El Camino: O Logoso

Into every life - or long walk adventure - a little rain must fall, and today was my turn. And, it wasn’t so bad. The first hour or so of my day’s trek was uneventful, and I made it up today’s long hill before the rain moved on in. By the time it started raining in earnest, I was on a part of the path that walked along a busy road, and the rain was welcome. Instead of baking as I trekked along hot pavement, I got to watch the rain come down from beneath the brim of my trusty Tilley hat (still waterproof after all these years!) and rain poncho. The shoulder was wide enough for me to avoid spray from the passing cars, so I wasn’t unhappy in the least. The clouds moved in and out for the rest of the morning, the rainfall never heavy enough to make footing treacherous. No problem on this front.

My feet, on the other hand, were pretty seriously unhappy. I’d heard the phrase “my blisters have blisters”, but didn’t realize that actually happens. It does. My new and improved attempt at bandaging kept the sores from worsening, but the damage is already done. I was ok for the first 7 km, but from then on, my feet were talking. And I was again alone on the trail, so had nothing except the view to distract me from the throbbing.

But, despite all the things, my overarching emotion as I walked was contentment. I am here. I am doing a hard thing. But, for the first time in a decade, the hard thing I’m doing is of my choosing. I want to be here. I want to walk to the end of the world. And I’m doing it. Without causing any permanent damage to my feet, near as I can tell.

I met up again with Mal, the man with the bum leg who makes his way along the trail using crutches, last night at dinner. We had a long talk about life and doing hard things and not giving up. I am so close. I can’t give up on this now.

At the end of today’s walk, I came into the small hamlet where I was to spend the night, and found a place with the right name. When I went in, she told me, “No. The place you actually want is across the valley.” And went with me outside to gesture at a beautiful building another 500 meters away, down a long hill and up another one. I wanted to cry, but smiled, thanked her, and started gathering my will to continue just a little further. Then, she said, “My daughter owns that place. I see your feet hurt. Can I give you a ride over there in my car?” Could she??? Trust me, I didn’t make her ask twice.

Two more days. I am so close…

Photos: sunrise; a stunning river valley I was very happy to get to walk along the rim of, rather than through; if you know any giants who forgot where they randomly dropped the rock they were carrying, I found it for them.