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.