Day 40 - Monte do Gozo - Friday, 29 May 2009

Arco de Pino -> Monte do Gozo = 16K (3K more and I will be in Santiago for Pilgrim Mass!)

The sweet smell of eucalyptus and the shaded walk make the 10 kilometer walk very pleasant despite the fact I have yet to get my morning coffee and toast. I am grateful for the shade, because the day is already humid and hot, though it is not yet 0900.

As I walk, I consider my plans. I will stop at Monte do Gonzo, just 3 kilometers short of my ultimate destination. Then I may take the bus into the suburbs of Santiago (leaving my pack at the albergue). I can shop for a skirt, a razor and real shampoo. I can also get a camera, since I can’t make mine work. (I am sad that I have no photos of the last half of the trip.) I will take the bus back to the albergue and get cleaned up for my final entrance, on foot, into Santiago.

It seems amazing to me that I will be at the pilgrim office near the cathedral tomorrow morning – I will be there when they open. The past 6 weeks seem like a dream sequence if a movie.

And then, I will go to pilgrim mass.

I was in the cathedral at Santiago decades ago (in the 1970’s) and that is when the seeds for my present adventure were planted. It was during the Generalissimo Franco-era and I found myself unexpectedly living in Spain. I read James Michener’s book “Iberia” and it became my guidebook and my window on the culture. On my visit to the cathedral, like tourists and pilgrims for centuries before me, I placed my hand on the famed statue just inside the entrance. A feeling coursed through me, almost a visceral experience. I knew in that moment, that somehow, someday, I would return to this spot as a real pilgrim.

As I walked along, I continued to consider what else may happen in Santiago. I looked forward to seeing familiar faces of pilgrims I had met on the Camino. At the end of the Camino, pilgrims tend to linger in Santiago. Many continue on to the end of the earth (Finistiere - sp?) and return to Santiago a few days later. So the opportunity to see friends and acquaintances is huge.

I considered just what I would do with the prayer ribbons I carried attached to my walking stick for all those kilometers. Each ribbon represents wishes from a friend and as I walked along, I frequently prayed for these people (and others). I want to make a suitable ceremony for them. I want to light candles. I am not a Catholic, so as I walked along, I pondered on that a bit too – rituals and symbols are not really part of who I am and how I live my life. But in the past few years I find myself surrounded by them. Much to think about as I walk under the Eucalyptus trees, breathing in the perfumes they share with those who walk these paths.

There are bus tickets to acquire, a book for the bus and plane ride home and there are postcards to send…my brain has jumped ahead and now I suddenly realize I am living in the future instead of staying in the now! The proximity to Santiago seems to have that effect. After weeks of walking and living in the now, the old pre-Camino habits are starting to sneak back into my life. Already. Sigh.

Later

I am sitting in the shade of building 29 of the 800 bed, Monte de Gozo albergue (which actually has only SOME beds designated for pilgrims – the rest is a hotel of sorts). There are 30 buildings. The pilgrim reception does not open until 1300. So here I sit, penning my journal and waiting again.

There are many hours spent waiting on the Camino; just part of the many free lessons in humility, meekness, patience and gratitude the Camino experience offers attentive students.

I initially walked past (I should say limped past!) the reception office to the far end of the complex. I was mis-directed by a less than helpful German woman. When I entered the lobby, I was rather un-graciously directed to leave. This area is designated for hotel patrons only. The reception area for pilgrims was back at the other end of the complex where I had originally started.It was clear they wanted nothing to do with mere pilgrims. The facility can hold 800 people. Pilgrims are at the bottom of the pecking order.

I trekked back up the hill (still nursing a shin-splint and a blister). How it drains my energy. Now I really know what it must be like to be very old and uncomfortable.

There are people from all over the world on the Camino. I am convinced that without much effort, one could make the entire walk without actually meeting a Spaniard or speaking Spanish.

Many people travel in “packs” and rarely speak to anyone who is not part of their clique. This seems more true the closer I get to Santiago.

Perhaps because there are so many people on the path who are only walking the requisite 100 kilometers haven’t gone through all the storming and norming experiences that forged bonds among the pilgrims who have logged over 700 kilometers at this point. The pilgrims who join the path after Sarria seem distant. They are fixated on their goal somehow and seem to be uninterested in the other pilgrims.

Many pilgrims walk past as I sit here writing. Santiago is only a few kilometers away and they are eager to get there. They also look at the albergue and find the appearance off-putting. The 30 buildings look a bit Spartan. I see many old walking companions and greet them warmly. I am resolute about waiting till tomorrow to make my entrance into Santiago.

This morning I walked through Lavacolla. The name translates as “wash the loins.” Historically pilgrims stopped there to bathe in the stream before making the last approach to their destination: the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela.

After their bath, pilgrims would race up Monte de Goza (Mount of Joy) in a version of the child’s game of King of the Hill. From Monte de Goza pilgrims can see the spires of the cathedral. Atop the hill is a large monument to Pope Pious.

I check into the albergue (3E for the night) and find the facilities to be quite pleasant. The shower is hot and I have only 2 roommates. I discover one can stay at this albergue for 3 days. Many pilgrims walk into Santiago and get their credentials and then take the bus back at night. The alburgues in the city are pricier.

I wash my clothes and walk back to the village to dine on the pilgrim menu with the delightful pilgrim from New Zealand.

I abandon my plans to bus into town to shop for a dress. My ankle/foot is swollen and my shin aches. I will walk into the city in the early morning – I want to be at the cathedral before the crowds. I cannot believe I am almost finished with this journey.

I have mixed feelings knowing I will soon be on an airplane heading back to the USA. I will miss this crazy life and the friends I have made on this odd journey. I have learned so much - so many things that I cannot articulate, but important lessons none-the-less.

I watch the sunset on the distant cathedral spires…tomorrow I will no longer be a pilgrim. Or will I?

Day 38 - Ribadiso - Wednesday, 27 May 2009

Palas de Rei -> Ribadiso = 27K (40.7K to Santiago)

My daily walk is done.

The sky is blue. There is a fine breeze. I have showered, washed my hair and my clothes and it is already dry. I spent an hour online. I sat on the riverbank and chatted with a Frenchman whom I have seen frequently on my pilgrimage. Now I am soaking up sun, sitting by the river and watching the nearby cattle. Many pilgrims are stretched out on the lush grass, sunning, chatting, relaxing. This rural albergue is a delightful place to stay. The atmosphere and facilities make me think of summer camp.

I had a hard time getting started this morning. Snoring (like sea lions fighting!) and farting were issues. I was up at 0700 and gone by 0715. My plan was for a shorter walk actually. I had hoped to stay in Melide tonight. The city is renowned for its octopus (pulpo) and I wanted to have a leisurely evening meal of it. I also wanted to shop for some clothes to wear to the Pilgrim mass when I arrive in Santiago. (I’ve worn the same clothes almost every day and they are worn, faded, and make me feel like a street person when I am in an urban setting.) Unfortunately the albergue there was unexpectedly closed. So, I had to continue on.

My left calf smarts with every step so the rest of the walk was painful.


As I watch the sun set, many pilgrims have adjourned to a local bar to watch an important soccer event (Manchester versus Barcelona). I enjoy the sweet evening air. The quiet is punctuated with frequent cheers from the soccer fans huddled around the TV set. Barcelona wins, there are fireworks outside.

I have enjoyed my stay at this albergue.

Things I saw as I walked today:
o Tall, narrow drying sheds – What are they?
o Pilgrims walking back from Santiago – an older woman and her dog.
o Villagers. I wish to trade lives with them: stay put and befriend passers-by.
o Comments (envious and/or impressed)on my small pack -I’m grateful for my tiny load.
o Cows coming home along the river banks
o Fish leaping from the water at sunset.

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.