Month: June 2019

Reflecting on my Camino 2019

Due to technical difficulties beyond my control, my website was down for 8 days and trying to restore it from an iPhone proved to be a bit difficult. Basically, an addin when WordPress updated my site did not load properly but, who really cares about why…

As I was flying back home, I began to think about my 2019 Camino trying not to compare and contrast it to my trip in 2017 but, I found that it was impossible to do.

The first thing that struck me was the complete difference in the social structure. On the Camino Frances (CF), you were immediately thrown together with dozens of Pilgrims in Saint Jean Pied de Port (SJPP) waiting to assault the Pyrenees. I met Leo within an hour of arriving in France, not so in Ferrol where I began my Camino Ingles (CI).

Leo being Leo

On my way to Ferrol, I saw no Pilgrims on the train that ran between A Coruna and Ferrol, unlike the train from Bayonne to SJPP which was packed with excited Pilgrims from around the world.

Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore

I began my walk on Day 1 early on a Sunday and I did not see another person for over an hour and not another Pilgrim for most of the day. By the end of my Day 1 on the CF, I’d met at least a dozen people.

By Day 3, I finally began to meet other Pilgrims on my way to Bruma, first when seeking shelter from the rain at the Meson Museo in Presedo and again at the Hotel Canaima in Meson do Vento. The bar at this hotel seems to be the hub of activity for this entire area.

I finally met a walking partner, Grace from Prince Edward Island, Canada on the 4th day, I’d met a friend of her’s, Pat, the day before. Grace and I walked most of Day 4 and all of Day 5 (in a pouring rain) until we reached Santiago. It was cold, windy and raining so no prolonged celebration at the Cathedral.

Wet and cold, still happy to be in Santiago with Grace from Canada

After the slow start on the social side of the Camino, I was rewarded with a planned meeting with Camino friends from 2017, Chris and Steve Mark and a group of Chris’s students from Texas A&M. This was followed by another 2017 alumni, Leo who met us in Astorga. Old friends, Leighton and Renee who’d caught up with my Germany friend, Katja, showed up as well. Now, I had a Camino Family.

Another difference was the weather which played a significant role in both Camino’s. 2017, pleasant most of the time, HOT some of the time. This year, pleasant rarely, COLD, WINDY and RAIN most of the time. The weather is one of the challenges that you must always be prepared for.

On my arrival in Ferrol this year, it was a beautiful day, sunny and quite pleasant. It began to rain off and on Day 2 and rained regularly from Day 3 on. As I walked from Sigueiro to Santiago, Grace and I were in a pouring cold rain most of the way.

In 2017, other than the first two days and the last days in A Coruna, other than hot, it was very nice and clear for most of the month. The day I walked into Villafranca del Bierzo two years ago it was 40/104. This year, easily 30 degrees (F) cooler.

The final difference between my two Camino’s was continuity. On the CF, I started in SJPP and in roughly 35 days, I walked, almost everyday, until I reached Santiago. Along the way, I picked up friends who for the most part walked the same route at more or less the same pace which deposited us in Santiago at the same time.

This year, as I mentioned earlier, I walked a shorter route, the CI, alone for 60% of the way. While I was prepared for that, it was still a bit unnerving in a way. Lots of time to think, no one to hear me swearing when I hurt my knee but also, no one for moral support as I limped on.

After Santiago, I did get a family and a familiar one as we all got together in Villar de Mazarife and again in Astorga. Walking, being with my friends, old and new was amazing. Catching up with Leo who lives here in the Dallas area was a special treat.

A&M at Albergue Verde

I also got the opportunity to continue to build my friendship with Katja who I’d met on my last day on the Camino in Finisterre two years ago. I call her the Camino Beast as she’s done the CF, twice. Last year she did part of the Norte and the Primativo. This year, she warmed up with us from Astorga to Sarria before heading south to do an alternate route of the Via de la Plata, the Camino Sanabres. I was thrilled to get her introduced to my other friends, especially Leighton and Renee. Camino friendships are lasting friendships, at least for me.

Still a long way to go, my friend Katja from Germany

I guess, what I’ve realized is that no two Camino’s are the same. If you go hoping to recreate or relive a previous Camino, I think you will be disappointed. Each Camino to me is like successive waves in the ocean, each washing over you in a similar but different way.

For me, this Camino stands solidly on it’s own. New experiences, new scenery, new aches and pains, new friends and new accomplishments. All of this tempered by the comfort that familiarity brings. It was only when I let go of 2017 that I could truly enjoy 2019.

Leaving on a jet plane…

Thomas Wolfe said it best I guess when he said, “you can’t go home again“. What he meant was that you can return but, the place you loved and thought you knew so well, will not be the same. But, is that all so bad?

What is the Camino?

What is the Camino?  This question for a Pilgrim is very much like the age old question, what is the meaning of life?

For either question, is there a correct answer?  If there is, is it one answer or is it different for each person?  I don’t know the answer to either but, I continue to ponder them both. 

The Camino to me, a casual meeting of a woman from Turkey, two cousins from Mexico, a German and an American…smiling in Trobadello.

Why you may ask is this on my mind?  Very good question. Friday, I met a Pilgrim named Mike from Australia. Mike was traveling with a group on a luxury two week Camino trip that cost $16k excluding air (he told me this). 

Mike and I met while I was having a outrageously overpriced Martini at the Parador in Santiago, so based on the circumstances, maybe I deserved what I got. 

While Mike was complaining about his luxury Camino, I began to think about what the Camino was. What I ended up with was what the Camino is not, at least for me.

After Mike told me that he always wanted to do the Camino, a luxury Camino (his words), I instantly knew that we had very different ideas of what “wanting” to do the Camino meant. He sat there in his expensive travel wear and I sat in my best clean clothes, happy that they were clean for a change. 

Mike said to me, look at the old geezers, I have nothing in common with them, I wonder why I’m here. As I thought about my friends whom I desperately missed scattered across Spain, I wondered the same thing, why was he here? 

Mike told me about their accommodations and how they were okay but for the price, they should be better, they were staying in the Parador in Santiago. I didn’t tell him that we slept in bunk beds, shared 2 or 3 showers and thought that having a blanket was pretty special. 

Mike and his group were being picked up by a luxury coach to be taken to a special dinner with a wine pairing arranged by his tour company. While I was not having a Pilgrims dinner tonight, I smiled as I thought about all of them that I’d shared with my friends and Camino family, our wine pairing was easy, vino tinto. 

Finally, Mike asked me if I enjoyed the Camino and if I got anything out of it. As I started to answer, he cut me off and said he didn’t really get it. I could only smile. 

They departed as they arrived, enmasse. As they boarded their prearranged luxury coach, I felt a bit sorry for them all. 

We each walk our own way. For me, the sore knees were worth it. For Mike, they we were a terrible problem. For me, the uphill (where I got a new nickname) and the excruciating downhills meant I was closer to meeting my friends, old and new and sharing the best beer I’ve ever had in the world…today, with anyone interested in joining me. 

For me, the thought boarding my flight to Madrid and the the USA the next day was heart wrenching. Leaving this place and these people is like physically and emotionally removing a part of me. For Mike, apparently his Business Class seat back to Australia was all he was concerned about. 

I’m sure Mike is a nice guy and I’m not judging him, we each walk our own Way. I’m not writing about Mike, the world is full of Mike’s. But I can’t help but wonder why he (and others) choose the Camino but only engage it at arms length. I’m sure their tour company managed to get them their Compostella and I hope they enjoy telling their friends how they walked the Camino de Santiago. 

So, I don’t know what the Camino is but, I have a very good idea what it is not. 

Buen Camino Mike, I hope you found what you were looking for. Sadly, I fear that you did. 

A picture is worth a thousand words

Today, you really had to want to be a Pilgrim or maybe, you just needed to be one.

While it was a short day compared to the others, it was one which tested the soul and character of each individual.

My friend Grace and I left Sigüiero around 7:30, a short 16k day, no reason to blow out too early. As we left, a gentle rain was falling with the promise of more and old Santiago did not disappoint me.

With few Bars to tempt anyone ml Pilgrim as you leave town, we trudged on without or morning café con leche through the building rain. Past a still shuddered Aqualada and into a forest which seemed medieval in the mist, fog and rain.

As we walked, the forest path seemed to absorb the sound of our steps and those of a long line of wet and cold Pilgrims.

Walking now for almost 3 hours in a persistent rain and on an empty stomach, a break, any break would be welcome. Ahead, a yellow arrow, a flècha amarilla showed the way to a hotel with a cafeteria, any port in the driving rain was a welcome stop.

Café con leche, heat and a little conversation brightened my mood, my friend Grace too who was so wet she said she looked like a wet poodle.

As we left, sello secured, the rain had intensified and the wind had become steady, it was a full on storm. At one point, we were leaning into the wind driven rain, poncho flapping behind me, my hat secured by my left hand.

For the first time, I was cold. My exposed sleeves were soaked and my hands felt numb as I tried to grip my poles, only 5 more kilometers to go. My traveling companion Grace was as miserable as I was.

Limping on a sore knee, shivering from the damp cold could not deter me, passing the Convent of San Francisco, I knew the Praza do Obridorio was straight ahead.

Next the Parador and then, the Pilgrims center of the Universe, the Cathedral. Last time I saw it in 2017, the exterior was sheathed in scaffolding and blue tarps. Now, the full glory has been restored.

Grace and I savored the moment and The escaped to the bar at the Parador where she was staying, a fitting end to both our second Camino’s.

Not as climactic as the first, the moment still felt good and genuine. I am a very lucky man.

Catching Up

Between an aching knee, driving rain, arriving in Santiago and hustling out to Leon, I’ve been a little derelict in my blogging.

Betanzos to Bruma started off with both a test of will and my knee. Leaving the hotel, the light mist became a heavier rain as I walked towards Precedo with its one Albergue and Bar, the Meson-Museo. The rain turned torrential for at least an hour before my arrival. I was so soaked that I found a covered area near the Albergue to change my soaked socks, I sure miss my rain pants which I left in my pack, I won’t do that again.

Coffee and a warm up lifted my spirits allowing me to venture back into the dissipating rain. I once again ran into Elke from Hamburg, the only Pilgrim I’ve had regular contact with, this aspect of the Inglés is a disappointment.

After the first climb out of Betanzos, it leveled for a while and the weather held for the rest of the day as the longer climb began up to Bruma and the path reverted to a maintained gravel track.

While not steep, the Way was steadily inclined through the forest and chicken farms. I never saw another soul on this 2.5 hour stretch.

At As Traveses, I went into the Bar and I finally met some other pilgrims, Lee from Prince Edward Island and I struck up a lively conversation about her Inglés beginning in Ireland. Lee and I walked together as far as the Municipal where I stopped and she carried on. From there, a White Mercedes (really) whisked me to the Hotel Canaima in Meson do Vento.

Apparently the Canaima is THE place to see and be seen in Meson do Vento, dinner, drinks, conversation and a private room all for 36€. It was nice to finally be amongst Pilgrims again.

The early morning of the 5th started out with a pouring rain, my old friend, Santiago clearly wanted me to stay for the Pilgrims breakfast which I’d not planned to because it was served at 0700, I was usually well on my way by then.

Having breakfast, the rain suddenly subsided and I took the opportunity to head off for Sigüiero, 27k down the Camino.

For the last time, I crossed paths with Elke from Hamburg. We never spent a lot of time together but she was a familiar face each morning.

Walking along, I met Grace from Canada, Prince Edward Island to be exact. Grace had started walking with Lee whom I’d met the day before. As it happened, we were both staying at the Albergue Miras in Sigüiero so, we whiled away the hours as we walked the Way.

Showers came in waves most of the way to our Albergue. Rain gear on, no rain. The minute you took it off, mist or a shower or a down pour. No matter what you did, it was the wrong choice.

Arriving in town, my second stop was the Farmacia for some 600mg Ibuprofen, my right knee was shredded, la droga del Camino helped.

The Miras was very nice and their for real restaurant below was very good, I introduced Grace to Pulpo Galiego and rare steak, she admitted that she enjoyed both.

Finishing dinner, I headed back to my bed, since I’d left, I’d been joined by 3 guys from The Canary Islands who’d only just arrived.

Aside from the trashed knee, it was a good but very wet day. One more to go to Santiago.

Into each life, a little rain must fall

The rain and mist, my traveling companion for the day was waiting for me when I stepped out of the Pension Luis at 0630, searching again for the poorly marked road to Santiago.

Leaving Pontedeume, I looked forward to an early morning Camino wake me up. Except, it’s a 40 minute OMG when does it end wake me up. I had Pyrenees flashbacks but I knew, rationally, that it wasn’t that hard but only because it won’t last for 9 hours. Reason is an interesting concept.

Up and up, through the persistent mist I climbed. The promised great views, obscured by the low clouds. Just keep climbing, there’s always another hill and, there was.

Four Km later, the English Way finally leveled out and the wet asphalt gave way to a forest path and the comforting crunch of the gravel beneath my boots, both comforting and hypnotic.

Even in the mist and light rain, my travel was good. The forested path, hidden by eucalyptus and oaks was lined with ferns, blackberries and wildflowers. All was quiet except for the far off him of the N-651. Again today, after two hours of walking I’d yet to see a Pilgrim since I left the city.

After being deposited on the 11th Hole of a golf course, the Camino finally crosses the now busy highway. It was interesting that Santiago had left a cooler of refreshing bottled water for the thirsty Pilgrims but of course Santiago needs to make a buck too, the offering only cost 1€.

Leaving the course area, the climbing returns as did a bit heavier rain. With water dripping from the brim of my hat, I climbed a rain slick rock incline. At one point I took a long step up with my right leg and pushed hard. As I began to counter that step with my left leg, my right foot lost it’s hold and shot with great force downward stopping of course at full extension…maybe more. Ouch!

A stream of simple and compound expletives flowed out of my mouth for no one but me to hear. Even with the pain I continued up but I knew something wasn’t right, just keep going I told myself.

On the flats, not too bad. Up the hills I could drag my leaden legs without too much pain. But, going down, sharp pain on the outside of my knee radiating down and out with each step.

Limping into Miño, I realized that I was fatigued, I’d not eaten yet and my hunger was masked by the pain and, hungry I was.

Still early on this Monday, not much was open I did however find a café con leche and a tosta con jamon. As I sat, my knee stiffened up and standing took some effort.

The Way into Betanzos included another descent, a steady climb and a sharp descent back to sea level and into the town.

I guess it was luck, I’m in a two star hotel, the Garelos (60€) the most expensive of my accommodations but, I was happy to see it.

After a rest and a shower which included doing my laundry (a Pilgrims life is glamorous) I decided to explore and test my knee, rest seemed to help.

I wrote earlier about being mindful and living in the moment, I wanted to do that because the thought had entered my mind that my Camino days may be numbered and I wanted to enjoy this moment.

They say that every way is uphill in Betanzos, it is, however that means at some point, every way then becomes downhill. In my exploration I proved both to be correct.

I visited the iglesia S Maria, S Francisco and of course, my nemesis, Santiago. All three from the XIV and XV centuries, big, dark, and showing nothing of the architectural revolution happening in France and Italy at the same time.

Limping back to my hotel, I had to have some Pulpo. I found a nice Tapas Bar and enjoyed a deliciously simple pulpo con papas in olive oil, salt and some spicy paprika, marveloso!

I also hit the Farmacia for some Voltadol, a cream containing ibuprofen, it helps.

la droga del Camino

Between the persistent rain and proximity to the sea, nothing drys so I had to put my clothes through a drying cycle. I told you that a Pilgrims life is glamorous, right?

Laundry time

Chores done, and knee at least not screaming, I went out to have a wine and write in my journal. As a side note, several months ago I decided to re-teach myself cursive writing, at this point, Mrs. Mangum would be very disappointed.

Writing done and cooling off, I needed dinner. I found another Tapas Bar, ONZE. The second best meal I’ve had in Spain. I had a tosta with tuna, guacamole, tomato and arugula drizzled with a balsamic reduction. Damn that was good. My second plate was a half raccion of sautéed squid served with fries, another hit. All of course washed down with a Mencía from just south of here.

Wow!
Simple is better

Tough decisions to make tomorrow, walk? Don’t? How far? If I rest the knee will it recover enough for walking from León with friends?

I need to make that call in the morning as there are few resources between Betanzos and Bruma.

Ups and Downs

Sunday, I left my Hostel at 0615, it wasn’t hot, it’s just that I’d been awake since 0230 and it was light enough to see.

Walking out of Ferrol seems easy but in the city proper it’s very poorly marked and in the semi-light, it’s even more difficult. Once you get near the water, just keep it on the right as you walk around the ria de el Ferrol towards Neda. Anyone who’s done any Camino knows entering and leaving larger cities sucks, you won’t be disappointed, this one does too. At about 3.2k/2 miles, concrete gives was to a natural path and in the early morning quiet, the sound of the crunching with each step was divine. My apologies to the runner who came up behind me and almost got a mouthful of trekking poles.

Early departures are tough, no café con leche, Sunday’s are worse, no Bars open until 1000 at the earliest. I stopped at the iglesia S. Martin de Xubia for a snack (I planned ahead) and was adopted by a Camino cat or, at least she insisted on me petting her and sharing my snack.

I’ll let you pet me for some chorizo

Neda was still shutdown, I finally found a Bar in Fene but no food. The owner brought me a café and a zumo de Naranja which hit the spot. A moment later, a plate of bread and olive oil appeared to my great joy. Once I finished, she told me to come, Ven, Ven. She took me to the back to show me a great view across the river back to where I’d started in Ferrol. Big smiles. I asked for my check and she charged me for the café and would not take anymore. Tips in Spain are rare and small, not today. She wished me Buen Camino (in Gallego) and off I went.

To this point, I had not seen another Pilgrim and I would not for another 4k, what I did see were hills, from sea level, the climb was up 205m, almost 700ft, and climb I did. Fortunately now on natural paths.

Arriving in Villar do Colo, I finally ran in to 2 Pilgrims from France, together but one walked and another rode. We crossed paths most of the way to Pontedeume. Unlike the Francés, you don’t run into the same people on a regular basis.

At the peak, the downhill began, back to sea level, some gentle most steep to painfully steep, it took a toll on my right knee as I limped across the bridge into Pontedeume, happy to arrive (6.5 hours) at Pension Luis (15€). My room was tiny but clean and it had its own bathroom.

Shower, quick rest involving ibuprofen and then off to explore and do laundry. Pontedeume is small with little to see, especially on a Sunday. Families were out and the Bars open but only until 1700/5:00 PM.

Dinner of Filete y Papas, a couple glasses of good and inexpensive red wine and I was done, down for the count.

A good day filled with beauty, solitude and quiet. I hope tomorrow brings the same.

Saint Jean’s Chill Cousin

Unlike Saint Jean Pied de Port which is heaving with Pilgrims most of the time, Ferrol, which is larger, is rather sedate. It’s an active sea port and has Spain’s second largest navel installation but she doesn’t launch many Pilgrims. I’ve met one other, Beata from Cologne and I saw 2 others with backpacks who are probably Perigrinos as well.

My arrival was routine and had I not been so tired, the scenery along the coast and rivers lined with eucalyptus would have been even more beautiful, not too worried as I retrace some of the route on foot the next couple days.

The hostel Almendra (20€) is near the train station and about a 15 minute walk to the port and the official beginning of the Inglés. After a quick shower, I was off to explore and to locate the official beginning so I did not to retrace my steps in the morning. I stopped at the Con-Cathedral to get a sello in time to see them celebrating the first communion for a group of young people. Ran into my new German friend Beata.

Walking back in my pack, my fatigue weighed on me like a leaden cloak which probably contributed to my missing a turn, more steps for a weary traveler. Had I not though, I would have missed this:

Whaaaat?

Back at the Almendra, hungry but more tired, had a beer and some chips, it’s 8:30, time for bed, I plan to get started about 6:30.

The harbor area is lined with bars and restaurants, probably fun on a nice Saturday night like this one, I’ll never know.