Tuesday, I received an email from my friend Nigel. We met almost 3 years ago in a bar in Estella as we cooled down after a long hot day that started in Puente la Reina. My friendship with Nigel and Bernie, like so many others, sprang from my long journey across Spain on the French route of the Camino de Santiago.
Since our first meeting, we’ve had the pleasure of meeting them in Dublin, they live near Belfast and travelling across the island to the Dingle Peninsula where they acted as very gracious guides and good friends. We cannot thank them enough.
We stay in touch by email mostly although we did have an opportunity during my Virtual Camino Reunion to see each other as well and to let 15 others reunite, see, meet, share and laugh during these tough times.
In Nigel’s email, he wrote about hikes he and Bernie take there in Northern Ireland, their own neighborhood and right outside their door. I must admit, I was a bit jealous, my neighborhood doesn’t look anything like theirs. If Nigel will allow me to, I’ll post his pictures for everyone to enjoy.
What struck me though was the subject line of his email, Having a Camino on your doorstep. I’d written just recently on the Casa Ivar blog in response to a post that “the Camino is wherever you find it” and Nigel’s email just epitomized that for me.
While Spain, Italy, Germany and really all of Europe have long established and sanctioned pilgrimage routes, really, we can just step outside and begin to walk and we’re on the Camino because it’s about what’s happening in your heart that matters. Yes, the physical aspect is particularly important, and the mental release is vital, and both contribute to the whole of the experience but for me, it’s wholly emotional and spiritual however you define that word.
I introduced a friend to the Wizard of Oz where Dorothy learned that she did not have to travel anywhere to find what she was looking for; it was right outside her door and all around her. Nigel’s email reminded me of that, and it reminded me of what my Grandmother told me as a child, you “don’t have to look far from home to find happiness”.
Thanks to my friend Nigel and really to all my friends. They remind me of this simple truth every day. In these tough days and the tough ones to come, I will keep these wise words at the top of my consciousness.
This time of year, in Texas, the countryside is covered with wildflowers, Indian Paintbrush and especially our state flower, the Bluebonnet. In central Texas, great swaths of pastureland are covered in the orange-red of the Paintbrush and the blue-violet of the Bluebonnet.
People stream out of the cities to take pictures of this annual occurrence. This year would produce a bumper crop because of the wet and mild winter. There’s probably not a family in Texas who does not have a family picture in a field of Bluebonnets.
Unfortunately, this year with the CV-19 shelter in place, many if not most will not get to enjoy this beautiful season. It’s like the philosophical question “If a tree falls in a forestand no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” If no one can see and enjoy all this beauty, did it really occur? So, this year, for me, it’s the year without Bluebonnets. Sadly, a lot of things didn’t or won’t occur this year.
This past week, I cancelled the last of our reservations for the trip to Big Bend National Park. The Park itself will not reopen until June 1st at the earliest so there was really no hope of sneaking it in after the shelter in place is lifted which will probably be May 15th.
I was really looking forward to returning to Big Bend after 40 years with my friends and to showing my German friend Katja something that she will not see in Europe, wide open spaces with few people, buildings or cars and the Milky Way as she’s never seen it before. Those of us here in Dallas don’t see the stars that way either, there is almost no light pollution in that part of Texas, it’s just so remote.
For me, this year so far has been about a lot of change and adaptation. Some changes have already occurred, and some will occur in the future but, things will change. From reading the Dalai Lama, I was reminded that some pain is unavoidable but may be necessary to move forward with healing.
The future always holds promise, I know this year there’s unavoidable pain coming my way as well. As I try to prepare myself for it, I hope I’m strong enough.
For a while now, certainly for the last week, I’ve been in a pretty deep funk, maybe even a little depressed. There’s a lot of negative things happening on many levels. The sense of isolation brought on by CV-19 is a shared pain, the health issues with my father is a very personal bit of confinement. And then, there’s everything in between.
Early on, way back in 2017, as I climbed over the Pyrenees on a blustery Day 1 of my first Camino, I became very aware of how damaging negativity can be. I think we all sort of know that but, we don’t always take control of it, resist it. So, after being pulled back down towards that pit, I am now actively resisting it once again.
To that end, I found a YouTube show called Travels by Narrow Boat, I’ve just finished Season One (there are several seasons, who could have imagined). The show is about a guy who was burned out on life, divorced and maybe a little middle-aged crazy who cashes out and buys a narrow boat on the canals of England.
As with many YouTube shows, it’s not always well done (single camera), there’s no script or plan. It gets better with time or, I got used to it, I don’t know which it is, maybe both.
Kevin Shelley is the Country House Gent (CHG) who produces, writes (?), directs and stars in the show. Season One took him out of his van as he navigates first the purchase of and then his maiden voyage on the Aslan.
From there the show, 10 episodes I believe, takes him through what at first is the monotonous chugging of the 2-cylinder diesel engine as he cruises aimlessly thorough central England and apparently a million locks.
It took me until the third episode to catch on to the simplicity and when I realized the monotony was not that but it was a relief, a calm, where even the constant and ever present chugging of the diesel engine becomes very meditative like the mantra of his journey.
Relevant once again
I then realized that it was very much like the Camino for a Pilgrim. It was an adjustment, a shock to the system and a slowing of pace. Once he’d slowed down, suddenly things that once seemed important were not and pedestrian things like ducks, not knowing what day it was and working the locks became normal and valuable. People became more important and things less so. While the boat is larger than a backpack, his existence in that moment is basic and simple. Kevin discovers mindfulness.
In the final show, the CHG and the Aslan arrive in Chester, near Liverpool. As he travels on that last day, he realizes the joy of arrival, even as he’s been there before but he never saw it from this vantage point. Like walking across Spain where you saw everything in normal time and at eye level, he sees Chester very differently. He also sees his life very differently as well.
Kevin also laments the end of his journey but, as many of us have discovered, sometimes the end of a journey is just in fact, the beginning of the next. Please refer to my post, Vanishing Point. Obviously, he has more journeys as there are several seasons now but, it’s interesting to hear him reflect on the changes he’s experienced and how his journey has colored his view of the world. Most Pilgrims I believe can relate very well to his change and growth.
Oddly, the program has restored some calm in my life. I enjoyed watching the scenery and appreciating his discovery of this new point of view. I also had to laugh that he always seemed to be in the same clothes. On my 2017 Camino, I took 3 t-shirts, but it seems that in most of the pictures that I’m in, I always appear in the same one. I changed shirts everyday but you could not tell by the pictures. Same with the CHG.
The worlds gone mad and we’re all in time-out wearing masks. You’ve got time and if you’re patient, you may enjoy Travels by Narrow Boat too. Or, you may think its total rubbish and wonder why in hell anyone would bother to watch. You’ll never know until you give it a try.
In my last post, I commented upon how a book that I’d recently read had impacted me and made things more clear regarding happiness, my happiness specifically and how I now had a better understanding of what made me happy.
In The Happiness of Pursuit, the author had suggested making a list of goals, quests or journeys that were important to each of us. My list is in the previous post but there was one that troubled me.
I’d included in my list that I’d like to perform a random act of kindness everyday for a year. As I lay awake early one morning I began to think about this quest. I began to question whether I could achieve that goal or, was I setting myself up to fail.
My concern was not whether I was good enough or motivated enough to perform these acts but, would they be worthy enough acts to qualify. Was honestly greeting someone and wishing them well enough?
I guess I thought that these acts needed to be extraordinary or noteworthy to qualify, something memorable. I was doubting that I could come up with this type of gesture on a daily basis. At the same time, I was concerned that I would count trivial gestures in the absence of a great ones.
Fortunately, a friend helped me see the error in my thought process. While I was thinking grand, she distilled it down to the manageable by reminding me that if it came from the heart and was genuine, the scale was not important. The answers to my questions, were there before me, in plain sight, not seen by a man looking in the wrong place.
I don’t know if learned a new lesson today but if not, I was reminded of one that my Grandma Jones taught me a long time ago. You don’t have to look far from home to find happiness.
In a post several weeks ago, I wrote about renewing my old passport and the memories that it triggered. I actually sent my application in on October 7th, and had my new passport on the 14th. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. Stunned is probably a better word.
In the U.S., we have a process called Global Entry which helps speed you through Customs and Immigration when you reenter the country. It’s very handy and I do appreciate the time savings and no long queues. When I came back from Spain this year, I cleared C&I in less than 5 minutes.
Along with but also separate from Global Entry is TSA PreCheck. TSA Pre as it’s called helps expedite the security process at all domestic airports and spares you the indignity of removing your shoes, belt and jacket. You don’t have to remove your laptop and watch, etc. because you’re going through a metal detector instead of a scanner. I’m in airports a lot and being without this after my TSA Pre expired was a pain.
After I received my new passport, I applied to renew my Global Entry which includes TSA Pre. I was surprised that I had to schedule another interview which involves driving out to DFW and, the appointments are often well in the future. My next surprise was that there was one appointment available on the 17th which I quickly snapped up.
Long story short, I was approved, I had my TSA Pre approved and, I received my Global Entry card on the 21st. The U.S. Government does not have a good reputation for efficiency but damn! that was very efficient. So, hats off to the State Department and Homeland Security. I’m good for another five years.
So, why am I writing this? Certainly not to sing the praises of these two departments. No, looking at my brand new, stiff, clean and stampless passport reminds me of the possibilities. Where will it take me? Who will I meet? What experiences await me?
Some trips in the consideration phase now are France next year, maybe renting a boat on the Burgundy Canal or the Canal du Midi. After that, in 2021, maybe a long overdue trip to South Africa to see Dawn and Nallie. Somewhere along the line, maybe a long weekend in Montréal, who knows, anything is possible.
The possibilities are not because I have a new passport, it’s because I allow myself to dream about these possibilities and, I hope I never stop dreaming.
Now
that I’ve returned from Spain and reintegrated myself into the sur-real world,
I’m taking care of all of life’s housekeeping issues. One of these is renewing my Passport which
will expire early next year.
What
began as a mundane clerical task, has turned into a very pleasant trip down
memory lane, something the State Department probably never expected. Renewing your Passport in the USA is a simple
process; enter your info in the online form, print it, get a new picture and
mail it off, not forgetting the most important part, the fee of $110. You gotta pay the man.
What
caught my attention as I was going through this process were all the stamps
that I have in my Passport. These stamps
represent the trips I’ve taken, the places I’ve visited, the stories I can tell
(some true) and, the people I’ve met.
The sad thing is that someday, probably soon, these ink stamps will
probably be phased out as everything becomes digital, that makes me sad in a
way.
I
remember that we renewed our last Passports in preparation for our first trip
to Spain. We spent a little over 2 weeks
and traveled to Grenada, Sevilla, Bilbao, Donostia/San Sebastian and Madrid.
The
Alhambra was stunning, visiting the Moorish Bath’s and seeing the sites of
Sevilla including the resting place of Christobal Colón (Christopher
Columbus). While interesting, he’s also
the man that began the decimation of the Native American people.
World
Cup mania in the year that Spain won the World Cup, Pride Month and street
parties in Bilbao and Madrid. Festivals
in Orio with fresh caught fish and local beef cooked on oak fired open
grills. Tapas in both Donostia/San
Sebastian and Bilbao will never be forgotten.
Driving in the Pyrenees very near where the Camino de Santiago crosses from France to Spain, getting lost, the phantom GPS and Leighton’s T-Shirt shop. And, a day trip to Guernika-Lumo and hearing about the Camino de Santiago from the first Pilgrim I’d ever met. All of these memories made me fall in love with Spain and set into place my return in 2017 to walk the Camino Francés to Santiago de Compostela. Our travelling companions were Leighton, Renee, Meg and Jean.
Nothing Honey, just looking…
2013
brought us back to Spain but only briefly.
On our first trip we did not visit Barcelona, we corrected that on this
trip with a 2 day visit to that beautiful city, not enough time but, there’s
always next year.
We
moved on to Beaune, France, the heart of the Burgundy region. Susan and I had visited in January 1991 on a
ridiculously cheap 5-day trip. For some,
that may not mean much but first of all it was the dead of winter and, it was
also just before the first Gulf War, Desert Storm and no one was travelling for
fear of terrorist attacks perpetrated by Saddam.
On
that trip we took a day trip to Beaune and enjoyed it so much we knew that we
had to take our friends there, which we did.
This region of France is beautiful, the city is worth visiting and the
caves that riddle the ground beneath the city and store the wines of the region
are a must see. We did a driving tour on
the Wine Road and I tasted probably the best white wine I’ve ever had in in
Meursault, too bad I was driving.
We traveled south via train to Arles which became our home base as we day tripped to Avignon, Orange and Nîmes. On July 4th, we drove out to the Pont du Gard and caught the Tour de France as the Peloton raced through Beaucaire. Something that most Americans will never experience.
Le Tour de France, Beaucaire
We
finished with a quick visit to Paris, the last time I saw Notre-Dame prior to
the tragic fire and the first time I saw Monet’s Water Lilies in person at the
l’Orangerie. A quick train trip to
London via the Chunnel, Jersey Boy’s in the West End and then home.
Once
again, memories made with Susan, Leighton, Renee, Meg, Jean, Linda and my late
friend Dave.
2014 was Maui, no Passport stamp here but, good friends, this time including Steve and Nancy who travelled with us to Italy but that stamp is in the previous Passport. For my European friends, Hawaii is an 8-hour flight from Dallas so it feels like an international flight.
Not bad for 58
2016 took us to Istanbul and southern Italy,
Naples, Sorrento and Rome with a couple days in the Cinque Terre.
Istanbul
is a beautiful city in a very troubled country.
Our guide, Mine (Mee-Nay) not only showed us this city, she also helped
explain the turmoil in her country. But
it seems that this city has been in turmoil throughout history.
The Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque and the Cisterns built by Justinian are staggering in their beauty and historical significance. The park on the site of the Roman Hippodrome was ground zero for the Ramadan celebration which was occurring during our short visit.
Blue Mosque, Istanbul
We flew next to Naples where we met our daughter Leah. Our tight and very comfortable travel pack once again consisted of Susan, Leighton and Renee, Leah fit in well as she’s known Leighton all her life and Renee for many years.
On
the Sorrento peninsula we stayed in Baia di Puolo and day tripped to Capri,
Pompei and enjoyed walking the hillsides as we were now sort of training for out
Camino.
Rome came next, a dazzling busy city that from a tourist’s point of view was quite walk-able from our Airbnb flat in the Piazza Navona neighborhood. A quick visit to the Cinque Terre and more hills to walk which Leighton and I did, Renee joined Leighton and Susan, Leah and I traveled to Pisa which we’d missed on our earlier trip to Italy. That night, we heard about the bombing at the airport which we would be flying through to get home in a couple days.
Cold beer with my buddy
2017
took some of us back to Spain to walk the Camino de Santiago, a trip well
documented in this blog so, I’ll only say the event changed my view on many
things. The people I met, some I now
consider good friends, will never be forgotten.
My
Passport reminds me of our 2018 trip to Iceland, Ireland and Germany. Some locations were new, some were a return,
Ireland and Germany allowed me to reconnect with Camino friends and, neighbors
from Dallas.
Iceland
was a stark and beautiful place, we arrived just after the solstice so the sun
was up until 0200 and rose again at about 0415, it never got dark and I was
happy that I had my eye shades.
We hiked a glacier, a first for Susan but I think she enjoyed it. We drank and ate outrageously expensive food and wine and we thoroughly enjoyed the Blue Lagoon and I think the most expensive lunch I’ve ever eaten. I must say though that I was totally relaxed after that visit.
Blue Lagoon
Ireland brought me back to my friends Bernie and Nigel, Camino friends of the first degree. They shared their knowledge of the Dingle Peninsula with us and welcomed Susan as if she’d trekked across Spain with us. Dublin brought its own surprise, an evening with our neighbors from Dallas and the opportunity of meet G’s family there.
Nigel, Keith, Susan & Bernie in
Germany
brought a reunion with my Ω (omega) friend Katja. I call her my omega friend as she was the
last friend from my 2017 Camino that I met, like Leo, my Α (alpha) friend. I’m lucky that we met, she’s a good
friend. Like Bernie and Nigel in
Ireland, it gave Susan an opportunity to meet another friend that I’d met while
gone for 5 weeks, it put a face with a name.
Katja & Susan
Now as I look at my rapidly filling Passport,
I’m reminded of my return to Spain last month, the Camino and more
friends. My trip this year began as a
very solo experience. Unlike the Camino
Francés, the Camino Inglés is a solitary walk through the hills and valleys of
Galicia. This sometimes-lonely walk made
me look forward to my reunion with old friends near León.
Meeting
Chris and Steve, the Professors from 2017 and now friends here in Texas was
great fun. Chris was escorting a group
of her students across the Camino, a totally new experience for them. Monasteries, Convents, Municipal Albergues
and a vegetarian/yoga albergue had to be as alien as it comes.
More old friends joined us in Astorga. Leo, Leighton, Renee and Katja caught us there and we walked together for another day and a half until we had to separate.
Renee, Leighton, Keith, Katja and Leo in Astorga
Mi
Amiga, Katja, who I call the Camino Beast as this was her 5th Camino,
we walked for several days together. I
apparently earned a new nickname, her Goat Brother, hermano de cabra because of
my hill climbing ability. What she
didn’t point out was that on the downhill portion, I probably deserved a less
flattering nickname. We separated in
Ourence as she continued on to Puebla de Sanabria and the Camino Sanabres and I
went on to Santiago and my trip home.
Looking
at the stamps in my soon to expire Passport has brought all of these memories
back in a tidal wave of happiness and, some sadness. Wonderful sites, tragic events, incredible
food and wine, tales, true and embellished and People. People that I will never forget. Sharing food and drink with these people. Sharing a crowded albergue with people
I hardly knew. Saying goodbye to those
same people and saying hello to the people who await me upon my
arrival home.
All of this summarized in a navy-blue, well-worn, government issued booklet containing a bad picture, a bar code, a micro-chip and multi-colored stamps representing these places, people and memories. It seems like an odd trigger but, a trigger it was. So now, a new Passport with clean pages waiting to store 10 more years of new memories, is in my immediate future. I can’t wait.
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? 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.
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.
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.
