El Camino: Santiago Rest Day

And after she arrived in Santiago de Compostela, she rested.

And her feet are SO glad she did.

Yesterday, for much of the day as I walked, I was aware of being immersed in the stream of people who have walked this path over the years. I could see the flow of pilgrims on their chosen routes, like water droplets gathering from tributaries. I saw clearly the moment where all come together - some leaping for joy, others just slipping in quietly, without notice - for a brief moment to form a pool of energy. One drop then leaves, and another arrives - the pool does not empty. But it does change all (yes, I think, all, not just some) who enter its waters.

Then, for a short while, I was accompanied by the pioneers back in the US, headed across the vast midsection of the country, hoping their lives would be better for having taken a huge chance on the unknown. I’ve long known the wagon trains made it ten miles on a good day. Now I understand why this is so. 

Then, as I walked, I felt the echoes of the many I’ve read about from history who were forced to take long walks, many to their deaths. The Bataan Death March, the Trail of Tears, the Nazi death marches. I saw the soldiers fall. I saw mothers desperately clutching their frightened children. I saw, within the horror, people still doing what they could to help their fellow travelers along the road. I was afraid with them and for them. And I asked them what they wanted of me. They said they wanted me to honor their lives by remembering they lived and loved and ought not to have died as they did.

And so I walked along that part of my path with tears falling freely to the trail beneath my feet, remembering these, who I never knew.

Finally, I walked with the refugees and immigrants of today’s world. Knowing they are not welcome where they are going, if they know where they are going, but unable to live any more in the lands of their roots. I felt their hope and their desperation. My heart ached and cried with them, and rejoiced with those who managed to find a new place to land. I also asked these what they wanted of me, but if I received an answer, it was lost as I neared the final steps of the pilgrimage.

It’s no wonder I found my arrival at the city’s limits so disconcerting. One moment I was in a place not quite of this world, and the next I was walking over a bridge looking down at eight lanes of traffic.

Yes, I do believe I needed today to reground my spirit. 

Tonight, the trail ahead once again seems daunting. I understand why most people don’t attempt this part of the journey. Even to have come this far, for me, is the hardest physical challenge I’ve ever tackled. And I want to do more? Yes, for some crazy reason I don’t pretend to understand, I do. At least my digestive system seems to have settled down for now, so I won’t have to contend with those issues as I walk.

Tomorrow’s walk is the longest I’ll tackle on this segment of my journey - 21k.

One step at a time.

Photos: the cathedral at dawn, from the window of my room; a statue at the cathedral - I feel the same way; the park where I sat to rest and read for a couple of hours this afternoon 

El Camino: Santiago de Compostela

 

I made it!

It was a long night. After lunch mostly stayed in yesterday, I decided to get dinner. It didn’t stay in at all. I didn’t count how many times I startled awake in the night telling myself, “Don’t fart!!”, before scooting to the toilet to divest my innards of yet another portion of dinner, but it was way more than three.

I got up in the morning determined to finish the walk anyways. I didn’t come all this way to take a taxi the last 20km if I could avoid it. So I doubled down on my dose of Imodium, packed extra clothes and a bunch of toilet paper in my bag, just in case, ate a piece of toast for breakfast, and set off down the road. I figured, worse case scenario, I’d become well acquainted with all the brush screens on the trail.

Fortunately for my dignity, my system decided to settle down, and while still being careful not to cut loose a fart, I made it to Santiago without trouble.

I walked, as did those around me, with a sense of heightened anticipation - Today, we reach a goal! Most of the scenery on the walk was what I’d become accustomed to this week, and the change, just 3km from the end of the walk, from quiet countryside to jam-packed city streets was jarring to my senses. As soon as I hit the city, I lost my friends, the concrete signposts which had showed me the way to go all week. And, with so many people of the streets, I lost sight of my trail people. Thank goodness for Google maps, or I’d have gotten lost at the last turn before the cathedral.

It felt almost anticlimactic as I finished the walk and stepped onto the plaza. Where was my finish line? Why was the crowd of people not cheering me on?? No high fives???

A bit sad, I found my way to a seat on the edge of the plaza, and sat down to rest my feet. As I sat, my sense of disappointment lifted. The sight of the magnificent face of the the cathedral before me, something I never really thought I get to see outside of photos, soothed my soul. I felt it welcome yet another pilgrim home.

My feet were too sore to even think about going inside, so after sitting entranced at the sights and celebrations surrounding me for a time, I wearily got to my feet, and trudged off to find my alburge, which turned out to be just ten minutes away.

My room here is adorable; he put me on the third floor, so I could have the best view - I can see the spires of the cathedral from my window. I took a chance on lunch around three (it took some doing to convince my now leery stomach that food was a good idea, but I’m good this far), did my laundry and came back to my room to write this update.

I have a rest day tomorrow before heading off to begin the second portion of my hike the following day. I will try to give my feet a break, so won’t do a lot of sightseeing, but do plan to get back to see the inside of the cathedral. I’m sure it’s beautiful beyond description.

I’m here!

Photos: me, celebrating (I can do my own high fives, thank you very much); one of the way markers; one more ancient church 

El Camino: O Pedrouzo

I swear, the last ten minutes of each day’s walk takes longer than the first five kilometers. 

Today’s 18km walk was definitely easier than yesterday’s 13km. The steep downhills I tackled then were (mostly) replaced by a long steady slope down. Much easier on the legs.

I finally found someone who walks at my pace. Jack is 78, spent 32 years in the army, and has walked the entire distance from France. We had a delightful conversation for the first 5km, when I dropped him off so he could grab a cup of coffee.

So far, there’s been a something that made each day’s hike more of a struggle than it needs to be. Today’s challenge was the aftermath of an upset digestive system. (I think the culprit was a piece of Spanish omelette I had for lunch the day before yesterday.) I first noticed something off yesterday morning - breakfast just didn’t sound good. I forced it down anyways, figuring I needed the fuel, but by lunchtime food was a definite no-go.  Nothing sounded good; my stomach was in knots. I had some lentil soup for dinner, which went down well, and was in my room and crashed by 8. Somewhere in the night, my system decided it had had enough of this nonsense, and instituted a colon cleanse. You know what I mean.

I took some Imodium, but that stuff needs time to take effect, and I could hardly sit around waiting to see how things were going to come out, so to speak. So, I got up in the morning, and headed down to breakfast, hoping there would be some yogurt and fruit, which were the only things that sounded good. The hiking gods were with me, and I was able to eat a little. I waited a few minutes, grateful there was no line for the restroom and sure enough, I was soon visiting the facilities. But the big ache in my gut stayed gone, so I took another tablet, and set off down the road.

I didn’t dare eat anything while walking today; restrooms on the trail are few and far between, so I contented myself with electrolyte drinks; I didn’t really feel hungry anyways.

When I got to my room for tonight, I ate an orange I had squirreled away, and a couple of protein bars. It was all I had on hand, and I didn’t want to chance a restaurant, just in case. The good news is that things seem to be under control. *whew* - I’ll head out to dinner shortly, do what I can to eat a light meal.

Tomorrow’s walk is about the same as today’s; it’ll be 19km. If my stomach will stay settled, I think I’ll enjoy it - it’s the home stretch for part I of my journey!

Photos: a beautiful stream; there were no man made churches on the first part of today’s route, but nature filled in the gap with this natural cathedral; someone with vision created a garden from old shoes - it was adorable!

El Camino : Arzua

Today’s Camino lesson is that not all kilometers are created equal.

I didn’t walk as far today as I did yesterday, but it took more out of me because it was up a hill, down a hill, repeat, all day long. I’m pretty tired.

That said, I survived the hike in decent shape, except for my calves; they’re pretty tight long about now. Here’s hoping my yoga therapy balls work their magic, because otherwise tomorrow will be a slow slog.

I still, when I finish my breakfast each morning, linger for just a bit, waiting for a general boarding call, I guess. But no, people just gather their gear and leave whenever. Weird!

Yesterday, I didn’t run into any of the people I’d already met, though the trail was crowded. This morning, as I was first headed out, I ran into my German friends from the first night, and they greeted me like a long-lost friend. Big smiles, open-armed welcome. They said they’d been wondering how I was faring. When I heard that, my heart gave a happy little sigh. *friends!*

I saw them several times along the way, until they stopped for one more coffee, and I left them behind, heart just a bit fuller than it was when I started out.

They say the people in the stores and restaurants along the trail are grateful for the foot traffic - it provides their livelihood. For the most part, I have to agree - but there are always exceptions, no?

I needed a pee break, so stopped at a little coffee bar, whose restrooms were for customers only. I was good with that, I needed a little fruit. I tried the door, but it was locked. I waited a bit, figuring it was in use, but then a lady came in behind me, and the proprietor buzzed it open for her. I looked at him, told him I did intend to order a something, but wanted to empty my bladder first.

He just glared at me, but I figured that was his problem and ducked in behind the previous customer when she came out. When I went to place my order, he took a few minutes to clean up a stack of dishes on the counter first, ignoring me. When he finally turned to me, I asked if I could buy an orange. (He was selling fresh squeezed juice.) “No”, he replied. “I sell juice, NOT fruit!” In English. I guess I’m not the first person to try to bend his rules.

To keep peace between the nations, I went ahead and ordered a juice.

Two days left to Santiago, the end point of most people’s Camino journey, the midpoint of mine. It’ll be a longer day - 18km. I think I’ve got this?  Wish me luck.

Photos: me, with one of the German women; the first church of the morning; a peaceful farm, waking up in the morning mist.

El Camino: Malide

I was !tired! today.

Despite my exhaustion, or perhaps because of it, I didn’t sleep well last night. All the noises woke me up, and in a new room in a new town, there are a lot of new noises.

But I got up on time, got dressed, and got my keister down to breakfast and onto the trail anyways.

Each morning, when I first hit the trail, I have a lot of company. But I am one of the slower walkers, especially this morning, and soon the first group leaves me in the dust, and I can meander along contemplating life things.

The Universe is talking to me. Sadly, I haven’t had the sort of revelation I hear others talk about, perhaps because I’m still working to incorporate the life lessons it’s already brought to my attention - like learning that, sometimes, it’s ok to trust other people.

Yesterday, as I walked, I asked myself why I had my journal and iPad in my pack. It’s been drilled into my travel brain that one should NEVER leave such items in checked luggage, and leaving my suitcase behind each morning to be schlepped along certainly feels a lot like checking a bag. But did I really think these hostels were digging through bags of stinky hiking clothes, looking for treasures? Why was I insisting on carrying more weight than I needed to?

Over the course of that long day, the extra weight (around 2 lbs), which I hadn’t even noticed on the first two days, pulled at my shoulders and weighed down my steps. (I think I also had my pack straps adjusted incorrectly, adding insult to injury for my suffering upper back.) The experience was totally a physical manifestation of this aspect of my trust issues. This was necessary because???

This morning, I left the iPad and journal in my other bag. It was the right decision.

I could not have repeated yesterday’s walk today. Not if I wanted to walk on tomorrow. It took a good hour for my body parts to start complaining in earnest, but at some point I realized I had bruised the tips of my toes on all those downhills the day before. My calves weren’t locked up, which I think is the best I could have asked for, but they started speaking unkindly around 7km. Thanks to the moleskin I’d put on, the blisters on my baby toes didn’t scream too loudly until I was almost to Melide, but once they started talking, they demanded attention. With less weight to carry, my shoulders had no new complaints, though they were not completely silent; I can’t blame them for holding a grudge.

I arrived here in Melide in better shape than I deserve and was done for the day in time for rain to settle in for the afternoon. I took a nap, and woke up knowing I have the oomph I’ll need to do all this again tomorrow - it’ll be another shortish day - 13km.

I don’t know I could ask for more right now.

Photos: a determined tree root; one of the many small, ancient churches dotting the landscape; a section of trail - that probably used to be level with the surrounding fields. How many times do you have to walk across a field to dig the level down six feet?? 

El Camino: Palas de Reí

That. Was. Hard. 

But beautiful.

I started out just after eight this morning, walking the first couple of hours in a foggy mist. It was all uphill, but I took it slowly, stopping often to admire the beauty revealed in each turn of the trail.

The first 12km went well. Really well. I was less sore than I’d expected to be, and I reached the midpoint of the trail in good spirits. I stopped for a longish lunch, in the spirit of my Mexican friends from yesterday, minus the wine, and was ready to tackle the rest of the trail.

I was in good shape, but wasn’t sure I was up to another 12km, so figured perhaps I could walk just 1km, that isn’t very far, and do it 12 times. And, by this point, it was mostly downhill, so I’d at least be able to balance out the strain in my calves.

That theory worked until kilometer 8-ish, when my feet decided they were done. The remaining four kilometers were a long and painful slog. The good news part is that once my feet filled my shoes like balloons ready to pop, they didn’t try to continue to expand. I mean, at least it was a nice steady pain level.

To tell the truth, I can’t even remember the last kilometer.  I know I had just 20 minutes left to walk. (Thank you, Google), and it took all I had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.

I walked into the hostel, almost in a trance, around 4. Good thing I didn’t have to answer any hard questions on the way in. (I did still know my name which is the only thing she asked.)

I made my way upstairs to my room, collapsed on the bed, and almost cried. My shoulders, my calves, my feet were on fire. (My hips, surprisingly, were doing almost ok!) When I took my shoes off, I found a big blister on my toe that I hadn’t even felt because everything else hurt so bad. *sigh* What was I thinking when I signed up for this trek????

Over the next three hours, and it took three hours, I managed to take some Advil, drink some electrolyte water, shower, stretch, and begin to work out some of the cramps using my handy-dandy yoga therapy balls.

To my surprise, by 7, dinner time, I felt almost human. It’s now 9-ish, and I’m ready for bed, but thinking just maybe I’ll be able to walk again by morning. Tomorrow’s walk is shorter, “just” 15km.

Piece of cake???

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Photos: on my way out of town in the mist; tree tunnel as the mist lifted; the view from today’s high point on the trail

El Camino: Portomarin

Today’s journey was just 10km. About the time I hit my stride, I looked up to find I’d finished the day’s trek! It was a beautiful morning, cool, mostly cloudy. I saw a small portion of a rainbow as I started walking - always a hopeful sign.

Unlike yesterday’s crush of people, I spent much of the morning walking with only the sounds of nature to keep me company. I think it was because I was starting from such a small town. Yesterday, I started walking at one of the most popular jumping off points along the whole trail; a big town with many, many hostels. Last night, I stayed at the only available inn for several miles, and it hosted only a few dozen people. It was a nice change of pace.

As I walked, I kept hearing whispers from those who have trodden this path before me. At one point, I had to clamber down a rocky gorge. As I looked at the divots in the stone, I realized they had been formed by all the boots stepping the those exact spots over a millennium.  I can’t really grasp how many feet have to walk on a rock to make an imprint in the stone, but it’s humbling to know my passage, though I would have thought it went unremarked, added just a smidge to the depth of the imprint.

I kept checking in with my hips and feet as I walked, since both were not speaking kindly to me by the time I arrived yesterday. My feet, surprisingly, were fine. My hips, well, they’re not fond of the journey thus far; I’m pretty sure it’s the weight of my day pack throwing them off kilter. I’ll try to give them a good stretch this evening, perhaps it will help calm them down a bit.

I spent most of today’s hike contemplating tomorrow’s trek, which will be my longest of this trip, 23km. I’m not as frightened I’ll run out of steam before completing it as I was before I started walking because I’ve been watching the other hikers. Instead of doing the whole day’s hike in full-steam-ahead mode, as I would tend to do (gotta get all the work done before I can rest!), they stop along the way to give their bodies a break. Yesterday afternoon, I watched one couple stop in at the restaurant at the inn where I was staying for a full meal, complete with wine. They sat and laughed for two hours before gathering their gear and moving on. I doubt I can convince me to stop for that long, and the wine is definitely out of the question, but I’m thinking a couple of longish breaks along the way will get me there in better shape.  We’ll see…

Photos: this morning’s rainbow; looking back along the trail; those footsteps in the stone; the Church of San Xoan de Portomarin, just a block from where I am staying 

El Camino: Casa Morgade

I misspoke yesterday when I said I was feeling alone. I should have said I was feeling lonely. There is a difference. Today, I walked alone, and was totally content to put one foot in front of the other, not worrying about keeping pace with anyone but myself. 

I got a better night’s sleep last night (a solid four hour stretch), which is directly correlated to my lift in mood, I’m sure. I woke up this morning feeling ready to face my day. In fact, as I started out, I was questioning my decision to cut the walk originally scheduled by the tour company in half, to do the distance over two days instead of one. It seemed like everyone I talked to on the path was going the distance, and not that I’m competitive, but I was feeling a bit of a lightweight. However, by the time I rounded the bend to catch sight of Casa Morgade, I was congratulating myself on my foresight. I’m pretty sure they aren’t passing out any prizes for the quickest finish, and my feet and hips were talking to me with every step.

Fortunately, I recovered quickly - by the time I finished lunch, my feet had quit screaming, though my legs certainly know I covered some distance today. I’m tired, not exhausted, which bodes well for tomorrow’s trek. I hope.

Today’s walk was beautiful. The weather was perfect, in the upper 70’s, with a light breeze. Once out of Sarria, I walked through pastoral countryside on a mostly shaded lane. The path was heavily traveled, but I had enough space to just relax into trail thoughts. That is to say, I have no clue what passed through my mind as I walked.

I was, time and again, aware of the weight of history. I heard echoes of all the footsteps down the years, of those who had trod this path before me, most of them without the support of modern hiking shoes.

Tomorrow, I am slated to walk about the same distance as today. I hope the heaviness in my legs will ease overnight. If not, well, it’ll just take me a greater portion of the day to cover the distance. Not the worst outcome.

Photos: the first section of my portion of the trail; an ancient church along the trail; an equally ancient stone bridge, still fit to be trod; my first view of Casa Morgade

El Camino: Sarria

Despite my best efforts and general exhaustion, I did not sleep soundly last night. My circadian rhythm hasn’t had a chance to catch up with my physical location, and despite the darkness, my body was unwilling to fall into deep slumber at three in the afternoon. Go figure.

The alarm jolted me awake at seven, and I grumpily got up, pulled everything together, and made my way to the Metro station. A little help from a helpful subway agent got my card reloaded for the ride, and with very little difficulty, I found my way to the train station.

The train ride across Spain to Ourense was seamless. We zipped smoothly along the countryside and beneath the mountains at 300km/hr. I found myself wishing I could ride that way to Minneapolis - it would sure beat driving!

At Ourense, there was some construction something down the line, and they switched us to a bus for the last 90 minutes of the journey. The drive was along a windy not-quite-mountainous road. We had to stop in a town along the way, and I quickly developed a great appreciation for the driver’s spatial reckoning ability.  Kind of like playing Tetris with a bus.

Once we arrived safely in Sarria in mid-afternoon, all I had to do was drag my suitcase a mile down the street to the hostel. As I bumped along, I found myself grateful for the sturdy wheels on the bag; the sidewalks were no smooth airport floors! Like the day before, once I was checked in, I went upstairs and promptly fell into bed for a nap. 

My travel success notwithstanding, (I neither got lost nor missed any connections. The tour company had actually done their job, and the hostel was expecting me.) my grumpy mood has stayed with me for much of the day.  I know it’s one of the common side effects of jet lag, but I still found me being impatient with myself. 

I felt very alone today. Though logic tells me there are a plethora of other solo pilgrims, it seemed that everyone I saw but me was in pairs or part of a larger group. Yesterday’s welcome smiles morphed to quiet assessing glances, smiles were fewer - probably a reflection of my own unquiet mood.

Don’t you want to go walk around and see all the things?  No, I definitively did not. I just wanted to stay in my clean but cramped room and stare at the ceiling. Which, since I had no travel companion to boot my butt into gear, is exactly what I did until shortly before dinner, when I convinced me to head out to at least find the branch-off spot for the Camino. (Which turned out to be just around the corner from the hostel.) I wandered down the street a bit further anyways, and found a pleasant stream. There, I took time to find a bench where I was able to sit and listen to the running water and the unfamiliar bird calls. A few minutes there helped to level out my mood.

I’ve now had a delicious dinner, and am ready to stretch and head to bed. I know the entire country stays up late as a general rule, but sometimes, you just gotta buck the trend.

Tomorrow, I start my walk along the trail!  It’ll be the shortest walking day of my journey, just 11km. It’ll be just long enough, I hope, to just stretch the kinks from my legs and work through another layer of this jet lag.

Buen Camino to me!

Photos: (all in Sarria) the long main street I hauled my suitcase down, my quiet stream, my Camino start point!, the stream, on the other side of the street, where lots of people were gathered 

El Camino: Madrid

As I was vainly attempting to get a little sleep on the plane last night, it occurred to me that perhaps, just perhaps, I had not thought this thing through. I mean, I had a hotel reservation and all, but had no idea how I planned to get there from the airport. Details.

Before I left, I had some vague ideas, and planned to figure it out when on the plane, but because of technical difficulties (my fault, I didn’t remember my Delta password) I was incommunicado.

Cue the Universal Nudge that has me going on this trip in the first place. My seat mate, Harris, was from Greece, went to university in Germany, currently teaches Spanish linguistics at a university in Kentucky, has traveled far and wide for work conferences, and was not about to let me flounder.

When the lights came up in the morning, I told him of my conundrum, and asked to borrow his phone for a moment. He not only helped me figure out how to get to the hotel, he (despite his quicker trip through customs) waited for me at baggage claim, helped me buy a Metro ticket, and escorted me to my first stop. Our paths diverged at that point.

Some friendships last a lifetime, some for ten hours.

The hotel (Hotel Don Pío) kindly allowed me to check in early, and I went in and passed out on the bed. It’s amazing what a couple hours of sleep can do for one’s brain power.

When I awoke, I asked the front desk person for a lunch recommendation, and she sent me just down the street to No Me Llames Dolores (there’s gotta be a story there…) Lunch was delicious, dessert was on the house (?!), and when I left, they told me I now have a home there, should I ever choose to return.

Despite my Spanish speaking abilities, everyone has been friendly, welcoming. Those jitters? They are quickly being smothered in kindness.

I’ve managed to stay awake since my nap, and will head up to sleep shortly - something about having maybe three hours of sleep last night is making the seven hour time difference easier to adjust to. 

I’m up early tomorrow morning, to take the train up to Sarria, where my Camino walk will begin, so I do hope sleep comes without too much trouble. There is some issue with construction, so the last leg of the trip will be by bus instead of train.  The  time between the two transport is just twenty minutes, so I have my fingers crossed, hoping for no wrinkles in the plan. 

I’ll let you know!