable real estate on the last page of this book. This is the second time I’ve been given — unasked — two-for-one religious-related stamps. Although I suppose I should be happy, since it’s helping my bar-to-church ratio look better.
I harrumphed off to catch up.
That was not easy, because both feet are being problematic, and that felt very long. I keep telling them how few miles we have left, and they kept telling me how over it they are. One more day, feet. Just 12 more miles.
We stopped for second breakfast at a very cute place. Most places are along this stretch from Sarria, I’ve noticed. If you’re in line for five minutes waiting to be served, you should know when you get to the counter what you want to order and not spend another three minutes discussing it. Just sayin’.
Especially if you’re a tourist who drove there wearing white.
And don’t have bells on your daypack.
On the trail today we saw an organized horseback tour group; another bagpiper; a wax stamp stand; a guy playing an odd instrument in the middle of the woods (was very soothing); and a man selling cherries. We also passed a house with two big labs in the yard. There was a basket tied to the fence with a sign that said, “Pictures are welcome; donate to their food fund.” We didn’t run across many people from our bubble, but we did leave later again today. We also did not see our favorite border collie; I want to ask his owner where they stay.
We had an Aquarius/foot care stop, and talked about when to leave tomorrow. Mim and I want to leave early, so we can really meander and soak it up but not be as miserably hot as we were today. Kathy does not like early mornings, so it was a bit of a negotiation, but we’ve settled on 5:30 am.
We came to a fork in the trail that had two markers and a large sign detailing the “complimentary”route, which was a bit longer. We had a couple minute’s discussion before sticking to the original. About a tenth of a mile later the people from the alternate route were emerging and crossing back to our side. We could have walked it in less time than we talked about it. This required another snack stop. A group was hanging out on the lawn connected to the place we stopped. We think one of the guys had heat stroke; they called an ambulance for him. He was walking and seemed okay, but he got the express ride to Santiago this afternoon.
We finally go to O Pedrouzo — uphill, of course — about 2:30, then it took a bit to find our hostels. The lady at check in was so lovely, asking if I needed any recommendations, but all I wanted was the key to my room. I napped, showered, and met them to go to dinner. First stop was the pharmacy for some more super blue pills; my pain management system clearly left a lot to be desired today, so I’m bringing back the big guns.
On the way I saw a guy in a Wake Forest shirt and asked if he’d gone there. He did, and when I told him I had, too, he asked when I graduated. Probably before you were born, son. Let’s not go there.
Erika saw us looking at a menu and came outside to tell us the food was good there, and they had air conditioning. That’s all we needed to know. Before we went in, a woman who heard our Southern accents asked, in her own, what we’re from. She is from near Asheville. She has a broken arm, which happened while biking in the Meseta. She had surgery, took two days off, and has been walking it ever since.
I’m hoping my cranky day is akin to a bad dress rehearsal meaning opening night will be great. There’s still a chance I can trip over my own poles and get my own express ride to Santiago, but either way I’m getting there tomorrow.Read more
Days Without A Chocolate Croissant — Two
June 21 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 33 °C
The trick to avoiding so many people on the trail is to leave later. Today, that meant 6:00 am. I could hear people on my floor getting ready a little after four, and by 4:30 there was a steady stream of voices going by my window. There was also a LOT of lightening happening out there. At 5:30 am I was sure party-goers were stumbling home from the big bonfire (I don’t think there was a bonfire), but it was just the teens loudly glomping their way out of town. By the time Mim and Kathy met me at my place, I was pretty convinced we were the last ones to leave.
Despite the lightening, some thunder, and the Weather Channel’s “96% chance of rain in the next hour” prediction, we didn’t get a drop, although there were some muddy sections further along that indicate it probably did rain there.
I finally figured out that last night’s run was a half marathon from Palas de Rei to Melide, which explains why they were starting in the evening, after all pilgrims were off the trail, and also why the announcer kept saying “Camino” last night — “Camino! Camino! Camino!” The signs every kilometer were a hint, as were the piles of empty water bottles at various points. When we walked in to Melide I was happy to see a crew heading out to pick up signs and, hopefully, trash.
We reached our first town at 6:59 am. Seeing everything closed, Kathy walked on through, just as the cafe owner put out the sign. We could smell fresh bread, but she was too far ahead to get her attention, so Mim and I sulked on, waiting for the next town, where we finally got our coffee. I texted Yvonne that I miss running into them in the cafes.
Today’s paths were mostly easy again, but I do get a little put out each time we have to climb a hill. Haven’t we done enough of that? Can’t we just cruise into Santiago? Apparently not. It wouldn’t be so annoying if you didn’t climb up just to go down. Then back up.
It got hot quickly today. We had lovely woods and shade in the morning, then a lot of road walking in the afternoon. When we stopped at mile 12 for an Aquarius, I decided to switch into my Tevas. I’d worn my hiking shoes this morning, and I could feel them rubbing the ball of the other foot. When I first put on my pack this morning I panicked for a second thinking I’d forgotten something, because it was so light. Then I remembered I was wearing, not carrying, the heavy shoes. The day had felt fairly easy up until the switch, but the extra weight in my pack the last four miles was very noticeable.
I had already decided if the public albergue didn’t have a bed (and with the class groups on the trail they might not) that I would taxi forward to the next town. It’s only two miles, but I wasn’t making a 16.5 mile walk any longer. On a whim I popped into the place Kathy and Mim are staying, literally the first across the bridge into town, just before the albergue, and asked if they had any rooms. They had one left, which is a triple. Kathy and Mim are right next door, and Erika and Christina are downstairs, so at times it’s felt like a dorm room with everyone popping in and out.
We went across the street to the bar first thing and decided to go ahead and order dinner. On Sunday we’re never sure what will be open when. The teens were there, so it took forever even to get our first beers. When we were finally done, we wanted to put our feet in the river before showering. We sat on the edge for about 10 minutes, then here came the teens. Kathy and Mim went to our hostel’s pool, but it was too hot for me to sit on the edge.
We pooled our laundry, so now can walk into Santiago in clean clothes. We know the teens plan to leave at 6:00 am tomorrow, so we will go at 6:30. By the time we reach the first town there should be coffee available and the kids should be far ahead. It’s “only” a 13.5 mile day, so we’re hoping to be having our cervezas con limón by 1:00 pm. (This is how we plan our days — coffee and cervezas.)Read more
Feet, Don’t Fail Me Now
June 20 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 27 °C
Another foggy morning; another slew of kids. I had hoped we would leave town through the back, but no, we had to go down a hill, over a different bridge, and up a hill on the other side.
The crowd spread out a little more quickly today — until the first coffee stop at mile five. There was a line out the door, but we didn’t care. Despite the long wait for food, and the long day still ahead of us, we lingered a bit, which let the crowd thin even more. It was actually a little chilly at our second stop, although walking quickly took care of that. We spotted a few of the teens hopping in a taxi here.
The paths are still fairly easy, mostly dirt and gravel with a little road walking thrown in. We had one short but very difficult section where it was solid rock, very narrow, and had deep drops from rock to rock. A man ahead of us was holding the arm of an older woman, helping her down, which was slow going. Shortly after, when we were back on the road, a younger woman came up and appeared to move the older woman out of the way, and the guy put his arm around her. I was thinking how rude that was when I noticed his trekking pole had a white ball on the bottom and realized that he’s blind. He was holding the younger woman’s backpack straps, and they traded off guiding him during the day.
I needed to stop to dig out some more Tylenol and fix my socks. We happened on a rest area being run by high school students from LA on a mission trip. They had hiked for five days and were manning this little outpost for five days. I’m guessing different groups come each week.
A bit over halfway through our day we were back to walking with just a few other pilgrims. Until the bus came. It stopped in a tiny town and let out at least fifty folks who started walking from there. We knew there would be many more people in this section, but I really hadn’t processed how the tenor would change. There is much less camaraderie, many fewer “Buen Camino!”s, much more music being played while walking, and what I assume is many cans of Axe being sprayed, based on the cloud I walked through this morning.
I was really tired of walking around mile twelve, which was a pity, since we had three more to go. We stopped for snacks about a mile and a half out; usually when we’re that close we just want to get into town and find our hostels, but today we all wanted that break.
Mim and Kathy at staying in a converted storage unit just at the front edge of town. I’ll have a slightly shorter walk tomorrow, since I’m in a pensión right in the center. (There are distinctions between albergues, hostals, pensións, casa rurals — and a few more —but I tend to use albergue and hostel interchangeably for all of them.)
When I checked in my dress was waiting for me. Through Google Translate I told her I needed to pay for the transport but didn’t know how. She frowned and said no, then typed that the courier hadn’t said anything about being owed, so I didn’t need to pay. Since the first hostel was clear that I could pay here, I’m guessing that the Camino provided via JacoTrans.
My room faces the plaza. I showered and fell asleep, only to be woken by blaring music, speaker feedback, and an announcer who went on and on about something. When I finally looked out the window I realized it was the start of a road race, runners all milling around and picking up T-shirts. Nothing like doing that at 6:00 pm when it’s 85 degrees. (Much better to do on July 4 in Atlanta when it’s 85 degrees at 6 am.)
Before I looked out the window, I googled what might be happening in town tonight. The answer I got is that it’s the Eve of San Juan, and there will be a fiesta involving a bonfire and a popular sardine feast. Please let that be happening on some other plaza here in town.
Had dinner with Kathy and Mim, then went to the pilgrim’s Mass. I thought it had started when I walked in because people were reciting, but I saw no priest and knew I was early. It seems they have a recording leading the rosary before Mass starts.
Tomorrow we start at 6 am, hopefully to beat both the heat and the kids. It’s our longest day left at 16.2 miles, and I don’t have a reservation, so it’ll be my last night in a dorm bed on this Camino.Read more
Are You There, St. Anthony? It’s Me, Karen.
June 19 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 26 °C
When I was having dinner last night, and once I was over my “culture shock”, I was thinking how nice it was to be sitting on the sidewalk watching non-pilgrims out going about their regular lives and having a good time. At 2:30 am when the non-pilgrims were still having a good time, and having it very loudly right outside the hostel, it wasn’t quite as nice.
I woke up (again) at 5:45 am and carried out my pack plan of moving into the common area to finalize getting everything ready. This had mixed results. The lights in the common area did not work. Each of us who walked in and saw others working in the dark tried the switches, as if they were idiots and we were the light bringers. We were not. I got the pack all zipped up, got my feet all doctored up, and left to meet Mim and Kathy at the Roman bridge.
As soon as they got there they let me know that a big group of kids was right behind them. We let them pass, which took a while since there must’ve been 50 of them. Field trip season, indeed.
The morning was really foggy, and we had cloud cover until after noon, when we were only a couple of miles out of town. It was so pleasant all morning, and there were times we could even feel the mist on us.
We were enjoying our first coffee stop when a new horde of kids came in. I think mostly they wanted a stamp, since they didn’t stay long. We let them leave, then followed, barely avoiding yet another new group. I knew it would get crowded from Sarria, but I thought it would be with adults.
The walking itself was fairly easy, so we were making good time. Our second stop was a beautiful cafe/albergue, a place I’d love to stay in. There have been many of those this past week, so I would need three weeks just to walk four miles, stay at the cute place; walk six miles, stay at the next cute place. Had it not been foggy, it would have had a spectacular view off the back deck. It also had a gift shop, something we rarely saw before O’Cebreiro.
We passed the official “100km from Santiago” marker and took the obligatory photos. After that we managed to have the woods and the path mostly to ourselves again for a few miles. As we approached Portomarín, there are two options for getting in to town, and the distance difference is negligible. As we were debating which way to go, our decision was made for us. A big group of kids came up behind us, read the signs, and went left. We went right.
This town sits above a wide river, so you walk across a long bridge to get to it. The buildings are all white, and with the sun shining it was really beautiful. We’d come down a steep hill right before the bridge, so, of course, we had to climb right back up to get into the town.
I’m staying at the Hostel el Padrino. I reserved it because it had a private room available; didn’t know anything other than that. It is Godfather themed! I am so delighted. My AP US History research paper was on the mafia, because I loved The Godfather and The Valachi Papers books so much. The room is great, and it’s just fun theming.
Unfortunately, I realized after showering that I didn’t have my hiking dress. I had shoved it in the side pocket of my pack last night when I changed for bed, meaning to put it away properly this morning. The one time I didn’t pack everything where it belongs from the start. It even flitted through my brain that that might not be a good idea, but I did it anyway. On top of which, I always move my rosary and any money to the new outfit immediately, and I hadn’t done that either. So much for my big morning plan.
I did text the hostel asking if by chance they had it, hoping it had fallen out there, as opposed to on the trail somewhere. They did! I was fully prepared to taxi back to get it, but they said to tell them where I’d be tomorrow night; they’d send it through the pack transfer service, and I could pay JacoTrans after I get there. They even sent a picture of it packaged up with the tag on it. That hostel is getting a great review from me! I could live without the dress (this town even has an outdoor store), but I’m so happy to be getting my rosary back.
I shared a pizza with Kathy and Mim for dinner, then walked around a little. We are back in a heat wave, though, so I didn’t stay out long. On Monday it’s projected to be 102 in SJPP and 96 in Roncesvalles. A month ago they were rescuing people from the snow, and now they’ll be saving people from heat stroke.
Tomorrow is a 15.5 mile day, so we’ll be starting earlier to try to beat the heat. And you can bet I’ll be packing carefully tonight!Read more
T Minus 115km
June 18 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 29 °C
It was delightfully cool and crisp this morning, more so than the weather app indicated it would be. The rain really cooled things down, and there was still a heavy mist hanging low over the mountains. Kathy generally prefers to wait until the first town to get coffee, but I wasn’t leaving without it, since I knew the restaurant had opened at 6 am. She said to go ahead and order her one, and she’d meet us there. Good for her we did, because our first coffee opportunity didn’t come until about seven miles in.
There are two routes out of Triacastela. One, through Samos, is longer but flatter, and has more road walking but apparently more coffee stops. Kathy and Mim planned to go via San Xil, which is hillier but shorter by about four and a half miles, so I went with them. We definitely had some climbs, but going through the forest was so beautiful. It was mostly packed dirt — basic forest floor — with a few sections of gravel, one area of rocks, and a lot of dirt-path-beside-a-country-road walking. Nothing particularly technical, although on one steep, dirt downhill we agreed that if it were raining or muddy you’d probably end up just going down it like a slide. Intentional or not.
We passed a woman sitting in the shade nursing a baby. I had seen them having dinner in O’Cebreiro but assumed they had come in on a tour bus. Nope. She carries the baby in a pack, and the husband’s pack is so big that I assume he’s carrying everything else.
The terrain worked well for wearing my Tevas. I did have to stop to pry rocks out multiple times, and towards the end my ankles were fatigued in a way they usually aren’t until many more miles while wearing actual shoes, but I will wear them again tomorrow. I can always change shoes if rocks get too annoying, but the toes did appreciate the break. Mim and Kathy have worn Chacos since day three, when their shoes became unbearable, and both are clear that they saved their Caminos.
Each time we emerged from the woods and saw roofs we got hopeful, only to discover they were barns in a non-town. We did pass a vending machine going in to one town. About a quarter of a mile later, going out of the same town, we came on a lovely walled in area that had benches and an amazing array of food and juices available. It’s a yoga retreat of some sort, it seems, and the food was ‘take what you want/pay what you can’. Alas, no coffee, so we didn’t stay.
My favorite part of the day was finally seeing a pilgrim traveling with a donkey. Boy, was that donkey loaded down, but I’m assuming it includes camping gear, since you can’t just rock up to any ol’ place and have a room for you and your donkey.
We finally reached a town with an open cafe; it was doing excellent business. (I do miss the food trucks.) The last few miles into town were fairly flat, and it feels odd being in a big city again. León didn’t seem so city-like, perhaps because we were in the more historic part, and here it’s just … city. We split up to head to our hostels, and I was half an hour too early for check-in, so beer it was.
I had hoped being in a hostel listed in the app meant it would be close to the Camino. It’s not. I’m about half mile from the old part of town, pretty much the opposite direction of what I need to walk in the morning. The appeal of the places on this end of town are that they are close to the train station, meaning there are lots of “starters” staying here tonight. They all look so fresh and shiny.
I didn’t have enough change for the laundry machine, so I threw everything in my daypack and went down the block to the laundromat, where it’d either take credit cards/bills or have a change machine. It did neither. I went in a small convenience store and bought the cheapest thing I could find to break my five Euro note (a bag of nuts), then went back to the hostel where it was cheaper anyway. Everything I own except the dress and socks I hiked in today got washed and dried. And the socks I just forgot to take off.
After that was done I went looking for food. Hadn’t thought about the grocery store, but when I passed one I decided to have a picnic by the river. Found a shady bench to sit on to eat, then looked for a good spot to sit and soak my feet. I got settled on a little concrete ledge, then realized the person in the other side having a picnic with his feet in the water was also a pilgrim.
The rest of the day was hanging in my pod. I napped, then packed every single thing I don’t need for sleeping. I want to leave early, so the idea is I’ll grab my pack and take it to the common area to deal with sorting out stuff there. We’ll see if that actually works — and if it matters with so many new people excited to be up and going in the morning. (One guy has already kicked over his metal water bottle. Twice.)Read more
The Beginning of the End
June 17 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 28 °C
Tomorrow we arrive in Sarria. Sarria is an incredibly popular starting point on the Camino, because it is about 115 km from Santiago, which meets the 100 km minimum requirement to get a Compostela (pilgrim certificate). It takes four to seven days, meaning you can complete it during a short vacation. Tour companies make it easy to do by arranging hotels and shipping luggage, so from Sarria forward you can expect it to be really crowded on the path. For many people, it’s the start of their pilgrimage.
For those of us who started, well, anywhere else, it’s the beginning of the end. Especially those of us who started in St. Jean Pied de Port. We’ve walked 665 km (413 miles), so “just” 115 more (71) really does feel like the home stretch. Thirty-two days behind us; five ahead.
In the beginning when someone would ask if you were going to Santiago the standard answer was something along the lines of, “That’s the plan!” Rarely did anyone say yes without some sort of qualifier. A lot could happen. After the Meseta the answer is almost always yes.
After I got my new shoes I strapped my hiking shoes to the back of my pack. When I started carrying my pack again I made the comment about how much heavier it is with the shoes, and someone said, “Why don’t you just ship them ahead to Santiago?”
That’s something you can do. In addition to shipping your pack stage-to-stage, you can ship things straight to Santiago to be stored and waiting for your arrival. All that heavy stuff you realized early on you don’t need. Non-hiking clothes for vacationing after the Camino. It’s easy and relatively inexpensive, yet my initial gut response was, “I can’t do that.”
Which is when I realized that, in my head, I’m still qualifying my answer. “That’s the plan.”
I got myself over the Pyrenees.
I walked over 18 miles in one day — while carrying my pack.
I have averaged over 13 miles a day for 27 walking days.
I managed the Meseta with a twisted ankle, shin splints, and a massive blister.
I hiked up the rocky path to the Iron Cross and didn’t bust my ass on the way down.
I hiked up to O’Cebreiro sans horse.
And here I am, at the beginning of the end, still qualifying whether or not I’ll make it to Santiago.
Walking the Camino is considered a journey of faith. Perhaps I need to have more faith in myself.Read more
Moo-ving On
June 17 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 27 °C
Who knew there would be so much uphill on a downhill day? Not gentle inclines, not rolling hills, straight up “up”. Of course, when the down did come I deeply regretted bitching about the climbs. For the most part, though, the path was nicely packed dirt or gravel. We did have some of the big rocks on some of the steepest parts, but it never lasted too long.
It’s our last day walking together. Tom and Yvonne are going a different route to Sarria and taking a rest day for their anniversary on the way, so we won’t see them again until they get to Santiago.
One place in O’Cebriero claimed to be open at 6:00 am for coffee and breakfast. We were suspicious but agreed to meet there at 6:30 just in case. Sure enough, coffee and breakfast. Thunderstorms were predicted in Triacastela at 2 pm, so we needed to do our 13 miles and get checked in by then. Mim had left her rain poncho in her JacoTrans bag but ran back to grab it as insurance that it wouldn’t actually rain on us.
I was in a fast-walking mood and spent the first three miles mostly by myself. I grabbed a big table in the shade at the cafe and texted where to find me. Which they did, three minutes later, so I wasn’t exactly breaking any land speed records. I started out wearing my hiking pants, the cleanest thing I had, but it was really humid today. Dug out my scrungy shorts and was much happier the rest of the day. Second breakfast done and determined not to dawdle, we got back on the path.
We saw (and took pictures of) so many cows today, including a very low-speed cattle drive of about a dozen being moved from one field to another. I walked around a corner to see two cows scratching their heads against a stone wall and was pretty confused until they moved forward, and several others were following behind, with an old lady and younger guy making sure they kept moving. We also passed by several barns and farms that smelled very strongly of cow. As expected. But a couple of these tiny towns had albergues, and we talked about how awful it would be to have unknowingly booked into one of those. Unless you’re from a farming community and used to the smell, it would be pretty tough to sit outside having a drink in the evening.
Stop number two was at a cafe about eight miles in and at the top of the toughest climb of the day. I inadvertently broke a Camino cafe rule by using my poles and pack to stake claim on a big, shady table that had already had a claim staked to it. There were no poles and no pack, and I thought the newspaper on the table had been left behind. When I came out with my food, though, there was an older guy enjoying his breakfast. I asked if we could share his table. His face said no, but he politely agreed. When I tried to make conversation, he told me his English wasn’t very good. Fortunately, Mim sat down a moment later, and he perked up when he realized there was an actual fluent Spanish speaker. He’s from Barcelona, but his father was born in this area, and he comes back about once a year to visit the town and some friends. He knows the owner of the cafe, and he specifically chooses that table because he likes to watch the pilgrims huff and puff their way up that hill.
The actual downhill started shortly after that stop. By the time we reached Fillobal three miles later, we didn’t care about potential rain; our feet were hot and hurt, and we just wanted a long break. The sky was still bright blue, although a haze was starting to build, but we probably stayed there thirty minutes airing out our feet, changing socks, and dreading more downhill. With just over two miles to go, we felt pretty good about beating any rain.
We checked in to our apartment and agreed to meet back at the bar for a beer. The sky was getting dark, so we decided to eat then, as well, so we wouldn’t have to go out later in the rain. I wasn’t in the mood for anything, so ordered eggs with rice and tomatoes and the local cheese, which I’d had with honey for dessert last night. The tomato was sauce on the rice, not slices, and the cheese came with a red wobble of something that I think was quince jelly, so both plates looked almost identical.
Fortunately, the downpour didn’t start until we’d just gone inside to pay the bill. Unfortunately, the downpour negated our plans to hang laundry outside to dry. This is the third day we’ve had a late afternoon thunderstorm. Galicia is the rainiest region in Spain, so we’re lucky it’s only happened after we’ve reached the day’s destination.
We said our goodbyes to Tom and Yvonne and made a run for our apartment. Mim and I shared a load of laundry — the washer is tiny — and put in just what we need for tomorrow. I decided to find a laundromat in the next town to do the rest, since the spin cycle isn’t the strongest, and I didn’t have faith in everything drying inside overnight.
The new shoes are bothering the tops of my toes. Fix one thing, break another. I walked the last couple of miles in my hiking shoes today, which was okay. Tomorrow is only 11 miles and supposed to be fairly flat (not hugely trusting of elevation profiles right now), so I may start out hiking in my sandals. I’ve done it, and I’m not a huge fan, but if it gives the toes a break it may be worth it.Read more
Onward and Upward
June 16 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 25 °C
Today’s walk was not as bad as it looks in the graphics. The hill was relentless, but the weather started out fairly cool, the path was relatively rock-free, and there were places to eat every two miles. Key factor, that.
Nothing can compare to that first-day climb in the Pyrenees to Borda. We all agree we had no idea what we were in for, no matter what we thought we knew. I think the hike from Rabanal to Foncebedón, just short of the Iron Cross, was much harder than today. The actual distance was about the same; today’s grade was probably worse, but those rocks made that climb really tough.
Today’s first two miles, in fact, were along the road with very little incline. Mim texted when they left, and their hostel was about five minutes behind mine, so I knew they’d catch up. I don’t know why, but my backpack had a squeak this morning. Step… squeak. Step… squeak. Two miles. Don’t know why it started; don’t know why it stopped, but I was very grateful when it did.
I had stopped to wait for Kathy and Mim at a cute cafe in Las Herreras, which is the town where you can rent a horse to ride up to the top. By the time we were ready to go Tom and Yvonne got there, which means they started really early this morning. Once out of town we left the road for a wooded area. Then we started going up. And up. Every curve I’d come to I’d be convinced it would flatten out just around that bend. It did not. Because any rocks are mostly solidly embedded you don’t have to worry so much about slipping — but you do have to worry about horse poop.
In the second town we saw a cute donkey just hanging out. The towns along this stretch are tiny but do a great job catering to the pilgrims.
In town three we saw the horses coming back from dropping off their riders. Three were strung together, and the fourth was just on his own. The guy tied the three up to the fence and went inside for a drink, and the fourth horse just kept going. I don’t think he went far, but I couldn’t see around the corner and wasn’t going to get up. Yvonne saw them later going down the hill and said that horse was still escorting himself, but he was in the vicinity of the others.
We made the final push to O’Cebreiro, officially crossing into Galicia. O’Cebreiro is a small collection of stone buildings, some with thatched roofs. There’s a lot of Celtic influence here. Since I didn’t have a reservation, I immediately went looking for an albergue. Most didn’t open until two or three, but one place opened at 12:30, which was only about five minutes away, so I stood in line. Turns out it has only private rooms, and I got the last one. I dropped my bags and went to meet the crew for a beer; they are all staying right next door, but they couldn’t check in until 3:00.
Once they went to their rooms I took a shower and contemplated the need to do laundry. We’re in an apartment tomorrow night, so once I confirmed there’s a washing machine, that greatly minimized the hand washing I did to get through tomorrow. I hand wash as little as possible; most albergues have coin washers, which I’m happy to spend money on, and I’m leaning heavily into the “merino doesn’t smell” marketing. (Could explain the swarm of flies.)
It was 70 degrees and breezy, and the view from up here is incredible. I went back out to the patio and ran into some women I’d been hiking and chatting with on and off today. We had proper sangria and hung out until dinner. Supposedly O’Cebriero is known for steak, so that was the plan.
Erica, Christina, and I went to the restaurant; I was just going to sit with them until everyone else showed up, then switch tables. However, when the waitress brought their menus she said there is no more steak. I texted everyone, and we agreed to meet elsewhere. The second restaurant had a much nicer atmosphere than the first — and steak — so it all worked out.
Today was less than eight miles. Tomorrow is 13, but research says that while it is steep, it’s not technical. If the rocks are what we had today then I’ll be very happy.Read more
Different Day, Different Walk
June 15 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 28 °C
Today was a joy. There was nothing particularly easy or particularly hard about it — same as yesterday, really — but I just really enjoyed being out there, and the time went by quickly.
I don’t mind staying in the dorms at the albergues. In the evenings, that is. I really dislike getting ready and out in the mornings, though. No matter how packed and ready I try to be the night before, there is still a lot to be put away, preferably quietly. It’s harder to deal with foot care in the dark, preferably quietly. And the shoes are kept in a completely separate space, so you have to muck up your socks getting to them. Preferably quietly.
I am not a quiet person. Mornings in the dorm are very stressful. So when I’m in a private room like last night and don’t have to worry who I’m flashing, how loud I’m rustling bags, or whether I said that out loud or just in my head, I tend to spend a lot of morning time flashing, rustling, and muttering. I didn’t leave my room until 7 am, and then I had breakfast at the hotel.
Except for a farmland detour early on, most of today was walking by the highway. However, there appears to be a newer interstate that almost parallels it, so the highway itself had very little traffic. We could hear the cars, but we could also hear the river that we walked beside most of the day, which made it seem very pleasant.
I didn’t see another pilgrim until I stopped to eat at a town five miles in. Because I’d left so late I expected the others to be way ahead, but they were also in the same town. I caught up with Tom and Yvonne, then we all met Kathy and Mim stopped at a cafe a few miles ahead.
Tom and Yvonne are staying about three miles short of the rest of us, so we said goodbye and kept going. Vega de Valcarce is a cute town, but there appear to be no restaurants open. Whether on Monday or ever, I don’t know, but I had to go scavenge dinner at the grocery store. By the time I went, after every other pilgrim, I suspect, it really did feel like scavenging. There was one carton of gazpacho, though, so I’m happy.
Not carrying my hiking shoes made the pack feel so much better today. I really didn’t take out that much to have sent other than those, which leaves me trying to decide what to do about tomorrow’s big climb. I don’t have a bed, and you’re certainly more flexible with your pack on your back, although it has worked out the last two times I blindly sent my pack to an albergue. Decisions, decisions.
I am nervous about tomorrow. It’s only eight miles, but it’s a steep climb. The big unknown is the terrain we’ll be hiking. (And what it’s like coming down on the other side, but that’s a tomorrow problem!)Read more
Point A to Point B
June 14 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 29 °C
Today was long. It was only 14-ish miles and relatively flat, so it shouldn’t have seemed so hard. I was still exhausted from the two rock days, though, and it got really hot in the afternoon. I immediately regretted the decision to carry my pack. It flashed through my mind that it was still early, I could slap an envelope on it and let JacoTrans take it for me, but that would have required backtracking, something I work very hard to avoid.
I didn’t have much energy the first four miles. I was completely alone for most of that, but, of course, I ran into Tom and Yvonne at the first available food stop on the outskirts of Ponferrada. The tortillas were hefty, so I happily ordered that and a cup of coffee. They went ahead, then we all got a text from Mim showing the beautiful breakfast she and Kathy had just had at a restaurant outside the Castle of the Knights Templar in town.
Off I went to find that place, all of ten minutes away. I know I’d just eaten, but that picture of fresh fruit and yogurt she sent seduced me, and I hadn’t had a chocolate croissant in at least a day. A street musician was playing, and I was writing yesterday’s full post, so I sat there enjoying the day like I was staying in Ponferrada and didn’t have ten more miles to go.
Then when I did finally leave, I didn’t have any energy from having eaten so much and just wanting a nap.
You leave the town by walking through a long park paralleling the river, which gave me brief flashbacks to the walk in to Burgos. A woman said Buen Camino, then stopped to ask where I was from. We chatted for a few moments, then she said she and her friends had something for me, some encouragement, and handed me a cute, handmade card with a Bible verse written inside — and a link to the Jehovah’s Witness website.
About three miles later I was passing through a small town where people were gathering outside the church. I sat on a bench and looked up the Mass time, which was listed as 12:30. It was only 11:30, but there were several people, so I went inside and sat in the back. Mass started at 11:45. Like last week, there was no collection, but today I noticed people dropping money in a basket on the way out the door. I must have missed that last week with the procession out into the streets. Also like last week, it seems if you sit in the back you don’t intend to go to communion. A full third of the church just doesn’t move. I actually missed communion last week because I was so confused why nobody was getting up, but this week I guess I see the pattern.
I moved on, stopped in another small town for an Aquarius, and kept going. It was hot again today, and there wasn’t much shade. Starting to see grapevines again. The walking was mostly on country roads, sidewalks, or smooth paths, and, though not as flat as advertised, any hills were fairly easy. I passed two non-working fountains, which was becoming a concern. Finally, right at the edge of town, one was flowing. The hiker in front of me clearly had been looking as well, because he immediately stuck his head under it.
I got to the hotel a little after the 3 pm check in time. The couple from the Brazilian dinner last night was also waiting to check in. They looked as hot as I was and had already had a drink to kill time. I’d been dreaming of getting to my room, stripping down, and flopping on the bed, so it was frustrating to have to wait, especially past the stated check-in. Worse for them, I’m sure.
My room has a beautiful enclosed terrace, but it’s too hot to be out there or even have the doors open. Kathy and Yvonne were texting about river access and dinner plans, but I don’t want to move. Ever again. I napped and finally took a shower. Knew I should go find some food since I hadn’t eaten since breakfast number two, but my feet want none of it. Rough day for the blister.
I did finally drag myself out of the room about 9 to find some food. There’s a little food-court type area here which was still open. I also grabbed a big bottle of water to down before tomorrow and a bag of peanuts just to start with something in my pack. Like yesterday, it rained in the late afternoon, cooling everything down.
I’ll probably send some stuff with JacoTrans tomorrow, since I know where I’m going to be staying, and it’s an even longer day. We have a big climb in two days and, like Yvonne, I don’t want to risk what blister progress I’ve made by doing things I don’t have to now.Read more
… And More Rocks
June 13 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 31 °C
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
Rocks
June 13 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 31 °C
That’s it. That’s the day. I’m exhausted, not so much from the physical effort but from the mental strain of making sure I didn’t slip, fall, twist, or otherwise injure myself. None of which I did. Consider this post proof of life.Read more
On The Road Again
June 12 in Spain ⋅ ⛅ 24 °C
When I imagined this trip, it was in a Disney movie kind of way. Yes, there would be hard things (Exhibit A: the Pyrenees), and yes, occasional mishaps would occur, but in general I would persevere, with bluebirds fluttering around me throughout. Because I am nothing in life if not a plucky princess type with a smile and a song.
(I said it was my imagination.)
I expected to get blisters, the tip of a toe or perhaps the back of my heel. I might even play whack-a-mole treating them during the six weeks, but nothing a needle and a bandaid or two couldn’t handle. Shin splints were a concern in a “that would kinda suck” way, before the thought went straight out of my head. And I’m always klutzy, so scrapes and a stubbed toe or two were a given. Muscle soreness was the only real — and it was very real — threat, and I accepted early on that my signature Camino scent would be Eau de Tiger Balm Red. Actual difficult things happened to other people. It would be hard, but it wouldn’t be hard-hard.
(I said it was my imagination.)
It’s been hard-hard. I’ve felt the weight of Cruella, the Evil Queen, and Ursula all bearing down at once these last two weeks. With two more weeks to go, who knows what could befall me next.
But today, today the Camino was all the Disney magic I had envisioned.
Not that it felt that way when my alarm went off at 5:45 am, and hitting snooze repeatedly was not an option. I grumbled, and I was, frankly, a little nervous about being back out there, especially with a big climb. And a lot of miles. In new shoes. Plus, I had my every-cold-morning regret of having sent that long sleeved merino back. All this without coffee for probably five miles.
The sun came out and warmed me up. The landscape was varied, the path was fairly smooth, and it felt good to be walking. The blister was obvious but not obnoxious. I felt a few tweaks in my shins and in one of my knees and immediately panicked that the shoes were to blame, but I think it was more just actual walking.
I made good time to the coffee town, but Tom and Yvonne had beaten me. I was enjoying walking alone, so I ordered an orange juice to give them time to go ahead but not so much to keep me until Mim and Kathy, who’d just arrived, finished. I knew we’d all catch up down the road anyway. The next town had two bars literally next to each other with almost identical theming. I went to the left (“Because of the dog?” Mim asked when she got there. Guilty.) and ordered food. Tom and Yvonne dropped their bags, and Tom went to get them an Aquarius. The place to order at the other bar was immediately obvious when you walked up, so he went there, not realizing it was “the other bar.” The owner saw him when he came back and kicked him out, told him to take it back next door. Clearly that’s an ongoing issue, but maybe make it a little clearer? Tom spent the rest of our break randomly peeking over the wall at us.
Mim and Kathy are staying in Rabanal tonight, which was at the 12 mile mark. We said goodbye, knowing we had “the climb” but not understanding just what “the climb” entailed. A lot of loose rock is what it entailed. It was essentially walking four miles up a steep, dry riverbed. It was by far the hardest climb we’ve had in a long time. It’s also taking us to the highest point on the Camino Francés, which we’ll hit after two miles in the morning … followed by a long, steep downhill. It’s why I wanted to come this far today, because I’m a very slow downhiller, so to do the up and the down in one day would be much harder, I think.
But today worked. There was a bed for me here where I’d sent my pack. I met some people at the first stop who are staying here also tonight, and we’ve become friendly. It felt good to walk, the weather was perfect, and overall it was just a really enjoyable day. I had dinner by myself here at the albergue and mapped out my remaining days. They aren’t booked, but I’ve reached out to a few, and the answers will determine some of my other plans.
I just hope Cruella, the Evil Queen, and Ursula don’t push me down that damn hill tomorrow.Read more
Rest Day Redux
June 11 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 25 °C
Bennett did a semester abroad in college — nine weeks, which included a one week spring break. I feel this week like I’m on the spring break of my Camino, thoroughly enjoying my Spanish vacation. It’s ironic that Kathy and Mim specifically chose Astorga for a rest day since “there isn’t much to do, so we’ll actually rest”. I could walk around here all day! Although, really, my walking so far has mostly been from pretty place to pretty place to have coffee, drink beer, or read a book, so maybe they have a point.
The biggest thing on my tourist list today was to see the underground Roman ruins. You need to sign up in advance, but I couldn’t find any way to do that online, so I walked over to the museum. There wasn’t anyone signed up for the 11 am, and they have a minimum, so I paid for the 5 pm, then wandered into a beautiful park that overlooks some of the newer part of the city.
I had another coffee while waiting for the pilgrim store to open, only to realize it’s closed on Thursdays. This was bad, because that store has hikers’ wool, which Yvonne and I have been searching for for the past two weeks. Mim has some and says yes, as advertised, it does an amazing job of cushioning your feet and helping stop any rubbing.
Mim and Kathy wanted to go to the Gaudi Palace. Gaudi and I got off to a bad start in Barcelona earlier this year (my fault, not his), so I wasn’t sure I wanted to bother, but it is RIGHT THERE. This was meant to be the Bishop’s house, which explains why it’s right next to the cathedral, but one never lived there. In the basement there is a sarcophagus, which the sign explains was reused by some other family. Reused? The palace is lovely, and I’m glad I went.
We had lunch at the restaurant outside the hotel and waited for Tom and Yvonne to get into town. They had plans to visit the chocolate factory; I opted for one of the many chocolate stores lining the streets instead.
Mim joined me for the ruins tour. There are doors randomly throughout the city that our guide would unlock, then we’d go downstairs and she’d explain the significance of what had been discovered. She was speaking in Spanish, and Google Translate doesn’t work well with iffy underground cell service, but Mim used to be a Spanish teacher, so she’d give me the gist. We visited several different areas of town, including walking through the sewers for quite a distance. I had to duck the whole time. You walk down 28 steps on a narrow, spiral staircase to get down to them — the guide warned ahead of time if you were claustrophobic or had physical limitations you should meet us at the other end. There aren’t as many steps getting back out, and it is a straight staircase, but for some reason they are really, really tall steps.
After the tour we stopped for hot chocolate, which is really thick here and so rich I couldn’t even finish it, and were on our way to dinner when we passed a wool store. We figured the chances were slim but asked anyway: did they carry hikers’ wool? They did. She had two packs, and now she has none.
We met Tom and Yvonne for dinner and discussed tomorrow’s plans. I have no place booked, so I’ll send my pack to Yvonne’s place in Foncebedón, which is about 17 miles and a climb. If that is biting off more than I should chew on my first day back, I can stop in Rabanal, about 14 miles ahead and where Mim and Kathy have reservations. I feel certain I can find a bed in either town. I’ll take an extra sports bra/underwear/socks with me in the daypack in case I don’t make it to Foncebedón. Then Yvonne will ship my pack forward from their hostel if needed. I’m really winging it my first day back!
Mim and Yvonne have both confirmed that these last two stages were not particularly pleasant walking. Yesterday, especially, was almost all along a busy highway with no real stops. Good stages to skip. We are leaving the Meseta and entering Galicia. I was struggling for a concise way the explain the difference. Mim says the Meseta is Kansas and Nebraska while Galicia is Oregon and Washington. Or, as it said online, “The Meseta is where you lose your mind; Galicia is where you find your soul.”Read more
Bus Day
June 10 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 22 °C
For the first time in almost two weeks I’m carrying my pack more than just from the front desk to my room. I keep basic toiletries and foot care in my day pack along with sunscreen/hat/snacks/etc, so quite often I’m pulling only my main clothes bag from my pack when I arrive somewhere. Especially in hotels where they provide towels and shampoo, and I’m not required to use my sleep sack.
It does make me think about how much I’m carrying that I don’t need. (Both a literal and figurative lesson of the Camino.)
I feel like I’m starting over! Plus, now I have an added two pounds from my hiking shoes strapped to the back, which more than offsets what I sent home with Missy. I’d guess my non-food/water weight right now is around 17 pounds. The new shoes are good so far. I’m leery of not having the old ones with me until I know how the new ones feel when walking over all my favorite rocks; if I’m confident about finishing in them I’ll probably beg/bribe one of the crew to let me shove them in their bags.
Tom and Yvonne use a zippered Ikea bag to send items ahead each day. They brought one each as protection in case they were forced to check their packs on the way here. It was a good decision which providentially offsets some bad decisions. Tom’s original pack weight — that he carried over the Pyrenees — was 29 pounds! I don’t know Yvonne’s starting weight, but it wasn’t light either. After day two she whipped out the IKEA bag, and they started shipping daily while still carrying their packs.
My bus wasn’t til 1:00 pm, but I headed to the bus station first thing, planning to find a cafe near there. I hate that I can’t spend more time exploring León, but that defeats the purpose of resting my blister and shins. So coffee it is. (Such a hardship.) There’s a lovely park and river on the way to the station, which made it a very pleasant place to kill time.
For five Euros and a 40 minute bus ride I skipped two days and 30 miles of walking. Mim was listening to an audiobook today and accidentally took an alternate route, adding 5 miles to an already long day, ending at 22. Like me, Kathy is trying to get her issues under control to manage the mountains ahead, so she also took a bus. She can’t get her foot in her shoe so has no choice but to hike in sandals, but that is causing its own set of problems.
I am staying at Hotel Gaudi here, right across from the Gaudi Palace that’s next to the cathedral. This town is beautiful, and I spent a couple of hours just sitting outside reading a book, enjoying one of the last cool days for a while. A local sat down and played a guitar and sang for about thirty minutes of that. I stopped in to a church that’s next door to the cathedral, rather than paying an entrance fee for the cathedral itself. Even the most “basic” churches, in towns much more podunk than this, are stunning.
An American couple and I started chatting near the church; they started from SJdPP on May 15, in the thick of the snow on the mountain. They went halfway the first day, then got a taxi to take them over the top to Roncesvalles. They heard of many injuries from people who had walked that day, plus, as they said, “we’re from Florida. No way were we prepared for snow!”
There must be some sort of Borda Crew bat signal, because around six there was a WhatsApp to the group from Andres: “Hey, I hear some of you are here. Want to meet up?” This was an unexpected surprise; I shouldn’t have crossed paths with him again this trip, but he took an extra rest day here. I was just walking out of the grocery store with my dinner, but I did go to the plaza to meet him for a beer. He updated me on Meg, who hurt her knee and went home for good, and I let him know about Lynn. He also gave me some ideas of what to do tomorrow.Read more
This Too Shall Pass
June 10 in Spain
Yesterday was the second first anniversary. This time of my father’s death. At the cathedral yesterday I expressed gratitude for many things; prayed for miraculous healing from the knees down; and demanded some answers to the absolute absurdity of my father dying four days after my husband. (With the caveat that I didn’t want to be stricken down and taken to heaven to find out for myself. With the caveat to the caveat that that presumed I was going to heaven and not to hell, do not pass GO, do not collect $200.)
I got nothing.
What I do have, though, is a tattoo that says, “Oh well. This too shall pass.” That was one of my father’s favorite sayings. Not in the serene “be patient and trust” way, but always preceded by the “oh well”, as in suck it up, buttercup, life’s hard, deal with it til you get through it. That saying annoyed the crap out of me often; it wasn’t exactly the sympathy I was seeking.
I read something recently that really stuck with me. When we’re young we spend a lot of time waiting for things to get easier — when it’s summer break, when I graduate, when I get a promotion, when [fill in the blank]. The reality is things don’t get easier; there’s always something hard lurking just out of sight. What does happen (hopefully) is we get better at dealing with the hard things. Accepting that there will continue to be hard things.
Remembering that, “Oh well. This too shall pass.”
I put my hand on my thigh often while hiking, the tattoo a talisman of sorts when the hills are hard, the pain is intense, or the will to walk one. more. step is just gone. I can still hear him saying it, and it does help.
I miss you, Daddy.Read more
Kinda Busy for a Rest Day
June 9 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 21 °C
With nothing scheduled until 10:30 am, I kept hitting snooze and stayed in bed until 8:30. My hotel has really hot water, making up for the lukewarm-at-best shower at the albergue in Mansilla a few nights ago.
I found the massage place, fortunately not too far from my hotel, and then looked for the closest pharmacy. Pharmacies are everywhere, and I lucked in to one with a fluent English speaker. I handed the first person my doctor’s prescription, at which point he tried to hand me compeed. I refused, and as I was typing into Google Translate, the English speaker came out with what had actually been prescribed. It’s similar to compeed in the way it heals, but it’s not nearly as sticky. You leave compeed on until it decides for itself to come off, usually days later, and you don’t mess with it in between. Since I need my blister to have air wherever possible, she agreed that the VariHesive was something that could be used to cushion while walking but wouldn’t take off additional layers of skin at the end of the day. Hopefully that’s true!
That done, I had coffee and an unfortunately-non-chocolate croissant next door to the massage building until it was time to go up. Because I was meeting an osteopath rather than a masseuse, there was a lot of stretching and bending as well, after which he re-taped my shins. I do feel better, so hopefully with some more consistent stretching on my part I can keep the shin splints at bay.
I went to the outdoor store and got new, non-cotton socks, but did have a discussion about which ones would be best for my blister situation. And then I had another croissant while waiting for my laundry. So busy!
I was actually cold this morning while doing my errands, but the weather was beautiful once it warmed up a bit. I tried to go to the cathedral, but again, siesta, so I sat outside and had a beer. I heard, “Viva, Borda!” and knew Tom had spotted me. The bar I was at didn’t serve food, so we went next door. By then it was too hot to sit in the sun so we opted for inside and were surprised by how busy it was, since the bar in front was empty. Today’s lunch was just as wonderful as yesterday’s, so I get why so many people were there.
Yvonne showed me the new shoes she’d gotten this morning, and I got jealous, so back to the store I went for my own pair. They are Merrells, like my hiking shoes, but are designed more like a running shoe, so much lighter and with better ventilation and arch support.
Then I finally made it to the cathedral. It’s the favorite I’ve been in so far; the stained glass is stunning. I managed to attend the last half of Mass being held in the smaller chapel before visiting the cloisters. I hadn’t gone through them in the monastery hotel last week, so I made a point to go today, and it was so quiet and peaceful. I sat on the stone steps for a while just enjoying the sun and the breeze.
I have a bus ticket to Astorga tomorrow. The station is about three-quarters of a mile away, so I’ll wear my new shoes and carry my pack to get a taste for how that feels. I’m not committed to carrying my pack again yet; it makes a big difference to not have that extra weight on every step.
I texted Lynn, one of the Borda group who has been going at a slower pace, to see how she’s doing. Unfortunately, she ended her Camino today due to a badly bruised sprained ankle that she continued to walk on. I think the Camino was providing reinforcement for my decision to rest.Read more
Doctor’s Orders
June 8 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 25 °C
When, as a pilgrim, you get sent to the doctor’s office what do you do? You have him stamp your passport.
We deliberately started “late” today at 7:30 since it was a short walk to León. It still amazes me that I consider 12 miles a short walk. Kathy was willing to wait for the first town for coffee. I, on the other hand, took the sure thing and stopped in the open cafe practically outside our door, so we split up immediately. It’s been getting up to 80 degrees again, but the mornings are delightfully cool.
Annette, who’d started from a town behind us, caught up to me around mile three, then we caught up with Mim and Kathy, and, as usual, we all ended up in the same coffee spot. Yvonne and Tom had stayed for a second cup of coffee with someone they knew or they’d have been gone when we got there, but things seem to work out on the Camino.
That place has an amazing bakery on one side and coffee/regular food on the other. The bakery line was shorter, so a few people would get a pastry first before ordering coffee. What we didn’t realize was that when you ordered coffee they threw in a free baked good or small sandwich. You couldn’t choose what kind of sweet, and I think they may have been the day old ones, but the apple muffin I had was delicious. Apparently throwing something in when you order a drink is not uncommon in León. I had orange juice at our second stop (my third) and was offered something there as well.
The scenery is starting to change as we move out of the Meseta. More trees, more animals, more variety of farms. It’s not necessarily more interesting, except that just by virtue of being different it is interesting. Today we saw so many storks! The first time I saw one a few days ago I knew it was a stork only because someone with me said it was. Without a baby hanging out of its beak how was I to know?
Annette had gone ahead, but the rest of us stuck together to León. Kathy and Mim are not taking a rest day, while Tom and Yvonne are. My plan was to leave tomorrow but do a super short day. We’ll all be on the same schedule again in a few days. Since we couldn’t check in to our hotels yet, we decided to make lunch our big meal of the day before we scattered to do laundry, find new shoes, visit the pharmacy, and all the other things you do on a rest day and/or when in a big town. The food was amazing, and the large beers were actually large.
That was supposed to be our farewell for a few days, but Mim texted later about a great churros and chocolate place fairly central to all of us. I had just gone to the pharmacy for blister advice and supplies. They tried to sell me compeed, a common blister fix here. On Camino message boards there are strictly divided opinions — compeed is either salvation or the devil. Even I know, though, that you don’t put it on an open blister, which is what I have, so I whipped off my sandals to show the guy. Then the woman. Then the other woman who’d come out from the back. After much back and forth while looking at it, they insisted I should go to a doctor and told me where to find a clinic.
I texted no churros for me, expecting a long wait at the clinic. After a Google Translate conversation with the receptionist as to why I was there and that yes, I would pay (private clinic), she took me right back to a doctor’s office. There were other people waiting, so I don’t think he was really meant to be seeing patients just then. Either they took pity on me or just wanted the crazy non-Spanish speaking woman out of there sooner rather than later.
He was very nice. He looked at my foot and essentially told me in Spanish, broken English, and sign language, that I need to let it heal for ten days.
“Peregrina,” I said, spreading out my arms. Translation: I’m a pilgrim. Ain’t happening.
He laughed, pawed around his cabinets, and gave me a stack of gauze, a bottle of betadine, and a roll of tape. Along with a stern lecture about using cotton socks, not wool (that was surprising) and letting it dry as much as possible, plus the optimal pain management plan. This was done using a lot of Google Translate since charades was getting us only so far in a medical setting. He called someone for advice after sending her a picture of my foot, and he prescribed a covering of some sort I need to get from the pharmacy. He also told me not to tell the pharmacy that he’d given me the samples. I thanked him for being so kind, and told him his English is much better than my Spanish.
The churros place was right around the corner, and the crew was still there when I stopped in. I’m not staying off it for ten days, but I’d also already decided to do a full rest day in León tomorrow. They had been talking and pointed out that if I stay here, then bus forward to Astorga the next day and take a rest day there when Mim and Kathy do that I’ll have four days of non hiking to help it heal. That means missing only two stages and puts me in a much better position when we head back to the mountains after Astorga.
Because that is a very reasonable plan you’d think my stubbornness would cause me to reject it outright, but I don’t want to potentially screw up the final stages by being stupid right now, so I am going to take that advice. I am also going to visit the outdoor store tomorrow to look at new shoes. I like my Merrill’s, but they don’t seem to like me. Plus, of course, I need to buy cotton socks.
Also on tomorrow’s agenda is my sports massage, so maybe I can get everything fixed here in León.Read more
Uncle
June 7 in Spain ⋅ ☁️ 26 °C
Last night I had a solid plan -- I would taxi the 16.5 miles from Bercianos to Mansilla, and I would take my backpack with me rather than shipping it. Then I decided I didn't want to have to carry my pack around town while waiting for everyone else to arrive, so I tried to schedule a pickup, but it was too late. No worries. I'd go old school -- stick the money in the envelope, tie it to my pack, and leave it with all the others.
I walked out of the albergue around 7 am but decided just in case I should wait for the JacoTrans guy to come to be sure he'd take it. Plus I still needed to get a taxi. Two problems here. One, even though bags have to be out by 8 am, I don't know what time they actually pick up, and two, there is not a soul to be found to help me call for a taxi. Which I then realized probably doesn't exist in this population 250 town.
I left the bag on an act of faith, and I walked. I walked in my sandals because I'd already packed my shoes at the very bottom of my pack, not planning to need them at all. Hiking in sandals is very common, usually to give blisters a break from the rubbing or when your feet swell so that laced shoes are too uncomfortable. I just did it 'cause I'm lazy.
The first town was only 4.5 miles away. I knew once I got there things would be open and a taxi could be had. The stretch after was nine miles of nothing, and I didn't want to risk getting too miserable with no options. It was a quiet, mostly uninteresting walk, which I managed okay in under two hours.
Once in town I dropped my poles and daypack at a table and went to find the bathroom. A woman in a short walking boot was waiting, so I asked if she was actually walking today. When she said no, she was going to grab a taxi I asked if she wanted to share. I had coffee and a pastry, and we chatted for about 30 minutes until it came. It felt weird driving by pilgrims and through towns, and 15 minutes later we were in Mansilla. When we stopped at her hostel, she wouldn't even let me give her any money.
I had at least three hours before I could even think of seeing Kathy and Mim and one more before we could check in to the apartment. I hung out in a cafe for a bit and updated the spelling of albergue throughout here before going to Mass. We've seen posters often in the last few towns for the Festival of Corpus Christi. There was a procession of children in to Mass, then afterwards they sprinkled flower petals on the street while the priest processed with the monstrance, followed by the parishioners. I'm not sure how far they processed because I dropped out when we passed the hostel we'd been dropped off at this morning and went in for tortilla and a beer.
Kathy and Mim arrived, and it was the moment of truth -- had my bag arrived? It had, but because we'd shipped to an albergue at which we are not staying we had to pay three Euros each to get them out of hock. Small price.
Around 4:30 we met Tom and Yvonne at the hostel I'd had lunch at since they offer a pilgrim's meal. At 7:30. Googled someplace else. Closed until 6:40 (oddly specific). Not only is it Sunday, but it's a festival day, so even less than usual is open. We were directed to another open albergue and assured they would have food, which they would -- at 6 pm. It was 4:55, so we ordered drinks and settled down to wait. I think they took pity on us, because around 5:15 they said we could order.
We invited another pilgrim we'd been talking to to sit with us, and then another sitting alone asked if she could join, so we met some new folks, although the woman, Margaret from Germany, is biking and leaves in a couple of days. Stephen is on his ninth Camino -- this is his fifth Francés, and he's done the Portuguese route four times.
During the conversation it somehow came up that the lovely woman with whom I'd shared a taxi was actually one of the Camino People about whom we tell stories. I'd seen her only briefly once before so had no idea she was the one who'd insulted Yvonne very early in the trip.
I've set up my bag transfer for tomorrow in plenty of time. It's a 12 mile walk into León, and I do plan to walk. Footwear TBD. I have a hotel booked there and one in the town after. I see an osteopath for a massage on Tuesday (thanks to my blister-shin-splint soul sister Melissa) before heading to Villedangos; I'll wait to see what he has to say before I determine if I should make any adjustments to my stage lengths going forward.Read more
Halfway - And I've Got a Certificate to Prove It
June 6 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 23 °C
We were mostly excited about having coffee available before we left this morning, but the buffet was so impressive we lingered over breakfast. Kathy decided to take a taxi and meet us ten miles down the road so she could give her feet a break. It was another cool, breezy morning, and a fairly easy walk.
Mim and I stopped at a cute cafe -- not because we were hungry or needed coffee, but just because that's what you do! The ten miles into Sahagún went by quickly. Kathy had let us know where to find her, so we all had lunch together there.
Sahagún is considered the halfway point of the Camino Frances, and you can get a certificate from the Santuario de la Virgen Peregrina -- a building slightly off trail and up a hill. I'm hedging my bets, though; just in case I don't make it to Santiago I have something. We went in, and for €3 the nice lady will write your name on the certificate stating you are at the halfway point. So basically a participation trophy. Doesn't seem to matter where you actually started or that you've put in the effort to get halfway, just that you are currently standing in the halfway city. With three Euros. Still happy I bothered.
The bonus was that I'm on my last set of stamp pages in my credencial, and they have them for sale there. I had planned to get a new book in León, but the ones they had are very pretty. I don't think it will take me to the end, so I'll need a third at some point. Getting two stamps per day is required to show your progress so that you can get your final certificate. You can always get one where you spend the night, and almost any place you go will also have them available. I just happen to have more from food trucks and cafes than churches and museums. The trick is mostly remembering to ask.
The last 10K to town had a surprising amount of shade. We got in around three, which is later than usual, even for a 16 mile day, but we did linger places and take the side trip for the certificate.
Mim and Kathy are about five minutes down the road. Tom, Yvonne and I went there for dinner, then Yvonne, the Blister Queen, gave me some advice and supplies after I'd limped back to our place. My shin splints seem better after taping them, and the twisted ankle doesn't bother me anymore. However, my ankles are so swollen I can't tighten my shoes much, which means more friction, so the annoyance on the ball of my foot has become a Very Big Deal. Big enough that I may be doing a taxi some or all of tomorrow.Read more
Purple Flowers
June 6 in Spain ⋅ ☀️ 23 °C
It's been a rough week, and I've spent a lot of it feeling sorry for myself. Twisting my ankle ... the lousy walk into Burgos ... Missy leaving ... the fiery misery that is shin splints ... a nagging blister ... just not having fun due to constant focus on my physical ailments ... running into the ALS biking team ... and the impending first anniversary of my husband's death.
The reason I gave that first night in Borda for why I'm doing the Camino was that I'm at a point of redefining my life. A few of the current crew knew from subsequent conversations that Jerry had died, but no details or timing. On Thursday Annette caught a glimpse of my FU ALS tattoo while I was wearing my hiking dress, so I told them the story and that Friday was the first anniversary. It's why I chose the monastery for that night -- I didn't want to wake up on Friday in a bunk room with 24 random strangers. It was already the culmination of a lot of crappiness.
Instead I woke up Friday in a lovely place to some lovely messages from friends at home and from Yvonne and Annette. Tom gave me a big hug the first town we crossed paths. Mim and Kathy made a point later to go to the bar so I could have our shared room to myself during our scheduled family call. I was really touched that they remembered not only that I said we were doing that but the time.
When I left the monastery Friday morning and started walking I cried a lot. I had a lot of conversations, in my head and out loud. The sun came up and it felt right to be hiking on that day, even though the Camino is for me, not for him.
And I started seeing purple flowers everywhere. Purple was Jerry's favorite color. I'd seen purple flowers before, probably every day, but not the proliferation or the swaths laced in the fields, the sheer dominance of purple rather than red poppies, yellow bushes, or white clusters. Maybe I just had reason to notice. They made me happy.
It was a hard day, but it wasn't a bad day in the way I had expected it to be. I didn't have to work to find the good because it was finding me.Read more
TravelerWelcome home. It’s a bittersweet feeling.