Almost There

10km. That's it folks, T-E-N kilometers left to Santiago. Is it the light at the end of the tunnel, or the edge of a cliff into a great abyss? Honestly, I think I am in the Twilight Zone where it is both at the same time.

For the past week we have been walking the the beautiful mountainous region of Galicia, a stark difference in scenery than the seemingly never ending planes we had been in prior. For the most part the walks have been better because there is more to see and look at, that is until you decide to do a few 30km days in a row, then you just start hating life a little.

As a whole we have been going slightly off book from the normal “stages” that most pilgrims follow in the Brierley guidebook. By doing this we have had less troubles with finding beds at albergues and have seen different parts of the Camino hospitality that most pilgrims don't. We are able to get ahead of the big crowds and have a sense of ease while walking, which only encourages our bar/café hopping method of going town to town and stopping for food and drink whenever we want so long as we get to our albergue in enough time to get beds.

In the beginning we would often see faces that we recognized. Not that we don't see familiar faces anymore, but there has been a notable shift in the ratio of familiar to unfamiliar faces. This has a lot to do with other Camino routes joining our own as well as the influx of people who are only doing the last bit to obtain their Compestela. I guess it ensures us to keep on our toes about making sure to meet new people and not become clique-ish.

With the addition of people there have been losses as well, as I have mentioned before. Most of the group that we were with before has dispersed and only a couple of us are left, mainly the California father and son I mentioned previously and my grandparents and I. Occasionally we come across the Georgia couple, who make me smile every time I see their welcoming faces. Or the two long time best friends from England, who remind me of my own lifetime best friend and how much I would like to come back and do this with her (hint hint). One of the things that has become apparent on this trip is that the Camino is not all about walking, but the people. The Camino is not the Camino without the unique backgrounds and stories of the people.  

There are things that I will miss, and there are things I won't. I am ready to have a wider selection of clothes. I am ready to make my own food with more flavor. I am ready for my feet to not be as swollen as a woman in her third trimester. But I am not ready to leave my new people. I am not ready to have responsibilities. I am definitely not ready to not be able to eat anything and everything within reach.

So come tomorrow it is the end. But it is also the beginning. I have put my life on hold for 5 weeks now, 7 by the time I get back to Colorado. As much as running away from responsibility seems like a nice idea, it's never a reality. Life always catches up, even if you are a world away.

I look back on this trip and I see all that I have done and accomplished in the past few weeks and see that I HAVE in fact gotten something out of this trip, but not everything. I also have come to the realization that everything is not a one time thing. To get everything would require additional pilgrimages, which just means more things on my bucket list. The gals on Pinterest talk about “Wanderlust”, I don't believe that the lust is truly realized until you get a taste. Doing this Camino has been my taste, causing me to crave adventure more and more.

Oh look, an update!

The other day I made it to the Iron Cross. Since my grandmother joined us in Leon, I have developed the habit of staying in the town just passed their designated stops in order to maintain a comfortable average of 24 km per day, not too short, not too long. So starting off I was only 2 km away from the cross when I left that morning. Wanting to make it a special experience, we planned to get the cross at the same time. That didn't happen. Oddly enough my anger over the lack of promptness was promptly squelched by the emotional people watching I was able to partake in.

The cross, a significant milestone (kilometer stone?) of the Camino is the location where the Pilgrims place the rock that they have presumably been carrying since they left home. It is a place of reflection and prayer, as well as providing a chance to leave your sins that have been weighing you down in your heart and mind.

For the hour that I waited in the crisp cool air with the birds chirping and the sun shining, I saw all sorts of people from all walks of life experience the cross. For I know not what each of their individual burdens were, but I do know that if they fully took in the experience, then they would leave a bit lighter in soul. There were tears, there were smiles, there were moments of silence and prayer, there were hugs and kisses, and of course copious amount of pictures.

The community that has formed along the way is made even stronger when we help one another place our own individual burdens from our life beyond the Camino. These moments on this journey are the ones that we will carry with us for the rest of our lives.   

As for everything else? Well since the last time I wrote most of the walking we had been doing was in a vast amount of nothingness. For over a week we were walking along highways, with cars flying past, wind blowing in our faces, going from freezing to heat stroke. So instead of writing about seeing the same stretch of road over and over again I made the executive decision to spare you. (Or maybe I was lazy and don't feel like writing, you may never know….)

Anyways, starting on Sunday we began to see the mountains again. Just the sight reminded me of home. That particular morning I was climbing a hill jamming to some Twenty One Pilots (because that's literally all I have to listen too, but that is in no way a complaint), when I reached the top of that particular hill before going into a town I could see the mountains straight ahead to the west. The sight was enough to put a goofy ear to ear grin on my face.

Since then the parallels between the Camino and home add up every day. Whether is be running down Alto Altar like I was running down Barr Trail, or walking through the mountain towns paralleled by a highway, not unlike I-70, but more tranquil. The hills surrounding me is like a long distance hug from home.

Now I don't want you to mistake all of this Colorado vs. Spain talk as a form of homesickness. In fact the idea of being done in a little over a week really depresses me. I am not ready to say goodbye to my new friends, or the country of Spain itself, or maybe I am just not ready to go back to my real life.

It's not because what I am doing is a walk in the park, because it's anything but. It's actually a walk across a country, in case you missed that fact, which is really bleeping hard. Hard on the body, hard on the mind, and even hard on the heart. But without all of the “hard", the great amount of good and easy would not be so sweet.

Stages 10- 15 with a Break Day

Needless to say that since my last post a lot of things have changed, some for the better and some for the worse, as they normally do. So I will simply start where I left off.

For the most part things have remained the same; we get up, we walk, we eat, we chat, we walk some more, we get to the end of the stage, find residence, eat, wander, sleep, repeat. Along the way we have picked up some friends who have stayed regular in our journey. We have the California father/ son pair, a happenstance 3rd degree Kenyan that knows some of the same people as David from home, two teachers from New Jersey who we affectionately call the “Jersey Girls”, a couple from Georgia, and an Irishman and German man who have only just met on this trip and act like an old married couple. These are only to name a few but have remained the ones that we frequent walking, talking, and “living” with. We have become a sort of family.

Very often when we reach a café or a bar for breakfast it turns into a big family reunion as we all show up separately sooner or later and leave as a muddled group that splits up only to later catch up once again.

I had mentioned before how difficult it was, or rather different, to walk with other people. I have since grown accustomed to it and prefer it because it tends to make time fly by, which is quite handy during the hot dry days crossing the meseta and your walking partner has some sweet tunes to get you through the last 10km of a 95°F, 31km day.

On a separate note; I have sad news to report. We have lost Betsy. Not lost as in something has happened to her, but lost as in she has left us to go back to the real world. The night before she left, several of us had gathered in the little town of Agés to celebrate anything we could. Our reasons included the California son and I have birthdays exactly one week apart, mourning Betsy leaving, surviving this far mostly injury free, and primarily because we could. The Jersey Girls gifted the birthday kids with Camino shells and gummy candies (which I should probably find and eat soon). There was much laughter and fun conversation to fill the evening with smiles and send us to our beds with happy hearts.

The next day walking into Burgos was an adventure in the least. The walk in was quite fun and pretty, I was in a good mood, until we hit the outskirts of town. Somehow we needed to get Betsy to the train station one way or another. We stopped to Google where exactly that was relative to our present location and found that it was 5.7km away. Easy peasy, right? Wrong. We ended up walking under the relentless sun through several industrial city parts, in between warehouses, through sketchy looking streets. It was rough. At one point Betsy and I started to become delirious, laughing, stopping, even wondering. It took all that David had to keep us going along the never ending awfulness that was the outskirts of Burgos. When we made it to the station, Betsy went to ensure she had a ticket and David and I promptly assumed our positions and took a nap. In the middle of the station. She later woke us up so that we could enjoy our last meal and cervezas and sent her on her way.

Since then we have continued our way, with a few adjustments of course. So to end this blog post I have decided to make a list of things I have learned so far in Spain:

• Women's bathrooms are always missing at least one vital piece of hygiene management (toilet paper, paper towels, soap, lock, or even the toilet seat)
• Speaking of bathroom locks, I have locked myself in too many than I would like to admit. If I were to not come home, it would be because I'm stuck in a bathroom somewhere in Spain without any one of things I mentioned previously
• Siestas are a thing. And they a both wonderful and annoying at the same time.
• Only words you need to know in Spain: Cerveza, Helado, Hola, Buen Camino, and Gracias.
• The worst parts of a walk are any time before there is coffee, and the last two hours before your stop.
• Don't leave your sleep sack in a bathroom. You will be screwed and grossed out when sleeping any time after.
• Time flies when you do nothing. Getting to the albergue, checking in, showering, washing clothes, eating, hanging out with friends. Before you know it it's lights out!
• You see more people on the streets that you know in a foreign country then you do when you are home
• Connections are everywhere: humans are associated to one another in so many ways. It's simply astonishing.
• I love people. The people you meet on the trail, in the albergues and town are some of the best humans you could ever have the pleasure of knowing.
• Everyone are Wi-Fi junkies. Find a good Wi-Fi spot and stay. But also Wi-Fi is so much more accessible here. Except on the albergues and hotels.
• Flies are everywhere due to the vast amount of live stock roaming around.
• Shepard's are still a thing. And cool to watch.
• I will restate that fresh orange juice, coffee, and Spanish tortillas make the world go round.
• Laundry is a must. If you don't do it then God bless the people around you, specifically their noses.
• If you can do 31.1km in 95°F with no shade, then nothing in the world could stop you.
• It's fun to wing it sometimes.
• Switching shoes and foot support makes all the difference in the world on a long day
• Vaseline + feet before walking → prevention of blisters
• Get blisters early, sucks for you, you are bound to struggle
• You get used to walking and that's what you do. Walk, walk, walk, and walk some more. And it's the best thing to every happen to you in your life.

That's it for now. Hopefully I'll keep on it, but no guarantees. 

Stages 7, break, 8 and 9

Wednesday morning we decided to take a very slight detour from our usual morning routine. The albergue that we were staying at started serving breakfast at 6, which corresponded with our usual departure and eating schedule. At breakfast we had the pleasure of talking to an older English woman who is doing the Camino for her young grandson who suffers from scoliosis and autism. She shared with us her stories about her family and how she is traveling the world at least until November. She is one of many people so far on this trip who has given me travel/retirement goals.
 

After that, we set off on what was to be our longest day yet, - 29 km to Logroño. Initially it was thought to be a great challenge both mentally and physically. It also marked the day that we would complete 100 miles and enter a different region of Spain (Rioja). Big day.

Personally I approached the day by thinking of it in two main chunks; Los Arcos to Viana and Viana to Logroño.
 

When we were leaving I found the tightness I had been feeling in my Achilles tendon had not been relieved. It was rather painful, but I figured I would push through the pain as I had done the day prior despite the voices of my coworkers, mother, and father grumbling in my ear that I shouldn't push it. But hey, since when have I ever listened to advice like that? (The answer is never, or when it's too late). My pace wasn't damaged too much by it, mostly just my gate by a small bit (in no way significant). On the outskirts of town, a young Boston couple we have been talking with since Roncesvalles passed by and mentioned in passing something about ibuprofen. What a novel idea! Although I am not one to jump to the drugs at the first sign of trouble, I took stock of my situation and how I still have 400 miles left and decided that it wouldn't be such a terrible thing if I were to pop a couple pills.
 

When we reached the town of Sansol, 6.8km from Los Arcos, we stopped to regroup at a café. There, I took two ibuprofen and crossed my fingers that they would make a difference. I then headed out with my sights set on Viana for a break and lunch.
 

The way to Viana was peaceful, as per usual, with vineyards and fields all around. There was a bit of wind to cut through the heat of the sun, that had decided to actually show up to its job that day. Not long after we left Sansol, I saw a younger  Englishman who had paired up with an American salesman around the same age earlier on in the pilgrimage (the two are actually a riot when you talk with them and are so entertaining to be around). The pair were ahead of me and were catching up to a limping woman (limping due to blisters) as we were coming down a hill. The Englishman proceeded to put a hand on her elbow and help her the rest of the way down the hill. So there is a daily heart warmer for you.
 

There was a point just past one of the vineyards where a local Spanish couple had come out to play music for the pilgrims as we endured the relentless sun. When people say that something was “music to their ears” I am positive that the couple's guitar playing is the gold standard to said ear music.
 

Eventually, in contrast to the fields, we also walked on a highway road as we got closer to the town. It took a lot of self discipline to not thrust out my thumb to mimic a hitchhiker. Once we made it to Viana, food and elevated feet were the only things on my mind. We found the town square which led us to a restaurant of our choice. Once we found a place and sat down I was completely enthralled by the people watching. We had picked a place that was part of the Camino path and were able to holler greetings to the familiar faces that passed us by. The American and Englishman pair were some of those faces, and they informed us it would be a loss if we were to not go into the Inglesia that stood prominently in the town square. So naturally after lunch we tried to go see what all of the fuss was about, and naturally, we couldn't get in due to the start of siesta.
 

Taking that as our sign to move on, Betsy and David re-applied Vaseline and I switched into my chaccos for a change in support for the rest of the days walk. As we were leaving there was a church ruin we were actually able to go into and wonder a bit. There wasn't much there but it was cool, none the less, to imagine what used to be.
 

The way into Lagroño wasn't terrible terrain wise, but was very hot and exposed to the hot afternoon sun. By the time we got to the city I was named official navigator to get us safely to our hotel. Yes I said hotel. By the time we checked in and got into our rooms I had received an e-mail from my dad trying to catch me up on all of the hullabaloo back home. Being fed up with the long drawn out e-mails and wanting desperately to hear a voice from home, I quickly replied with the curt suggestion that he download the “WhatsApp” so we could call over the Wi-Fi. Not even 5 minutes later I saw he was calling me and I was purely giddy with happiness. The second he said hello I couldn't help but giggle and keep repeating “hi” back because I could actually hear his voice. The Wi-Fi kept cutting us off but whenever it would reconnect us we would carry on as if nothing could happen. It made my day, possibly even my week, to actually hear his actual voice and not just in my head.
 

After talking with him we left to look for food and found a cute restaurant that we stopped at and began to “sample” two bottles of the region's infamous wine. While having a grand old time, some fellow pilgrims came and joined us and we carried on enjoying the beautiful evening laughing and being merry. At the end of the night we went back and fell straight asleep.
 

The next morning I slept in a whole extra two hours before getting up. Unable to find where Betsy and David disappeared to, and not wanting to leave for fear of being unable to communicate plans, I decided to go downstairs and get some breakfast in the hotel.  After hanging around in the room for a bit, Betsy finally showed up with information regarding our plan to do laundry after the market opened. So, that's what we did. We waited for the market to open so we could get detergent and then walked across the city to find the laundromat - culminating in our poor American selves struggled to figure out the laundry system. And I really mean struggle. The three locals that were present tried, in vain, to show us how it all worked - and slowly we began to figure it out.
 

We decided to relax at a café and wait for the laundry machines to finish its arduous task of tackling the cleansing of our several-day nastiness that was our clothes. While there, I was able to take in the local community. Considering it was a weekday and most of the population was either working or in school, it left the elders to roam free and take proper claim of the streets. I will take this moment to reiterate an earlier point: I love old people. To quote myself from when my dad and I stayed at a hotel full of them in California, “These are my peeps!” I was fascinated to note some of the differences between how we treat elderly in America versus how they are treated here in Spain. There is more respect here and they are more visible rather than being tucked away in America. But that is my own humble opinion.
 

When the laundry was finished, we headed back to the hotel and I met up with another pilgrim with whom to wander the city.  We mostly went to the park that ran along a river. At one point we sat on a park bench for a while, resulting in my shoulders, in particular one shoulder, exhibiting its apparent lack of melanin. It was a beautiful sunny day that became leveled up (gaming pun) by the overabundance of cotton flowing through the air to provide a less cold appearance and peacefulness of falling snow.
 

The next day we tackled yet another long day - from Logroño to Nájera, 29.6km in whole. It was nice because we each ended up with our own individual walking buddies to talk with and enjoy. Something we hadn't yet experienced. Up until yesterday we had just been walking on our own or all together. While I very much enjoyed the company, it still takes some getting used to to not be on your own with your thoughts after you have gotten so used to it.
 

It wasn't a hard day at all, just long and hot. The heat is what was the bigger hurdle to overcome, but we made due. I think the distraction of our partners made it all go by quicker and easier, save the last few kilometers, which are never easy because by then you can't not feel the pain of the distance culminating in your feet. Every rock, every bump is felt through every cell that has taken residence in your feet.
 

Our grandiose images of a paradise at the end of a dusty trail disappeared when we reached the lackluster outskirts of town. The further we pushed the more we were able to see the oasis that was nestled against a red rock plateau resting just beyond a rocky creek.
 

We were able to find yet another cute albergue with available beds just past the bridge. From there we fell back into our routine with food and drink and rest with strangling fellow pilgrims joining us.
 

Another benefit to gaining friends is we have also broadened our Spanish vocabulary. Betsy took a particular interest in the word for ice cream, or helado. After lunch we searched for an ice cream shop. Betsy, being the ever outgoing person we have all grown to love, decided to find where the nearest kne was by running up to people screaming, “HELADO?!?!” After scaring off and confusing at least three people, we got a rough answer as to the direction. We found ourselves in front of a bar that served ice cream bars (not what we were looking for) and we're very disappointed. Pouting ever so slightly, I took a few grumbled steps just beyond the bar to look up - and low and behold there it appeared! As if I had manifested it from my own imagination, there it was. In pure disbelief and excitement I began to scream, jump, point, and all around act like a crazy lunatic.
 

For the rest of the day we just took it easy and hung out with the fellow pilgrims until lights out. To end the day, a giant thunder storm rolled in with plenty of booms and flashes followed by a monsoon-esque downpour.
 

Today we did 21.3 km to Santo Domingo de la Calzada. For most of the day the weather hung in limbo that looked as though it might rain with the threat of heat and humidity that could have left us drenched in our own sweat. Despite the short day, with mild terrain we still found ourselves with sore feet and tired bodies by the time we reached the town.

Although not as cute as other towns we have been through, the town makes up for it in Catholic lore and architecture that brings awe and wonder to even those who are non- believers. After actually taking last in siesta after lunch we went to visit Catedral de Santo Domingo de La Calzada. It had several paintings and sculptures of religious figures, as well as a display of miniature models of historical and non-historical (sorry I don't count the Battle of Helms Deep as historical) events. Once we got into the actual chapel, we were able to witness the famous chickens of Santo Domingo (due to the high demand for and push to get this blog written, please refer to google for that interesting tale).
 

Since then, we have taken to relaxing with our pilgrim people before our adventure tomorrow.