Day 36 - Portomarin - Monday 25 May 2009

Portomarin -> Portomarin = Zero K (Still 90K to go!)

“Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.”

It is cold and rainy. My left shin feels stiff, sore and is swollen. I dress and put on my pack, hoping I can walk off the pain and make a short day (15K), but as I stride up the hill, through the cold rain, I realize I need to take a day off. I run into the Canadian who is suffering from blister issues and accompany him to the local medical facility to help with language challenges. (He speaks no Spanish.)

So here I am back at the albergue, sipping espresso from the vending machine while the staff mops floors around me. Outside, fog has rolled in – the lake view is almost obscured. It feels strange to be in this large, empty place.

A little about the lake: the Belesar Reservoir is a man made lake. Portomorin was nestled in a valley and was completely submerged when the reservoir was built. The old St Nickolas Church was moved, block by block to the top of the hill where it looks down on the lake. All the other buildings in town are only a few decades old. Fish swim in and out of the empty homes submerged in the vast lake.

The damp, chilly weather makes me miss my fleece. I left it behind somewhere and really haven’t missed it until now. When I am walking I keep warm enough most days.And I wear my rain poncho to help with the wind and cold.

Around 1300 I ventured out to find some groceries. I have the kitchen to myself essentially. I came home with a large ripe tomato, a bag of cheese tortellini and some wine. I also splurged on a novel to read during the rainy afternoon. There were about 5 titles in English to choose from. The book was eminently forgettable.

As I was preparing my simple repast, the Canadian appeared and joined me for lunch. He contributed a loaf of bread and conversation. He also washed the dishes. Outside the miserable rain continued.

After lunch, I showered and crawled into my upper bunk to read and nap the rainy afternoon away.

The extra day was necessary, but I was sorry to fall behind my familiar companions. I wonder who will be in Santiago when I finally arrive?

Day 35 - Portomarin - Sunday, 24 May 2009

Sarria -> Portomarin = 26K (Under 100K now: just 90.4K to go!)

I was up about 0600 – too much snoring and snorting in the room. With only 5 roommates I thought it might be quieter.

I walked across Sarria, where King Alfonso IX lost his life on his way to Compostela. He founded the city and gave it his name and then ended up dying there. I did not linger there, but stopped for an al fresco breakfast at the top of the stair steps on the pilgrim route. I ran into “Herr Gummischuhe” there and at the next coffee stop S. (the Irish woman) and J. (a German woman) joined us for the rest of our day’s walk.

The day was damp and rainy and we moved along quickly. The pilgrims who only walk 100K are pretty obvious. They are so clean and many of them seem rather humorless and sober. Those of us with hundreds of kilometers under our belts are getting almost giddy with delight: less than 100K to go! It seems like nothing. We laugh and joke and draw ugly looks from some of the pilgrims who just began the walk.

One 100K pilgrim singled me out. “Wow, you have a tan,” he says in a dear Irish accent. “You are a real pilgrim! Can I take your photo?” So our motley crew posed for a photo. We encounter many Irish pilgrims. They invariably comment, “Galicia looks is just like Ireland, only the mountains are smaller in Ireland.”

My left leg gives me pain. It is quite uncomfortable, perhaps from the long, swift walk yesterday. I struggle to keep walking. When we stop I realize my ankle is swollen and my SmartWool socks are constricting my leg. I fold the socks down to relieve some of the pressure and continue walking.

We arrive in Portomarin and check into the albergue. S discovers she has left her pilgrim credential at the albergue in Sarria. While she and my other companions make phone calls and take care of that situation, I collapse in a chair and peel off my left sock. My ankle is quite swollen.

The albergue at Portomarin has the look of a large hospital ward – bays of bunk beds with every four rows flanked with white privacy curtains. It is a huge facility with hundreds of beds. There is a wonderful view of the lake below and there is a pleasant place to dine next door.

I head over to the restaurant with J. and several other pilgrims join us, including my Canadian buddy (whom I first met at the scary albergue in Rabe) and the young Priest from Indiana and the Danish woman who lives in Spain and a few other familiar faces. The place is filled with pilgrim faces I recognize.

I call it a night rather early, hoping my leg will be back to normal tomorrow. I hope the cold rain will blow over.

Day 34 - Sarria - Saturday 23 May 2009

Fonfria -> Sarria (via Samos!) = 35K (Only 115K and I will be in Santiago!)

Despite the steep descent and the extra kilometers I logged on my unintentional detour through Samos, my feet are happy; the band aids are gone and no blisters remain!

The albergue I am so grateful to be in, is most pleasant. I am curled up on a couch near the fireplace in the common room, listening to new-age music and sipping tea. An exuberant kitten is playing hide and seek on the adjacent couch. (There are 8 more cats on the premises.)

Outside, thunder rumbles and a deluge of rain falls. I am glad to be warm and cozy here indoors. I arrived before the rain began. It would be difficult to walk in such a storm.

The days’ walk was lovely for the most part, but longer than I intended. At Tricastela there were two paths and somehow I took the longer route via Samos. The reward for the longer walk was the chance to see a fine 6th century Benedictine monastery with the beautiful renaissance courtyard.

Over coffee in Samos, another pilgrim tells me that I am now in the 11th stage of the Codex Calixtinus. Aymeric Picaud wrote this ancient book detailing the challenges and hardships of the pilgrimage to Santiago. Many pilgrims still use it as a guide.

The last 15K from Samos to Sarria is rural and mostly on a sealed road lined with chestnut trees and oaks. The villages seem deserted except for the large dogs (they resemble German Shepherds) who greet me as I enter each community. They wag their tails, but are a bit wary of strangers.

As I walked through the woods, I ran across the “Gypsy Boy” today (the brother of the delightful French woman who is traveling with her almost-4 year old son). He had a small encampment in the woods and was cooking a lovely lunch of bacon-wrapped meat and some vegetables over hot coals in a small fire pit he had dug beneath a tree. His look is somehow timeless and seeing him in the forest, bent over his cooking, he resembles an old painting depicting life in another century. The image is strong.

Later I see the “Gypsy Boy’s” sister and her blue-eyed boy as they pass the albergue where I am spending the night. The youngster is lured in by the chickens on the lawn. He chases after them, laughing. It is a delightful scene until the rooster, thinking his hens are in danger, attacks the child. That is the end of the fun, at least for a little while. (The documentary film crew materialized and got this adventure on film! I have not seen them since Logrono!)

As I write, the evening meal is being prepared. The smells are inviting. I suspect there will be a tortilla Espanol (a potato omlette) and Caldo Gallego (regional soup). This will be a nice change from the frequent offerings lentejas (lentils) which most albergues prepare for the pilgrim meal.

This is a private albergue, run by two generations of a family. It is a new building and is well designed and the hosts are kind and warm people. After 30 + nights in a different bed every night, I have some opinions on how to run an albergue!

Tomorrow the 100K pilgrims will begin to appear. I have about 600K under my belt now – 100K does not seem like much. But, I am not eager for it to end just yet.

Day 28 - Astorga - Sunday, 17 May 2009

Astorga (256K to Santiago!)

The days and nights are filled with ups and downs; some are emotional while others are physical.

I did not really enjoy my experiences in Leon. It is a beautiful city and there were lovely moments, but as in Burgos, in Leon I found myself feeling like an outsider, like a homeless person. I struggled with my attitude during my short stay there. I was exhausted.

I am quite glad to leave the city behind me, just an image in my metaphorical rear-view mirror.

I am now miles and miles down the road now and journaling again. My spirits are better.

Today was a lovely walking day. I found myself striding along with a couple delightful young women. (One is a soldier in UK and the other a Yale graduate originally from Romania). We sang silly songs and laughed a lot. It was healing for me.

As I head west, the terrain changes. I am reminded of the forest in the film “The Big Fish”.

The albergue is pleasant. There are about ten people per room. I have a wonderful view from my upper bunk – the city of Astorga stretches out in the valley outside my window and the moon shines in, lighting the notebook I am writing in. My suitemates include three people from Slovakia who just started their Camino in Leon – they are dealing with foot issues and overweight packs. There is a delightful Dutch man and a Danish woman and a German woman plus my two walking partners of the day.

When we returned from dinner tonight we were all in a crazy mood – lots of laughing and sharing stories, long after the lights went out. Just when we were dozing off the very tall  Dutch man fell from the upper bunk, making us all laugh. He became known as the Flying Dutchman. We were all like children at a slumber party.

Tomorrow, I will climb one of the two most challenging mountains on this journey. Tomorrow, I will write from the top of the mountain.

Day 21 - Boadilla de Camino - Monday, 11 May 2009

Hontanas -> Boadilla de Camino = 28K (430K to go!)

Three weeks ago I boarded the plane from the USA and headed for Spain – and in three weeks I will be on my way from Santiago de Compostela to Madrid to catch my flight back to America and home.

I am, unfortunately, NOT halfway to Santiago yet.

I am, however, making rapid progress now. Today, my happy, healthy legs and feet carried me almost 30K. Tomorrow I will probably make 25K. One note in my guide says to bank BEFORE leaving Carrion de Condes – no banks for two days. The terrain on the meseta is flat farmland, few trees or villages. This time of year it is a beautiful green blanket, but I try to imagine walking it when the blanket is golden in the heat of summer. The vast meseta is like a green sea.

The long, slow climb up to the flat meseta was early in the day and rain threatened so I donned my bold, red poncho; climbing and sweating – it was a good workout. I maintain the same pace on climbs as I do on flatland. This is not true of most of the other pilgrims I observe. Perhaps I have some mountain goat genes!

Before arriving today, I met with a flock of sheep – they flooded around me as I stood in the middle of the path, delighting at my good fortune.

I arrived at this lovely private albergue about 1400, showered, washed and hung laundry, and downed a large, delicious bowl of café con leche. Rainclouds are moving in and threatening my wet laundry.

Tonight I will sleep on the bottom bunk (most nights I choose the top bunk). The bunks last night were extremely high and I had a hard time climbing into bed. I tore my walking trousers and my tote bag in the process. At 0600, I had an even more challenging time getting out of that bunk. Even an acrobat would have called it a challenge.

Most of the day I walked alone. I like to be alone with my thoughts. I did have nice interactions with a German woman who works in the department of monuments. I see her often on the path. She is an excellent walker and always looks so poised, confident and well-turned out. I also ran into B. (the Canadian guy who stayed at Rabe the night I was there) and the woman from Atlanta (who also stayed with us at Rabe). They were both still festering from our shared night at that place.

Right now lightening is flashing and thunder is booming. The rain is pummeling the earth. Already the sidewalk outside the window looks like a river during flood season. We pilgrims are inside, sitting in the dark, thinking about the repercussions of all this rain. Half dry laundry is draped on bedposts. There will be wet clothes tomorrow and there will certainly be terrible mud to trudge through. And what if we are walking in such a storm? Miles from anything…lightening…

Eduardo, one of the albergue’s hospitaleros runs in. He is soaking wet, dripping on the floor, working to light the gas heater for us. Outside the lilac bushes bend to the ground – the wind makes everything bow and dance as it sings. The sweet smells of rain penetrate into the room. I am reminded of spring rainstorms back when I was a child in Iowa.

I seem to be the only native-English speaker in the room. The other pilgrims are Germans and Spaniards who are traveling in small groups.I am alone. Somehow I feel almost invisible among them – lonely and alone in a crowd. They do not reach out to me or include me, nor do I make an effort to initiate a conversation. I have no book and sit here, trapped by the rain, whiling away the time until dinner (hours from now) by journaling and staring out the window.

Finally the rain lets up and a weak sun emerges from behind clouds. I set out to explore this empty, bleak little village. I have a nice photo-opp, but my recalcitrant camera fails me again (it is a battery operated digital – I wanted to avoid the charging challenges, but it seems to eat batteries faster than I can replace them!). A pleasant German woman strikes up a conversation.

Later we share the pilgrim meal. Across the table are two young firefighters from Galicia. We laughed and talked and sipped wine. Favorite movies came up and I was delighted when they indicated “Princess Bride” as a favorite. Later a retired Spanish Colonel joined our conversation. He served at Torrejon de Ardoz back in the 70’s when I lived there too. So we had much to talk about. The lively conversation and camaraderie was quite a contrast to the earlier isolation during the rainstorm.

The full moon shines down on me as I make my way to my bed. The end of another delightful day on the Camino.

Day 14 - Santo Domingo de la Calzada - Monday, 4 May 2009

Azofra -> Santo Domingo de la Calzada = 15.5K (638K to go!)

The day never really dawned. I woke late and the grey skies gave no clue to what time it really was.

I made my way down the hall for the usual ablutions, and realized the albergue was empty of other pilgrims. It had the eerie feel of a schoolhouse in summer or a nightclub seen in the light of day.

This albergue provided pilgrims with some privacy. Instead of an open bay filled with bunks, pilgrims shared a small room, designed just for two. What a luxury to have a modicum of privacy (thin plywood walls) and an escape from the usual symphony of snoring and farting and the pre-dawn rustling of plastic bags under the glow of annoying headlamps and flashlights.

So I overslept!

I set out at 0840 as the grey skies morphed into mist and light rain. The temperature dropped. Ahead, I observed a pilgrim disappearing into a taxi cab. (REAL pilgrims carry their bags and walk the entire way, though where these rules are written is a topic of considerable discussion.)  I plodded on up the sloping terrain, eager to find a bar for some hot café con leche. By 1215 I was in Santo Domingo de la Calzada. The one village I passed through had no bar so I was eager to find a dry, warm place to sip some coffee.

I wandered through the historic district, my red poncho the only splash of color on this dreary day. When I saw the albergue, I decided to stop and call it a day. The Spanish Confraternity runs this establishment with its large dining room and convenient location. It is large and modern and well maintained. I will share a room with about 28 other pilgrims. The grey, overcast sky and penetrating humidity takes its toll. I am sleepy, the room feels muggy and close and the bathroom is like a sauna.

This is the jubilee year of the town’s namesake and as luck would have it, there is a special mass today. St Dominic was an 11th century religious hermit and engineer who spent his life designing and building roads and bridges for pilgrims in this wilderness area on the banks of the Rio Oja (River Oja). His remains are housed in the cathedral.

The motto of Santo Domingo de la Calzada is: “Donde la gallina canto despues de asada.” (Where the hen crowed after being roasted.) So, I am especially eager to see the rooster and hen that are housed in the cathedral and play a significant role in the legends about this community.

The condensed version of the tale goes like this: a young pilgrim, traveling with his parents, spurned the advances of a local barmaid. Angered, the young woman hid some silver in the young man’s knapsack and then accused him of stealing from the tavern. Of course the evidence was there and the young man was marched to the gallows and hanged. The devastated, but devoted parents prayed earnestly to St James and knowing St James would support their innocent son, they proceeded on their pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, leaving their son strung up on the gallows.

The story does not end here. Once their pilgrimage was complete, the grieving parents return to Santo Domingo de la Calzada and find their son, still hanging and alive. Supporting him from under his feet is the saint. The parents run to the surly judge and ask him to release their innocent son. The judge, who was seated at lunch, scoffed and said if their son was innocent and still alive, the roasted chickens on his plate would stand up and crow. To his great surprise, the roasted chickens did just that! A miracle! St James protects travelers along the pilgrim route and this legend is testimony of that!

I visit the cathedral delight to hear the crowing chickens. Later, I visit the alternate chickens which are housed in the albergue where they wait for their 15-day rotation in the cathedral. I feed these birds bits of bread and feel lucky that they eat my offering. This is considered a good omen, by those who know about omens.

I mingle with other pilgrims and hear the inevitable gossip. About 6 of the pilgrims who I saw at the Azofra albergue last night have shipped their backpacks ahead. Foot and knee problems drive their decisions. My own knee is good now and my backpack (about 8 pounds) is light and not a burden. Some other pilgrims have checked into private hotels for the night rather than deal with the challenges of communal living in the albergue.

Friend Judy's Inspriational Thought for the Day:

HEAVENWARD

Christian Science Hymn 136 (This first verse has many "active" thoughts for May 4th.)

I love Thy way of freedom, Lord,

To serve Thee is my choice,

In Thy clear light of Truth I rise

And, listening for Thy voice,

I hear Thy promise old and new,

That bids all fear to cease:

My presence still shall go with thee

And I will give thee peace.

(This is a favorite of mine and I sing it frequently! - VJP)

Day 11 - Navarrete - Friday, 1 May 2009

Logrono -> Navarrete = 13K (597K to go!)

Navarrete is charming. I feel as if I have stepped back in time. With all the shops closed and the people closeted away for siesta, the medieval character is really evident. The streets are cobbled and they wind around the curve of terrain like a maze or a labyrinth. I only logged 13K, but the town appeals to me and a look at the logistics of going further firm the deal for me (16K to Najera, the next community and no fountains or services before that.) So, a short day for me. Visions of a hot shower, time to wash my hair and the lure of a washing machine firm my resolve to stop here for the night.

I check in, handle my tasks and then wander around the town a bit. It is still siesta so I have the place to myself. I visit the local church. There are many pottery shops. Locals have used the red clay to ply a living since Roman times.

I find an open fruto-seco (a shop that sells a variety of produce and food) and splurge on some bacon which will go nicely with the tomatoes, bread and wine. A stop at the local bar to use the Internet and then its back to the albergue.

The weather has clouded up and rain is falling. Pilgrims scurry around to find a place to hang their wet laundry. Poor R! She used the washing machine to wash all her clothes and THEN discovered that the drier does not work.

The rain keeps us trapped indoors. I find a novel abandoned by another pilgrim and try to get interested in the science fiction story. I sit in the kitchen reading and eying the Asian family as they prepare dumplings from scratch. Cooking is a family endeavor. Later, they invite me to sample some of their efforts..

A pilgrim sits down to eat and finds himself crashing to the floor. The wobbly chair had collapsed under him. The hospitalero rushed in to assess the situation. He did not even offer the surprised pilgrim a word or a hand. He simply glared, then turned on his heel and returned to his desk by the door.An unexpected response. The poor man looked embarrassed and I expect he was sore from the fall too.

There is another American staying here. She is from Boston. I attempt to spark a conversation, but when I introduce myself and offer my hand, she drew back and simply looks at me for a moment. Then she turns away. I stand there a moment before I turn on my heel and walk away.

I return to my novel.My mind clamors, thinking about how people respond to other people in unexpected ways. One would think there would be camaraderie among all pilgrims, but it is not true.

One can be very lonely amid the crowd of pilgrims staying at an alburgue.

I am in bed by 9PM listening to the lullaby of snoring and farting that are becoming the background music of my sleeping hours. (Many people use ear plugs to avoid this stress. I am adjusting, but the volume and frequency of these nocturnal noises deserves comment!) One woman talks on her cell phone long after lights out. I hear her weeping.

Day 10 - Logrono - Thursday, 30 April 2009

Viana -> Logrono = 7K (610K to go!)

The walk into Logrono charmed me. The inviting, cottage-like, adobe houses crowd onto the very edge of the road. Flowers spill out of window boxes, caged birds trill, cats wander in and out and doors are open. People sit on benches and watch the pilgrims pass by. The smell of soup wafts out on the spring breeze. I slow my pace, taking it all in.

I can’t help but think of the poem, The House by the Side of the Road. (Mother used to quote bits of it as she went about her work around the house. – the third stanza is most familiar to me.)

The House By the Side of the Road
By Sam Walter Foss

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by -
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban;
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears -
Both parts of an infinite plan;
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
And the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by -
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish - so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.


As I walk, I stop at an open door and gaze in. The two women inside gesture and invite me in. They offer coffee and sweets. This is what they do. They invite pilgrims in. This is their daily offering, making strangers feel welcome, helping pilgrims who travel a long and sometimes lonely road to Santiago far away.

And it is not just people along the way who reach out to pilgrims. Each day, my friend Judy, back in the USA, e-mails a daily uplifting thought to me. Her sweet offerings are wonderful fuel for my thoughts as I walk along each day. I look forward to these thoughts.

It’s good to remember that I walk with Love (God) along the way (see below). These thoughts frame my experience and make it richer.

This thought is from the second verse of the CS Hymn 139:

Who walks with Love along the way?
Shall talk with Love and Love obey;
God's healing truth is free to all,
Our Father answers every call;
‘Tis He dispels the clouds of gray
That all may walk with Love today.

As I sat, posing for a photo, it occurred to me that I should return to our modest house by the side of the road (in sunny SC), get a few chickens and a big orange cat and be happy. It was almost as if a voice spoke to me as I sat there smelling the perfume from the spring flowers and listening to the birds chatter. 

I walk on, into the city..

I am in Rioja now – the wine producing region of Spain. About 135,000 people live here. It seems large after all the tiny villages I have been walking through. I cross the Ebro River and find the bustling downtown area.

Rese and I sit in an outdoor café and eat tortilla. I flirt with a bright-eyed 2-year old boy whose family smiles at us. He laughs when I share my tiny quacking duck with him. I laugh.

The boy and his family take their leave. Moments later the small child reappears, supervised by an adult. He thrusts out his chubby fist to present me with a bag of hard candies. They purchased them for me. The phrase "never take candy from strangers" runs through my head. I laugh and say gracias.

I walk away thinking about the kindness of people I meet along the way. Sucking on a piece of the candy, I am mindful that people are respectful of pilgrims. They know there is meaning in what we are doing.

It rains on us in Logrono. Hard rain. Fortunately it is worst after we are already safe in our beds, but I did have to navigate my way home from dinner in the showers.

I was lucky enough to have an invitation to join the TV documentary film crew for dinner. The meal was truly a gourmet event with the food prepared by the men in an elite gastronomical society and served in a lovely dining room. These men have met each Thursday for about 50 years.These culinary societies are typical in this region of Spain. I am honored to be a guest.

The food was wonderful and I enjoyed a departure from the more Spartan life of a pilgrim. (My usual fare has been thin lentil soup and crusty bread.) There were several courses of rich food, prepared and presented in style.


I felt like Cinderella as I scurried back to my albergue to beat the curfew – they lock the doors at about 2130 each night. Pilgrims who miss curfew are just out of luck.

I made it "home" just as the door was being closed. Idreamed sweet dreams of rich, elegant food, orange cats and my little house in sunny SC
.

Day 6 - Estella - Sunday, 26 April 2009

Puente la Reina -> Estella = 22.4K (656.6K to go!)

I slog through thick mud as I climb up a steep hill, only to face another muddy challenge.

As I walk, I make mental lists of all the things I am grateful for. I sing all the inspiring Christian Science hymns and reflect on all the healing truths I've learned.

The rain is intermittent, the day is cold. And my knee aches. I struggle to keep up with my delightful walking companions.

I remain cheerful and pleasant. I absorb the beautiful countryside around me and stay engaged, but it is a struggle today.

This is a character-building experience. A spiritual being having a very physical experience.

I walk on the dirt path past vineyards, olive trees, and fresh green grains springing up to the sky. There are fields of asparagus. I pass through the medieval village of Ciruqui. The name makes me laugh a nervous laugh - in Basque it means "nest of vipers". The paths are actually covered with large black slugs and many snails. I am grateful to find no real vipers along the path.

I continue soldiering on past cypress trees that flank a 2,000 year old Roman bridge. I recall reading a horror-story extracted from an old pilgrims guide that tells of some French pilgrims who met their death and lost their horses in a violent incident when some wicked Navarese men tricked them. Blood and gore - not a happy tale.

Later in the day, I give my 2 young friends "permission" to simply move on. I walk on alone. I walk very slowly down the steps, over the wooden bridge and down the long last slope into Estella. My knee hurts. I weep a bit. I feel old and broken. I weep as I walk down the mountain.

At the albergue in Estella, I am grateful to find a bed and I am grateful to find a pair of English-speaking angels who share a pilgrim meal with me. My spirits lift over a meal and conversation. The 3 of us share common histories of military careers and working with students (13-18) in leadership and development programs. We sip wine and I almost forget my aching knee.

The sun comes out on the walk back to the albergue.

I am grateful that tomorrow will be another day.

Day 5 - Puente La Reina - Saturday, 25 April 2009

Cizur Menor -> Puente la Reina = 20.4K (679.9K to go!)

I am a jackrabbit today. I lope up the ascent quickly. It is a thrill to climb and the rhythm of my own pace feels good. My walking companions are far behind me as I stand at the peak of Alto de Perdon and take in the spectacular view.

The weather has changed. True to the forecast the day is overcast and cold. Rain threatens. At the peak, the wind is strong. The dark sky provides drama and suits the huge metal pilgrim sculpture that dominates this space. The piece consists of enormous silhouettes of pilgrims parading across the mountaintop, heading westward to Santiago.

I zip up my fleece and pull my silk socks over my hands (in lieu of gloves). I attempt to take a photo, but once again my camera batteries are depleted. So much for collecting photographic reminders of my travels today.

I began the walk down the other side of the mountain. Today is the day I discover that walking down a steep slope can be more challenging than the exhilarating climb up to the peak. My left knee begins to speak to me as I walk beside a delightful French-speaking Canadian. I take smaller steps and try to walk off the sensation.

We stopped at a bar to sip cafe con leche and to warm up. My leg really began to talk then, so I rested for a while. As I waited, my Spanish walking companions of the day before arrived. Their pace is more leisurely and my knee could use a rest so, I elected to move forward with them. During the next 10K, I was forced to stop at a pharmacy to purchase a knee bandage.

I went from rabbit to turtle. Is this what it is like to be old?

We walked on and went through the small town of Obanos, where the Navarre and Aragon camino routes merge. We continued on to the town of Puente la Reina (literally queen's bridge). The rain began to fall. My knee ached. I was grateful to stop atthe albergue and call it a day.

We ate the pilgrim's menu at a local bar (asparagus, veal cutlets, chocolate mousse, wine, and bread) and watched a party of youngsters at the next table. The adults were seated at a separate table and the enthusiastic children (ages 3-10) were rambunctious and rowdy. The adults seemed oblivious of their behavior and the children reveled in their activities. I found it refreshing to be among people who seem to allow children to simply be children. There were no threats or dirty looks from cross parents as there most likely would be among a group of people from the USA.

The rainy day wound down with me accomplishing the mundane daily chores of pilgrim life: showering, laundry, errands (an ATM and batteries). This albergue is large - about 75 beds, but divided into small rooms with about 6-10 per room. (FYI: one of my roommates is a horseman - his gear smelled of horse lineament and sweat. I would like to have seen his horse.)

I fall asleep despite the snoring and the musty smells of wet laundry. Rain splashes on the window and matches my mood - will my knee recover overnight?